The Sinful Young Master

The woman strode into the room and stood in front of them.

Aphyana—firstborn daughter of Deity King Inadrys and the most powerful deivruta known to exist.

Unlike Myron, who had been raised among mortals until his divine heritage manifested, Aphyana had been taken to the Illumarhen as an infant, raised among the pantheon itself.

Myron, who was still unaware of who she was, stared while Elara and Orimus froze in absolute terror. They felt an immense pressure coming from it, making it hard to breathe for them.

"I suppose I should introduce myself to my ignorant little brother," she said, glancing at the two who were staring at her.

"I'm Aphyana, daughter of Inadrys and your big sister, Myron."

Myron's gaze tightened hearing the name Inadrys, and he glared at her, "What are you doing here? Did Inadrys send you here?"

Aphyana bent her head to her left, squinting her eyes. "Is that the way you talk to your father?"

"He isn't a father to me, and I don't care what he wants. You should leave."

Aphyana's gaze locked onto Myron as she said, "Little brother, just because I tolerate your shit talk, that doesn't mean I will continue to do so. You should really watch your tone in front of me."

Elara moved closer to Myron, sensing the tense atmosphere; she held his hand, calming him.

Then Myron sighed and said, "What do you want?"

Aphyana looked at Elara, amused and interested in her. Then she said, "Father sent me here to help you. It seems like you were having a little trouble with some mortals."

"You know, Father may seem like he doesn't care, but he really does. And it is the reason I'm here as well."

Myron furrowed his brows, unable to wrap his head around the reason.

Elara whispered something into his ear, and then he looked at her with a questioning gaze.

Then he turned to her and welcomed her.

Aphyana sat on the sofa and said to Orimus, "Hey, bring your finest wine."

Orimus stared at her, not knowing what to do. Elara then told him to do what she asked.

Orimus was dumbfounded, but he didn't refuse. He had no choice here. He had now become a servant for her boyfriend and his sister.

Aphyana said to Myron, "That mortal, do you know where he is?"

Elara stepped forward, either brave or foolish enough to address the deivruta directly. "Lady Aphyana, we've been monitoring Jolthar's activities closely."

Aphyana turned her golden gaze upon Elara, studying her with the detached interest one might show an unusual insect. "And who might you be, mortal, to speak of matters beyond your comprehension?"

Before Elara could respond, Myron cleared his throat. "She is my woman, and she knows much about the mortal you are here for."

"Oh, you do have a nice taste in women, little brother."

"All right, tell me about him."

Elara met the deivruta's gaze directly—a feat few mortals could manage. "He grows stronger rapidly and at an alarming rate, one which is impossible for a normal human being.

"And yet you desire him," Aphyana observed with unexpected insight. "I can sense your fascination."

A flush spread across Elara's cheeks, but she did not deny the accusation.

Myron was passive. After all, he was aware of her desire too.

"He is an interesting individual," she admitted.

Aphyana's eyes narrowed on her as she said, "If you speak more than you should, then I will cut your tongue."

She turned back to Myron, who had remained silent throughout this exchange. "You failed to kill him in Godeylet," she stated, not a question but an accusation.

Myron's jaw tightened. "His power exceeded my expectations. He had gone into some strange pillar and emerged as a dragon or something-"

"Excuses." Aphyana cut him off with a dismissive gesture. "I don't like people who give excuses for their failure, little brother."

The statement hung in the air between them, heavy with implication. Myron's hands clenched at his sides, golden eyes narrowing.

"But that's not the only reason I came here. We've got some business to do, little brother, people to meet. Father had entrusted me with a task, and you have to help me."

"What task?" he asked finally, his voice carefully controlled. "I knew he would do nothing if he had no interest or benefit."

Aphyana's expression turned serious as she stared at him. "Myron, that's not the way you talk about our father. And it will be the last time I hear you whine about him."

"Unlike what you think of him, he had given me something to help you."

