The Sinful Young Master

The drake's battle with the second licaolf had taken to the air—or what limited space there was of it in the stable's confines. The beast proved capable of defying gravity almost as well as the drake. It moved swiftly.

The drake matched its movements with surprising agility for its size, its tail and wings working in perfect harmony to keep it manoeuvrable in the restricted space.

Jolthar's knashii finally found its mark, opening a gash along his licaolf's flank. Instead of blood, purple-coloured liquid poured from the wound, coalescing into writhing tendrils that tried to ensnare the young warrior.

But the voidwrath power protected against such darkness.

The strange tendrils dissipated where they touched the silver void energy surrounding him, unable to penetrate his defence.

The sound of approaching guards began to echo from outside, but everyone in the stable knew the battle would be decided before help arrived. The licaolf fighting Jolthar seemed to sense this too, and its attacks became more desperate and fierce. It launched a flurry of strikes that would have torn a normal man to pieces, its claws moving faster than the eye could follow.

Jolthar met the assault with a technique that made Myron gasp in awe. The knashii became a circular wall of void-touched steel, each movement flowing perfectly into the next. The runes along the blade flared brighter with each parry, drinking in the licaolf's green-coloured energy and turning it against the beast. Dark silver light and darkness clashed again and again, creating bizarre patterns of illumination that danced across the stable walls.

Maelruth had pinned its opponent against the ground, but the licaolf twisted impossibly to escape, proving the beast's speed. The beast's retaliatory strike caught the drake's wing, drawing a roar of pain.

Jolthar's eyes began to glow with the same silver energy that emanated from his blade. The voidwrath power reached a crescendo within him, and he called upon one of his most powerful techniques. "Void Severance," he whispered, and the knashii's runes blazed like dark silver stars.

The air itself seemed to part before his next strike.

The licaolf, for the first time, showed an emotion other than savage fury—fear. It tried to leap away, but Jolthar's attack covered an impossible distance in no time at all. The blade passed through the beast's defences as if they didn't exist, leaving a tear in reality itself that quickly sealed behind it.

The licaolf froze mid-motion, shadows leaking from its form like smoke from a dying fire. Its body slammed against the wall, following a huge explosion in the stable grounds.

The mysterious man let out a cry of rage and frustration, his sceptre's light pulsing erratically.

Maelruth seized the moment of distraction to end its own battle. Its tail caught the second licaolf in a devastating blow that sent the beast crashing through an empty stall. Before it could recover, the drake's flames engulfed it; a crimson flame burst out from the drake's mouth.

The beast's howl of defeat and cries of being burnt alive were echoed throughout the streets.

The thundering of boots grew louder as castle guards approached the stable, but their intervention would no longer be necessary.

The battle had been decided by the two, and they were standing amidst the wreck.

The stable was in a mess and one of its sides was burning, and the two beasts were lying dead on the ground.

Myron stood in stunned silence; he didn't even need to step in as he tried to process everything he had witnessed. The stable hand had fallen to his knees in prayer, and the horses were only just beginning to calm.

But Jolthar's attention was fixed solely on the man with the sceptre, who now stood alone, his magical beasts defeated, and his plan in ruins.

The oppressive aura of that mysterious green energy still lingered in the air as Jolthar moved toward Remon, his long blade gleaming in the dim light.

The night sky became eerie, and the fire burning in the stables grew by the moment. The stable man herded the horses out of the stables as he tried to put out the fire.

Remon stood his ground, his face twisted with a mixture of defiance and desperation.

"You think you've won. It is just starting. I have plenty of those. I will take your drake no matter what," he laughed.

He held the sceptre high, its eerie green energy pulsating like a corrupted heartbeat.

The forest behind the stable seemed to come alive as twisted and monstrous beasts emerged from the shadows. Their eyes glowing with the same unnatural light as the sceptre, they moved with a feral hunger, their snarls filling the air as they closed in.

"See, you can't do anything. You will be food to those savages within no time," Remon was gleaming.

But before they could reach Jolthar, Maelruth, his drake, stepped forward with a thunderous roar. The ground trembled beneath her massive feet, and the sheer force of her presence made the beasts hesitate. Her crimson scales shimmered in the flickering light, her glowing eyes locking onto the corrupted creatures.

For a moment, it seemed as though her domineering aura would be enough to drive them back. But the green energy from the sceptre was too potent, too oppressive. The beasts twitched and writhed, their movements jerky and unnatural as they fought against Maelruth's influence.

Then, Maelruth moved her head in a simple motion and turned toward the beasts. Standing her ground, she let out another monstrous roar, this time directed at them, which caused them to freeze.

AARRRRRRRKKKKKEEKKKK!!!

RUMBLING ROAR!!

It continued for a couple of seconds straight, making the beasts squirm under its might. Even Remon faltered in his steps; the green energy seemed not effective under the primal roar of the drake.

The very ground on which they stood trembled like it was shaking under the might of the drake.

Even Jolthar was surprised to see such raw power from the drake.

Myron could only stare with his mouth agape as he stumbled back. Even he couldn't remain unaffected.