The Sinful Young Master-Chapter 257: Black Dragon’s rival

"You are thinking of fighting them alone," Johamma said, her voice thick with concern despite years of calculated distance between them.

Jolthar's eyes remained fixed on the massive dragon. "I will."

"You can't," his grandmother countered. "Just the dragon requires highly skilled warriors, and Lodawg is also present. It will be too dangerous to fight them alone."

"We don't have a choice here," Jolthar replied; all three powers stirred in him.

Johamma's expression hardened with resolve. "I will help you."

Before Jolthar could respond, Lodawg slid from the dragon's back, landing with practised grace upon the shore. His malevolent grin revealed teeth too white, too perfect—like those of a predator.

"Little Jolthar", he called, "why don't I take care of your grandmother first, then I will deal with you?" Lodawg was greatly underestimating Jolthar, treating him as though he was just a tier 8 swordsman. So did Johamma.

Jolthar wasn't bothered by Lodawg or his magic. He was concerned with the black dragon.

Jolthar frowned, but before he could move to intercept, the great dragon's ancient eyes locked onto him with primal hatred.

The beast recognized the power within him—the authority that could command its kind—and it would not permit such a threat to exist.

Jolthar could tell that the black dragon now saw him as a rival.

"Don't worry about me," Johamma called. Golden light started to take root, different from what he had seen, but formidable nonetheless—gathering around her hands.

"I can take care of myself."

Jolthar's breath hitched as the massive beast lunged with terrifying speed despite its massive bulk form. Time seemed to slow as the dragon's obsidian claws sliced through the air toward him.

Behind him, Johamma faced Lodawg—her fate uncertain, but her command clear: focus on survival.

The dragon's scales gleamed like polished onyx in the fractured sunlight, each plate larger than a shield. Its eyes—twin pools of molten gold—tracked Jolthar's movements with predatory precision. The beast's maw gaped open, revealing rows of serrated teeth as long as daggers.

Jolthar rolled aside as the claws crashed into the earth where he'd stood moments before, sending stone fragments exploding outward.

The ground trembled beneath the impact.

He was holding his blade, Knashii.

"Come then," Jolthar whispered, his voice steady despite the thundering of his heart.

The blue aura of his swordsmanship began to manifest around him. It shimmered like water caught in sunlight, flowing along his arms and blade.

The dragon sensed the power, its massive head rearing back, nostrils flaring.

After recent transformation, Jolthar's power had increased significantly to the level that made the black dragon of Drekmorah acknowledge him.

The Dragons of Dekmorah are not merely beasts—they are living calamities, feared and revered in equal measure. Among all dragonkin, they stand at the pinnacle of strength and savagery, their sheer might unmatched by any other in the known world.

These dragons are not only powerful, but they are also unbearably proud. Their egos rival their physical prowess, and they hold themselves above all creatures, whether human, beast, or even other dragons.

To a Dekmoran dragon, the world exists only to serve or fear them—there is no in-between.

Jolthar centred himself, feeling its glare on him. The dragon's gaze never left him from the moment it arrived.

The dragon attacked again, its massive tail whipping toward him with devastating force.

Jolthar's telekinesis flared instinctively—a burst of green-coloured energy extending from his left hand as he raised his hand.

The enhanced telekinetic force caught the tail mid-swing, slowing its momentum just enough for Jolthar to leap aside. But the dragon was no ordinary beast as it tried to oppose his force.

"Too strong to stop directly," he muttered, adjusting his strategy.

The beast roared, the sound vibrating through Jolthar's chest like war drums. Its wings unfurled—each membrane vast enough to cast half the clearing in shadow.

The water in the lake rippled uncontrollably and splashed everywhere as the dragon moved. The black dragon was now standing in the lake.

Seeing as the dragon raised its head, Jolthar knew what would come next.

As the dragon inhaled, its chest expanding like a bellows, Jolthar summoned his voidwrath. Silver energy sparked between his fingers on his left hand.

The dragon exhaled—a torrent of white-black flame that melted the very air.

Jolthar raised his left hand, silver energy coalescing into a shield before him. Dragon-fire crashed against voidwrath power, the collision generating a tempest of arcane wind that whipped Jolthar's cloak into a frenzy. His boots slid backward across stone as he fought to maintain the shield.

The heat was overwhelming, seeping through his defences. Sweat poured down his face, instantly evaporating in the supernatural heat. His arms trembled with the effort of holding back annihilation.

"Fucking lizards!!" Jolthar spat as he held his ground. He knew it was troublesome to deal with this dragon. He could sense the raw intent of the dragon: to kill him, to make him disappear, everything of Jolthar.

Just like him, the dragon was also using all of its power.

The black dragon didn't stop, focusing all its flames on a single point where Jolthar stood.

Jolthar poured his silver power into the shield, feeling the intense heat around him. There were no ordinary flames; if it was a normal tier 8 swordsman, maybe he would have died by now, just from the flame itself.

His surroundings were burned into nothing, and the water around them started to boil, and steam evaporated from beneath their feet.

When the flames finally ceased, Jolthar staggered, gasping for breath. The voidwrath had protected him; the air around was filled with the smell of burnt wood and burning metal.

Even after all that, the dragon looked barely winded.

Jolthar took a moment to stand; he swiftly looked to the side where Johamma was engaged in combat with Lodawg. She was holding her ground very well.

Then he turned his attention back to the dragon. The teeth on the dragon were more visible now; it was grinning at him.

"Fucking lizard bastard," he muttered as he looked at the dragon.