The Sinful Young Master - Chapter 80

Chapter 80: Gods interventions

Soon a tunnel opened into a cavernous space, the air damp and heavy with an unsettling energy. Its walls glistening faintly with moisture carried a faint metallic tang.

Jolthar scanned the cave, his keen eyes searching for any sign of Daurgien or the woman he had taken. But the trail of blood stopped abruptly at the centre of the cavern. The group fanned out, searching the area thoroughly.

“There’s nothing here,” one of the warriors muttered, frustration evident in his tone.

Daus, still nursing his injuries, leaned heavily on his axe as he surveyed the cavern. “He’s playing with us,” he said bitterly. “Leading us on a wild chase.”

Belan and Lysandra looked at Jolthar, as he was the one who led them here, wondering what he would do now. Eran was also the same. They were very impressed with how Jolthar had been leading and taking charge with Daus.

But Jolthar wasn’t convinced. He continued to examine the walls of the cave, his instincts telling him there was more to this place than met the eye.

Then he saw it—a thin, vertical slit in the rock, barely visible in the dim light. The dim torchlight barely illuminated it, but something about it felt wrong. From the narrow slit, he could sense a foul energy.

–

“Here,” Jolthar said, pointing to the slit. The others gathered around, squinting at the faint outline of the opening.

“It’s too narrow,” one warrior said. “We can’t get through.”

Jolthar ignored him, stepping closer to the slit. As he did, a wave of foul energy washed over him, setting his teeth on edge. Whatever lay beyond the opening was unnatural, dark, and dangerous.

Turning to Maelruth, he gave a quiet command.

The drake responded instantly with a low rumble, its claws scraping against the rock as it began to widen the slit. The sound of stone grinding against stone echoed through the cavern, sending a shiver down the spines of the group.

Once the opening was wide enough, Jolthar slipped through, followed closely by Maelruth. The rest of the group hesitated, exchanging uncertain glances before steeling themselves and entering the narrow passage.

–

The passage led to another cave, smaller but far darker. The air was thick with an acrid stench, this one colder and more sinister. The foul energy was stronger here, an almost physical presence that made their skin crawl. The sound of dripping liquid echoed through the cavern.

Jolthar advanced cautiously, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

Then he saw it.

At the far end of the cave, a woman hung suspended from a thick wooden pole, her naked form illuminated by the dim light filtering through cracks in the rock. Blood dripped from her wrists, pooling on the ground beneath her. But it wasn’t just blood—it was something darker, something unnatural.

Jolthar’s eyes narrowed as he stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he saw a dark, snake-like creature coiled around her wrist. Its slimy, black body pulsed as it drank her blood, its movements eerily deliberate. The foul energy was now more as he understood that it was coming from the dark thing.

The others entered the cave behind him, their torches casting light on the horrifying scene.

Gasps of shock and horror filled the air as Daus and the other warriors recognized the woman.

“Eloda,” Daus whispered, his voice trembling. “It’s her. Our deity.” In the dim light, they could see her scarred face and frail body. Their expression turned to horror witnessing their deity in such a state.

The revelation sent a ripple of disbelief through the group. Eloda, the deity they worshipped and revered, was here, bleeding and bound like a sacrificial offering.

Lysandra turned to him sharply. “Eloda? As in your deity Eloda?”

Daus nodded slowly, his knees nearly buckling as he stared at the bloodied figure. “It can’t be… She… she’s supposed to watch over us. Protect us.”

Sgard’s expression hardened. “And yet here she is, broken and bleeding. What in the abyss is going on?”

–

Jolthar approached cautiously, his eyes never leaving the snake-like creature. “Stay back,” he warned the others. “This isn’t ordinary.”

“This thing—it’s feeding on her.”

Belan stepped forward, her gaze locked onto the figure of the deity. “What’s a deity like her doing here? Why is she in this state?”

Jolthar turned briefly to Belan, shaking his head. “Daurgien, I am sure he is responsible for this, and I do wonder how he was able to drag a deity into his revenge.”

Daus fell to his knees, his face pale. “How could this happen? Eloda… She’s supposed to protect us.”

