The Sinful Young Master

Chapter 325: A Deivruta’s power

Preeyonka shook her head, dispelling whatever thoughts crept up in her mind.

She tightened her grip on the handle of the long blade.

Her broad sword was no ordinary blade—it was forged from metal that had never touched human lands’ fire, its surface gleaming with runes that shifted and changed as the light hit them. The weapon was as long as a man’s height and twice as wide as any normal sword, yet she held it in one hand as if it weighed nothing at all.

She could tell that Jolthar was no ordinary man. Even with the strength of her divine heritage coursing through her veins, it had taken her well into her early thirties to claw her way to Tier Eight.

Yet here stood Jolthar, still in the restless fire of his late teens, already her equal in tier, his presence heavy with a raw and unrefined potential that made the air itself feel sharper.

She had a handful of formidable relics at her disposal, each a weapon of legend, and their weight in her grasp banished any thought of retreat.

No—she would not back down now.

Not against him.

I can’t turn back now—not against this brat. If it came to the brink of death, that old geezer would never just sit by and watch, she thought, her jaw tightening as she steadied her breath.

”This blade has tasted the blood of kings and dragons,” she said, her voice now carrying the authority of ages.

Her half-elven heritage showed more clearly now that her divine power was unleashed. Her ears had grown pointed, and her features had taken on the sharp, timeless beauty that marked the elder races.

But it was her eyes that truly showed her nature—they held depths that spoke of years beyond mortal counting and knowledge that came from being born with one foot in the realm of the deities.

Jolthar flexed his fingers, and silver energy danced between them like liquid lightning. ”Age means nothing if you’ve learned nothing from it,” he replied.

”Let me show you what true power looks like.”

”Oh, please. The only thing you can show me is how to grow old and bitter,” she smirked.

He gestured toward Preeyonka with his right hand, and the air around her began to shimmer as his telekinetic force reached out to grab her.

But the moment his power touched the aura of divine energy that surrounded her, it simply slid away like water off glass.

Earlier, when he used it on her, she was caught off guard and didn’t have this divine power shielding her.

Preeyonka laughed, a sound like silver bells mixed with the cry of hunting hawks. ”Did you think your mortal tricks would work on me? Divine blood grants many protections, and immunity to mind-based attacks is one of them. Your telekinesis cannot touch me, boy.”

She moved then, and her speed was inhuman.

The broad sword swept through the air in a perfect arc, aimed at Jolthar’s neck, moving so fast it left a trail of golden light behind it. Any normal man would have been beheaded before he could blink.

But Jolthar had long since abandoned anything resembling normality; he was something far beyond mortal measure—something the sane dared not name.

He leaned backwards, bending his spine like a reed in strong wind, and the deadly blade passed just inches from his throat.

As he straightened, he brought his left hand up in a sharp motion.

His bare palm struck the flat of Preeyonka’s sword with a sound like thunder.

The divine weapon, which should have cut through flesh and bone like butter, was stopped cold by nothing more than Jolthar’s enhanced flesh. Sparks flew where skin met enchanted metal, and the force of the collision sent shock waves through the ground beneath their feet.

Jolthar’s body was now infused with Chaos, and the Chaos had changed his physical form, too. It had enhanced his physique to intermediate levels.

He already bore the immortal physique, and this chaos was the forge’s heat that tempered him into something far beyond mortal steel.

Preeyonka’s green eyes widened in genuine surprise.

”Impossible! That sword can cut through even the most strongest metals.”

”Then maybe your metals weren’t strong enough,” Jolthar replied and launched himself forward.

What followed was a dance of death unlike anything the people of Tekkora had ever witnessed. Preeyonka’s sword wove patterns in the air that seemed to bend the air around them, each strike carrying the weight of divine authority behind it. The runes along its length blazed with golden fire, and where it passed, the very air crackled with power.

But for every attack she made, Jolthar had an answer. His hands moved like striking serpents, deflecting blows that should have shattered stone, catching the edge of a blade that should have parted his fingers from his hands.

The silver Voidwrath energy that surrounded him acted like armour, turning aside cuts that would have killed lesser beings.

”You fight like a beast,” Preeyonka snarled as her sword swept in a wide circle aimed at his ribs. ”Where is your weapon? Where is your honour?”

Jolthar caught the blade between his palms, his enhanced grip holding it motionless despite the divine power flowing through it.

”Honour is for people who have the luxury of fighting fair,” he said, and twisted his wrists.

The sound that came from Preeyonka’s sword was like a bell cracking.

Hairline fractures appeared along its length—something that should have been impossible for a weapon forged by divine hands. Preeyonka jerked backwards, pulling her blade free before it could shatter completely.

”What are you?” she whispered, for the first time showing real fear instead of mere surprise.

Jolthar’s response was to attack with both hands at once.

His right fist, wreathed in silver fire, drove toward her chest while his left swept up toward her jaw. Preeyonka managed to get her sword between them, but the impact when his knuckles struck the divine metal sent her skidding backwards across the cobblestones.

She recovered with inhuman grace, flipping backwards and landing in a crouch twenty feet away. Her crystalline armour showed cracks where the shock waves from Jolthar’s punches had travelled through her sword and into her body.

”Very well,” she said, and her voice now carried harmonics that made the stones beneath everyone’s feet vibrate.

”I see I must use my true heritage.”