From within her armour, she withdrew a small crystal vial containing liquid that shifted between silver and black, never settling on either colour. She held it out to Myron, who stared at it with evident apprehension.

"Do you know what this is?"

Myron and Elara stared at the veil, and Orimus, who came with a tray containing a bottle and glasses, stared at it too.

"It's Aelvara bloom, the elixir of Illumarhen."

"What!!" all three of them said at the same time, obviously shocked.

Of course they know what it was.

The elixir is known not just for its immense healing properties but for its most sacred gift—it strengthens the very essence of the one who drinks it and unlocks the hidden gateways to deityhood. It is believed that only those with a worthy soul and unshakeable resolve can withstand the overwhelming surge of divinity it grants.

Aphyana nodded once. "Drink this, and your power will increase tenfold—enough to challenge any mortal in the midlands. And nobody will stop your rise in the midlands."

Myron stared at the crystal vial, and he was already dazed and eager about the effects it would bring to him.

While Elara was thinking deeply, she knew from what Myron said to her that Inadrys was not a being who would go out of his way to help his children, and sending her daughter here, along with such a precious item, made her question his intentions, and before she could say anything, Myron was reaching for the vial.

Myron reached for the vial with trembling fingers, not aware of what this offering signified. Aelvara Bloom were rarely given even to the pantheon's most favoured children—the risk was also a lot higher. If one failed to ascend to the deityhood, then it would degenerate the whole being. That his father would offer such a gift spoke volumes about his hidden intentions.

"Myron, you need to think," Elara said to Myron's now deaf ears.

She turned to Aphyana and said, "Why don't you take care of Jolthar, and why are you giving him the elixir?"

Aphyana's expression darkened. Her aura flared up, and suddenly everything around them blasted away.

"Know your place, mortal!!"

Orimus and Elara fell back on the floor; Myron stood his ground. He quickly stood before Elara, shielding her from the burst of aura of Aphyana.

She threw the vial at Myron and said, "I have some matters to attend to, and so I will leave for now. Drink this and become stronger, little brother. We have a lot to do."

With those parting words, Aphyana's form dissolved into motes of golden light that spiralled upward, passing through the mansion's ceiling as if it were no more substantial than mist. Her departure left a profound silence in the chamber, broken only by the sound of Myron's ragged breathing as he stared at the vial in his hand.

Elara approached him cautiously, placing a gentle hand on his bare shoulder. "Myron", she said softly, "you have to think this through."

Myron's expression hardened as he turned the vial between his fingers, watching the substance within shift and swirl. "I have no choice. I need this, Elara."

From his corner, Orimus observed the exchange with calculating eyes. "If you face Jolthar again, you'll need more than raw power," he advised.

Elara glared at Orimus and was certainly not happy with how he encouraged Myron.

She could guess that Deity King was trying to make a pawn out of Myron. He wanted to use Myron for whatever reasons he had.

"Elara, with this elixir, Myron can kill Jolthar and not only him but anyone who stands in his path. He will become the strongest of them all," Orimus was saying, his voice dripping with persuasion. Elara only glared at him. Both of them were blinded by the power before them, not seeing the hidden intentions.

Myron's attention snapped back to the present conversation. "No," he decided firmly. "No more observation. No more delayed confrontation."

He rose to his feet, his godly heritage evident in every line of his perfect physique. The vial of Deity's Tears seemed to pulse in his hand, resonating with his own divine blood.

"I will seek him out directly," Myron declared. "Challenge him properly, as one power should challenge another. And this time—" his fingers tightened around the vial "—this time, I will not fail."

Elara watched him with her own worry that Myron would slip out of her hands if the deities were involved. She can no longer have a sway on him.

She knew that look—the resolute expression of Myron whose pride had been wounded. Myron would indeed challenge Jolthar again, with or without prudent preparation.

As Myron strode out of the chambers, ready to take the elixir and prepare himself for the transformation, Elara and Orimus watched with puzzled expressions.