The Sinful Young Master

Chapter 321: Quite a showoff

Cleora stood with all worry disappearing, and seeing him now made her smile despite all the fear and death that surrounded them. He had always been different, always been special, but now he looked like something from the old legends come to life.

From far away, on high ground that overlooked the square, another man watched everything unfold.

Lorryll stood in the shadows with a smile on his weathered face, but even he could not hide his amazement. He had known Jolthar would come—had counted on it, in fact—but seeing the young man arrive on the back of Maelruth the drake was beyond anything he had imagined possible.

He leaned forward on the stone, eager to see what would happen next.

He wanted to wait and see what Lord Eude would do.

Down in the square, Jolthar began to walk forward.

With each step he took, the silver lightning around his hands grew brighter and more intense. It crawled up his arms like living vines, and the air around him began to hum with power that made people’s teeth ache.

His long hair moved as if blown by a wind that touched nothing else, and his eyes had become like green fire burning in the gathering dusk.

And then it began.

Each step Jolthar took forward left cracks in the stone beneath his boots—thin at first, like hairline fractures, but widening with every pace, spiderwebbing through the cobbled ground as though the earth itself recoiled from his presence.

The air around him pulsed.

With every movement, a low hum stirred—a deep, guttural vibration, not of magic alone, but something older.

Primal.

The hum of a monstrous beast not seen in generations slowly roused it from its slumber. It resonated in the bones of all who watched, from the children clinging to skirts to the armoured guards gripping their weapons a little tighter.

His coat billowed in the wind due to the power fluctuations around him.

His eyes glinted—not with rage, but purposeful cruelty. This was not a man throwing a tantrum. This was a force delivering judgment.

”Eude!!” Jolthar growled, his voice now deeper, darker, and warped by the simmering power beneath his skin.

”You dared venture into the barony and killed my people, you fucking bitch of a lord. I am going to kill you and hang your head on my barony’s gates.

He raised a hand, and the air shivered around his fingers—shadows stretching unnaturally toward him, like loyal hounds crawling to heel.

Behind him, Mira was quietly ushered back into her mother’s arms. Her tears had stopped.

She smiled faintly. ”Big brother’s angry now.”

Nora, who was standing with them, chuckled half-heartedly; she was amazed seeing Jolthar’s power. ”Yes, he is very angry now, and those people will have to deal with it.”

The crowd dared not speak.

The guards dared not move.

And Eude, from across the square, now understood what kind of mistake he had made.

He had not trespassed into a nobleman’s land.

He had walked into a Monster’s wrath.

Lord Eude scrambled backwards on his hands and knees, his expensive boots slipping on the smooth stones.

Fear had taken away his voice, and all he could do was stare at the approaching figure like a rabbit watching a wolf come closer. His hands shook like leaves in a strong wind.

But Eude was not alone.

He couldn’t find his voice to call out to his men, but he managed to choke out, ”Gales!!!”

From behind him, two figures stepped forward to block Jolthar’s path. They moved with the easy confidence of people who had killed many times before and felt no shame about it.

Gales, the mercenary leader who hired him, had been watching from behind the lines for a while. His gaze focused on Jolthar and the drake at the fountain.

Gales was a large man with scars on his arms and face that told the story of many battles. He wore leather armor studded with iron, and his sword hung at his side like it belonged there. His hair and beard were neatly trimmed.

When he smiled, it was the kind of smile that promised pain to anyone who crossed him.

Beside him stood Preeyonka, an elf woman whose beauty was like a flower growing in poisoned soil. Her auburn hair fell in waves around her shoulders, and her green eyes sparkled with cruel amusement. She wore dark clothing that allowed her to move like a shadow, and the daggers at her belt had seen much use.

There was something in her face that said she enjoyed her work far too much.

Gales was a veteran who had seen his fair share of battles, and just by looking at Jolthar, he could tell that the young man was at least tier 9, considering his aura. And there was also that mysterious silver energy around him, crackling like lightning.

He himself was a tier 8 swordsman, and with Preeyonka being at tier 8, both of them can take care of him.

”Well, well,” Gales said, his voice rough like stones grinding together.

”That’s quite an entrance you showed us, boy. Very impressive.”

He looked back at Preeyonka with a grin that showed teeth stained yellow from tobacco. ”What do you think? Our friend here seems to like putting on a show.”

Preeyonka laughed, a sound like glass breaking. ”Oh yes, he’s quite the show-off, isn’t he? I do so love it when they try to look important before they die.”

She ran one finger along the handle of her dagger, and her eyes never left Jolthar’s face.

The words hit Jolthar like physical blows. His face, which had been hard before, became something terrible to look upon. The silver lightning around his hands flared brighter, and the temperature in the square seemed to drop several degrees.

His voice, when he spoke, carried the promise of storm and destruction.

”Are you the ones who killed those people?” he asked, and each word fell like a hammer blow in the sudden silence.