The Sinful Young Master-Chapter 138: Retreat

Meanwhile the battlefield was chaos—a tempest of light and shadow, fire and fury.

Johamma and Caelum moved like forces of nature, cutting through the red mages with an efficiency that bordered on terrifying.

Segarus watched in stunned silence as his army began to crumble before his eyes.

Despite his earlier bravado, a sinking feeling of despair settled in his chest. How could they be this strong? he thought, his mind racing for a solution.

Johamma turned her attention toward a group of mages attempting to flank the remaining Kaezhlar defenders.

She raised both hands, and the air around her seemed to freeze. She slams her fists together.

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A massive vortex of wind and lightning erupted around her, sweeping the mages into its swirling maw. Their screams were drowned out by the deafening roar of the storm, and when the vortex finally dissipated, nothing remained but scorched earth.

Caelum wasn’t far behind, his movements a blur as he tore through the remaining ranks. His sword gleamed with power, and with every swing, he unleashed devastating waves of energy that ripped through the enemy lines.

Wayde and Davis worked together; they were fierce with their swords, moving through the ranks of the mages. Wayde was the strong one with his strong build, and Davis was faster; they both supported what they lacked.

And Isorabella was a force of her own; all the rage she had suppressed until now burst forth like a vengeful spirit. She was like a ghost on the field, slashing through their ranks.

The mages, despite their formidable magical prowess, found themselves at a critical disadvantage. Their reliance on spellcasting, particularly the extended time required for high-level spells, rendered them vulnerable in the chaos of close combat. Low-level spells could be flung quickly, almost instinctively, but their effectiveness was negligible against the Kaezhlar family’s unparalleled skill and ferocity.

The battlefield was a stark testament to this imbalance. Whenever a mage attempted to summon a high-tier spell, their chants and gestures marked them as targets. The Kaezhlar warriors, ever vigilant and merciless, capitalized on these moments of vulnerability. A sword would slice through the air before the incantation could be completed, cutting down the mage and silencing their magic.

The mages tried to adapt, shifting their tactics to group attacks, attempting to overwhelm the Kaezhlars with coordinated strikes. Fireballs, lightning arcs, and waves of frost erupted in unison, creating a symphony of destruction aimed at the family. Yet, even these efforts were futile.

The Kaezhlar family stood like an indomitable wall, unyielding and unbroken. Their blades moved with a precision and speed that seemed almost supernatural. Each swing of a sword, each parry, and each thrust was a masterclass in combat. Their movements were fluid yet forceful, a deadly dance that combined grace with raw power.

When the mages unleashed their spells, the warriors countered with devastating efficiency.

The tide of the battle shifted dramatically.

Where the red mages had once been an overwhelming force, they now found themselves on the defensive, their numbers dwindling with every passing moment.

Segarus clenched his fists, his frustration mounting. "No! I will not lose to them!" he shouted, his voice hoarse. He struggled to summon his mana, but his reserves were dangerously low.

Still, he refused to give up.

Caelum and Johamma turned their attention to Segarus, their gazes cold and unyielding.

"Enough, Segarus," Caelum said, his voice calm but commanding.

"This is over."

Segarus glared at them, his pride refusing to accept defeat. But before he could act, Johamma stepped forward, her aura flaring with divine intensity.

"You’ve lost, Segarus," Johamma said, her tone final. "You can’t win this battle, not when I am still standing here."

Segarus stood amidst the chaos, his once-formidable army of red mages reduced to scattered remnants, their disciplined formations broken by the relentless assault of Caelum and Johamma. His breath was laboured, and the sting of defeat lingered in the air.

Yet, as his keen eyes observed Caelum, still fighting with the ferocity of a lion, striking down enemies with unmatched precision and strength, a troubling thought began to take root in his mind.

What if he triggered his tribulation?

The possibility struck Segarus like a bolt of lightning. It wasn’t mere fear that coursed through him—it was dread.

Caelum wasn’t the meditative type to sit and reflect in serene contemplation to gain power. He wasn’t one to ascend slowly through enlightenment like a scholar or a monk.

