Jinn BLADE
Chapter 112 | Reversal

Chapter 112: Chapter 112 | Reversal

The pillar’s scriptures lit up one after another, slow and steady, climbing along the dark surface like a cursed language coming alive.

Each glowing symbol pulsed faintly, matching the rhythm of the dark energy pouring into the structure from the several black-framed devices that had been activated by the cloaked individuals standing around.

Jinn, still bound tightly by Verkaryon’s eidra leash, stood silent.

He wasn’t struggling—no, not yet.

His mind was working instead, calculating, thinking of how to create that one moment, that exact second he’d need to break free.

He knew rushing wouldn’t help, not with someone like Verkaryon. It had to be timed.

Precise.

Then he broke the silence with a sharp voice.

"Hey, bird man—how did you and that metal brute over there meet in the first place? I’m curious."

His tone was casual, almost bored, but his eyes were sharp as ever.

Verkaryon looked at him, twitching his beak slightly before replying, voice thick with disgust.

"Why would a worm like you need to know?"

But despite his insult, he continued.

Pride always found a way out in people like him.

"My lord gave me life. He gave me purpose," Verkaryon said, puffing his chest slightly.

"I was a hatchling. A nothing. From the Shiren."

"Shiren...?" Jinn repeated, eyebrows raised slightly as the name sparked something in his memory.

Nevi and Vox had spoken about them before—an ancient avian race, known for their unmatched control of the skies and terrifying eidra mastery.

A civilization that had conquered planets simply by flying over them.

"But I was abandoned," Verkaryon growled.

"Damned by my own family!"

His grip on Jinn’s leash tightened violently, yanking him forward just an inch, but enough for Jinn to feel the anger boiling inside the corrupted avian.

"Why’d they abandon you in the first place?" Jinn asked, tilting his head slightly, eyes narrowing.

His voice wasn’t mocking—but there was something in it that made Verkaryon twitch.

"BECAUSE I WAS WEAK!" Verkaryon suddenly shouted, his voice ripping through the quiet air, startling even the cloaked individuals nearby.

They looked over, some pausing from their ritual, glancing toward him with slight confusion.

Verkaryon didn’t care.

He raised his other hand, trembling now, clenched tightly into a fist.

"And so I was sent off as cannon fodder," he growled through clenched beak, "to fight in the front lines of the corrupted war. By my own blood. By my family. Like I meant nothing."

His voice shook, not from fear—but from rage.

The kind of anger that sat in someone for years, untouched, festering.

Jinn watched him quietly, storing every word, every twitch.

He could feel it.

Verkaryon was close to slipping.

His voice changed then—lower, softer, almost somber... and reverent.

"And that was when I met my lord... no, my god," Verkaryon said, his chest rising with pride as he turned his gaze toward Malgareth.

His eyes gleamed under the weight of his worship.

"He saw the potential in me... he was the only one..." he muttered, voice growing quiet like he was speaking a prayer more than a memory.

Jinn watched, trying to read him.

He wanted to press further, say something else to dig into that fragile pride Verkaryon held like armor, but something caught his eye.

The air shimmered.

Black eidra slithered through the space like smoke or a whisper, but it wasn’t like the corrupted eidra that soaked the air around Malgareth.

No, this one was different—calmer, quieter... tame.

It moved with purpose, coiling like a snake slithering across the stone floor.

Jinn narrowed his eyes as it passed by the cloaked individuals—none of them reacted.

Even Verkaryon and Malgareth didn’t seem to notice it.

Then, without warning, the black eidra snapped toward Jinn and pierced directly into his forehead.

"Gh—!" Jinn flinched sharply, body twitching from the sudden contact.

The movement wasn’t missed.

"Mhm?" Verkaryon let out a small hum, yanking the leash tighter in response, forcing Jinn’s arms to jolt forward.

"What was that?"

Jinn coughed, forcing himself to speak, trying to mask the pain.

"I was just... surprised," he said, his tone rough but steady.

"At your great reverence to Malgareth. It’s impressive, really..."

But before he could go on, Malgareth’s voice cut through the air—cold, piercing, and heavy with authority.

"Do not speak with the boy, servant," he said, not even looking at them.

"If you haven’t noticed already... he is prodding you. Trying to make you lose your focus."

He paused, letting the words hang for a moment.

"And once you lose your grip on your eidra... that is when he will act. That’s where he will strike."

Verkaryon’s body tensed.

His claws trembled as his eyes darted from Jinn back to Malgareth.

A second of silence passed before he dropped to one knee, head lowered.

"By your will, my lord! Forgive me—I cannot believe I let myself be swayed by this worm!"

With another brutal yank of the leash, he pulled Jinn again, making the boy’s smaller body skid roughly across the ground.

"Tch..." Jinn clicked his tongue, frustration showing on his face as dirt scraped across his side.

Malgareth had seen through him.

Every bit of his strategy, his timing—uncovered in just a few words.

