The Sinful Young Master

Chapter 227: Tomb of the beast king - 8

After Naʼrajinaʼs soul was absorbed, Jolthar remained suspended in the air above the ancient stone basilisk. The spiritual battle had been won, but the physical transformation had only just begun.

The air around him crackled with unseen energy, the green pillars of light pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat.

A deafening crack echoed through the chamber as fissures spread across the stone basilisk beneath him.

What had appeared to be solid stone now revealed itself as merely a shell—a chrysalis that had contained something far more primal. The outer layer fell away in chunks, revealing the true form of Naʼrajinaʼs physical remains.

Beneath the stone exterior lay the actual body of the Beast King—a massive basilisk with scales that shimmered between emerald and obsidian. Unlike the stone representation, this body appeared almost alive, preserved in a state of suspended animation for centuries. The creatureʼs form was magnificent and terrible—easily sixty feet in length, with a crown of horns that spoke of ancient royalty and power.

Yet as Jolthar watched through pain-filled eyes, this magnificent form began to change.

The basiliskʼs body trembled, then liquefied, scales melting into one another until the entire form had transformed into a viscous emerald fluid that swirled and pulsed with its own inner light.

This was the essence of Naʼrajinaʼs physical power—the raw, primal energy that had allowed him to command the beasts of the world.

Jolthar knew that it was all being overseen by Qalena.

Qalenaʼs fragment within Jolthar took control of the process, her divine will directing the transformation. The emerald fluid rose from the platform, forming a spiralling column that surrounded Joltharʼs levitating form.

”This is the final step,” her voice echoed within him.

”It may be a bit intense, but endure. And his physical power must become one with your vessel.”

Jolthar had no command here, as he was just floating in midair.

The emerald fluid began to flow into Jolthar—through his skin, his eyes, his mouth, and every pore, becoming a channel for the ancient power.

Pain unlike anything he had ever experienced coursed through his body. He threw his head back and screamed, but the sound was swallowed by the roaring energy that engulfed him.

His veins bulged beneath his skin, glowing green through the flesh as the Beast Kingʼs essence integrated with his mortal form. His muscles contorted and spasmed as they were infused with power beyond human comprehension. His bones creaked, and his organs shifted, adapting to house energies that no mortal was designed to contain.

”Endure, my child,” Qalenaʼs voice urged, steady and calming despite the agony he suffered. ”This vessel must be reforged to withstand the power it now contains.”

”It will help you grow stronger.”

Jolthar felt as though he was being unmade and reconstructed simultaneously.

He felt this way before, like that time in the chamber of the desert valley. But the pain seemed to have turned more intense than before.

The immortal physique basic that had drawn Naʼrajina to him in the first place was now being enhanced, elevated beyond its original potential. What had been a seedling of immortality was blossoming into something far greater under Qalenaʼs guidance.

Green energy leaked from his eyes, his fingertips, even from beneath his nails. His skin momentarily became translucent, revealing the network of veins and arteries now carrying the Beast Kingʼs power throughout his system. His hair floated around his head, each strand glowing with emerald light.

But through it all, Qalenaʼs presence remained, guiding the transformation, ensuring that Joltharʼs own essence wasnʼt lost in the deluge of ancient power.

”You must remain you,” her voice insisted.

”The Beast Kingʼs power is just a tool, not an identity. Remember who you are, Jolthar.”

The final drops of emerald fluid entered his body, and for a moment, Jolthar became a being of pure light—his human form temporarily lost in the radiance of transformation.

Then, gradually, the light receded, pulled inward until it was contained entirely within him.

Joltharʼs feet slowly lowered until they touched the platform.

The round pillars of green energy surrounding the chamber dimmed, their purpose fulfilled. His body, though outwardly unchanged, hummed with contained power.

When he opened his eyes, they flashed emerald before returning to their natural colour.

Within his pupils, however, a hint of green remained—the visible mark of what he had become.

”It is done.” Qalenaʼs voice was fainter now, the fragment of her power withdrawing to the depths of his soul.

”The pillar will crumble soon. You must leave this place.”

Jolthar looked down at his hands, turning them over in wonder.

Though they appeared human, he could feel the incredible strength now contained within them. When he focused his senses outward, he could suddenly perceive the presence of every beast for miles around—from the smallest insect to the massive wyvern that Count Hamen rode.

He could feel it—his senses had sharpened, heightened beyond their former limits. Every sound, every movement, every shift in the air registered with startling clarity. His vision was sharper, colours more vivid, and details more pronounced. He could hear the faintest rustle of fabric, the distant heartbeat of something unseen. Even the scent of the air carried layers of information he had never noticed before. He had become more perceptive than ever, as if the world itself had unfolded before him in ways he had never imagined.

And more significantly, he could feel their instinctive recognition of him as their new master.

He clasped his fists, feeling his power flowing through him. He was bursting with power, and he felt like he could smash anything in his way.

The platform beneath him trembled as the entire chamber began to collapse.

The physical manifestation of Naʼrajinaʼs prison was breaking down now that its prisoner had been transformed rather than released.

Jolthar felt Qalenaʼs presence recede to a warm ember within his soul, watchful but dormant until needed again.

”Thank you,” he whispered to her, though he knew only the smallest fragment of her consciousness remained to hear him.

The pillar of obsidian, which was present in the chamber under the castle, cracked further, green light pouring from the fissures.