The Sinful Young Master

He had studied about them when he spent his time in the library in the stormholme keep.

The revelation sent a chill through the clearing. The woman who was holding the child gasped, and the old man Colinus also

Nynthrals were creatures of legend, nightmarish beings known for their cunning, their cruelty, and their insatiable hunger for human flesh. Their presence here, hunting a woman and child, spoke of dark purposes beyond simple violence.

The wounded Nynthral let out an inhuman shriek and charged at Jolthar with renewed ferocity. Its companions joined the assault, their earlier caution forgotten in a frenzy of slashing claws and gnashing teeth.

Jolthar's Voidwrath surged in response to the escalating threat. Golden energy crackled along the length of his blade as he met the onslaught head-on. Each swing of his sword left trails of light in its wake, cutting through the air with impossible speed and precision.

Power of Voidwrath, granted by the goddess, Jolthar had been honing this power, incorporating it with his sword skills. And so far, the result was nothing marvellous.

Two Nynthrals fell in quick succession; their bodies fell to the ground. But for each one that fell, the others seemed to grow stronger, faster, and more desperate in their attacks.

The leader of the Nynthrals circled the fray, its violet eyes fixed on the child still clutched in the wounded woman's arms. "The child," it hissed, its voice a discordant mix of tones that set teeth on edge. "We must have the child!"

Jolthar, caught in a deadly dance with three Nynthrals simultaneously, couldn't spare the breath to question this cryptic statement. His world had narrowed to the rhythm of combat—parry, thrust, dodge, strike.

The Voidwrath hummed through his veins, enhancing his already formidable skills to superhuman levels.

One Nynthral managed to slip past Jolthar's guard, its claws raking across his arm. Pain flared, hot and sharp, but Jolthar didn't falter. As it was his first battle, and moreover, he was fighting the ferocious battle crazed Nynthrals. Instead, he channelled the pain into his Voidwrath, causing the golden aura around him to intensify.

"VOID BURST!" Jolthar roared, releasing a concussive wave of energy as he held the neck of Nynthral, and as a result, he was blasted into pieces. The explosive power that emerged from Jolthar left no room for escape.

Taking advantage of the momentary respite, Jolthar spun to face the leader, who had used the distraction to approach the woman and child.

With some thought, Jolthar activated one of his most powerful techniques—the voidstep.

In the blink of an eye, he vanished from where he stood, reappearing between the Nynthral leader and its intended victims.

The Nynthral recoiled in surprise but quickly recovered, baring sharp, needle-like teeth in a grotesque approximation of a smile. "Impressive, boy. But futile. You cannot stop us, not now, not ever."

"Whatever your plans," Jolthar said, his voice steady despite the exertion of battle, "they end here."

The Nynthral leader's only response was a bone-chilling shriek as it launched itself at Jolthar with inhuman speed. Its claws, dripping with a sickly green venom, slashed at Jolthar's face.

He ducked and weaved, his sword a blur of golden light as he parried and countered.

The remaining Nynthrals joined their leader, turning the clearing into a whirlwind of slashing claws, gnashing teeth, and flashing steel.

Jolthar found himself hard-pressed, fighting with every ounce of skill and power at his disposal.

A particularly vicious strike sent Jolthar stumbling backward. He felt his back press against the trunk of a massive oak, and for a moment, it seemed the Nynthrals had him cornered. The leader's eyes gleamed with triumphant malice as it closed in for the kill.