The Sinful Young Master

Chapter 391: Cheating is the way of deities

He poured everything he had: his whole chaosaura, into Vorthak. The sword blazed with energy that made the air scream.

Then he drew on a technique he had only recently mastered, one that his body could barely handle.

"Thousand Chaos Blades!"

He swung Vorthak in a rising arc, and from the blade erupted not one attack but a thousand individual strikes, each one a blade made of pure chaos energy. They filled the air like a swarm, each one seeking the falling divine execution.

The two attacks met in midair.

The explosion was catastrophic.

The shockwave flattened everything for a hundred yards. Light and darkness warred in a display that could be seen from Cahns’ar itself.

When the energy dissipated, both combatants were still standing, but barely.

Borehym was breathing hard, his divine form showing strain.

And Jolthar... Jolthar stood with Vorthak raised, and his blade was surrounded by the remnants of chaos energy that had survived the collision.

With a shout, he redirected that energy, all thousand remaining blades, directly at Borehym.

The wind deity tried to defend, but he was exhausted, his power depleted from the previous attack.

The chaos blades struck him.

Not all of them.

Borehym’s divine nature allowed him to evade or block most. But not all.

One blade got through and struck his shoulder.

The deity screamed, not in pain, but in shock and disbelief.

His shoulder was wounded. Divine flesh, which should have been nearly indestructible, had been pierced by a mortal’s attack. Golden ichor that served as deity blood leaked from the wound.

At the edge of the clearing, everyone stared in absolute shock.

Aphyana’s expression had gone from confident to alarmed.

"Pathetic. He dares call himself a deity?!"

Myron’s satisfaction had turned to concern, watching Jolthar.

"What is he?"

Elara’s eyes gleamed with renewed interest and greed.

"He’s more valuable than I thought."

In the forest, watching through Ivyona’s viewing spell, Haryntha-Hectia allowed herself a small smile.

"I told you not to worry."

"The boy has grown strong," Ivyona agreed.

"Multiple energy types, sword mastery at the ninth tier, and the will to use them even against impossible odds. He reminds me of the ancient heroes."

She paused.

"Or perhaps the ancient threats, depending on one’s perspective."

Back at the battle, Borehym clutched his wounded shoulder, staring at Jolthar with an expression that mixed rage, pain, and dawning understanding.

"You’re not normal," the deity said.

"You’re something else. You are a darkborn creature, a curse in human flesh."

"I’m someone who protects what’s his," Jolthar replied, his voice steady despite his exhaustion. "Your daughter threatened my people. You threaten my life. Both of you chose this path. Don’t blame me for defending myself."

Borehym’s face worked through several expressions.

Jolthar stood in the center of the devastated clearing, his breathing heavy, his body pushed to its limits. Vorthak remained in his hand, still pulsing with residual chaos energy. He had used a lot of energy and poured it into the attack, which injured the deity, and it was worth it.

He started to lower his sword, beginning to relax his guard.

That was when Aphyana’s voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding.

"Myron, kill him. Now."

Jolthar’s head snapped up, his eyes finding Aphyana at the edge of the clearing. The goddess’s beautiful face was twisted with an ugly expression showing frustration, anger, and murderous intent barely concealed behind a veneer of divine authority.

Borehym’s presence, which had been fading, suddenly solidified again. The wind deity’s form became partially visible once more, his voice carrying warning.

"Aphyana, do not interfere. The fight isn’t over yet. Honor demands—"

"I don’t care about your honor," Aphyana snapped.

"That mortal just wounded a deity. He’s too dangerous to be allowed to live. He threatens the natural order."

"Aphyana," Borehym said coldly.

But Aphyana wasn’t listening. Her eyes were fixed on Myron, and her command carried a divine compulsion that even a deivruta couldn’t fully resist.

"I said kill him!"

Myron’s expression shifted through several emotions: surprise, hesitation, and then grim acceptance. He gritted his teeth and moved. He had become nothing but a henchman for these deities. His goal of becoming had now turned to a joke.

And he hated Jolthar.

Old grudges, old conflicts, and old jealousies all came rushing back. The chance to kill his enemy with divine sanction was too tempting to refuse, regardless of honor or fairness.

He blamed Jolthar for his situation and thought if Jolthar didn’t exist, he would have just lived his life, chasing his dream.

His anger had overridden his thinking, and now he just wanted to kill Jolthar and be done with it.

"Finally," Myron said, stepping forward. His fists began to glow with divine energy, not as powerful as a true deity’s, but more than enough to kill an exhausted mortal.

"I’ve been waiting for this."

Elara moved beside him, her hands already weaving magical bindings.

"Remember, brother, don’t kill him completely. I still want to have to answer to my family."

"We’ll see what’s left when I’m done," Myron replied with a vicious grin.

Aphyana just stared at Jolthar so she didn’t listen to Elara’s words.

Jolthar raised Vorthak again, his stance defensive but clearly strained.

"Really? Now you have grown balls to face me, Myron?"

"Well, you are strong, very strong enough to face a deity," Elara said sweetly.

Jolthar tilted his head and saw his cousin for the first time she came here.

He just grinned and said, "You are one sadistic bitch, do you know that?"

"People call me by several names."

Elara was smiling at him, with a very wide grin, enough to make normal people feel a chill down their spine.

They moved simultaneously.

Myron was fast, blindingly fast, enhanced by divine blood and years of combat training. He closed the distance in a heartbeat, his fist wreathed in golden energy as it shot toward Jolthar’s face.

Jolthar barely got Vorthak up in time to deflect, but the force of the blow sent him stumbling backward. His depleted energy reserves meant he couldn’t properly reinforce his defense.