The Sinful Young Master

Wayde, Bella, Elowen, and other family members were too stunned to speak; they just stared at Jolthar, who walked out of the pit. The hall had disappeared long ago; half of the estate crumbled under their intense battle. They moved to a safe place.

It had been a decoration for the tomb of the Mad Sovereign.

Liliana raised her hands and conjured a shimmering, translucent barrier. The barrier encased them in a protective cocoon, glowing faintly as it absorbed the shockwaves of energy emanating from the battle. She watched Jolthar with an apprehensive look and then turned towards where her father and Seragus were. For now, Jolthar wasn't a problem as the shadow disappeared. Caelum was her concern.

Within the barrier, Lorryll stood with his arms crossed, his expression cold and unfeeling. He wasn't worried about his father, nor did he spare a thought for the family he had betrayed.

His focus was entirely on the battle above, his eyes gleaming with a mix of fascination and contempt. He had momentarily forgotten about Jolthar. He could kill Jolthar and take the sword for himself.

Liliana, on the other hand, watched with a calculating gaze. She spoke softly, more to herself than to her husband. "We didn't expect this variable to appear. Well, it doesn't matter."

Back at the estate, Johamma stepped forward, her movements unhurried but purposeful. She removed her cloak, letting it fall to the ground, revealing a woman who seemed to defy time.

She approached Jolthar and said, "Jolthar." She stood a couple of meters away from him as she could feel the chaos aura still present around him. She could tell that it was dangerous.

He turned to her, his expression stoic.

"You found his sword?"

Jolthar raised his right hand, which held the sword as if saying, 'Can't you see?'.

She ignored his rude answer. "I wish I could talk right now. But as you can see," she pointed at the red-robed men gathering around Jolthar. They were acting under their patriarch's order. They have put him first on the killing list.

"They are coming to kill you and then will come after us," she said.

Jolthar tilts his head. "Are you going to fight?" He didn't think she was a warrior; she barely talked to him as far as he could remember. And the only thing she did was to tell him about the book.

"Of course."

Though her face carried the wisdom of years, her physique was that of a woman in her prime—strong, agile, and commanding. Her eyes glinted with a dangerous light as she knuckled her fists, clasping them together before stretching her arms.

Jolthar frowned as he sensed a power similar to that of Qalena, not exactly like hers but like a goddess. That divine power he sensed was similar to that of Qalena.

Johamma was human; he thought maybe he was mistaking her power for divine.

She glanced at Elowen, who stood far behind, her gaze fixed in the direction where Lorryll and Liliana had fled. Elowen's expression was a storm of emotions—anger, betrayal, and an underlying sorrow that she tried to suppress.

Johamma broke the silence with a scornful tone. "It seems," she said, her voice laced with venom, "that we have raised a pig instead of a man."

Elowen turned slightly, her glare unrelenting. She didn't respond, but the tension in her jaw betrayed her agreement.

Johamma's tone grew colder. "Elowen, we should kill your son. There's no place for a snake like him in this clan."

Elowen's glare shifted back toward where Lorryll stood. Her silence was her answer, but her clenched fists showed that she was teetering on the edge of wrath.

The once-grand hall was now a wasteland of rubble, its roof obliterated and its walls barely standing. The estate loomed in the distance, a shadow of its former glory.

In the front grounds, the remaining servants had been rounded up, their faces pale with fear. Of the knights, only those who had come with the patriarch were still standing. The rest lay slain, their bodies scattered across the grounds.

Johamma strode toward the red-robed mages who had encircled the Kaezhlar family. Her steps were deliberate, and her presence alone seemed to create a ripple of unease among the attackers.

Jolthar's sharp senses caught the movement of the mages as they began to spread out, encircling him like a pack of wolves closing in on their prey. Their mana link shimmered faintly in the air—a web of energy binding them together, their synchronization flawless.

These weren't ordinary opponents; even for a Tier 6 swordsman, this was a coordinated and deadly assault.

But Jolthar was no ordinary swordsman.

He tightened his grip on Horgath, the Chaosbane, its dark aura thrumming with anticipation in his hand. The mages had begun their chants, magical syllables resonating in perfect unison as they raised their hands, forming intricate sigils of power. Jolthar didn't need to hear the words to know they were preparing something devastating.

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Not today," he muttered.

Without hesitation, Jolthar began moving, his blade carving a deliberate pattern in the air. The motion was fluid yet precise, each sweep of Horgath leaving a faint ripple of black energy in its wake. The sword's sinister whistle pierced the stillness, an eerie harbinger of the devastation to come.

The mages, still chanting, pressed on, oblivious to the technique he was unleashing.

With a final horizontal sweep, he completed the motion. The name of the technique echoed in his mind like a thunderclap.

Eclipse Slash.

For a moment, the battlefield was eerily silent.

The mages froze mid-chant, their mana links flickering as though sensing the power shift. Then, out of the void, a colossal slash of silver dark energy materialised. It moved with unnatural speed and precision, a black crescent of destruction that cut through the air with an audible roar.

The mages had no time to react.

The Eclipse Slash struck with unrelenting force, slicing clean through their ranks. The air was filled with the sickening sound of flesh and bone being torn asunder.

In an instant, the upper halves of their bodies separated from their lower halves, falling to the blood-soaked ground.

Scarlet pools spread rapidly, staining the earth beneath Jolthar's feet.

These were Tier 6 mages, some among the strongest in their order, but against Jolthar's power and Horgath's wrath, they might as well have been novices.