No, Caelum grew through battle—through bloodshed, adversity, and the fires of combat. Every strike, every clash, every life he claimed on the battlefield only sharpened his abilities further.

Segarus clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. The god’s earlier words echoed in his mind, an unsettling prophecy of sorts. "He will gain more as he fights. This is his path. His potential lies in the chaos of battle."

Caelum’s strikes grew sharper, his movements more fluid, as though the act of combat itself was refining him. His aura, which had been depleted earlier, now flared stronger with every passing moment. It was as if he were feeding off the very essence of the battlefield, drawing strength from the destruction around him.

The red mages continued to fall like petals torn from a flower in a violent storm. Their cries of agony mingled with the clash of steel and the roar of spells. Segarus could feel the tide turning irreversibly against him. His forces were being decimated, his mana reserves were drained, and the battlefield was no longer his domain.

The thought of retreat gnawed at his pride, but his instincts, honed through years of struggle and ambition, screamed at him to survive. If things escalated further… if Caelum awakened fully in this battle… it would be disastrous.

Still, there was hesitation in him; Segarus glanced at Caelum again, his mind racing. He hasn’t awakened yet. The faint traces of a tribulation hung in the air around Caelum, like the calm before a storm. It wasn’t fully triggered, not yet.

But Segarus knew it was close—too close for comfort.

And worse still, it would end his dream of ascending to godhood.

Segarus’s ambitions, his carefully laid plans, all hinged on survival and power. If Caelum unleashed his full potential, Segarus wouldn’t just lose this battle—he’d lose everything.

He gritted his teeth, his pride warring with his pragmatism.

"Retreat," he muttered under his breath, the word tasting like ash in his mouth. But he knew there was no other choice.

Raising his hand, Segarus channelled the remnants of his mana into a signal. A brilliant flare of crimson light shot into the sky, visible to the remaining red mages across the battlefield. It was the order to fall back.

The mages hesitated, their faces reflecting confusion and disbelief. They had come here with the expectation of victory, bolstered by Segarus’s promises and their overwhelming numbers.

To retreat now felt like betrayal. But the command was clear, and Segarus’s authority was absolute.

"Fall back!" Segarus bellowed, his voice cutting through the cacophony of battle.

The mages began to withdraw reluctantly, their chants faltering as they turned to flee. Caelum, exhausted, breathed heavily and took a step forward, his sword ready to chase them down. But Johamma placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

"Let them go," she said, her voice calm but firm.

Caelum frowned, his instincts screaming at him to pursue, but he relented. He lowered his sword, his gaze fixed on Segarus with a mixture of contempt and curiosity.

Segarus met Caelum’s eyes, his expression unreadable. Then, without another word, he turned and began to retreat with the remnants of his forces.

As the dust settled and the battlefield grew quiet, Johamma let out a slow breath. "He made the right choice," she murmured, though her eyes betrayed her unease.

"What do you mean?" Caelum asked, his voice low.

Johamma’s gaze lingered on him for a moment, her expression unreadable. "You were close to awakening, Caelum," she said finally.

Caelum’s grip on his sword tightened. The idea that Segarus had sensed something he himself hadn’t was unsettling. But more than that, the idea of awakening his tribulation in the middle of this chaos left him with a strange mix of fear and anticipation.

Lodawg retreated as he saw Maena crouched on the ground; she was injured while fighting him. She was still far from defeating him; after all, he was an archmage. It wouldn’t be easy to kill him, even for her.

The Kaezhlar clan had lost too much today, and only a few members were present, but so had Segarus; he had lost his most elite mages of his clan. And moreover, they were now enemies; the next time Kaezhlar recovers, it would be the doom of Naemarys, but Segarus wasn’t going to let them, and it was the reason for his retreat.

Jolthar was lying unconscious with the drake to guard to him in the midst of the battle. The storm within his body has subsided, but his injuries only worsened, and he needs treatment.

The sun was about to rise, and the remaining people standing finally relaxed with mages retreating.

It was a long-drawn battle, but Kaezhlar persisted.