The Sinful Young Master-Chapter 253: His Grandmother.

There was a moment of silence.

The words sank in, and Jolthar's lips parted slightly before he let out a quiet, amused exhale. "Oh." He finally understood, but his mind raced with questions.

Turning his palm slightly, he gazed at his hands, the faint, shifting aura swirling around his skin. It leaked out of him like an unseen, powerful yet unnoticed mist. Even he wasn't aware of it.

"How did you know that?" he asked, his voice quieter but no less demanding.

Mera, the Na'gni, writhed slightly against the force holding her. "What? I can tell just by looking at you."

Jolthar narrowed his eyes. Was this a natural ability of her kind, or had he truly changed in ways he hadn't realised? He flexed his fingers experimentally, feeling the power coursing through them, raw and untamed.

"All right," he said at last, his attention returning to her. "Answer my questions, and I'll let you go."

Mera nodded quickly, though her body still twitched under the weight of his unseen hold. She was strong, but not enough to resist him.

"What are you?" he asked, his voice like steel.

"I'm a Na'gni," she gasped. "Called Mera."

The name meant nothing to him, but her kind did. The Na'gni were a rare race of serpent known for their cunning and their ability to slip between realms unseen. He only heard of them in the stories, which he read in the library, during his time in the Keep. There was a hidden community that kept itself away from the midlands.

But he didn't care to ask what she was doing here.

Jolthar's grip remained firm, his piercing gaze locked onto Mera's twitching form.

Faint traces of green-coloured energy surrounded her neck, the presence of his beast king power.

The Na'gni's serpentine lower body coiled slightly, her golden eyes flickering with a mix of unease and defiance.

"So, were you the one causing trouble in the barony?" he asked, his voice calm but laced with suspicion.

Mera's tail flicked in irritation. "What? No! Why would I go there? I was only freed a few days ago," she snapped, her frustration evident.

Jolthar arched a brow. "Freed?" He studied her closely.

"From what?" freeweɓnøvel.com

The half-snake woman exhaled sharply, her expression darkening. "For years, my kind was placed under a terrible curse—one cast by the former Beast King."

She decided to tell him the truth, as she had no way out now. And Jolthar was way more powerful than her, and the green-coloured energy around him made her feel uneasy. She was sure that he was the new king.

Jolthar's expression didn't shift, but he felt something stir within him. "The former Beast King?"

Mera nodded, her voice quieter now.

"Na'Rajina," she whispered, the name laced with an ancient weight.

That name, he recognized as the one who had tried to take over him but ended up dying in the process.

"He was one of our own, a powerful member of the Na'gni race, but his heart was dark and his ambitions dangerous. He was banished from our realm for his crimes."

Jolthar listened intently, the breeze rustling through the trees around them. The lake's surface rippled in the distance, its golden reflection shimmering under the afternoon sun.

Mera continued, "As revenge, he placed a terrible curse on us, locking our entire race away for eternity. We were trapped in a void between existence and oblivion, unable to move forward, unable to die. But then—" she hesitated, eyes flicking back to him, realization dawning, "—a few days ago, the curse broke. We were told that only after his body and soul vanish then only our curse be broken, and so it seems to have happened. And we were freed."

Jolthar's fingers tightened slightly as something clicked into place. "I was the one responsible for his demise."

A stunned silence followed.

Mera's golden eyes widened, her body stiffening as the truth struck her like a thunderclap. Her gaze travelled over him, this time more searching, more knowing. She could see it clearly—the glow around him like an invisible cloak, the very essence of the Beast King's power. That unmistakable green energy.

She inhaled sharply. "So it's true… you are the new Beast King."

"I thought I was mistaken for a second right after I saw you."

The realization sent a shiver through her.

For centuries, the Beast King had been an untouchable figure, ruling over the wild things of the world, commanding beasts, creatures, and the untamed magic that pulsed beneath the land. And now, she stood before the new king.

Jolthar didn't answer immediately. His gaze dropped to his hands again, the energy curling off his fingers in wisps. He then looked at her, her form, and her human part.

He didn't expect that him killing the beast king would have such unfolded such events.

But before he could say another word, movement in the distance caught his eye.

Through the trees, down the narrow road cutting through the dense forest, a carriage approached, its wheels crunching over fallen leaves. The carriage was alone, a single woman sitting at the front, driving the carriage towards the lake, towards him.

Jolthar's eyes narrowed.

Someone was coming. And they were headed straight toward him.

-

The carriage rolled to a slow halt before Jolthar, the horses snorting as their hooves dug into the softened dirt. The faint creak of the wooden wheels settled into silence, leaving only the rustling of leaves and the distant call of birds overhead.

Jolthar barely had time to process the arrival before he felt a shift in the air. His telekinetic grip wavered—not for long, but just enough.

Mera, sharp-eyed and quick-witted, seized the moment.

With a sudden burst of movement, she twisted free, her serpentine lower half coiling back before propelling her away like a striking viper. Her golden eyes met his one last time, unreadable yet triumphant.

Jolthar made no move to chase her. He could have, easily, but his attention had already shifted. He exhaled sharply, releasing his hold entirely as he turned back to the carriage.

The woman who was driving the carriage got down and went to open the door.

And she did.

Cleora was the first to step out, her long coat catching the faint breeze. Her eyes scanned the clearing, widening briefly as she took in the devastation around them—gouged earth, splintered trees, and energy still lingering thick in the air. Her gaze flickered toward Jolthar, checking if he was all right.

But then, before he could speak, another figure emerged.

Jolthar stiffened.

A woman stepped out, her every movement graceful, deliberate. She walked toward him with an air of familiarity and authority, her presence undeniable. Her beauty had not faded with age; instead, it had refined, her features untouched by time's cruel hand. Her braided silver hair and her sharp, knowing eyes locked onto him with something close to surprise.

She was silent for a moment, her gaze drinking him in, as if struggling to believe what she was seeing. It had been several weeks already, and he had grown stronger than the last time she saw him. The power oozing out of him made her apprehensive.

She stared at him for a longer while. So did he.

Cleora and the maidservant of Johamma. They just stood behind, not saying a word.

"…Jolthar," Johamma finally spoke.

His brows furrowed. "What are you doing here?"

Johamma, his grandmother, tilted her head slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Is that how you greet your grandmother?" she chided.

"Then should I bow and greet you?" Jolthar shot back. His expression was a mix of anger and confusion.

"You could come and hug me instead," Johamma said, still a smile hung on her lips. She could see the anger and the hate on his face. She was starting to realize just how much she and the family had destroyed the boy emotionally.

Jolthar's expression darkened. "Are you really saying that?" His tone was edged but not entirely unkind.

He clicked his tongue. "How did you find me?"

Johamma waved a dismissive hand. "Is that important?"

She took another step closer, the fine embroidery on her dark robes catching the dappled light filtering through the trees. "I came to talk to you."

She gave him an expectant look. "Won't you talk with your old lady?"

Jolthar's jaw tensed. "I don't have anything to say to you." His voice was firm, unwavering. "Haven't we already talked enough the last time?"

A brief silence stretched between them.

Cleora remained silent, her sharp eyes moving between them. But her attention soon drifted away from their exchange, taking in their surroundings instead. The land around them was wounded—deep gashes marred the earth, and trees had been uprooted, their trunks lying in jagged heaps.

It was clear that a battle of some kind had taken place here.

And yet, only Jolthar stood before them.

Her grip tightened slightly around the edge of her coat.

What exactly had happened here?