Jinn BLADE-Chapter 186 | Shore

The trumpets rang loud in the background, echoing through every corner of the palace as Jinn and the rest of House Sorellia made their steady approach down the long and polished hallway of the Royal Palace. Their footsteps created an almost rhythmic sound against the polished floor, mixing with the excited and cautious murmurs of nobles that gathered around.

They continued to walk along the hallway until they finally arrived at what seemed to be a ballroom. The moment Jinn stepped into the enormous, widely-spaced ballroom, his long eye subtly widened at the sight... as he had never seen this much decoration in his entire life.

Every inch of the palace felt unreal to him, almost overwhelming in its lavish beauty and brightness, especially to someone who had spent most of his life in battlefields, barracks, and rough places where celebrations were completely rare.

High-grade kritonium, both pure and shining, lines the several massive pillars that circled the ballroom. These pillars twisted upward like spiraling colossal towers, etched with eidric inscriptions, until they reached the grand ceiling above, which in itself was also decorated by detailed paintings. The ceiling showed romanticized, almost exaggerated, scenes of epic wars, mighty heroes, legendary beasts and victories that truly defined Zerafhon’s warlike culture.

Even though the paintings were exaggerated, almost dreamy, Jinn still felt the raw power and meaning behind them.

Jinn’s eyes then shifted, noticing the bright crystal chandeliers that dangled down from long chains, each crystal catching the light and scattering it until the whole ballroom gleamed as if it was a holy sanctum.

For Jinn, everything inside the ballroom... felt foreign... almost alien. The place was clean, too clean, too elegant... and too different from everything he was

I can never get used to places like these...

Jinn shifted his eye slowly to the left and then to the right, trying to observe and understand every little thing... mostly out of habit. It was as if he needed to keep himself aware, even in a grandiose place like this, because the habit of staying alert had long been carved into his very bones.

But before he could continue and take in more of the surroundings, Dreilla and the rest of his squad stepped out from among the crowd and approached him directly.

"Good evening, Battlemaster Venedix," Dreilla said with a respectful bow toward Venedix before shifting her attention toward the others who were directly beside her.

"And House Sorellia."

Her tone was formal, but Jinn noticed her voice had a subtle shake in it—maybe nerves, or perhaps awe.

’Ah! Dreilla!" Merilyn practically burst forward, her face glowing with her usual enthusiastic warmth as she walked up with a smile... that felt bright enough to outshine even the chandelier lights—at least that was how Jinn saw it.

"It’s been a while... you’ve grown into such a fine woman!" she said, sincere and cheerful, her tone like that of an older sister who had not seen a young sibling in far too long.

"A-Ah...!" Dreilla laughed softly, flattered, a bit embarrassed as she scratched the back of her neck. Her cheeks subtly flushed because compliments like that weren’t something she heard often. Maybe only her grandmother said anything close to that before, and even then it had been rare.

The sudden kindness from Merilyn almost made her stutter.

"Thank you, Battlemaster Merilyn." She followed up with another polite bow, her voice more composed now, though still carrying a subtle tremble of nervous happiness.

*pffft!

Subtle mocking chuckles echoed softly behind Dreilla, light but sharp, clearly mocking the way Dreilla replied with a nervous tone which wasn’t like her at all.

Most of the laughter came from Gerahl, no, all of it came from him... as he found it especially funny that Merilyn had the nerve to call Dreilla a fine woman in front of everyone.

To him, the idea itself was ridiculous.

"More like a brute if you ask me...pfft!," Gerahl muttered under his breath, trying to hold down his own mouth with the back of his hand as his shoulders subtly shook from the effort of stopping the laughter that he couldn’t control. His eyes were half-closed, almost tearing up from the amusement.

*sighhhh!

Zhyn, standing just beside him, let out a long and tired sigh, the kind of sigh that said he dealt with Gerahl’s childish antics far too many times already.

He wished—honestly wished—that his friend would learn some sense of decorum of some sort, especially in grand places like this where every wrong movement seemed to echo twice as loud... for the sole reason of gossip and nobility surrounding them.

But in truthful honesty, Zhyn already knew that expecting such maturity from Gerahl was like expecting a sun to freeze mid-sky—not that it’s impossible with the current technological marvel, but highly unlikely.

"Please, do not let our presence hinder you from mingling with the others!" Merild said warmly, trying to break the awkward silence, turning her head toward Dreilla with a polite nod.

Merilyn’s tone held that encouraging softness she had always carried, as if he wanted Dreilla to feel welcomed despite the noise around them... to which Dreilla noticed herself.

"I’m sure a lot of people would love to hear your stories from the battlefield, especially the warrior nobles." Merilyn concluded.

Zendrell then stepped forward a bit, his eyes drifting toward a nearby raised platform—an elevated position with a railing around its edge, clearly tall enough that anyone who climbed onto it would be seen clearly by the whole hall.

