The Sinful Young Master-Chapter 140: Meeting the patriarch

Inside, the room was spacious yet understated, its walls lined with tapestries and bookshelves. A single large window let in the pale light of day, casting long shadows across the polished floor.

Standing near the centre of the room were two figures: Johamma, her presence commanding even in stillness; Caelum, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp as ever.

Two of them turned as Jolthar entered, their expressions a mix of expectation and something else—something unspoken. The weight of their stares pressed against him, but Jolthar met their gazes without hesitation.

He stepped forward, the door clicking shut behind him, sealing him in with the clan’s most formidable figures.

Jolthar stepped into the patriarch’s chamber, his presence commanding attention despite his bandaged arms and the simplicity of his attire.

The room was sombre, its heavy atmosphere compounded by the faint scent of incense burning on a nearby table.

The patriarch’s chamber, usually a place of stern authority and tradition, bore a new weight now—a reminder of the devastation the clan had barely survived.

Johamma stood by the far window, her arms crossed, the faintest shadow of worry etched into her composed face.

"Jolthar," Johamma acknowledged, her voice measured but carrying a note of concern. Her gaze briefly scanned him, lingering on the bandages wrapped around his arms and the faint stiffness in his movements.

Jolthar met her gaze with his usual calmness, though there was a fire beneath the surface that hadn’t been there before. He gave her a faint nod before turning his attention to Caelum, who was now watching him with an appraising look.

"You called for me," Jolthar said simply, his voice steady despite the weight of the encounter.

Caelum gestured toward a chair opposite him, though Jolthar ignored the invitation and remained standing. He didn’t want the comfort; it wasn’t why he was here.

Caelum broke the silence first. "You wielded Horgath in the battle," he said, his tone as neutral as he could make it, though curiosity and concern flickered in his eyes.

"A blade like that doesn’t simply appear in the hands of someone unworthy. Where did you find it?"

Jolthar hesitated for a moment, debating how much to reveal. He didn’t trust Caelum, not entirely, though he respected his strength and composure. His eyes briefly flicked to Johamma, who remained silent, her expression unreadable.

"You said it yourself; it deemed me worthy."

"It was with me," Jolthar finally said. "I found it some time ago. Or perhaps it found me."

Caelum’s gaze hardened slightly, though not in anger—more like caution. "A sword like Horgath isn’t just any weapon. It belonged to the great ancestor of the clan, a truly great sword practitioner.

You used it effectively, yes, but do you even understand what it is? What it could mean for you—and for the clan?"

Jolthar’s jaw tightened. He had no patience for lectures, not now. "I understand enough," he replied, his voice clipped.

"It helped me survive. It helped us survive."

"And nearly tore you apart in the process," Johamma interjected, stepping forward now. Her sharp tone cut through the air, and Jolthar turned to face her fully.

"That sword—Horgath—it’s chaos incarnate. It feeds on power, yes, but also on destruction. You’re playing with something that could consume you entirely if you’re not careful."

She had told him about the book, but she hadn’t expected Jolthar to go search for the sword, and the sword accepted him. It was big, for the whole clan, for such a talent to appear in times like this.

They thought that sword’s power had harmed him. Well, it wasn’t entirely true, and Jolthar didn’t want to explain himself to them; it would reveal his other power.

Even when Johamma tried to help him, she sensed that there were two powers inside him, but she couldn’t detect the power of voidwrath; she thought it was his aura that was clashing with the chaos of the sword.

Jolthar didn’t flinch under her scrutiny, though her words struck deeper than he cared to admit. He had felt the raw, consuming power of the blade, the way it threatened to overpower his very being during the battle. But he had controlled it—or so he believed.

"It didn’t consume me," he said simply.

"And I’m still standing."

"For now," Caelum muttered, crossing his arms. "But there’s something else. When you fought with Horgath, it wasn’t just chaos energy you wielded. There was... something else. A force I’ve never seen before."

"I don’t know what you are talking about." Jolthar replied with a straight face.

Caelum looked at him, his eyes narrowed on him.

Johamma walked to the front; her eyes never left Jolthar. She sighed heavily, standing near the table. "Jolthar, do you know about me?"

Jolthar shook his head. He did wonder if she was someone related to the gods. Dakrasuer repeatedly talked to her as if he knew her personally.

"That man, the being that attacked you, he was a god. Not a deity but a god. Do you know what it means?" She enquired in a serious tone.

Jolthar could feel the weight of the encounter lingering in his mind. The god’s intense fixation on him was unnerving, and it was clear he had sensed the power inside Jolthar.

Yet, the reason behind the god’s vendetta was a mystery. Who was he? Why was he so bent on Jolthar’s destruction? These questions churned in his mind, unresolved.

Breaking the silence, Johamma’s voice cut through his thoughts. Seeing his unresponsiveness, she began to explain.

"He is a god from the upper realms," she said, her tone measured but laced with an undercurrent of bitterness. "A realm that humans can’t even begin to fathom. A place of unimaginable power and order. But before I delve into him, let me tell you about myself."

Jolthar’s attention snapped to her, his brow furrowing slightly.

"I am a fallen goddess," she stated plainly.

Her words hit like a thunderclap, and Jolthar’s eyes widened in shock. It all made sense now—the faint but unmistakable divine aura he had always sensed around her, the way she carried herself, and her immense strength. She wasn’t merely a powerful mortal; she was something far beyond that.

Johamma continued, her voice steady, though her words carried the weight of centuries. "I lost my divinity a long time ago, cast down from the heavens. And that god you faced? He was my husband when I dwelled in the upper realms."

Jolthar blinked, utterly stunned. Of all the revelations he could have expected, this wasn’t one of them.

She sighed, the memory clearly burdening her. "He was the reason I lost my divinity. Let’s just say... we had our differences. He was becoming increasingly eccentric, obsessed with power and control, and I could no longer stand by him. I chose to leave, and in doing so, I gave up everything—the heavens, my status. It was then that I descended to the Midlands, where I met your clan’s ancestor."

Jolthar’s mind raced to keep up. His clan’s ancestor? How did this tie into the god’s hatred for him?

"He didn’t like that," Johamma continued, her voice sharpening. "Your clan’s ancestry dates back centuries, Jolthar. Long ago, one of your ancestors achieved what few mortals ever could: ascension to deityhood. Your clan has been blessed by the gods since ancient times, its members born with extraordinary talents. And he didn’t like that, and it made you all a target for him, a thorn in his side. And when I allied myself with your ancestor, it only fuelled his rage further."

Her gaze darkened, her bitterness now palpable. "He orchestrated my fall from grace. Stripped me of my divinity, cast me down to this realm. And since then, he has been targeting your clan, though never directly—until now.

Gods are bound by laws, forbidden to interfere with mortals in such a blatant way. But this time, he broke those laws.

That day, he didn’t care about any rules. He came here to kill you, Jolthar."

Jolthar stared at her, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. The weight of her words was immense. To think that his clan’s trials and tribulations, the battles they fought, and the lives they lost were all tied to divine machinations.

And now, he was at the centre of it all.

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Caelum was aware of the fact that his mother was a goddess, well, had been one. He was watching Jolthar with great interest, how he barely reacted when she said she was a goddess. Most would have fainted by now, but he was still standing, slightly surprised. Even his family wasn’t aware of it. It was hidden secret that she had been a goddess and she lost her powers now. She was a mortal now, living with her family.

Johamma’s final words hung heavily in the air. "Even I don’t know why. For all my knowledge, I cannot say what makes you such a threat to him."

Jolthar’s thoughts spiralled as he tried to process everything.

Then, with a wry, thought, he muttered internally, Fuck me.