Jinn BLADE-Chapter 181 | Dirty

"I can’t see anything in there, damn smoke!"

"Sharp trick... that Sorellia boy better use this chance while he still can."

The voice of the nobles spectating the fight rippled through the area, some analyzing the fight while the others stood in awe.

Thick smoke still ate up most of the dueling area due to Jinn punching the eidric wave that Krane just released. Due to that, visibility was so low that even the outsiders could not see what was happening inside despite the shimmering lights of the barrier that Dreilla put up.

And yet, despite all that, even inside the smothering cloud... faint flickers of flame and tiny flashes of molten sparks kept bursting out.

It was clearly Krane’s.

The magma daggers orbiting around him like a shield continued to glow, slicing small arcs of light through the haze, like fiery thorns swirling in every direction.

He kept them close, expecting Jinn to leap out from any side at any moment as he thought Jinn used the haze itself to attack him.

.

.

.

But seconds dragged past... then more... until nearly a full minute slipped by, and still nothing happened. The smoke finally began to thin, albeit slowly as Krane’s stance remained rigid and defensive. But despite his almost impenetrable defense, confusion was evident on his face as the time passed.

"Did that bastard actually die due to my attack? Impossible. Why didn’t he attack even once...?" Krane muttered with a low voice, eyes darting all around, scanning the last wisps of smoke as if expecting Jinn to still come right out.

Yet as the final traces of dust finally faded away, the truth stood clear as day before him—Jinn was right there, completely unharmed and not even a burn or a gash present on his figure. He stood stall, posture relaxed, his dark red cloak fluttering slightly from the lingering heat in the air.

His expression, however, was the most unsettling part—at least for Krane.

His face was... calm—too calm—almost bored, as if the entire exchange, as if all the attacks that Krane unleashed had been nothing more than a trivial inconvenience.

And that itself angered Krane... especially his pride.

"Tsk! You damned roach!" Krane clicked his tongue angrily and levelled his sword at Jinn with a snap of his forearm. The moment the blade pointed forward, the magma daggers that flew around him like a shield halted mid air in an instant... then all at once turned sharply toward Jinn.

With a harsh burst, they shot forward, dozens and dozens of blazing projectiles screaming toward him at a blistering speed.

Jinn’s lone eye narrowed instantly, his pupils shrinking as his breath focused for half a second... before a surge of eidra birth through his body at the same time, burning through his veins like someone had stuffed a powerful sun inside his chest.

Yet this didn’t make him wince not even for a split second, he was used to it, moulded by it... an integral part of Jinn that makes him deadly in combat.

The power jolted his muscles and shook his limbs, but he didn’t hesitate.

He moved.

*fwhip!

He dodged one dagger.

*fwhip!

Then another.

*fwhip! *fwhip!

Then two more.

*fwhip! *fwhip! *fwhip! *fwhip! *fwhip!

Then five, and then many more after that.

The world around him stretched, slowed, warped almost, like time itself hesitated to keep up with his movements. His vision sharpened to an impossible degree, letting him see every dagger approaching in slow motion, each one carving a glowing path through the air.

But to the nobles, to the spectators, even to Krane himself—Jinn was nothing more than a streak of motion. A blur too fast for the eye to catch.

He weaved between the daggers that should have been impossible to avoid, shifting his weight and bending his body with such speed that he appeared almost unreal.

Gasps erupted from the nobles, while recognition echoed from the warriors. Even the members of Sorellia, Merilyn, Mezra, and Zendrell felt their eyes widen in disbelief as to how much powerful Jinn had grown.

The way Jinn moves, how he dodged, how his body twisted with perfect precision... looked almost like someone they all knew very well.

It resembled Venedix... down to the smallest motion.

For a moment, it was as if Jinn wasn’t just inspired by her style, but was a direct echo of her—a near clone of her.

Jinn continued to dodge, shifting and weaving through the incoming barrage, his movements so precise and sharp that the nobles watching almost forgot to breathe. He moved until the very last molten dagger spun toward him, its blazing surface dripping heat like burning tar.