He’s too sharp, Jinn thought, jaw clenching.

But that black eidra...

Whatever it was, it had reacted to him—only to him.

And that meant, maybe, just maybe—his chance wasn’t gone yet.

Jinn’s brows furrowed as his eyes darted, searching—desperately—for another way, another opening, some kind of chance.

But just before he could think further, a strange whisper slithered through his mind like smoke curling through cracks in stone.

So you are the boy who holds a fragment of Muradryn...

The voice echoed inside his head, not loud but clear, and it made his eyes widen—half in realization, half in pure confusion.

We have no more time to waste, the voice continued.

I want you to do something for me. If you want to escape the situation you’re in... simply blink twice if you understand.

Jinn kept his head low, playing the part of someone in despair. A prisoner giving up hope.

Then, slowly, subtly—he blinked twice.

Good. Now I want you to catch their attention.

Jinn was stunned for a moment.

That’s exactly what he had been trying to do.

But Malgareth had ignored him entirely up until now, almost like he already predicted every move.

Speak of Ikalesh. Mention his family. Say that they have already been wiped out. That name will catch his attention—definitely.

Jinn remained quiet for a second longer, letting the instructions settle in his head, and then slowly, carefully, he lifted his chin.

"Ikalesh," he said.

Just that.

One word.

But it pierced the still air like a blade.

And the effect was instant.

Black eidra erupted around Malgareth’s form as he turned with sudden rage, his steps thunderous as he stormed toward Jinn.

With one swift motion, he grabbed Jinn by the neck and lifted him slightly off the ground.

*Clack!

"Where did you hear that from!?" Malgareth growled, voice deeper now, raw and trembling with fury.

Jinn coughed from the grip, but forced out the words.

"I... Ikalesh... has been wiped out!"

The tower groaned as Malgareth’s rage surged, black eidra leaking from his arm like tendrils.

The ground trembled beneath their feet.

"WHAT!?" Malgareth roared.

The air shook.

The light in the tower dimmed.

"Master, calm yourself! If you lose control, the portals wou—!"

Well done, the voice echoed once more in Jinn’s mind, quieter this time, almost amused.

Now, brace yourself.

Before Jinn could react, a thunderous crack split the silence as a massive pillar of shimmering dark energy came down from the sky,

*CRACK!!!

smashing into the floor near the center pillar with a crash that shook the whole platform.

Dust kicked up, mist whirled, and the cloaked individuals reeled back in alarm.

Then... from the center of that beam... a figure slowly emerged.

A cloaked, hooded individual stepped forward, each footstep echoing softly on the stone floor.

In his hand, he held a staff that glistened with runes etched along its length.

His black hair spilled out from beneath his hood, swaying lightly in the wind created by his arrival.

The very air around him shimmered slightly, as if refusing to touch him.

Jinn’s eyes locked on the man’s figure, mind racing.

Who was he?

And more importantly...

Was this the beginning of his escape?

Malgareth swiftly released his grip from Jinn’s neck, his head snapping back over his shoulder to see the sudden burst of commotion behind him.

"I-It’s an eidric!" Verkaryon shouted in a frantic voice, his arm already wrapping in swirling eidra as he prepared to strike the unknown figure that had appeared and interrupted the ritual.

The cloaked scholars surrounding them reacted fast, their own bodies now flickering with dark eidra as they prepared to join the attack.

But it was all too late.

The man had already pointed his staff directly at the center pillar.

From its tip, a stream of dark—but strangely not corrupted—eidra slithered out like serpents, winding and crawling along the pillar’s body, ascending all the way up toward the sky like living veins.

"Fall," the man said simply, his voice calm but sharp.

His other hand clenched tight, and at once, the slithering energy began to violently convulse, crackling with power before erupting in an arc of twisting explosions that followed the trail of eidra.

The pillar burst apart, the blast cutting through its core and sending its pieces hurling down like shards of a broken star.

"NO!" Malgareth bellowed, his voice filled with rage as he charged toward the stranger.

But before he could get far, a spark lit up behind him.

Dark—yet golden.

It was Jinn.

He now stood tall, the binds that once restrained him having vanished, broken in the moment Verkaryon had powered up his eidra to strike the mysterious man.

Caught off guard, Verkaryon’s focus wavered—just enough for Jinn to slip free.

The obsidian stone he carried crackled to life, reacting to his eidra as if it had been waiting for this exact moment.

Malgareth’s charge halted midstep.

His dark void eyes flickering further, this time not with anger—but with recognition.

"That stone..." he muttered under his breath, as if seeing something long lost.

A second flash erupted, this time brighter, almost blinding.

Golden light expanded in every direction, slashed through with streaks of black, wild eidra twisting and arcing as if forming something... alive.

The energy started to swirl violently, then condensed into a single point in front of Jinn—until it took form.

A sword.

Not just any blade, but a pitch-black sword that looked like it had been forged in the void itself.

