The Sinful Young Master

Chapter 137 The Kaezhlar family of power

The drake had been trying to get free for a while; the drake sensed the discomfort Jolthar was in because he was in the vicinity. It came as soon as it could, and seeing Jolthar lying on the ground, the drake roared angrily.

”Impossible,” Segarus muttered, his voice barely audible over the drakeʼs roars. ”Maelruth…bonded to him?”

The red mages who had gathered around jolted back in fear, their bravado evaporating in the face of the drakeʼs raw power.

It was the gift from himself to Lorryll on his wedding. They had captured the drake with great difficulty, and it was one of the rarest species that can fly. Whey caught the drake; it refused to let out its wings, but now, for Jolthar Maelruth, it revealed its true form.

Even Kaezhlar clan people were shocked to see the sight of the drake.

Drake let out another roar, its sound echoing across the landscape and shaking everyone to their core. The roar wasnʼt just a warning; it was a challenge, a declaration of its intent to protect Jolthar no matter the cost.

Caelum stepped forward, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword tightly as he stared at the drake.

Jolthar stirred weakly at the drakeʼs touch, his eyelids fluttering open. His gaze met the creatureʼs fiery eyes, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. ”Maelruth… you came,” he whispered, his voice hoarse but laced with gratitude.

The drake grunted in response, its massive chest rising and falling with each breath.

-

The air still crackled with tension, though the oppressive weight of Dakrasuerʼs divine presence had vanished. His abrupt disappearance left a strange void, as if the world itself was momentarily stunned by the godʼs retreat.

However, the Kaezhlar clan had little time to ponder the implications.

On the horizon, the army of 100 red mages remained—a crimson tide threatening to drown what little remained of their once-proud stronghold.

Segarus stood among the rubble, leaning heavily on a stone, his breath labored. His mana reserves were nearly depleted, the strain of combating Caelum and the aftermath of Dakrasuerʼs involvement taking a visible toll.

Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, but his eyes still burned with a cold resolve. He raised his head, scanning the battlefield, and his lips curled into a thin, bitter smile.

”Its not over,” Segarus rasped, his voice carrying just enough strength to reach the ears of the Kaezhlar warriors. He spat on the ground, glaring at Caelum and Johamma. ”I still have my army. You may have weathered storms, but this… this will drown you.”

With a flick of his wrist, Segarus gave the signal.

The mages roared in unison, their chants weaving into a single, ominous symphony. The air grew thick with magic, the horizon glowing with the eerie red light of their spells charging.

Johamma stepped forward, her piercing gaze fixed on the advancing force. Her radiant aura that seemed to ripple off her form. There was no mistaking it now—Johamma was far from ordinary. She had the presence of a goddess, every step she took exuding confidence and power.

”Stay down, Segarus,” Johamma said, her voice cold as steel. ”Youʼre in no condition to continue this battle. Your mages will fall like the rest.”

Segarus let out a harsh laugh. ”Perhaps. But theyʼll take you all down with them. That, I can promise.”

Caelum joined Johammaʼs side, his sword gleaming with renewed energy. Though his strength was only half restored, the fire in his eyes burned as brightly as ever. He glanced at Johamma, the unspoken bond between them stronger than words.

”Shall we?” Caelum asked, gripping his sword tightly.

Johamma smirked. ”Letʼs show them what true power looks like.”

The red mages unleashed their spells in a massive volley—fireballs, lightning bolts, and dark arcs of energy hurtling toward the Kaezhlar defenders.

But Caelum and Johamma were already in motion.

Caelum raised his sword high, the blade shimmering with a golden glow. He channeled his aura into the weapon, and a circle of glowingorbs formed around him. ”Infernal radiance” he roared, slashing the air in a wide arc.

A wave of searing light surged forward, consuming the incoming spells in an explosion of energy. The red mages closest to the blast screamed as the light scorched them, leaving nothing but ash in its wake.

Johamma, meanwhile, launched herself into the fray with breathtaking speed. She moved like a storm incarnate, her fists glowing with an ethereal light. As a group of mages directed their spells toward her, she raised her hand, and with a simple motion, she deflected the attacks as though they were harmless gusts of wind.

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”Is this the best you can muster?” Johamma taunted, her voice ringing out like a challenge.

She spun in place, her arms moving in fluid, deadly arcs.

Every punch and kick she delivered sent shockwaves rippling through the battlefield. Her power was unrelenting, each strike creating craters and scattering the enemy forces.

Caelum performed his Silverstream cut, his sword igniting with silver-blue lights. He charged into the heart of the enemy ranks, slashing through their formations with surgical precision.

Each strike of his blade released bursts of fire, incinerating multiple mages at once.

The red mages tried to regroup, but Caelumʼs relentless assault left them no time to recover.

Soon, Wayde and Davis joined his father in attacking. Elowen ordered them to help his father as he wasnʼt at his full strength.

Isorabella wasted no time; she was a tier 8 swordswoman with flawless agility. She rarely fought, but if she did, then her enemies would fall like pebbles. She was known to be ruthless when it came to her family. All this time, she had been held back by her mother; if not, she would have jumped into the fray at the start itself.

That was how the children of the Kaezhlar clan were raised; they all care about the family.

Eran and Clifton fought all they could, aiding their master.

Maena on the other hand, pushed her thoughts about Jolthar for now, she continued her battle with Lodawg who was also surprised by the turn of events.

Jolthar still remained on the ground with the drake by his side; his injuries disabled him from moving or even raising his hand, much less fighting. His consciousness was starting to fade, his vision blurred.