The Sinful Young Master

Yilar's response was immediate and decisive.

"No," he said coldly, "it's not the Beast King."

As the creature descended, its features became horrifyingly clear.

It was monumental—over 100 feet long, with a breadth that could eclipse a small village. Its head was unlike anything they had ever seen—a terrifying fusion of dragon and serpent, crowned with a flared hood adorned with jagged ridges that looked like a living, wickedly sharp crown.

Slitted eyes glowed a deep, mesmerising emerald—not the emerald of the vaemani stone, but a colour that spoke of something far more ancient and powerful. Its head was distinctly draconic, yet unlike any dragon of legend. Muscular arms ended in hands with razor-sharp claws that could slice through stone as easily as flesh.

This was not the basilisk of old. Not the beast king they all knew.

This was something different.

Something more.

The creature's very presence was a force of nature. Warriors who moments ago had been fighting with unrestrained ferocity now stood frozen, unable to move.

Horses trembled.

Soldiers dropped their weapons.

The beasts stopped in their tracks and roared wildly, watching the creature descend towards them.

Even Dagur, the fearsome barbarian chieftain, found himself rooted to the spot.

Hamen's confusion was evident.

This creature bore similarities to the basilisk of legend—the legendary beast that had once ruled these lands—but it was fundamentally different. The power radiating from it was so immense, so terrifying, that it seemed to compress the very air around it.

Then it roared, again.

The sound was beyond mere volume.

It was a primal force that seemed to reach into the very souls of those present.

A screech that was like a cacophony of screams, sending shivers down their spines. Every one of them trembled, blocking their ears, feeling the pressure.

Warriors fell to their knees.

The ground itself seemed to tremble.

Yilar's eyes narrowed, then went wide with realisation. "It's that boy!!"

In the sky above, hidden from mortal view, Inadrys and Ivyona watched with confusion. The creature below was nothing like what they had anticipated. It was different from what they knew.

The massive basilisk-like creature descended with earth-shattering force, its body undulating like a living wave of emerald energy.

As it crashed into the centre of the battlefield, warriors scattered in all directions, their battle forgotten in the face of this supernatural manifestation.

Where the creature landed, a massive pit erupted from the ground.

The beast began to contort violently, as though something was struggling within its very form. Green energy pulsed and writhed, becoming more intense with each passing moment.

A massive cloud of dust billowed upward, obscuring everything from view.

As the dust began to settle, the green energy condensed, shrinking down to a humanoid form.

"Jolthar!!" Count Hamen exclaimed, his voice a mixture of shock and recognition.

Where the enormous beast had crashed stood a transformed Jolthar.

The transformation was complete, but not in any way anyone expected.

Jolthar who was now standing in the middle of the deep pit, sighed heavily. "That was close."

As soon as he got out of the pillar, the green energy had stirred the beast king's power inside him, and he didn't know how, but it made him turn into the beast king himself, but not like Na'rajina, like an upgraded version.

While he was inside the pillar, the overwhelming power within him had been restrained and contained by Qalena, her influence acting as a stabilizing force. She had guided him, helping him adjust to its presence, allowing him to coexist with the immense energy without succumbing to its chaotic nature.

But the moment he stepped beyond the pillar's confines, everything shifted violently. The energy of the outside clashed with the force locked within him, acting as a catalyst—a spark that ignited an uncontrollable storm. The raw power inside Jolthar surged and writhed, no longer tempered by Qalena's restraint.

His body trembled as the overwhelming force boiled over, ripping through his senses like an untamed wildfire. The world blurred, reason crumbling under the sheer weight of the madness taking hold. A primal roar tore from his throat as he lost himself, drowning in the chaotic abyss of unrestrained power.

He couldn't believe he had just turned into some snake.

He fought hard and quickly gained his senses, controlling the power of the beast king.

As he was processing what just happened, a voice rang in his head.

[Eternal Drakonian Basilisk Obtained]

[You are weak to host the form; reach the state of transcendent, and you can unlock the beast forms.]

[Qalena's blessing is in effect.]

[Telekinesis intermediate]

[Tier 8]

[Jolthar, the Monarch of Beasts]

"What in the…" Jolthar stood there, amazed at what just happened.

Monarch of beasts?

Tier 8?

I just jumped two levels by absorbing the beast king's power. Damn! That fucker sure is amazing!

Jolthar thought to himself. It was no easy feat to cross two levels with his level of power. He had his voidwrath, his aura and there was a newfound chaos aura to raise two levels with all those powers inside him; it was truly magnificent.

What the fuck does it mean by monarch of beasts?

He stood naked in the centre of the pit, completely exposed but seemingly unaware or unconcerned. His body had changed—more defined, muscular, but not bulky.

Instead, he was lean and powerful, with muscles that spoke of incredible strength without unnecessary mass. Silver hair cascaded down to his shoulders, catching the light in a way that made it seem almost luminescent.

The green energy dissipated around him, leaving only a faint emerald shimmer in the air.

"Thank the goddess," Jolthar muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. He could still feel the Beast King's power threatening to overwhelm him. The transformation had been a near disaster—he had nearly lost himself to the immense power of Na'rajina's essence. But somehow, he had managed to regain control and return to his human form.

The battlefield remained frozen.

Soldiers from both sides—Hamen's troops and Dagur's barbarians—stood motionless, unable to comprehend what they had just witnessed.

Dagur's massive frame was rigid, his battle-axe forgotten at his side.

Yilar's eyes gleamed with a calculating intensity, drinking in every detail of Jolthar's transformation.

Count Hamen, bleeding and battered from the battle, shouted again. "Jolthar!!"

The young man turned, seemingly just becoming aware of his surroundings. His eyes, which had moments ago been the slitted emerald of the basilisk, were now his own—though a hint of green still swirled in their depths.

Around him, the battlefield was a scene of absolute chaos.

The ground was torn apart where the massive beast had landed. Bodies of soldiers and beasts lay scattered. The very landscape had been transformed by the heavenly event they had just witnessed.

And at the centre of it all stood Jolthar—no longer just a boy.