The Sinful Young Master - Chapter 55

Chapter 55: Defeat

Such mastery of the seven-streamed sword technique was legendary, a sign of her status as a Tier 5 practitioner. The very air seemed to freeze in the construct’s wake.

But Jolthar’s eyes gleamed with an inner darkness. As the ice blade descended, tendrils of shadow began to seep from his sword.

“Void Wrath,” he whispered and struck.

The collision shook the tavern.

Where blade met blossom, reality itself seemed to waver. Jolthar’s sword, wreathed in writhing shadows, had somehow caught the massive ice construct. Cracks began spreading through the crystalline petals.

“Impossible!” Belan’s composure cracked for the first time. “No Tier 4 swordsman could—”

“I am more than mere tiers,” Jolthar responded, his voice eerily calm as the void energies intensified. With a final surge of power, his sword shattered her ice construct, sending crystalline shards across the tavern.

Belan’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you really?” Her eyes scanned his features his long sword, his silver hair, and no matter how she looked, he was just a boy, not more than 18. How could he possibly be able to counter her attack?

She began weaving complex patterns with her sword, and the remaining colours of her technique blazed to life. Her movements were graceful, almost like a dance as she moved with her sword swinging carefully. And it just wasn’t for show.

The air was filled with thousands of razor petals, each stream a different deadly hue. They moved like living things, forming hundreds of snakes. The display was breathtaking – and lethal.

But Jolthar had already begun moving. His sword left trails of darkness as he wove through the assault, the void energies consuming any petals that came too close. Each clash of steel against energy sent dark sparks cascading through the air.

“Your technique is beautiful,” he acknowledged, even as he advanced. “But beauty alone isn’t enough.” The void energies around his blade intensified, forming a spiralling wheel of shadow that began to consume the very light around it.

Belan’s eyes widened as she felt the pressure of his power.

Even as she poured more mana into her assault, she could see the petals being drawn into that lightless maelstrom.

“No!” she snarled, channelling everything she had into one final attack. The remaining cherry blossoms condensed into a massive spear of pure energy, its tip aimed at Jolthar’s heart. “Die!”

But Jolthar was ready.

As the spear descended, he raised his sword high, void energies swirling into a vortex around the blade. “Void Wrath: Consuming Dark!”

The two techniques met in an explosion of light and shadow.

For a moment, the tavern was blind with competing energies. Then, slowly, the darkness began to win. The shear pressure from the collision started to impact the tavern, and it no longer stood their attacks; it was starting to collapse, and all the people inside had already escaped and were now watching from a distance.

The women of the Blue Rose were completely shocked, seeing a mere kid was able to overpower Belan.

While Jolthar was more than an ordinary swordsman, Belan’s strength lay in her mastery of mana, which she harnessed not only for spells but also in her swordsmanship as a magic swordsman. This set her apart from those who wielded aura, creating a stark contrast in their fighting styles. As a magic swordsman, Belan held the advantage of weaving spells into her attacks, adding layers of versatility and power that pure swordsmen couldn’t match.

But here, Belan struggled to understand why she couldn’t overpower Jolthar—a swordsman technically a tier below her and, to add insult to injury, a mere kid a few years her junior. She prided herself on her command over mana, blending magic and swordsmanship in a way few could rival. Yet, despite her advantage, Jolthar held his ground with unnerving ease, deflecting her strikes with a skill that defied his rank and age.

Belan could only watch in dismay as her ultimate technique was devoured piece by piece, the void energies crawling up the energy spear like hungry shadows until they reached her position.

But she hadn’t given up; her pride as the woman of blue rose wouldn’t let her as she started performing all the seven forms of her technique, continuously raining down her attacks on Jolthar.

The impact zone had expanded, with her attacks now reaching farther and spreading wider with each strike.

The void-wreathed wheel of darkness grew larger in the sky above Jolthar, casting otherworldly shadows across the tavern of Riverbank City. Belan’s eyes widened as she felt its overwhelming presence—a hunger that seemed to devour the very light around it.

“Impossible,” she whispered, watching her cherry blossoms being drawn into the darkness.

But Jolthar stood unmoved, his steel-grey eyes reflecting the spiralling shadows. “Your technique is really powerful, but it doesn’t work here.” The void wheel pulsed with deadly intent, growing larger with each passing moment.

Belan wasn’t finished.

Despite the growing dread in her heart, she activated her final defence—the legendary Azure Shield of the Blue Rose, a mystical barrier that had protected the Seraglio’s leaders for generations.

The air shimmered as layers of translucent blue energy formed around her.

“You’re not the first to hide behind barriers,” Jolthar said coldly and released his technique.

The void wheel descended like an avalanche of shadow. Where it touched Belan’s shields, cracks appeared in reality itself. One by one, her defensive layers shattered, each breaking faster than the last. The very air seemed to scream as void energy ate through her protections.

Belan poured all her mana into her barrier, trying to withstand his attack.

The wheel struck.

The explosion sent ripples of darkness across the slum area.

Belan plummeted from the sky like a fallen star, crashing into the cobblestones below.

There was now a large audience who had gathered to watch his defeat; almost all of the city now gathered far from the scene, murmuring, mostly about the mysterious young man who defeated the mighty daughter of Blue Rose. It would certainly send a ripple through the lands of the continent.

Roblan, who was watching from afar, with widened eyes. Just who was this young man that his mother sent?

As Jolthar approached the crater, a figure blurred into existence between them – an older woman in elaborate blue robes, her silver hair whipping in the wind.

Dame Cerulean, the Seraglio’s Master of Arms.

“You dare!” she snarled, power radiating from her form.

But before the situation could escalate further, another presence made itself known. Standing at Cerulean’s side was a tall woman with striking golden eyes—Lysandra.