Jolthar’s mind raced as he examined the scene. The foul energy radiating from the snake-like creature was unlike anything he had encountered before. It was dark, malevolent, and powerful—a corruption that had no place in the mortal world.

The woman stirred slightly, her head lifting just enough to reveal her face. Her eyes, though clouded with pain, locked onto Jolthar’s. “Help me,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Jolthar gritted his teeth. He didn’t know if he could trust her—after all, gods were known for their deceit—but leaving her like this wasn’t an option.

The group exchanged uneasy glances.

“What do we do?” Lysandra asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jolthar didn’t hesitate. “We get her down. Now.”

Daus hesitated, his hands trembling. “If she truly is Eloda, then she’s sacred. We can’t—”

“Sacred or not, she’s dying,” Jolthar snapped. “And if she’s your deity, you owe it to her to act.”

–

“We need to get her down,” Jolthar said, his voice firm. He turned to Maelruth, gesturing for the drake to approach. “Carefully.”

Maelruth moved with surprising delicacy, its powerful claws slicing through the bindings that held Eloda in place.

As she was freed, the snake-like creature hissed violently, its body writhing as it detached from her wrist and lunged toward Jolthar.

He reacted instantly, drawing his sword and slashing through the air. The blade, imbued with a faint golden light, struck the creature, causing it to shriek in pain and retreat.

The others moved to help, surrounding Eloda as she collapsed to the ground. Sgard and Lysandra worked quickly to tend to her wounds, their hands trembling as they touched the deity they had only ever prayed to.

Meanwhile, Jolthar kept his eyes on the snake-like creature, which coiled itself into a defensive posture. It seemed intelligent, its black eyes gleaming with malice as it sized him up.

“This thing… it’s not from this world,” Jolthar said, his voice low. “It was feeding on her power.”

–

The creature struck again, its movements impossibly fast. But Jolthar was ready. He sidestepped the attack, his sword flashing as he drove it into the creature’s side. It let out another ear-piercing shriek, its body writhing in agony.

Maelruth joined the fray, its massive jaws snapping at the creature. The drake’s teeth found purchase, tearing into the snake-like form and pinning it to the ground. Jolthar seized the opportunity, driving his blade into the creature’s head.

With a final, guttural cry, the creature dissolved into a pool of black blood, its foul energy dissipating into the air.

–

The cave fell silent, save for the laboured breathing of the group. Jolthar sheathed his sword, his gaze turning to Eloda. She lay unconscious, her wounds still bleeding but no longer as severe.

Daus approached her hesitantly, his face a mix of reverence and guilt. “What do we do now?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jolthar didn’t answer immediately. His thoughts were elsewhere, focused on the lingering foul energy in the cave. Whatever had corrupted this place wasn’t entirely gone.

While everyone was focused on the deity, Jolther’s gaze was looking at the round entrance of the cave. And it was not the entrance through which they came. He could see a faint light coming from that entrance.

He walked towards that entrance and went out of the cave.

***

The white mansion of Saubras existed beyond mortal comprehension—a structure that defied architectural logic and was constructed from pure luminescence. White walls shimmered with an internal radiance that pulsed like living memory, and architectural elements shifted and breathed with divine consciousness.

Isanra and Hesuas were already present. The tension was palpable, a living entity more substantial than the atmosphere surrounding them. Saubras entered, his presence immediately transforming the chamber’s energy—a thunderous arrival that carried millennia of accumulated power.

“You interfered,” Saubras declared, his voice resonating with a force that could shatter geological formations. It was not a question but a statement of absolute judgment.

Hesuas stood resolute, though something in his divine essence suggested a subtle defeat.

Isanra remained silent, her heavenly form a study in contained fury. Her eyes, pools of immense darkness, reflected layers of complex emotions—frustration, strategic calculation, and an underlying maternal protectiveness that transcended divine politics.

“Be grateful,” Saubras continued, his tone a blade of pure warning, “that Inadrys remains uninvolved. Had he discovered the extent of your manipulations, the consequences would have been catastrophic.”