Jinn BLADE
Chapter 123 | Muradryn Awakened

Chapter 123: Chapter 123 | Muradryn Awakened

The dark energy emanating from each side of Jinn whirred with increasing force, the corrupted eidra pressing down on him like a mountain.

It felt like every second that passed made the weight heavier, as if invisible chains had latched onto his limbs, dragging him deeper toward the earth with every breath.

"Shit!" Jinn cursed under his breath, the pressure finally forcing him down to one knee.

*Thud!

His body trembled as the corrupted force clung to his frame, trying to crush him, to bury him under its weight.

The ground beneath cracked, small pieces of stone lifting slightly as if reacting to the pull of the symbols.

"IS THIS IT!?" Verkaryon roared from above, his wings flapping with a thunderous beat.

His voice echoed through the air, filled with fury and mockery.

Without delay, he unleashed another wave—a storm of corrupted feathers screaming down from the sky like knives, numbering in the hundreds once more.

Jinn glanced up, struggling to move.

His arms felt like they were made of lead.

His sword lay heavy beside him, too heavy to lift in time.

He couldn’t block the attack—not like this.

So he did the only thing he could.

He focused.

Drawing in his breath, he summoned the eidra within him, just as Zendrell had taught him.

It wasn’t easy.

The pressure made it hard to concentrate, but he pushed through.

Slowly, crimson eidra began to wrap around his body, forming a protective layer across his skin.

It glowed faintly at first, then pulsed, creating a shield between him and the sky above.

The feathers came crashing down.

*chuck! *chuck! *chuck! *chuck! *chuck! *chuck!

They struck with precision.

Each one hit dead-on, slamming into his head, shoulders, chest, and legs.

Some of them bounced off the barrier of eidra, shattering into sparks as they collided.

But not all.

A handful of feathers managed to pierce through the defense, slicing through skin, carving into flesh.

"Kurghk!" Jinn grunted, blood spilling from new wounds along his arms and sides.

Still, he remained steady.

He clenched his jaw, holding back the pain.

His breathing stayed firm, controlled, even as sharp stings tore through him.

He focused on keeping the eidra flowing, reinforcing the shield to prevent deeper, more fatal wounds.

The volley lasted only seconds—but it felt far longer.

Then, finally, it stopped.

The last of the feathers fell.

The dust stirred by the impact slowly settled.

The wind began to die down.

And as the air cleared, Jinn’s figure was revealed—kneeling, bleeding, but still alive.

His clothes were torn, skin marked with dozens of cuts, blood dripping from several points across his body.

And yet, he did not fall.

His sword was still at his side.

And in his eyes—there was still focus.

Unshaken.

Burning with determination.

Jinn shifted slightly, first to the right, then to the left, his breathing heavy, his vision blurry from the blood dripping down his brow.

He kept his eyes locked on the two spears still embedded deep into the ground.

The corrupted symbols beneath him pulsed with that same draining pressure, still weighing his body down.

Think, Jinn. THINK!

His mind screamed at him, louder than the wind, louder than the pain that pulsed through every inch of his flesh.

He searched for something, anything, a way out of the trap, a weakness in Verkaryon’s setup, a crack in the pattern.

And then—he felt it.

A sudden warmth.

It bloomed from the center of his chest, slow at first, then spreading faster.

The warmth traveled up through his arms, through his legs, wrapping his entire body in its glow.

It didn’t burn like fire, nor sting like corrupted eidra—it was gentle but steady, rising like a tide.

It felt familiar, ancient.

It recognized the danger he was in.

Then came the voice.

A voice he had heard before.

The very same voice that had whispered to him during that strange dream not long ago, the one he had nearly forgotten... until now.

You are far too weak, my child... You will die against the beast at this state.

The voice rang out within his mind, cold and commanding yet not cruel.

As it spoke, the world around Jinn began to shift.

Everything slowed.

The wind, the pulsing of eidra, even the pain—it all came to a stop, frozen in time like a painting held in midair.

Jinn blinked.

Or tried to.

He couldn’t move.

Not his arms, not his legs, not even his mouth.

His body had become completely still, frozen in place like a statue sealed in invisible ice.

But his mind was still free.

He could still think, still feel, still hear.

And in that silence, in that frozen moment between heartbeats, the voice echoed again—closer this time.

