Jinn BLADE-Chapter 183 | Wrath

Jinn knelt just in front of the already armless Krane, the boy’s broken body twisting and writhing on the floor as he grunted and cried through the blood pooling beneath him. Jinn stared down at him in silence, his breathing slow yet heavy, and as he looked, something unsettling kept stirring within his chest.

The sight before him, a scenery he knew far too well from his years on the battlefield—an enemy fallen, helpless, their life trembling in the palm of his hand.

A fate, whether to live or die, rests upon his decision alone.

Yet this time there was a difference, something sharp and painful, something that scraped at the edge of his mind.

Back then, when he ended lives... he did it under orders, following a soldier’s code, a rule that kept him steady even through the chaos of war.

But this... this was different.

What filled him now at this current moment wasn’t duty.

It was anger—raw, ugly anger he thought he had buried years ago along with the ashes of his past. It dragged old painful memories back to the surace, memories from the time he was nothing but a slave, a nameless boy drowning in grief, desperation, and burning with rage he could never release truly.

That feeling gnawed at him now. It made his chest tight, made his hands subtly shake even though his expression didn’t show it.

He hated this sensation, as it was the sensation that had pushed him beyond... what was his usual self. He hated this sensation, hated how easily it came back the moment Krane spoke of Nevi’s name—Nevi, the friend he failed.

The wound he carried from her death had never truly healed, and Kraine’s mockery ripped it wide open again, spilling everything Jinn tried so hard to bury.

Jinn was no longer thinking clearly. It felt like his consciousness thinned, like a dark veil fell over his thoughts and guided his movements for him. The storm of rage inside him thickened, cold and heavy, spreading through his veins until his blood felt like ice.

Before, he had been powerless—weak, small, worthless, carrying no name of his own. .

But now... now he is strong. Now he had power—power he once believed he would never reach when he was only an orphan scraping through life. And with that strength came a terrifying truth: he could end a life without hesitation if he chose to.

He understood that now more than ever.

And in that moment, staring down at the broken prodigy of House Vulkan, Jinn marked Krane in his mind.

He treated him exactly as he would treat a target on the battlefield—coldly, decisively.

But this time, he was killing the boy out of raw anger—an anger that didn’t feel clean or guided, but messy and boiling, like something that had been buried inside him for years and was now crawling out through every breath he took.

Jinn drove his blade into one of Krane’s legs, the metal slicing through flesh before the crackling surge of electric-like eidra rushed into the wound. The moment it entered, Krane’s scream shot through the hall like a terrified animal being torn apart, the kind of scream that echoed in the bones of everyone watching.

Krane lifted the stump of his already lacerated shoulder toward Jinn, as if raising it could somehow shield him or beg for pity, yet his mouth could not form a proper word.

His lips trembled, his throat locked tight, too shocked by the closeness of death to even beg properly. The fear in his eyes showed it all—his body knew death was inches away, and terror had stolen even his voice.

"Finish it, Jinn." Akavi’s voice came from the sideline, smooth yet cruel, her lips curling into a satisfied smile. That look alone told everyone she wanted this.

She wanted to see Krane fall.

She wanted Jinn to be the one to do it.

"DON’T DO IT!"

"STOP HIM!"

"PLEASE, HAVE MERCY!"

Desperate shouts erupted from the members of House Vulkan. Their voices trembled, their faces pale with fear for their young prodigy. But none dared to step in. Not after Akavi’s earlier words. It was already unforgivable that Krane had insulted the princess; if they interfered more, their whole family would face her wrath.

Jinn yanked his sword free from Krane’s leg. The flesh twitched and writhed as tiny remnants of crimson eidra still crawled under the skin, making the wound pulse as if alive. Krane cried out again, his voice hoarse and weak.

Then Jinn sheathed his sword.

Krane’s eyes widened. Relief washed over his bloody face, his mouth dropping open as if he wanted to laugh or sob, believing—foolishly—that Jinn had spared him.

Spared?

He had misunderstood everything.

Jinn shifted his footing slowly, dragging his left leg backward while bending his right. His remaining arm tightened around the hilt of his sword as he lowered his stance, the air around him trembling from the pressure of his focus. His single eye lifted and locked onto Krane with a coldness that felt more like judgment than rage.

Krane understood instantly.

His face crumbled. Tears spilled without shame, dripping down his jaw and mixing with the blood on his chin. His remaining leg tried to push him away, his body dragging across the floor like a wounded animal trying desperately to crawl anywhere but here.

"H-Hab... M-Mershy... Pleashe!!!" he cried, the words breaking apart, slurred and trembling, barely understandable through the shaking of his jaw. Fear had taken every bit of pride he once had.

Death was coming for him.

And Jinn was the one bringing it.

Jinn’s fingers edged around the hilt, unsheathing his sword once more. Violent cracks of crimson eidra spilled out like a storm breaking free from chains. He inhaled once, steadying himself—not out of mercy, but to keep the rage from swallowing the last piece of control he still held.

"Shtop! Shtop! Pleashe! I b-beg of yow!!" Krane sobbed, voice shaking so hard it barely sounded normal anymore.

"Now, die," Jinn said, the words simple, empty of emotion, and final.

*BANG!

In the next heartbeat he exploded forward with brutal speed, his blade drawing a horizontal line of death straight toward Krane’s neck—an execution meant to end everything.

But inches before the strike landed... another blade crashed into his.

*BOOOOOOOM!!!

A thunderous roar of crimson lightning erupted across the hall, so powerful it felt like the air itself was struck by a god’s fury. It forced the nobles to flinch, their hair standing on end, as if the lightning had passed right through their bones.

This lightning was not Jinn’s.

It was older. Stronger. Wilder.

There was only one person alive with an eidra that could rival—and surpass—Jinn’s.

Jinn’s eye widened, stunned. His gaze followed the path of the blade that blocked his. And when he finally saw the figure standing before him, all of his rage fell silent at once.

He dropped to his knees without hesitation, bowing his head low in absolute respect.

"Master," he said, only a single word, spoken with the weight of everything he owed.

Before him stood the battlemaster of House Sorellia.

The eldest.

His teacher.

The empire’s blade.

Venedix.