The Sinful Young Master-Chapter 242: Break free of the will

Aware of all eyes upon him—Raayani's calculating gaze, Remin's cautious assessment, Iorina's lingering suspicion, and Yoana's ancient wisdom—Jolthar made his decision.

With deliberate slowness, he raised the stone, letting it catch the fading light of day one final time.

Then, with a single, decisive motion, he closed his fist around it and crushed it.

The world stopped.

For one impossible moment, everything was suspended in perfect stillness—dust motes hanging in the air, the distant flutter of imperial standards frozen in mid-wave, even the collective breath of those gathered held in sudden, instinctive anticipation.

Then reality collapsed inward.

A suction point formed with Jolthar at its centre, as if the very fabric of existence was being drawn toward him. The stone's power, released from its physical prison, sought its natural conduit—the essence of the Beast King now residing within him.

Energy spiralled into his form in emerald streams, briefly illuminating his silhouette with unearthly light. And the gust of wind pulled in towards him, like a vacuum. Everybody was being sucked right into it, but few held their ground; the force was much stronger, and all the soldiers and beasts alike were struggling to hold their ground.

Raayani watched with fascinated eyes while others stared at him with wide eyes. Yoana didn't expect him to destroy the stone and was taken aback by his decision.

While they were struggling, the suction stopped abruptly, and the explosive energy started to recede.

The inward pull lasted only seconds before violently reversing.

This time, the wave of energy was pushing away from Jolthar in all directions; the wind was more stronger than before.

A wave of green energy erupted outward from Jolthar's position, expanding in all directions with explosive force. The raw power of the shattered artefact, amplified by its passage through him, transformed into a tidal surge that threatened to sweep away everything in its path.

It was more destructive than the vacuum before, and it was even lifting off the ground, pelting away everything around Jolthar.

Yoana reacted with inhuman speed. Her arm elongated impossibly, transforming into a massive draconic wing that she swept protectively around herself and Raayani. The scaled membrane shimmered as the wave of energy crashed against it, diverting around rather than through the barrier she had created.

Remin and Iorina, veterans of conflicts where supernatural forces were commonplace, responded with practiced efficiency. Their auras—manifestations of their Tier 10 capabilities—flared into existence as shields against the onslaught.

Remin's colourless barrier remained perfectly still despite the tremendous force pressing against it, while Iorina's crimson defence rippled but held.

Others were not so fortunate.

Imperial soldiers, the county soldiers, and even some of the lesser officers were caught unprepared by the sudden release of power. The wave lifted them from their feet, sending bodies tumbling across the battlefield like leaves before a storm.

Only those quick enough to find shelter or distance survived unscathed.

Throughout it all, Jolthar remained perfectly still at the epicentre, untouched by the chaos he had unleashed. His silver hair and clothing fluttered in currents of energy that seemed to recognize him as their master rather than their victim. The stone in his hand, once a treasure of incalculable value, lost its vibrant emerald hue and crumbled to unremarkable grey dust that sifted through his fingers to the ground below.

As the wave dissipated and normalcy gradually returned to the battlefield, the consequences of his action became apparent. The beasts at the forest edge stood straighter, their eyes clearer; the invisible chains that had bound them to human will were now shattered beyond repair.

The beasts were watching Jolthar with newfound respect rather than forced subservience.

Hamen emerged from behind the protective wing of his wyvern, his scholarly robes dishevelled and his expression a mixture of shock and outrage.

He couldn't believe what he had just done. The artefact, which had been in his family for generations, had been destroyed, and he couldn't do anything.

If it wasn't for his wyvern, he could have been swept away by the force of destruction caused by the stone.

"Why did you do that?" he shouted, his composure shattered as completely as the stone itself. "Do you have any idea of what you've destroyed?"

His face turned red as he walked to Jolthar.

Jolthar met his gaze impassively. "Just felt like doing it," he replied, his casual tone belying the deliberate nature of his choice.

Hamen's face reddened with frustration. "It could have amplified your power!" he exclaimed, gesturing wildly toward the retreating beasts. "With the Beast King's essence and the stone together, you could have enslaved any beast! Created an army without equal!"

Even though it was his thoughts, he wanted to do it after seeing Jolthar.

