The Sinful Young Master

Chapter 330: You are the strongest person in the whole world

There were a few of them in the people, and they came as soon as Jolthar gave the order.

He paused, letting his gaze sweep across the faces of everyone present—the grateful people, the merchants and travelers who had been caught up in the dayʼs events.

”Let this be an example,” Jolthar continued, his words carrying the weight of law and judgment. ”Let everyone who passes through these gates know what happens to those who covet what is mine. Tekkora and its people are under my protection. Anyone who threatens them will face the same fate, regardless of their title, their power, or the realm they come from.”

His voice was loud and low-pitched, sounding like a boom across the square.

Every one of them felt it like a wave crashing over them.

Cleora pursed her lips, watching him while Nora was staring at him with a hardened expression. She didnʼt like the way he solved the issue. She thought that he shouldnʼt have killed the half-elf woman, bringing in a deityʼs wrath.

The men he had addressed moved quickly to obey, lifting Lord Eudeʼs corpse with a mixture of revulsion and grim satisfaction.

As they carried the body away, Jolthar turned once more to survey his domain.

The square was a ruin, marked forever by the battle that had taken place there.

But the people were safe, the threat was ended, and anyone with thoughts of conquest would think twice before challenging Tekkora again.

The boy who had left this place seeking training and power had returned as something far greater than anyone had imagined. He had become a force that could stand against deities themselves, and he had made it clear that he would use that power to protect those who could not protect themselves.

-

Little Mira had been watching everything from behind her motherʼs protective hands, but now that the terrible sounds of battle had ended, she pushed her motherʼs fingers away from her eyes. What she saw made her gasp with wonder rather than fear.

There stood her big brother Jolthar, tall and powerful in the middle of the square, surrounded by the soft glow of silver light.

To her nine-year-old mind, he looked like one of the heroes from the stories Jeanne used to tell by the fire on cold winter nights.

”Big brother!” she called out, her clear voice cutting through the evening air like a bell.

Before her mother could stop her, Mira broke free and ran across the damaged square, her small feet pattering over the cracked stones.

She dodged around the ash piles and jumped over the smaller cracks until she reached Jolthar, throwing her arms wide.

Joltharʼs stern expression melted away the moment he saw her running toward him.

He knelt down and scooped her up in his left arm, lifting her high enough that she could look down at the square from his height.

”Mira,” he said softly, his voice gentle once again.

”You shouldnʼt come out here. Itʼs dangerous.”

He turned her away from the bodies and blood, though she had already seen most of it.

”Were you scared?” he asked, seeing the look on her face.

Mira shook her head firmly, though her grip on his shoulder was very tight.

”No! I knew you would come back and make the bad men go away. Youʼre the strongest person in the whole world!”

From across the square, other familiar faces began to approach.

Cleora walked with quick, purposeful steps, already taking charge of the situation around them.

Nora walked towards him with her hands folded.

And Jolthar could already tell that she wasnʼt happy.

Behind her came Miraʼs mother, her face streaked with tears of relief.

Roblan came last. His face was split by the biggest grin anyone had seen from him in years.

”By the old gods and the new,” Roblan boomed, his voice carrying easily across the square, ”Iʼve never seen anything like that in all my days! You fought like one of the ancient heroes, Jolthar. Like something out of the old songs!”

”And no matter how many times I see you fight, you will surprise me every time.”

Roblanʼs eyes glowed with nothing but appreciation and respect towards Jolthar.

Jolthar smiled at him, patting his shoulder.

Nora said nothing, but her eyes never left Joltharʼs face.

She was trying to understand what he had become during his time away.

Cleora took charge as she always did in times of crisis.

”Men of Tekkora!” she called out, her voice carrying the authority of someone born to lead.

”We have wounded to tend and debris to clear. Form teams—some of you help carry the injured to the medical facility, where the healers can treat them. Others gather the... remains... and prepare them for disposal.”

She gestured toward the various ash piles and bodies scattered around the square. ”The square must be cleaned before dawn. People will want to return to their normal lives, and they canʼt do that with reminders of tonightʼs violence everywhere they look.”

”What happened tonight is something none of us will ever forget,” she said, her gaze sweeping over the gathered crowd. ”We bled, we cried, we lost those we loved. But their memory will not fade. We will carry them in our hearts, hold them in our stories, and live stronger for the tomorrow they can no longer see.”

She raised her hand, pointing toward the figure who stood apart, still scarred from battle.

”And know this—Jolthar of Tekkora… as long as this young man walks among us, as long as his fire burns, no harm will come to our people. I believe it with every breath I have.”

Her voice trembled at first, but then it rose—clear, fierce, and unyielding.

The words struck like thunder through the weary hearts of the people, people who were the residents of the old Barony.

They remembered the first time Jolthar came and saved them from the baron, freeing them from slavery.

First a murmur, then a cry rose from the crowd, swelling into a roar that shook the broken night.