The Sinful Young Master

Chapter 428: Dragon form called Raidorgan

Jolthar looked at the assembled forces—five hundred elite knights and forty-five combat mages, all prepared to bring him down. Any reasonable person would surrender. The odds were impossible. Fighting would be suicide.

Halvren was aware of Jolthar’s strength. He had defeated the Great General Princess, one of the empire’s strongest generals, and underestimating him would certainly cost him dearly. So he had come prepared this time.

Then Jolthar smiled.

It wasn’t a nervous smile, or a desperate smile, or even a brave smile trying to hide fear.

It was genuinely amused, almost predatory, the smile of someone who had just been presented with an interesting challenge rather than certain death.

He stepped out of the shadow of the mansion’s entrance into full view of everyone assembled.

His voice carried clearly, projecting without shouting.

”You brought five hundred knights and forty-five mages,” Jolthar said, his tone conversational but loud enough for all to hear.

”The Shinokishi. The Aethar Corps. Some of the empire’s finest warriors and most powerful casters. All of this—” he gestured at the massive deployment ”—for one man.”

He paused, his smile widening.

”I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult. Are you saying I’m so dangerous that this many elite forces are necessary? Or are you so incompetent that you need overwhelming numbers to handle one target?”

Several of the knights shifted uncomfortably. A few of the mages exchanged glances.

”Either way,” Jolthar continued, his voice taking on an edge that cut through the evening air like a blade, ”here’s my answer to your generous offer of surrender:”

He spread his arms wide, completely undefensive, utterly fearless.

”Come and get me.”

The sheer arrogance of the statement—standing alone against an army and essentially inviting them to attack—left everyone momentarily speechless.

Halvren’s face flushed with rage.

”You dare—”

”I dare quite a bit, actually,” Jolthar interrupted.

”I’ve faced worse. Your little army here?” He looked around at the assembled forces dismissively. ”This is just Tuesday for me.”

One of the Shinokishi commanders—distinguishable by additional markings on his grey armor—stepped forward. His voice was professional but carried warning.

”Baron Kaezhlar, we are authorized to use lethal force. Surrender is your only option for survival.”

”Survival,” Jolthar repeated thoughtfully.

”You know what I’ve learned about survival? It’s not about avoiding danger. It’s about being more dangerous than whatever threatens you.”

His aura began to manifest—subtle at first, just a shimmer in the air around him. But it was growing, building, layers of power beginning to press outward.

”Last warning,” the Shinokishi commander said, his hand moving to his sword.

Jolthar’s smile became something fierce and wild.

”No. The last warning is mine. Anyone who attacks me dies. That’s not a threat—it’s a simple fact. You’ve been told I’m dangerous. You’ve been told to bring overwhelming force. But you haven’t truly understood what that means.”

His aura intensified, and several of the knights actually took involuntary steps backward.

”So here’s what’s going to happen,” Jolthar said, his voice dropping but somehow carrying even more clearly.

”You’re going to attack with everything you have. Five hundred knights, forty-five mages, all your elite training and imperial authority. And I’m going to show you exactly why all those stories you’ve heard about me weren’t exaggerated.”

He looked directly at Halvren, who had gone pale despite his earlier vindication.

”And when this is over, when the smoke clears and you’re counting your casualties, I want you to remember something. Justiciar: I tried to leave peacefully. I tried to play by the rules. I tried to work within your system. But you—all of you—wouldn’t let me. You kept pushing, kept threatening, kept attacking.”

His aura flared, the multiple energy types becoming visible—void-black, chaos-violet, and primal-green, all swirling together in a display that made the assembled mages murmur with concern.

”This?” Jolthar gestured at the army surrounding him.

”This is what you forced me to become. Not a criminal. Not a traitor. But something the empire should actually fear.”

”Attack!” Halvren screamed, his nerve finally breaking.

”Attack now! Kill him!”

The Shinokishi commander hesitated for just a moment—a warrior’s instinct warning him that this was a mistake.

Then duty overrode instinct, and he gave the order.

”ENGAGE!”

Five hundred knights drew their weapons and charged.

Forty-five mages released their prepared spells.

And Jolthar Kaezhlar, alone in the courtyard of a prince’s mansion, faced an army with a smile on his face and power gathering around him like a storm about to break.

The battle was about to begin.

-

Milan’s hand had moved instinctively to his sword, his body tensing to enter the fight despite the impossible odds. He had said that he couldn’t fight with him but he couldn’t stop himself. After all these years, he had found an individual who was the same as him, a reincarnator like him. He had developed a great bond with Jolthar and felt like he was a brother to him. To make him face such a number on his own, he felt something that he couldn’t quite put a finger on.

But before he could draw, Andrion’s hand clamped down on his shoulder with surprising strength.

”Brother, don’t,” Andrion said urgently.

”I can’t just stand here while—” Milan started.

”Look at his aura,” Andrion interrupted, his eyes fixed on Jolthar.

”Really look at it.”

Milan focused, and his breath caught.

Jolthar’s aura was rising—not gradually, but in surging waves that seemed to grow stronger with each passing second. The green energy of the Beast King Aura was intensifying, becoming so dense it was almost solid, creating visible distortions in the air.

”He’s not afraid,” Andrion said quietly.

”He’s excited. This isn’t a desperate last stand—it’s something else entirely.”

Jolthar turned to face them for just a moment, and when he spoke, his voice carried absolute confidence.

”It’s okay, Milan. I understand.”

”So, just stand back. Both of you. Put up barriers in front of the mansion. This is going to get messy.”

”Jolthar—” Milan began.

”Trust me,” Jolthar said simply.

Then he turned back to face the charging army, and his aura exploded outward with such force that the first rank of knights actually stumbled in their advance.

The Beast King Aura blazed around him—pure green energy that seemed to pulse with primal life. He wasn’t drawing on void power and wasn’t channeling chaos energy. Just the Beast King Aura, refined and concentrated to a degree that made the air itself vibrate with potential.