Jinn BLADE
Chapter 125 | Rage

Chapter 125: Chapter 125 | Rage

*Just moments after Verkaryon escaped Zendrell’s eidra cage

"Tch!" Zendrell clicked his tongue, irritation flashing in his eyes as he dodged at least hundreds of tiny arrows raining down from the sky.

*zap! *zap! *zap! *zap! *zap! *zap! *zap! *zap! *zap! *zap!

Each one whistled through the air before striking the ground around him.

They came from Vendrael’s ghost—relentless, precise.

The arrows weren’t random.

They chased him.

Zendrell ducked, rolled, spun—his body moving with practiced speed.

And then came the follow-up.

*Bang! *Bang! *Bang! *Bang!

Powerful explosions cracked through the space around him.

Berkolex’s ghost stood calmly in the distance, his spectral hand drawing glowing symbols mid-air, one after another.

Each time the ghost finished a symbol, it burst into a blast of eidric force aimed at Zendrell.

Zendrell gritted his teeth as he dashed through the storm, his feet never still, blades in hand.

Their movements... they were familiar.

Too familiar.

Zendrell narrowed his eyes, his expression serious for just a second.

Their attacks.

Their rhythm.

Even the way they stood—it was all too close to the real Berkolex and Vendrael he had once known.

But something was off.

Something weaker.

Yes, the attacks mirrored the originals, and the casting style was near identical—but the strength behind it wasn’t the same.

Not even close.

"Hah," Zendrell let out a small laugh, smirking to himself.

His confidence surged again.

He bent his knees low, dodging another flurry of arrows, and burst toward Berkolex, blades raised high above his head.

*zap! *zap! *zap! *zap! *zap! *zap! *zap! *zap! *zap! *zap!

*Bang! *Bang! *Bang! *Bang!

A few more glowing projectiles shot in his direction, but he weaved between them, letting them explode behind him.

A few of Vendrael’s arrows managed to pierce his back—small, glowing shafts that sank into his armor.

But Zendrell didn’t even flinch.

He didn’t stop.

Didn’t care.

They didn’t hurt like Vendrael’s real arrows.

There was no weight in them.

No true force.

They lacked the divine edge that had once made him bleed in the past during their spars.

Zendrell smirked wider, eyes locked on the ghost ahead.

His wounds closed up almost instantly.

The arrows fell out as if they had never been there, his crimson eidra stitching his body together as he pushed forward like a storm.

He didn’t even bother to dodge the next volley.

They were weak.

He had no reason to fear them.

Like a battering ram, Zendrell slammed the flat side of his massive sword straight into Berkolex’s ghost,

*Bang!

putting his entire weight and shoulder into the charge.

The force of it, backed by his full momentum, sent the ghost flying through the air like a broken statue.

Zendrell didn’t wait.

In that same moment, he raised his blade and unleashed a wide eidra wave, sharp and cracking through the air.

The wave tore across the battlefield and hit Berkolex’s ghost mid-air, slicing it in two without effort.

The pieces faded into black mist instantly, disappearing as the ghost’s eidra was drawn back—sucked into Jirael’s waiting staff, like a spell being undone.

"Berkolex could’ve made me lose an arm or a leg," Zendrell said, turning slowly to face Jirael again, a smirk playing across his lips.

"And he could’ve killed you quickly," he added, his voice lowering, the grin fading from his face as it turned serious.

Without another word, he launched himself forward,

*Bang!

charging toward the last remaining ghost—Vendrael.

*Zap!

An arrow zipped toward his face, fast as lightning, but Zendrell ducked beneath it, sliding across the ground in a flash of crimson motion.

"I would not be able to see Vendrael’s lightning-fast arrow," he said aloud as if speaking to himself, his large sword raised just in time to parry the next shot.

*Clang! *BANG!

The massive arrow collided with his blade, bursting into a fiery explosion that scorched his skin, his face burning from the blast.

But the burns healed instantly.

In the blink of an eye, the damage was gone.

Not even a scar remained.

"That arrow would’ve pushed me back," Zendrell muttered, his tone cold now, focused.

He flexed his legs, muscles tensing, and dashed forward again, this time with full intent.

Vendrael’s ghost tried to retreat, a blur of light trying to dodge away, but Zendrell was already there.

