The Sinful Young Master-Chapter 141: Self-centred

He exhaled sharply, then said aloud, with a touch of sarcasm, "Well, if even a goddess doesn’t know, how am I supposed to figure it out?"

Johamma’s sharp gaze locked onto him, her expression unreadable. For a moment, the room was silent, the tension almost suffocating.

Jolthar’s attempt at deflecting the gravity of the situation with humour hadn’t landed.

Instead, it seemed to only deepen the weight of what was unfolding around him.

Jolthar’s thoughts were a whirlwind as he processed what Johamma had said.

A god from the upper realms, and she—a fallen goddess. It all felt too surreal, yet everything he had witnessed recently lent her words undeniable weight. His instincts had always hinted at something otherworldly about her, but this revelation exceeded anything he could have imagined.

Johamma’s gaze was steady, her expression unreadable as if she were gauging his reaction.

For a moment, Jolthar felt exposed, as though she could see the chaos of his thoughts. He forced himself to focus, to meet her eyes without flinching, though the magnitude of her story left him uneasy.

"You’re serious," Jolthar said after a long pause, his voice thick with disbelief. "You’re saying that… that thing—whatever he is—was your husband?" His words were clumsy, an attempt to grasp the enormity of the situation.

Johamma’s lips curved in a faint, bitter smile, though her eyes remained hard. "Yes. Once, a long time ago, in a place far beyond the comprehension of mortals."

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Jolthar ran a hand through his hair, struggling to keep his composure. "And now he’s here. Trying to kill me. Why? What the hell does he want from me?"

Johamma’s expression grew distant as she sifted through her fragmented memories, trying to recall Dakrasuer’s cryptic words. Something about the term Power of Ascendant tugged at the edge of her consciousness, like a fleeting shadow she couldn’t quite grasp. The frustration of it gnawed at her. She shook her head slightly, her fingers brushing her temple as though that might somehow jog her memory.

"I can’t fully remember," she admitted, her voice tinged with regret. "When I fell from the god’s realm, I lost much of what I once knew. My divinity wasn’t the only thing stripped from me—many of my memories were too. But… Power of Ascendant… it stirs something within me. I feel like I should know what it means, but there’s a block, like a wall keeping me from the answer."

She paused, searching Jolthar’s eyes for any sign of recognition, then continued hesitantly, "Dakrasuer was rattled when he saw you, Jolthar. That much was clear. It’s not just your power—it’s something more. Whatever this ’Power of Ascendant’ is, it terrified him. And it’s tied to you."

She moved forward slightly, her tone growing more urgent. "Jolthar, you need to tell us. If there’s anything you know—anything at all—we need to hear it. We want to help you."

For a moment, Jolthar simply stared at her. He didn’t panic at the mention of his power, nor did he appear moved by her offer of assistance. Instead, his expression hardened. His lips curled into a bitter smile as he leaned back slightly, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Now you want to help me?" he said, his words cutting through the air like a blade.

Johamma blinked, taken aback by the venom in his tone. Stay tuned with novelbuddy

He turned his gaze to Caelum, his eyes blazing with unspoken resentment. "Where were you," Jolthar began, his voice rising steadily, "when I was being beaten by your sons? Where were you when they nearly killed me?"

His voice grew louder, filled with a raw, unfiltered rage that had been festering for years. "You expect me to believe you now? That you care about me? Why? Because I’ve suddenly become useful to you? Because I wield a sword of our ancestor and have power that you can exploit?"

Johamma’s face fell, the weight of his accusations hitting her like a physical blow. She had no defence against his words—no counterargument, no justification.

Deep down, she knew he was right.

She had failed him.

She had watched him suffer, and turned a blind eye when he needed her most, and now it was too late to undo the damage.

The silence in the room was suffocating, broken only by Jolthar’s heavy breathing as he struggled to contain the storm of emotions threatening to consume him.

Johamma finally spoke, her voice soft but trembling with remorse. "You’re right," she admitted. "I wasn’t there for you. I failed you as a grandmother and as a guardian of this clan. I…" She hesitated, swallowing hard as she fought back tears. "Every time I looked at you, I saw her—my daughter, your mother. The pain of losing her was too much. It blinded me to yours."

Her words hung in the air, heavy with the burden of guilt and regret. She had spoken the truth, but it didn’t erase the years of neglect Jolthar had endured.

Caelum leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he avoided Jolthar’s piercing gaze. He was a man who prided himself on his strength and decisiveness, yet now he found himself unable to speak. He had no excuses, no explanations to offer. He had stood by and done nothing, just as Jolthar had accused.

"I don’t have an excuse," Caelum finally said, his voice low and gruff. "I was… focused on my own affairs, on the clan."

Jolthar let out a laugh, shaking his head. "Focused on the clan? Is that what you call it?" He gestured around the room. "You all see me now because of what I’ve become, not because of who I am. Don’t act like you care."

The sting of his words was undeniable.

Johamma and Caelum exchanged a glance, each seeing the same acknowledgement in the other’s eyes: they had wronged him, deeply and irrevocably.

But despite their silent admission, Jolthar’s anger didn’t subside.

It had been too long, and the wounds cut too deep. He had survived on his own for so long, enduring humiliation and pain, and now that he had gained power, they wanted to step in.

To him, it felt hollow. Self-serving.

For the first time, the room felt impossibly vast and cold, the bonds of family stretched thin and frayed. Jolthar’s distrust and resentment were clear, and the path to mending those fractured ties seemed nearly insurmountable.