The Sinful Young Master

Chapter 89 The powerhouse She is.

Yilar's voice cut through the chaos like a blade, calm but tinged with resignation. "I wanted to avoid fighting you," he said, his golden eyes narrowing as he straightened, his dark aura rippling outward.

"But it seems I can't avoid it."

Raayani didn't bother to reply. Her figure vanished in an instant, leaving only a shimmer of light in her wake. Yilar, anticipating her move, charged forward as well, his speed matching hers. Their collision was cataclysmic.

High above the canyon, they reappeared, their clash igniting the sky with flashes of light and bursts of energy that sounded like roaring thunder. Each blow they exchanged sent shockwaves cascading across the landscape, shaking the very foundations of the canyon.

Jolthar stood frozen, unable to believe his eyes. He could hardly follow Raayani's movements; she was like a blurred line shot into the sky. After the last encounter, he hadn't anticipated meeting her again.

In mere seconds, Raayani and Yilar had transformed the battlefield into a storm of destruction, their power dwarfing everything else. The sheer scale of their battle felt surreal, like two forces of nature tearing into each other.

It was like the time between their clash was going on faster than the regular time as the burst of energies and sparks flew all over the sky above the canyon. Every time they clashed, a thunder-like ripple swept across the sky, like a sharp slap.

Raayani's magnificent serpent ice dragon let out a bone-chilling roar that echoed across the canyon. Its colossal wings unfurled, their edges glowing faintly as it surged into action.

Then, in a flash of ethereal energy, the dragon's form twisted and condensed, reshaping into something far more human yet no less otherworldly.

The serpent ice dragon, Yoana, now stood in her human form, her presence both majestic and terrifying. Her short brown horns curled elegantly, catching the light of the energy storm above.

Her sleeveless gown, shimmering like liquid silver, accentuated her ethereal beauty, while an aura of frost and power surrounded her, causing the air to bite with cold. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes blazed with intent as she turned her attention to the Nynthralls.

Without hesitation, she charged. The remaining Nynthralls, who had been focused on containing the creatures, immediately shifted their attention to her. Their spells darkened the air as they unleashed a barrage of attacks, but Yoana was undeterred. She moved like a wraith, her strikes precise and devastating, tearing through their ranks with a chilling elegance.

Meanwhile, Daurgien, freed from his magical bindings, let out a guttural snarl of relief. His crimson eyes flicked around the battlefield, assessing the chaos. He didn't know or care why so many powerful beings had converged here. He just wanted to kill all the tribe members and at last kill Daus. But for now, his goal remained on one person. If not for him, he would have killed all of the tribe members and taken his revenge on Daus. But the child made things difficult for him, and his sword-inflicted wound made his regeneration stop working. While thinking of killing that kid, he thought about drinking his blood. He thought if the child was blessed by the gods, then his blood would definitely give him more power.

His focus narrowed to one thing—Jolthar.

And the blade in his hand.

Daurgien's movements were primal yet calculated as he sprinted toward Jolthar, a twisted smile stretching across his face. Behind him, the creatures he commanded followed like a tidal wave of malice, their guttural growls reverberating through the canyon.

As the bind on them was released because the robed Nynthrall were busy fighting against the humanoid serpent dragon Yoana, they were free again.

Jolthar, still trying to recover from the earlier events, tightened his grip on his sword. His exhaustion screamed at him to rest, but the sight of Daurgien charging toward him banished any thoughts of retreat.

The battle wasn't over—not yet.

The canyon descended into absolute chaos.

Belan, Lysandra, Eran, and the knights quickly sprung into action as they noticed the creatures running towards Jolthar.

Eran commanded his knights, and they fought valiantly, forming a defensive line against the creatures that had now spread across the battlefield. The clash of steel, the roars of the beasts, and the cries of the knights created a cacophony that echoed through the rocky expanse.

Continue your saga on empire

Lysandra's quick movements and her sword at the ready, each strike exploding with dazzling light, while Belan and Eran fought with grim determination, their swords cutting down anything that came close.

Above them, Raayani and Yilar's duel continued unabated. Yilar was putting all his wits and power into the fight; otherwise, he would just disappear into the wind.

Their figures were blurs of motion, each strike generating devastating shockwaves that rippled across the desert. Raayani's superiority was evident—her strikes were heavier, faster, and more precise—but Yilar fought with a desperation born of necessity.

Yilar knew he couldn't win. His goal wasn't to defeat Raayani but to buy time for his men to finish what they came for. Every move he made was calculated, aimed at creating distance and forcing Raayani to divide her attention.

But Raayani wasn't so easily distracted. She pressed him harder with each clash, her strikes growing fiercer, her aura colder. Her expression remained impassive, but there was no mistaking her intent—Yilar wouldn't leave this canyon unscathed.

Daurgien, meanwhile, closed the gap between himself and Jolthar, his laughter a chilling sound amid the chaos. The two locked eyes and Jolthar braced himself, his battered body refusing to give in.

The canyon had become a battlefield of individual wars, each skirmish carrying its own stakes and consequences. In the centre of it all, Raayani stood as a beacon of power and dominance, her presence turning the tide, even as the storm of chaos threatened to consume them all.

Jolthar, despite his battered state, refused to back down. He summoned every ounce of strength he had left, churning the volatile power of Voidwrath within him. The oppressive aura surrounding him intensified, and the air crackled with dark energy. His blade, Knashii, gleamed ominously, its distinct dark glow pulsing with a life of its own. The energy emanating from the sword was heavy, suffocating, as though it drew the very light out of the air.