Jinn BLADE
Chapter 106 | Prelude To Vulnerability

Chapter 106: Chapter 106 | Prelude To Vulnerability

"URGH!" Jinn groaned, his arms twitching as dark binds slithered tightly around his wrists and forearms, holding him firm as if they were alive.

The corrupted eidra pulsed along the restraints, tightening every time he struggled.

Verkaryon kept a tight grip on him, dragging him forward with each step, while both of them followed just behind Malgareth’s tall figure.

They moved through a narrow passage until they reached what looked like a circular platform resting silently in the middle of the room.

As soon as Malgareth stepped onto it, a low mechanical whirr echoed from beneath their feet.

The entire base of the platform began to hum, and thin lines of red light traced themselves across its surface.

The edges of the platform glowed as faint rumbling began to rise.

Above them, the ceiling slowly cracked open, splitting apart and revealing the dark, twisted skies beyond.

The moment light touched the platform, Jinn instinctively raised his head and stared upward, his eyes widening in shock.

What he saw made him freeze.

A massive energy pillar stood in the far distance, rising so high it pierced through the clouds and into the heavens above.

The beam of raw power twisted with violet and black lightning, its core pulsing like a heart.

It looked unstable, yet alive—like it was breathing.

The skies around it crackled with thunder, and flashes of twisted light danced through the clouds, illuminating the entire horizon.

The platform continued to rise slowly, groaning under its own weight, until they arrived at what seemed to be the very top of the tower.

The air grew thinner here, colder too.

Wind howled across the circular ledge, and Jinn could finally see the full scope of the land beneath them, twisted by corruption and darkness.

They had reached the apex—the highest point of the dark tower.

Waiting at the top was a circle of cloaked figures, unmoving, like statues placed on the edge of the platform.

Each of them wore long, dark robes that flowed and twisted unnaturally, even without wind.

Their faces were hidden under their hoods, but Jinn didn’t need to see them to recognize who they were—these were the same corrupted scholars who had tormented him earlier, the ones who injected dark eidra and tore into his mind like knives.

"Prepare the device," Malgareth commanded, his voice calm but firm.

At his words, the cloaked individuals began to move, spreading out around the platform like clockwork.

They did not speak, only obeyed, as if their bodies were running on rituals they had long memorized.

Jinn’s eyes narrowed.

He glanced at the center of the platform where a massive monument stood, glowing faintly with the same violet hue as the energy pillar above.

His gaze slowly moved from the base of the structure, following it upwards—his eyes tracing its odd, jagged edges and the symbols that pulsed along its body.

The strange monument crackled, threads of violet and black eidra dancing across its surface like veins of lightning.

It was from this very monument that the colossal beam of energy shot up into the sky, the same one that pierced the heavens above.

Just standing near it made the hair on Jinn’s arms stand, the power it radiated was overwhelming, cold and deep.

Whatever it was—whatever this thing truly meant—it was clearly at the heart of Malgareth’s grand plan.

It wasn’t just a weapon, it felt like a key.

Around it, the cloaked individuals activated a set of strange black-framed devices placed in a circle.

The devices hummed with a sharp, electric sound as each figure lifted their hand and began tracing glyphs in the air.

Their eidra glowed black and purple, leaving streaks behind like ink in water.

The glyphs they wrote floated for a moment before locking into place above the devices, pulsing softly like stars waiting to burst.

The language they used was ancient and unrecognizable, but Jinn felt its weight, its pressure crawling under his skin.

This wasn’t just some ritual. It was something older—something he clearly does not know about.

As the cloaked figures continued their ritual, slowly feeding energy into the strange devices, a sharp jolt of awareness struck Jinn, making his body tense and his eyes widen.

A memory surfaced—something he’d nearly forgotten amidst all the chaos and torment.

The stone.

The obsidian stone the princess had given him.

The same one that cracked once with a strange pulse of power.

He remembered now—he had always kept it with him, tucked deep inside his coat’s inner pocket, close to his body.

Even now, he could faintly feel its presence, a small weight pressing lightly against his ribs.

He was certain it was still there.

And the princess wouldn’t have given it to him without a reason.

That stone had purpose.

Perhaps even the power to stop what Malgareth was trying to do.

Or at the very least, it could be the key to saving himself.

But there was a problem.

His hands—bound tightly by Verkaryon’s dark eidra, a leash of black energy that twisted like a snake around his arms and wrists, making even the smallest movement difficult.

The binds pulsed with corrupt force, and he could feel Verkaryon’s control through them—cold, firm, and unyielding.

If he wanted to retrieve the stone, he’d first need to free at least one of his hands.

But that would only happen if Verkaryon let his guard down.

And for that, Jinn needed a distraction. Something to make the corrupted knight lose focus, even for a moment.

His eyes slowly shifted upward and stared at Verkaryon’s face.

The bird-like beast stood beside him, unmoving, tall and quiet like a statue cast from shadow and bone.

But it was his eyes that caught Jinn’s attention—deep red and sharp, focused not on Jinn, but locked on Malgareth with a strange intensity.

There was something in that gaze.

Something close to awe.

Or even worship.

Jinn’s heart thudded.

Admiration.

Verkaryon wasn’t just following orders.

He believed in Malgareth.

He looked at him with the eyes of someone who saw a savior, a master, maybe even a god.

Jinn’s eyes narrowed.

That—he could use.

If he said the right words.

If he dug into that belief, questioned it, maybe even mocked it... there was a chance he could get inside Verkaryon’s head, force him to react.

Just one slip, one flicker of emotion strong enough to loosen the binds even slightly.

It was a risk.

A stupid one maybe.

But right now, it was the only card he had.

Jinn’s fingers twitched, testing the binds again, feeling for any weak point, any angle at all.

His mouth remained shut for now, but his mind was already crafting the words. Planning the moment.

Because if he failed—

If Malgareth truly succeeded in taking his power...

He would die.

He felt it in his bones.

No doubts.

No chances.

And maybe worse than death... something darker, something twisted.

He couldn’t let that happen.

He wouldn’t.