Reach from within, Jinn... not of the crimson eidra... but the true eidra that is present within yourself... there, you find your birthright.

The voice echoed gently but firmly within his mind, calm and steady.

Jinn’s thoughts raced—confused, unsure of what the voice meant—but deep down, something in him understood.

Something stirred.

He didn’t question.

He didn’t hesitate.

He followed.

Jinn reached inward, focusing past the pain in his limbs, past the pressure weighing down his body, and into the core of his being.

The first thing he found was the storm—the crimson eidra that surged violently inside him, just as it always had.

It sparked wildly, crackled like lightning, roaring like a beast.

This was the power Venedix had given him, the strength he had trained with, the force he had relied on in every battle since.

But that wasn’t what he needed now.

So he went deeper.

His thoughts pushed past the raging storm, piercing through the dark clouds of crimson power, ignoring the noise and fury until all that remained was silence.

And there it was.

Something else.

Lying beneath the storm.

Hidden... but never gone.

His own eidra.

It didn’t scream.

It didn’t rage.

It pulsed gently with a soft light, radiating warmth from within his core.

Even though it had always been there, he had never truly touched it.

Never truly known it.

But now, reaching into it, Jinn felt that it was his.

Entirely his.

And finally—he touched it.

Ah... you have finally found me, Jinn...

The voice rang out once again, but now it was clearer, closer, louder—not echoing from the distance, but from within.

And in that instant, something surged from the deepest part of him.

It wasn’t violent like the crimson storm.

It wasn’t unstable.

It was powerful.

It was pure.

It was ancient.

It was warm.

Muradryn.

I am Engkaren, the voice spoke, firm and proud.

The third Muradryn. The primordial eidra of Fortitude, and the one who has chosen you as the rightful warrior of Muradryn in this age.

A bright light pulsed within Jinn’s chest.

His heart beat once—then again—stronger, louder, deeper.

RISE, JINN! the voice roared with finality.

And at that very moment, something inside Jinn awakened.

Time began to move once more.

The frozen world around Jinn shifted again as wind returned, the sounds of battle resumed, and the tension in the air cracked back into motion.

But something was different now.

The atmosphere felt lighter, sharper—alive.

And then, it happened.

From deep within Jinn’s chest, a radiant burst of energy erupted—pure and blinding.

A pillar of golden-white light shot upward into the sky, bursting from the ground where he knelt.

The explosion of energy distorted the very air, warping the space around him and sending shockwaves across the battlefield.

The beam soared high into the skies above, piercing through the darkness that had loomed for so long.

The corrupted sky—once black and thick with gloom—was torn apart by the light.

And in its place, sunlight broke through.

Warm, bright rays showered over the land, shining down like a divine force had touched the world.

The ground glowed faintly under the sunlight, and the shadows that clung to everything before were now pushed away.

As if the heavens themselves were announcing Jinn’s return.

"W-What is this...!?" Verkaryon shouted in disbelief, flapping his wings rapidly to steady himself in the air.

His eyes widened, his face twisting with shock and confusion.

He hovered high, trying to understand the power that had just emerged below him.

Jinn stood.

Not slowly.

Not struggling.

He simply rose—with purpose, with clarity.

His sword whirred beside him, no longer glowing with crimson or gold, but now wrapped in a pure white eidra that shimmered like silver flame.

It gave off no rage, no chaos.

Only strength.

Unshakable and calm.

Then, with a subtle shift of his stance, Jinn raised the sword and pierced it into the ground at his feet.

*CRACK!

A powerful ripple erupted outward, sending a shockwave across the battlefield.

The ground cracked and split in every direction, and the corrupted symbols beneath him shattered.

Both spears—those cursed weapons that had once locked him in place—were destroyed instantly, crushed by the force of his attack.

Jinn exhaled slowly, controlled and focused.

His chest rose and fell with power humming through his every breath.

His body pulsed with the same white eidra that now wrapped him like armor.

He raised his sword again.

This time, he pointed it directly at Verkaryon.

"Prepare yourself," Jinn spoke, calm but with weight behind every word.

His voice was steady, no longer strained.

The power of the Muradryn now flowed through him completely.

There was no more crimson.

No more trace of Venedix’s eidra.

Only the pure strength of his own.

The eidra of Engkaren.

The eidra of Fortitude.

A Fragment of Muradryn.

"The real fight," Jinn said as the air trembled around him, "starts now."

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