Its edge shimmered with both golden brilliance and deep, dark eidra, clashing yet dancing together in harmony.

Jinn took the sword into his hands, his breath shaky at first from the shock of it, but he quickly firmed his grip.

His stance shifted naturally into one of battle, his body ready.

His eyes sharp.

Verkaryon, watching it all unfold, trembled—but it wasn’t fear that filled him.

It was rage.

Not towards Jinn.

But toward himself.

He had failed.

He’d let his emotions distract him.

He had loosened the grip just enough for Jinn to slip through his fingers... and now Malgareth was paying the price.

"Y-Y-You... WORM!!" Verkaryon screamed, his feathers ruffling with fury, his form surging forward like a bullet.

*FWOOSH!!!

Jinn braced for the clash, raising his sword just in time to block the blow

*Clash!

—but Verkaryon wasn’t just attacking him.

His strike had momentum, force.

It wasn’t meant to hurt.

It was meant to move.

And it worked.

Their bodies collided and tumbled toward the edge of the tower.

Then—off it.

They plummeted, both of them spiraling downward from the high tower’s peak, falling like meteors toward the ground far, far below.

The wind howled in Jinn’s ears, his cloak flapping violently behind him, Verkaryon snarling as he held tight, his claws aiming again for Jinn’s throat as the ruined sky spun above them.

The battle was just beginning.

"Shit!" The dark-haired man tried to intervene, but Malgareth was already on him.

His massive sword crackled with corrupted eidra, each pulse like a living snarl.

"You shall die for what you have done, eidric scum," Malgareth growled, stepping forward like a titan of darkness.

Troy—the cloaked man—was powerful.

An eidric capable of bending forces few could comprehend.

But even he knew that going head-to-head with Malgareth was a fool’s game.

That wasn’t part of the plan anyway.

No, he had something else prepared.

"You are mistaken, Malgareth," Troy said with a smirk, lifting his staff.

But Malgareth was faster than expected.

*Fwoosh!

In a blink, he surged forward and grabbed Troy by the neck, lifting him off the ground as the staff slipped from his fingers and clattered uselessly against the stone floor.

"Kurghk!" Troy choked, one hand clawing at the corrupted arm holding him aloft.

The grip only grew tighter, like a vice forged from wrath.

"I am not so foolish, eidric worm," Malgareth sneered, his sword arm pulled back—ready to skewer

Troy through the heart.

Still, Troy smiled.

Somehow, even strangled, his confidence didn’t fade.

"An eidric does not need a staff," Troy rasped.

"It’s just a tool to amplify power."

*Snap!

With a snap of his fingers, the chamber quaked—not from destruction, but arrival.

Multiple portals flared into existence around the edges, whirring violently with streaks of colored eidra.

Malgareth immediately twisted his body and pointed his blade toward Troy’s chest, aiming to end him before the tide turned.

He lunged forward, blade aiming to pierce—

*CRACK!!

But he never landed the strike.

A thunderous crack echoed through the tower as a flash of crimson eidra burst out from one of the portals like a bolt of lightning.

It struck Malgareth’s blade with brutal force, deflecting it mid-thrust and throwing it off balance.

He was forced to leap back several paces, his boots skidding against the stone.

His eyes narrowed, immediately recognizing the eidra signature—crimson, refined, merciless.

He knew this one.

"Venedix..." he hissed.

She stood tall, both of her blades drawn and gleaming with red eidra.

The aura she exuded was suffocating, sharp, unrelenting.

The crimson energy that danced around her blades cracked with fury, illuminating the space with searing flashes.

One after another, more figures emerged from the portals—Biyo’s massive form stepping through with a grunt, his dual axes in hand.

Garan followed, fur already bristling, claws twitching in anticipation.

The rest of the children came soon after, eyes wide but determined, their eidra already flowing in preparation.

Venedix took a slow step forward, her gaze locked onto Malgareth like a hawk.

Her swords lifted slightly, tips pointing directly at his chest.

"Where is the boy," she said coldly, each word like a blade. "Speak, before I kill you."

Malgareth’s expression twisted into something between rage and amusement.

He didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, his corrupted sword hovered near his side, still crackling.

"Oh... you’ve come to die too," he said, voice low. "How fortunate."

Venedix’s eyes didn’t flinch. "You talk too much."

She adjusted her stance, her foot gliding back slightly for balance.

The air itself thickened around her as her eidra surged, waiting for the right moment.

The others behind her readied themselves, already forming a loose semi-circle formation.

Biyo planted his axes into the ground, causing the floor beneath to crack with ice.

Garan crouched low, muscles tight, ready to pounce.

The children exchanged glances, already channeling their eidra silently.

"You’ve lost the boy," Venedix said again. "Your defeat is at hand, you will now die, Garian."

Malgareth’s eye twitched.

"No. Not yet."

But he took a step back.

It was subtle—but everyone noticed.

He was reassessing.

The odds had changed.

And for the first time in this tower... the balance was no longer in his favor.