The Sinful Young Master - Chapter 305
Chapter 305: Master of Chaos – 3
Jolthar stood at the other end of the meadow, his hand resting on the hilt of Horgath, the Sword of Chaosbane. The weapon’s dark metal seemed to drink in the ambient light, its edge gleaming with an inner fire that spoke of powers barely contained.
The aura that surrounded him—crackling with barely visible energy—marked him as something far beyond ordinary humanity.
After deciding on the duel between Jolthar and Vareth, they changed the place of their spar, and it was placed just beyond the village, a vast and spacious meadow.
The mountain peak had already been destroyed, so they had to change places.
Across from him, Vareth the Starweaver embodied the pinnacle of Ael’koryna martial perfection. Tall and graceful as a silver birch, his movements carried the graceful precision of one who had spent centuries perfecting the art of combat. His blade, Astralend, caught and held the meadow’s mystical light.
The gathered elves filled the area around them, forming a circular shape, their immortal faces bearing expressions of keen anticipation.
The Elder and other important members of the community were also present, keenly observing Jolthar. Ekatarina stood beside the Elder; she was waiting to see what Jolthar would do against a powerful chaos user like Vareth.
In terms of strength, she was stronger than Vareth, but when it comes to control over Chaos, Vareth was a step ahead of her, and it was the reason they chose him to fight against Jolthar.
The Elder would have let Jolthar leave if not for his exceptional skills. After what he had done to the mountain peak, they wanted Jolthar to test him, to see how far he had gone.
The Elves were prideful beings who once stood alongside gods, not even deities. They were a strong force of immortals, but after a series of events, they have become what they are now.
The Elder had some expectations for Jolthar, and the child had met them, and that was the only reason for letting him stay in the village.
These were beings who stood as equals to deities, possessed of strength that could challenge gods themselves. They had witnessed the rise and fall of empires, the birth and death of stars, yet something about this confrontation drew their attention like moths to a flame.
Perhaps it was the unprecedented nature of what they were about to witness—a mortal whose power transcended the normal boundaries of his kind facing one of their greatest champions.
Or it was because Jolthar possessed the chaos flame just like their lord.
The Elder could see how Jolthar wielded chaos, and he could tell that he was a child definitely destined for heaven.
Ekatarina watched with an amused expression, her gaze and attention solely focused on Jolthar. She was waiting eagerly to see what Jolthar would show her now.
“Begin,” her voice rang out across the meadow, carrying the authority.
“Why don’t I let you make the first move, Vareth?” Jolthar said with a smile on his face.
Vareth’s expression turned serious. “You arrogant brat, I will let you taste the power of what real chaos is.”
The first exchange came like lightning striking crystal.
Vareth moved with the agile grace of water flowing over stone, Astralend weaving patterns of light through the air as he advanced.
His opening sequence was a masterwork of elven swordplay—seventeen strikes delivered in the span of a heartbeat, each one precisely aimed to test his opponent’s defences while leaving no opening for counterattack.
Jolthar’s response was equally swift but entirely different in character.
Horgath materialized in his hand with a sound like reality tearing, the blade’s dark surface rippling with chaotic energies that defied comprehension.
Jolthar wasn’t in a hurry to counter.
He had been sparring with Vareth for some time now, but something was different—Vareth had never taken their bouts this seriously. Jolthar could feel it, sharp and heavy, in the older elf’s gaze. Though he may look younger, he was in his hundreds. The elven appearances can be deceiving.
He tilted his head, sword resting loosely at his side.
“What’s wrong, old man? You look like someone lit your beard on fire.”
Vareth scowled.
“Shut up and focus.”
But beneath the intensity in Vareth’s eyes… there was something else. A flicker of curiosity, subtle but unmistakable. He wasn’t just fighting—he was watching. Studying the boy who had once struggled to lift the chaos blade, now wielding chaos as it was forged in his bones.
Vareth never said it aloud, not to Jolthar, not even to Ekatarina. He didn’t like the boy—at least, that’s what he told himself. He disliked his humanness, the raw, flawed fragility of it.
And yet… he had never failed to recognize the effort Jolthar put in.
More than that—he liked teaching him.
He just didn’t know how to say it.
Jolthar was the most gifted student he had ever encountered. That he was human only made it harder… But Vareth had never let that stop him. If anything, it made the challenge more worthwhile.
Such a tsundere.
Vareth was fighting with a stern expression, his braids flung as he moved.
Jolthar’s parries were not the elegant deflections of classical swordplay but something more primal, more fundamental—the raw application of power meeting technique.
Where Astralend’s light touched Horgath’s darkness, the air itself screamed, and reality warped at their intersection.
There was no metal sound, not a clang, every time their swords clashed, but there was a distorted noise which made the bystanders wince.
The chaos power that flowed through Jolthar was unlike anything the assembled elves had witnessed.
It was not the orderly chaos they knew, with its careful structures and predictable patterns, but something that existed at the very edge of creation itself.
Purple energy wreathed around Horgath like a living shadow, each movement of the blade leaving tears in the fabric of space that sealed themselves with audible snaps.
Vareth’s eyes widened as he felt the true nature of his opponent’s power. He could feel the distinct oppressive aura of Jolthar, which had rapidly changed in a few seconds