The Sinful Young Master

Chapter 392: Anothe daughter of Inadrys

Myron pressed the advantage, unleashing a combination of strikes that would have shattered stone.

"Heaven Fist—Seventeen Chains!"

Each punch connected with the air itself, creating pressure waves even when Jolthar dodged. The technique was designed to overwhelm defenses through sheer volume of attacks.

Accepting his shame, Borehhym also supported Myron and attacked Jolthar. He wanted Jolthar dead, today, at any cost.

Jolthar defended desperately, his sword work still precise despite his exhaustion, but he was being pushed back. One punch got through, glancing off his ribs and cracking bone.

AHH!

He gasped, pain shooting through his side.

Elara’s magic struck then, binding spells that wrapped around Jolthar’s legs, slowing his movements. "Got you!"

She had learned a few tricks while travelling with deity children.

Myron saw the opening and took it.

"Heaven Fist—Devine Demolition!"

His fist, glowing with concentrated divine energy, slammed into Jolthar’s right hip.

The impact was devastating.

Bone shattered, muscle tore.

Aaarrrrgghhhh!!!!

Jolthar screamed as his leg buckled, and he crashed to one knee.

Before he could recover, Myron’s follow-up strike hit his right leg, another explosion of divine force that left the limb mangled and useless.

Jolthar collapsed fully, blood pouring from his wounds, his right side a mass of pain. Vorthak fell from his grasp, clattering against the scorched ground.

The Chaosaura had drained a significant portion of his reserve energy during the battle with the wind deity, leaving him dangerously depleted. Worse, it continued to consume what little strength remained, like a thirsty beast unwilling to rest. His injuries only made matters worse, as the energy needed for regeneration further weakened him. For now, Jolthar was far from his best shape.

And Myron had undergone a lot of training under Aphyana to get stronger, and he was also a tier 9 warrior with deity’s blood in him, giving him several advantages similar to Jolthar. Though it would have been different if Jolthar was in his best condition.

"Not so invincible now," Myron said, standing over him with contempt.

"All that power, all that arrogance, and you’re just meat and bone like any other mortal."

He raised his fist for a killing blow, divine energy condensing to a point that would obliterate Jolthar’s head.

"Stop."

The single word carried such absolute authority that everyone froze.

A new presence had entered the clearing, not gradually, but all at once, as if reality had simply decided she had always been there.

She stood twenty feet away, a woman who radiated power that made Myron’s divine heritage look like a candle compared to the sun. She was perhaps in her late twenties, with features that were sharp and beautiful, hair the color of burnished copper, and eyes that held depths of knowledge and fury.

She wore armor that seemed to shift between material and immaterial, and at her hip hung a sword that sang with potential violence.

Selma Belat Vroulan.

Deivruta, like Myron, has the same father as him, which he wasn’t aware of.

Aphyana was aware of it.

Aphyana’s expression went from triumphant to something between fury and fear.

"You!!"

"Me," Selma confirmed, her voice carrying harmonics that suggested her divine half was very close to the surface.

"Hello, sister. It’s been a while."

The word ’sister’ landed like a physical blow.

Myron’s eyes widened.

"Wait, you’re—"

"Daughter of Inadrys, yes," Selma confirmed.

She possessed a rare vision that allowed her to perceive both children and deities clearly, even seeing through the disguises gods used to hide among mortals.

"Just like you, brother. Just like dear Aphyana here, though she’s tried very hard to pretend our father never had children besides her."

Aphyana’s beautiful face contorted with hate. "You have no right to claim that lineage. You’re a half-breed mongrel, born of my father’s moment of weakness with a mortal woman."

Selma let out a chuckle.

"And yet I exist," she replied calmly.

"As does Myron. We’re all children of Inadrys, whether you accept it or not."

Her eyes shifted to Myron, who had stepped back from Jolthar, clearly reassessing the situation. "Though unlike you, brother, I didn’t inherit Father’s taste for cruelty.

Tell me, does it make you feel powerful, attacking an exhausted man two-on-one?"

"Why do you care?" Myron protested, though there was uncertainty in his voice now.

"I care because you are fighting an individual of the empire, and also you are standing on the land that belongs to us," Selma countered.

"And he just fought that deity himself to a standstill. But you—" her gaze swept to include both Myron and Aphyana "—you decided to attack him while he’s wounded and depleted.

How very brave of you."

"This doesn’t concern you," Aphyana said coldly.

"Leave now, or I’ll remind you why you are still a mortal."

In response, Selma said, "I am a mortal alright."

She took a step forward, and her aura expanded, crushing pressure that made even Aphyana take a half-step back.

"You orchestrated this whole situation, didn’t you? Judging by your reactions and you ordering them around. I can tell you grudge against that young man. You don’t fear anything, do you?"

"I fear nothing," Aphyana hissed.

"Liar."

Selma’s smile was cold.

"You fear what Father will say. You fear that he would stop giving you attention."

She moved to stand between Jolthar and his attackers, her hand resting on her sword hilt.

"I’m claiming protection over this mortal. Anyone who wants to continue attacking him will have to go through me first."

Myron looked at Aphyana, clearly uncertain. Fighting Jolthar was one thing.

Fighting this woman, who was his half-sister and also a deivruta with power that exceeded his own, was another matter entirely.

Elara had already stepped back, her binding magic dissipating. She was ambitious, not suicidal.

Aphyana stared at Selma with undisguised hatred, her aura pulsing with barely restrained violence. For a moment, it seemed like she might actually attack, might risk a battle with her half-sister despite the consequences.

Aphyana was aware of how much more powerful she was, even though she was a mortal and her powers were limited with restrictions in the realm; she didn’t have much chance against Selma. Every deity child was aware that Selma was a dangerous warrior and she had the weapon that was given by Inadrys himself, specially made for her.

Then Borehym’s voice cut through the tension once more.

"This has gone far enough."