He studied the attendants and butlers stationed up there, their stiff posture showing that they were preparing for someone important.

"We have time," Zendrell spoke, his voice clear yet calm as he continued to observe the subtle movement above.

"Looks like the emperor is taking his dear time."

"Perhaps it is the empress," Mezra added, her eyes also drifting upward as she also studied the platform... her mind drifting into the thoughts of how the empress usually acted,

"The empress has a habit... an antic, most usually... of being late to everything she attends."

"Most likely the latter," Zendrell replied with an exhale, clearly bored to even wait for the empress as he wanted this event to get over with. His gaze then shifted slightly, turning over his shoulder as he looked toward the back of the group, specifically at Jinn.

Jinn stood silently and stiffly, almost like a carved statue planted in the open, his presence subtly awkward... yet still holding the straight-backed poise of a trained soldier, always alert and always at the ready

"Mhm...," Zendrell hummed to himself, "why won’t you let Jinn mingle with the others for a while? The boy looks like he’s about to turn into a stone pillar the way he’s standing just like that."

Venedix shifted her eyes toward Troy first, as if thinking of something... before moving her eyes to Jinn who stood just beside her right side—quiet, motionless, and clearly unsure what he was supposed to do in a hall full of nobles despite the strong impression he gave earlier.

"Very well," Venedix nodded subtly, her tone decisive before shifting her attention fully to Troy.

"Troy, accompany him."

"W-What? Why me?" Troy blurted out, brow rising high in subtle disbelief. He looked between Venedix and Jinn as if hoping for someone, anyone, would rescue him from the command.

When no one did, he let out a deep sigh, knowing perfectly well that arguing with Venedix was a battle he had never one, and won’t even try to.

"Fine," he spoke clearly, subtle laziness laced in his tone as he accepted his fate with an almost miserable expression.

Without wasting any more time, Troy shifted his gaze towards Jinn’s squad—Dreilla, Gerahl, and his younger brother Zhyn—letting his eyes jump from one familiar face to another before he finally settled his stare on Jinn himself.

There was a small sight that slipped out of him once again, more subtle this time, almost like he already regretted agreeing to Venedix’s orders... yet he still forced a half-hearted grin as he tried to sound confident.

"Come on, all of you—let’s introduce you to the world of nobles, whether you like it or not." His tone carried a mix of anticipation and duty. He had realized that Venedix chose him of all the people as he had significantly more experience dealing with nobles and gatherings such as these... so he cannot deny his expertise in such things.

Jinn then stepped forward without hesitation, his boots thudding softly against the polished floor... but before taking more than a few steps, a subtle yet firm grasp halted him—deliberate, strong, familiar and unmistakable.

Venedix.

"Remember, Jinn," she said, her voice low but powerful. "You are no longer a slave—you are a soldier, and a member of House Sorellia itself. Never shy away from opportunities... and never cower from those who spite you."

Her tone carried more than instruction... It carried warning, encouragement and a harsh truth she had learned through her meddlings with nobles.

In the noble world of Zerafhon, weakness was hunted like prey, and she refused to let him become anything less than someone who could survive it.

"You don’t need to tell me that anymore," Jinn replied quickly, his voice remained calm and controlled... no more uncertainty as he had experienced first hand the treacherous waters of such a world.

And his response was to cut away those who defy him... yet this time, he understood he must pick his enemies carefully if he were to last long.

As any soldier in the battlefield, one who recklessly charges forward without a plan will last shorter than one who does.

"I’m sure my first impressions already gave them a gist of who I am," Jinn added... clearly reminding Venedix that he needed no reassurance.

Then, he finally dipped his head in a respectful nod and shifted his body just enough to meet her gaze from the corner of his eye.

"Now, if you would please," he said, waiting—not out of uncertainty, but because her approval still meant something within him... a habit he had come to learn during the training with Venedix.

"Very well," Venedix answered at last.

She released her grip slowly, letting her hand finally fall away from his shoulder before crossing her arms over her chest. She remained there, unmoving, as Jinn’s figure became smaller and smaller with every step as he and his squad along with Troy headed deeper into the ballroom.

Even after they were nearly swallowed by the crowd, she didn’t look away. Her eyes stayed sharp, yet something flickered... as memories stirred behind them—memories of a small, fragile child she had trained until he could barely stand, memories of him bleeding and beat, yet still pushing himself because she refused to let him break.

"That’s right, Jinn..." she muttered under her breath, her golden eyes narrowing with a faint glimmer that hinted at pride, emotion, and genuine conviction.

"Power is everything... it does not matter if you are not capable of releasing your past... as long as you’re strong..." her right hand trembled slightly at her side, a rare crack in her usually perfect composure... before she clenched it tight as if crushing the phantom of some memory she wished she could forget.

"As long as you’re strong..." she whispered again... yet this time, it seemed to aim at herself rather than Jinn.