The Sinful Young Master

Chapter 77 Giant Scorpians

As soon as the creature saw Daus, its eyes burned with new found intensity.

Then it let out a sharp, maniacal sound—a metallic, screeching laugh that made their ears ring, as though nails were being dragged across steel.

The laughter subsided, replaced by a voice that was raspy and venomous. It locked its burning gaze on Daus and spoke with deliberate malice.

”You cunning bastard.,” he hissed.

”You called for help from outsiders... and not just any outsiders.” The creatureʼs gaze flicked to Jolthar, a twisted grin spreading across its face. ”From a goddess herself.”

The words sent a ripple of confusion through the group.

Jolthar, his expression hardening, took a step forward, sword still drawn. ”What are you talking about?” he demanded. His frown deepened as the creature turned its attention to him fully.

”You, boy,” it sneered, its voice dripping with mockery. ”Do you think your goddess would approve of you being here? Playing the hero in a mortalʼs game?”

”What in the bloody fuck are you talking about?” Jolthar cursed.

Joltharʼs grip tightened on his sword. The creatureʼs words were cryptic but unnervingly personal.

How could he know about him or his connection to powers beyond this world? His mind raced, but before he could demand answers, Daus stepped forward, his face pale but resolute.

”Daurgien,” Daus breathed, recognition dawning in his eyes. ”Itʼs you.”

At this, the creature—Daurgien—let out another ear-splitting laugh, doubling over as if genuinely amused. ”You recognize me, sly bastard,” it rasped. ”I thought no one would. After all, itʼs been so long since you betrayed me.”

Dausʼs expression twisted with a mix of anger and guilt. His voice trembled, but he forced his words out. ”You... you were the one responsible for this. All of this chaos, these disappearances—itʼs you.”

”Yes,” Daurgien snarled, straightening up to his full, imposing height. ”Itʼs me. At last, Iʼve found my moment. And now, Iʼll show you what true hell looks like.”

Before anyone could react, Daurgien moved.

In an instant, he turned and bolted towards the edge of the valley, his speed unnatural, his shadowy form blending into the darkness. The sudden movement shocked the group, but Jolthar was the first to recover.

”Donʼt let him escape!” he shouted, mounting Maelruth with practiced ease. The drake let out a fierce growl and leapt into pursuit, its claws tearing through the ground as it gave chase.

Eran rallied his knights. ”Move! We canʼt let it get away!” He barked, drawing his blade as he led the charge. Belan and Lysandra moved swiftly, their instincts sharp and their weapons drawn.

Daus followed, his jaw clenched and his hands gripping his sword tightly, the weight of the past and the present colliding within him.

Daurgien, though wounded, pushed his corrupted body to its limits as he fled. The gash across his flank burned with unnatural pain, and for the first time in years, his body wasnʼt healing. He glanced briefly at the boy pursuing him—Jolthar.

The swordʼs power wasnʼt of this mortal realm. It bore the essence of divinity. The mark left on him was not something his corrupted body could mend.

”The power of gods,” he muttered, a bitter edge in his voice.

He knew it well—it was similar to the power he had consumed, the blood of a deity that had remade him. But that forbidden act had cost him his humanity. The transformation had been anything but perfect. His mortal shell had twisted and cracked, becoming a vessel barely capable of holding the divine power within.

And now, it seemed, the same divine power was his undoing.

No mortal could comprehend the blood of gods; it would be their undoing. Though it would be possible through certain means.

As Daurgien streaked through the desert like liquid shadow, leaving no trace of his passage, he felt a pulse of irritation.

Jolthar, astride his drake Maelruth, was gaining ground. The drake moved with terrifying speed, claws digging into the shifting sands as its rider urged it forward.

Daurgien clicked his tongue in frustration, his molten eyes narrowing.

The desert around them began to change as Daurgien exerted his will. Sand rippled like water, then hardened into sharp, jagged ridges. The terrain became treacherous, the smooth dunes now shifting unpredictably as if alive.

This slowed the others in pursuit, but Jolthar and Maelruth pressed on, undeterred.

”Persistent fool,” Daurgien hissed. He extended a clawed hand, dark energy swirling around his fingers. The desert trembled, and moments later, they emerged.

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From beneath the sands ahead, giant scorpions burst forth, their monstrous forms towering over the desert floor. Each creature was a grotesque amalgamation of carapace and shadow, their chitinous exoskeletons glistening like obsidian under the moonlight. Their stingers, curved and razor-sharp, dripped with venom that hissed as it touched the ground.

The lead scorpion lunged directly at Jolthar and Maelruth, its massive pincers snapping with bone-crushing force.

Jolthar, calm and focused, pulled Maelruth to the side with a sharp tug on the reins. The drake growled, its movements agile despite its size, dodging the scorpionʼs attack by mere inches.

From his perch atop Maelruth, Jolthar assessed the threat.

There were many, each larger than a house. He could feel the dark energy radiating from them—they were no ordinary scorpions but constructs summoned by Daurgienʼs corrupted power.

”Maelruth!” Jolthar shouted.

The drake responded instantly, letting out a deafening roar and charging at the nearest scorpion.

With a swift leap, Maelruth drove its powerful claws into the creature, pinning it to the ground as its venomous stinger thrashed wildly. Jolthar took the opportunity, leaping from the drakeʼs back to land atop the scorpion.

He raised his sword, which shimmered faintly with void energy.

”Void Burst!” he roared, swinging the blade in a precise arc.

The air around the sword howled as the void energy cleaved through the scorpionʼs carapace. The creature let out a shrill, unnatural screech before collapsing, its body falling on the sand.

Behind him, the rest of the group arrived.