Jinn BLADE
Chapter 88 | Bound

Chapter 88: Chapter 88 | Bound

*Bang!

With a loud bang, Kain was thrown back.

His boots skidded across the dirt, but he didn’t fall.

His grip on the sword stayed tight. The blade trembled in his hand from the force, but he held firm and caught his balance.

The beast gave him no time.

*Shriek!!!

It roared and charged again, its sword ripping into the ground as it came at him with unrelenting fury.

Each of its strikes was heavy. Each one carried killing intent.

But Kain held his ground.

He didn’t run.

He didn’t cower.

He kept his eyes on the beast, reading its movements, waiting for each blow before it came.

He parried the first strike, the clang of steel ringing sharp.

The second came from below—he shifted his stance and blocked it.

The third came from the side.

Kain turned his blade and knocked it aside with a clean parry. Sparks flew. His arms shook.

But he didn’t let up.

Then it lunged.

The beast thrust its blade forward, going straight for Kain’s heart.

But Kain reacted fast.

He stepped to the side, just enough to dodge the main thrust, and swung his sword at the same time. His blade met the enemy’s in a deflection, sending the beast stumbling forward, unable to stop its momentum.

Kain countered.

With a sharp slash across its side, he landed a hit.

The beast shrieked, stumbling even more. Its body twisted as pain rippled through it. But it wasn’t done.

It flapped its lone wing hard,

*FLAP!!!

sending a sudden gust of wind that hit Kain like a wall.

He was pushed back again. His boots scraped the ground. He leaned forward, fighting not to fall.

Meanwhile, across the battlefield, the others were already winning their fights.

Hector stood like a tree rooted in storm.

He had full control.

The beast in front of him couldn’t move. Thick vines sprouted from the ground at Hector’s feet, rising like snakes. They wrapped around the beast’s legs, arms, neck—everything.

The vines twisted tighter and tighter. They crushed and pierced all at once.

The beast roared, thrashed, struggled, but it couldn’t break free. The vines were too many, too strong.

Nearby, Emera struck fast and hard.

Her movements were clean, powerful, and ruthless.

Her fists slammed into the beast’s body.

A punch to the front.

A kick to the legs.

A blow to its ribs.

She didn’t stop.

*Thud! *Thud! *THUD! *THUD!!!

She moved like lightning, each hit louder than the last. The beast couldn’t keep up. It barely raised its claws. Its body swayed. Every attack stunned it, left it open for the next.

It was being overwhelmed.

Garan, the arguably the strongest among them, was soaked in blood.

His white fur was stained dark by the blood of the two beasts attacking him.

He didn’t care.

In one hand, he held a severed beast’s leg like a weapon.

He swung it with brute strength,

*Crack!

smashing the skull of another beast that charged him.

Bone cracked.

Flesh tore.

The other beast came from behind—leg clearly torn as it attacked him, but Garan didn’t flinch.

He moved with pure rage, swinging his makeshift club in wide arcs, hitting the beast closing in on him.

He was unstoppable. A monster among monsters.

Truly a drakkar.

The tide of battle had turned.

The enemy was losing.

Each warrior had already defeated a clone of the winged beast. And as those beasts died, a strange energy left their bodies.

The eidra—black and corrupt—rose from their corpses and floated through the air like glowing smoke.

All of it drifted toward the original one—the true beast now locked in combat with Garan.

With a burst of dark light, the original beast absorbed the gathered eidra.

Its body pulsed, swelling with energy.

Wounds closed.

Muscles flexed. Its frame grew more stable.

But it wasn’t enough.

Even with the returned eidra, the beast was weak.

Its breath came heavy.

Its chest rose and fell fast.

Its stance faltered.

The greatsword in its hand dipped.

The strength it once held, the terrible presence it once carried, was gone.

===

And on another part of the field, the second beast wasn’t doing any better.

Long-range firepower hit it nonstop. Verhedyn assaulted without pause.

Orin, calm and sharp-eyed, sent shots straight into the beast’s joints. Vox and Ophelia added their own volleys, striking the monster with blasts that tore into its thick hide.

It had no time to react.

While the shots kept it pinned, Biyo charged.

He was fast for someone his size, and his weapon—the axe—wasn’t meant for quick kills—it was meant for beasts like the giant.

His strikes landed with thunder.

Each hit made the beast flinch.

*BANG!

A hammer to the chest.

*CRUSH!

A blow to the legs.

The beast staggered. From all directions, it was battered. It couldn’t counter. It could only endure, and even that was failing.

Then came the shift.

Cheers broke out across the battlefield. The sounds of battle were joined by voices filled with hope.

"Yeah! Kill them! We might survive this after all!"

"Keep going! Don’t let up!"

"Continue firing!"

Energy filled the camp. Soldiers and fighters began to believe. Their hearts lit up. The fear was still there, but now it had something to fight against—hope.

Even Jinn saw it.

He stood apart, calm but focused.

His eyes followed the shapes of the dying beasts.

Their eidra was slowly growing fewer and fewer.

The end was near.

The battle was turning in their favor. The beasts were failing.

Victory was in reach.

But that’s when it happened.

A sound split the sky.

A voice echoed from above—deep, strange, layered with high and low tones.

It didn’t just echo.

It pressed against everything.

It shook the trees.

The ground trembled beneath their feet.

"Verkaryon," the voice said.

It wasn’t a shout. It wasn’t loud in the way a scream is loud.

It was worse.

It filled the air with something cold and heavy. The name hung in the sky like a curse.

"I grow hungry. You must bring me the eidra of the boy..."

Every living thing paused.

The trees groaned.

The air pulsed.

Even the dirt vibrated.

Verkaryon froze.

His eyes widened. Something inside him shifted.

A tremble passed through his body. He turned his head toward the sky. Above him, the massive eye writhed, staring at him.

"B-By your will, my lord," Verkaryon said. His voice cracked. It wasn’t the voice of calm, It was fear and worship mixed into one sound.

Then he vanished.

And a heartbeat later, he stood in the center of the camp.

People turned. A few shouted.

"H-He’s he—"

The sentence never finished.

Verkaryon raised a hand. His fingers flicked.

*snap!

Heads burst.

Blood sprayed into the air, misting over the crowd.

Bodies dropped like dolls, lifeless and headless.

Screams then followed.

Panic swept through the camp like fire. People ran. Some tried to hide. Others just froze.

From Verkaryon’s arm, black mist slithered like a living thing. It twisted and danced, then struck.

*Woosh!

It moved for Jinn.

Jinn ducked, reacting fast. His body dropped low, trying to avoid it.

But it was no use.

The mist hit him.

It wrapped around his body, coiling like a snake, binding him in place.

He grunted, teeth clenched.

Then the mist yanked him into the air.

"Let go of me, you fucking bastard!" Jinn yelled.

He fought.

His limbs kicked, arms thrashed as he struggled with everything he had.

But the grip held firm.

He couldn’t break it—It felt like iron.

Verkaryon showed no emotion. His face was blank, eyes cold. He didn’t speak. He just flied upward, dragging Jinn with him.

They rose higher into the sky.

Far in the distance, the broken mountain loomed.

That’s where they were headed.

And no one could stop them.

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