Jinn BLADE
Chapter 108 | The Hunt Begins

Chapter 108: Chapter 108 | The Hunt Begins

The sound of howling mists echoed in the surroundings, long and eerie, like mournful wails from the depths of the abyss.

Dark mists seeped across the open field, curling over the ground like creeping tendrils.

The tall grass danced wildly, bending and snapping as sudden gusts of wind twisted and howled, weaving through the terrain with unnatural force.

"They’re playing tricks..." Garan snarled under his breath, his deep voice rumbling low like distant thunder.

His eyes, sharpened by years of experience and primal instinct, scanned the swirls of black mist with calm precision.

While others would stumble in such obscurity, blinded or corrupted by the poisonous haze, Garan stood unmoved.

His vision pierced through the gloom with ease—Drakkar sight was a gift bred from survival and battle.

The dark mists twisted around him like serpents, thick with corrupted eidra.

For the inexperienced, exposure would mean instant corruption—their bodies and minds devoured in moments.

But Garan was not some fragile fledgling.

He was a Drakkar warrior who had lived through centuries, a hunter who had weathered the fury of countless storms and horrors alike.

His control over his eidra had been honed to perfect mastery, the strength of his soul too deeply rooted to be shaken by something as feeble as mist.

He took another step forward, the claws on his feet crunching over the grass as the air grew colder.

Then, something shifted.

His ears, hidden within the thick mane that curled around his neck, perked up sharply.

His nose twitched.

"Prey..." he growled low, sniffing the wind, his lips pulling back slightly to reveal a sharp grin.

He turned toward the source of the scent, his body tense but not with fear—only anticipation.

"Corrupted prey... a strong one!" he said, his voice rising with something between a growl and a purr.

A crooked smirk slowly curled along the corner of his mouth, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

There was no nervousness in his stance, no hesitation in his breath.

He wasn’t bracing for survival—he was preparing for glory.

A true battle.

One worthy of his blood.

And Garan welcomed it.

Garan then paused, drawing in a slow, deep breath as if the world around him had suddenly gone still.

His chest rose steadily, his lungs expanding, collecting not just air but power—drawing it inward, coiling it like a serpent ready to strike.

The silence before the storm.

And then, without warning, he released it.

*BANG!!!

A violent burst of force surged from within, his heart thudding like a war drum, loud and steady, pumping pure adrenaline into his limbs like liquid fire.

A low, guttural growl rumbled from his throat, turning into a fierce snarl as his fangs elongated, sharpening into lethal weapons.

His muscles swelled with pressure, veins crawling like roots under his skin, thick and bulging from the sudden surge of raw strength.

Then, with one swift motion, he dropped low—his powerful arms pressing into the earth as he took the stance of a beast, a quadrupedal predator built for pure speed and power.

His claws dug into the ground, cracking the earth beneath him.

He sniffed again, more precise this time, narrowing in on the scent he had caught earlier.

His eyes flared wide with bloodlust, tracking the exact direction like a hawk watching prey from above.

And in the blink of an eye, he moved.

*ROAR!!! *BANG!!!

With a thunderous roar, Garan exploded into a dead sprint, the ground shattering beneath his feet from the sheer force of his launch.

The earth trembled as he charged through the darkness, cutting through the corrupted mist like a blade.

Trees and brush blurred past him as his limbs became a blur, his quadruped form allowing maximum speed and momentum.

His growl deepened, eyes locked forward as his instincts took full control.

Whatever it was—stealth, corruption, tricks, or shadows—it mattered not.

A true Drakkar didn’t cower or wait.

A true Drakkar didn’t scheme or skulk.

A true Drakkar charged into the storm.

"All be damned..." Garan growled, his voice carried by the rushing wind.

"A real Drakkar faces it head on!"

Then, as he closed the final distance between him and the foul scent, he roared.

"And that Drakkar is ME!"

With that, he leaped—an arc of fury and strength cleaving through the air.

His entire body launched upward, soaring as if gravity had no grip on him.

He felt the weight of corrupted eidra thick in the air, the stench growing stronger with every heartbeat.

It was vile, heavy, twisted—an overwhelming presence of something deeply unnatural.

But Garan only grinned wider, his eyes glowing like a beast who had found the hunt he longed for.

Then, the dark mist shifted as if it had heard Garan’s roar and parted to make way.

It swirled violently to the side, curling and twisting like a wounded beast, and from within its depths came a sudden burst—a massive serrated mouth tearing through the fog like a blade.

A dragon.

Its corrupted scales glistened with thick, oily darkness, its wide jaw filled with jagged teeth that pulsed with dark violet light.

*GROAR!!!

It let out a scream of a roar, so loud the very winds seemed to split apart.

The corrupted dragon launched itself from the air straight towards Garan, wings tearing through the air with a loud snap.

"RAAGH!" Garan roared back, undaunted, wild, his body surging with battle-born instinct.

He lifted both of his muscular arms, his claws shining with raw eidra, crackling with blue and silver arcs that lit up the darkness around him.

With a sharp snap, he brought his arms down like falling axes, unleashing two massive crescent-shaped waves of eidra.

*Crack! *Crack!

The arcs cut through the air like sharp blades, slamming straight into the dragon’s wide open maw.

*Bang!

The beast’s head reeled back from the hit, snarling as it lost its momentum for just a second—but that second was all Garan needed.

With a powerful leap, he launched himself upwards, muscles snapping tight as his claws reached out.

In the blink of an eye, he latched onto the dragon’s thick, corrupted neck, the force of his weight slamming hard against its hide.

His claws dug deep into the scaled flesh,

*crack...!

tearing through the tough skin as corrupted blood began to splatter from the gashes he made.

"I’ll show you how the Drakkar hunt, beast!" Garan bellowed, his voice echoing like thunder as he held on tightly.

The dragon thrashed midair, flapping its massive wings and twisting its long body to shake him off, but Garan did not budge.

His claws were buried deep, anchored into its flesh, and his legs had locked around its neck like chains.

The thrill of the hunt burned inside his chest, and the only thing in his mind now was to take this beast down from the sky—

Drakkar style.