Yoana's expression darkened at Hamen's words, her draconic aspects becoming more pronounced as anger flared within her. The suggestion that Jolthar should use his newfound power to continue the cycle of enslavement struck at the core of what she had hoped his ascension might mean—a restoration of balance rather than merely a change of master.

Before she could speak, however, Jolthar responded, his voice carrying a weight and authority that seemed to resonate across the battlefield.

"Now, no one can do that," he stated simply, looking pointedly at Hamen. "You have already used enough. You should stop that."

"Don't be greedy, Hamen."

The accusation hung in the air between them—that Hamen's enthusiasm for controlling the beasts had crossed from military necessity into something darker, something that fed his far greater ambition rather than served the Empire's needs or his needs.

That the artefact had become an addiction rather than a tool.

Jolthar's words carried a finality that brooked no argument.

Whatever his military rank might be, he now spoke with the authority of the Beast King—a power more ancient than the Empire itself, a dominion that extended to realms and creatures beyond human governance.

-

Remin's and Iorina's shock was evident as the full implications became clear.

Jolthar, the young soldier, they thought, who had defied direct orders mere hours ago, now stood revealed as something far more significant than they had realized.

And the fact that they were unable to sense such an ancient power in him, they felt a little annoyed by the situation.

The title "Beast King" was known in imperial records—a quasi-mythical figure said to command the primal forces that predated human civilisation. But to have such a being emerge within their own military ranks...

They thought he was some foot soldier, and it was making them see Jolthar in a new, unsettling light.

-

A hush fell over the gathered throng as they beheld the spectacle unfurling before them.

Jolthar, his silver snow hair catching the waning light like strands of fate themselves, stood tall amidst the horde of beasts.

He ordered them to leave, to take their freedom and live peacefully away from the human lands.

The beasts, ancient in their understanding of powers beyond mortal comprehension, recognized in Jolthar's command an echo of something primordial—a voice that spoke with authority not unlike that which first shaped their kind in the dawn days of the world. Their unified roar shattered the firmament, a sound that reverberated through bone and soul alike, causing the very ground to tremble in recognition.

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They were grateful, boisterous, and full of gratitude as they turned and began to disperse into the night woods; the night darkness consumed the beasts one by one as they were leaving with a roar of happiness.

Yet not all heeded his command.

Hamen's wyvern remained steadfast, its amber eyes fixed upon its master. Beside it stood a wolf of massive proportions, its fur painted with patterns reminiscent of the night sky, and several smaller wyverns, their leathery wings folded in quiet defiance of Jolthar's directive.

These beasts, touched by something more profound than mere magical domination, had found in Hamen's ownership not a master but a caretaker who had shown them dignity amidst their captivity.

The broken man fell to his knees before this unexpected loyalty, his weathered hands trembling like autumn leaves. The beasts encircled their chosen companion, offering him the comfort he needed now.

His wyvern, Nohnath, lowered its head, nudging Hamen with unexpected gentleness—a gesture of comfort as old as the bond between mortal and beast.

Jolthar observed this tableau, his expression unreadable save for the subtle softening around his eyes. Here was a man who had lost much—a wife taken by the cruel hand of fate, and now the creatures he had deemed his property set free by Jolthar's own intervention.

Jolthar wasn't sorry for him but felt a little empathy because of how he was betrayed by his wife and now this.

Yet in this moment of loss, Hamen had discovered something perhaps more valuable—true companionship freely given.

The beasts regarded Jolthar warily, sensing the power that flowed through his veins—the green-coloured energy that had manifested so terribly in the field of battle.

They shifted closer to Hamen, protective in their stance, yet they made no move to challenge the silver-haired warrior, their new lord.

He stared at them for a few seconds; his drake, too, was watching them. She could understand their intentions as she let out a low grumble.

-

From the soldiers who recovered from the earlier outburst, Myron stood again; he stared at Jolthar with a mix of emotions. He was rather frustrated and greatly annoyed at knowing that Jolthar had become far more stronger than him. He shook his head and simply turned and walked out of the group.

He was still thinking, but he didn't want to stay here any longer, or he would just simply throw himself in front of Jolthar and fight him, and he was sure that Jolthar would kill him for sure.

And Jolthar now knew that Myron tried to kill him; the next time they met, it wouldn't be pleasant, and Myron swore that he would be ready.