Without hesitating, he reached out with his synthetic arm and caught it—

*hiss!!!

the metal fingers hissing loudly as the molten blade sizzled, cracked, and finally faded into nothing against his palm.

Krane froze, his whole body going stiff as the sight registered. A long second passed before the disbelief fully settled into his eyes—eyes that trembled not just from shock but from the painful realization of what this meant.

Jinn had dodged everything.

Everything.

And he had done it without even touching the hilt of his sword.

And so the thought struck Krane like a bucket of freezing water:

What if Jinn had unsheathed his sword?

What if he actually fought for real?

The answer was obvious—he would’ve been cut down instantly. He wouldn’t have stood a chance.

The idea swam inside Krane’s skull, spinning around in messy panic.

Cold sweat dripped down the edge of his face, sliding slowly toward his jaw. His breathing stuttered. His heart thumped erratically within his chest. For a moment, he genuinely felt the fear of a man about to lose everything.

The fear of a man who would die upon true strength.

But then, as if remembering something—or someone—Krane’s gaze flicked to his right, quick and sharp, landing on one of the Vulkan family members standing just outside the barrier. There was something almost... conspiratorial in the look he gave them.

A silent exchange.

A dirty plan.

A scheming plot that might turn the tide towards his favour.

Then, in only a blink, Krane straightened his posture.

His trembling stopped.

His expression smoothed out.

His confidence snapped back into place like a mask slammed onto his face. He even forced a grin, wide and obnoxious, pretending none of that fear had ever existed.

"Hah! Clever display... bastard of Venedix!" Krane yelled, his tone dripping with mockery, the kind that was meant to crawl under your skin and stay there.

"Is that really all you can do?"

His voice carried across the area, loud, taunting, desperately trying to regain the upper hand.

Then he pushed further—too far.

"A shame, really! A leader of orphans who couldn’t even protect one of his own! Shot in the head, wasn’t it? Pathetic!"

Jinn’s eye widened. His breath caught. That single mention—which was Nevi—hit him like a strike to the chest, a crushing wave that made his soul tremble.

His body flinched just slightly, but enough. His gaze wavered for a heartbeat, the memory flooding back with a sting he still wasn’t ready to face.

Krane caught that tiny reaction instantly. And the moment he saw it, his grin sharpened. He had found it—the opening he desperately needed. A little crack in Jinn’s composure.

He would pry it open like a wound until it bled.

"Pitiful girl... left there to die, drowning in her own blood," Krane continued, taking slow, arrogant steps as if savoring each word. His eyes once again flicked subtly toward the outside of the barrier, almost confirming someone else’s involvement before returning to Jinn with a sickening smile.

"I even know the name of the soldier who pulled the trigger, you know?" he added, his tone dropping low and poisonous.

N-Nevi...

Jinn’s eye twitched violently. Something inside him tightened—anger, grief, fury, or maybe something deeper and darker, something he didn’t have a name for.

His body shivered just faintly, like a thin thread holding everything together had begun to tear. His breathing became uneven, the edges of his vision pulsing as if the world was pushing him toward a breaking point.

And that was the moment Krane chose to strike.

Without warning, he dashed forward with a burst of speed, forcing Jinn to snap out of the haze. Instinct surged through him, his body preparing to dodge—

—but it happened too late.

Molten hands erupted from the ground beneath him, grabbing his boots with scorching force. They weren’t Krane’s doing. They were too refined, too controlled. Too perfectly timed. They burned through the soles, locking his feet in place and making escape impossible.

His covered eye immediately detected the interference, a faint signal of eidra that was entirely different from Krane’s—someone had violated the rules of the duel.

It wasn’t a fair fight anymore.

Someone wanted Jinn dead.

"NOW DIE!" Krane roared, thrusting his blade forward in a deadly piercing motion aimed straight at Jinn’s stomach.