His blade swung through the ghost with a clean motion,

*Slash!

slicing it in half.

The dark eidra that made up its form evaporated into mist like the first, Zendrell’s eidra attacks slicing its eidra essence as it was sucked back toward Jirael’s staff, leaving the arena empty once more.

"And he would be at least five times faster than me." Zendrell finished, his voice low, his eyes fixed on the woman who stood at the center of it all.

Zendrell raised his sword and pointed it straight at Jirael, his eyes burning, face twisted in anger, and the rage that pulsed from him made Jirael flinch without even realizing it.

The air around him felt heavy—charged with fury that couldn’t be held in.

"You took them both... because of petty reasons, you traitor," Zendrell spat, his voice low and filled with venom as he slowly leaned forward, lowering his stance like a beast preparing to strike.

"My mentor... my teacher... my partner... my friend—" his tone grew louder, sharper, "you and Malgareth took them from me!"

Then without waiting, he surged forward,

*BANG!

his foot cracking the ground beneath him as he shot forward like a crimson bullet, the air around him rippling from the sheer explosive speed of his charge.

His arena, wrapped in his own eidra, echoed with every stomp he made, as if the whole battlefield trembled with each step.

*Thud! *Thud! *Thud! *Thud!

"Death is too good for a scum like you!" Zendrell roared, his voice like thunder bouncing off the eidra walls.

"H-Heek!" Jirael panicked, voice cracking as she slammed her staff to the ground.

*Hisss!!!

A web of ten dark eidra barriers appeared in front of her in an instant, glowing and shifting as she tried to block the incoming attack.

With her other hand, she summoned long black chains from thin air, the corrupted links slithering like snakes towards Zendrell at frightening speed, aiming to trap him.

The chains wrapped around him fast, latching onto his arms, legs, and torso—

*Crack!

But they cracked.

Every single one of them shattered the moment they touched him, unable to withstand the immense pressure that Zendrell’s eidra was exerting.

It wasn’t just strength—it was rage, it was pain, and it was pure fury given form.

Jirael’s eyes widened. Her hands trembled.

She took a single step back, then another, her legs beginning to shake.

And then she turned, fear now fully taking hold of her.

She ran.

But Zendrell didn’t stop—he charged through each barrier like a raging battering ram,

*Crash! *Crash! *Crash! *Crash! *Crash!

not even flinching as each dark eidra wall shattered the moment he came in contact with them, his crimson aura blasting them apart like they were made of paper.

He stormed forward, eyes locked on the one who ran from him, the traitor who dared to use the faces of his fallen comrades as puppets.

And then, there she was—Jirael, still running, her back fully turned, panic and terror guiding her steps. She never looked back.

Zendrell raised his sword high, and with a roar filled with hate, he lunged.

"COWARD!" he bellowed.

The blade pierced clean through her back,

*Crunch!

the steel bursting out from her stomach, its tip drenched in black blood that spilled immediately onto the ground.

Her steps halted, her body locked up, and her eyes went wide as she looked down at the crimson steel poking out from her belly.

"I-I... M-Malgareth..." she stammered, blood already leaking from the corners of her mouth as her trembling fingers touched the blade sticking out.

"I-I... Don’t want to d—" she tried to say, her voice shaky and broken.

But she couldn’t finish.

Zendrell didn’t let her.

With a savage yank, he pulled the sword free—

*Shht!

then, without hesitation, he spun and swiped, cleaving through her neck in a single, swift motion.

*SlASH! *Thud!

Her head snapped clean off, tumbling across the ground with a wet thud, rolling a few feet before finally stopping, face frozen in pain and disbelief.

Zendrell stood there in silence, staring at the lifeless body slumped on the ground.

His breaths were calm—not from exhaustion, but something else.

He stabbed the tip of his sword into the ground and let his hand rest on the hilt, his eyes still fixed on the corpse in front of him.

He exhaled—not of fatigue, but of long-awaited relief.

"One step closer," he muttered lowly as the crimson eidra cage around the battlefield finally began to fade, breaking apart into glittering particles that floated into the air.

He slowly looked up, his face no longer calm—just filled with fire.

"You’re next... Malgareth," he said, then corrected himself.

"No... Garian."

His grip tightened.

His eyes burned.

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