Jinn BLADE-Chapter 49 | Gathering Before the Storm

The sounds of crying slaves and shouting nobles filled the air, mixing with the steady hum of murmurs from curious civilians outside the transparent wall—peering.

The camp abuzzed with tension and noise—slaves being sorted like cattle, nobles returning with bloodied hands, and watchers whispering as their eyes locked onto a new group walking in.

"Hey, that's the boy they say is Venedix's apprentice!"

"No way—hat's him? He's just a kid!"

"They were escorted by Lady Merilyn herself—I saw them walking through the streets earlier!"

The murmurs grew louder, more frantic, as the presence of Jinn and his friends drew attention—like a flame to moths.

Then came the deep, echoing sound of bells that rang repeatedly, filling the area with thunderous rings.

*Gong!! *GONG! *GONG!!

A slow, heavy rhythm that spread across the encampment like thunder, silencing some while unnerving others.

It was a reminder, a warning—the second ritual was about to begin.

Thousands of slaves had already gathered inside, standing in tightly packed groups. Some whispered unknown words—seemingly prayings, others looked broken and hollow. Eyes filled with fear, hate, or nothing at all.

And now, among them, stood Jinn and his friends.

They said nothing as they walked deeper into the crowd, but their presence felt different—sharper, stronger.

The result of training, of pain endured and eidric power that has been awakened within their very core.

Jinn shifted his gaze upwards to find intricate viewing platforms atop, where the nobles stood in luxury—dressed in fine robes and jewelry, their eyes scanning the ground below with a mixture of both boredom and curiosity.

Jinn shifted his gaze back to the slaves around him, before his eyes widened.

From the crowd, one figure stood out—a towering body, broad shoulders, and a presence impossible to miss.

"There's Biyo," Jinn said, pointing with his finger.

He turned to his friends with a focused look. "Let's go."

With silent nods of agreement, the group began weaving through the crowd.

Shoulders brushed against them, voices whispered around them, but they continued to thread through the crowd of slaves.

Step by step, they moved together—until finally, they reached him.

"Hoho!" Biyo's booming voice rang out as he caught sight of them.

His expression lit up with joy. "Jinn! And the rest of you! Seems you've all grown tougher since the last time I saw you."

"Of course," Hector replied calmly, a hint of pride in his tone. His hand rested on a wrapped object tied at his hip.

"We have to be strong... if we want to survive what's coming."

"You're right about that..." Vox adjusted his glasses, his eyes sharp and thoughtful as ever. "And we'll need more than strength if we want to make it through this trial."

Jinn crossed his arms, his gaze sweeping over the elevated viewing platforms encircling the arena.

The morning sun casted a golden hue, reflecting off the polished surfaces and illuminating the the jewelries of the nobles—the nobles who seemed had gathered in greater numbers than before they first entered the camp.

"There seem to be more nobles than before, huh?" Jinn remarked, narrowing his eyes against the sunlight.

Biyo grunted in agreement. "Mhm—it is the second trial, after all."

"You seem to know a lot, old man. Care to tell us what to expect?" Orin asked, raising an curious brow.

*Ruffle

Biyo stroked his beard thoughtfully, the coarse hairs rustling under his rough fingers.

"If the knowledge passed down from my war mother is accurate..." he began, before pausing to look at the children.

"Then they will test our strength in survival."

"Well, that's... vague," Verhedyn commented, tilting his head and crossing his arms with a skeptical look.

"All we have to do is stick together, just like before," Ophelia added, her voice calm yet resolute.

"By combining our abilities, we significantly increase our chances of survival."

"That's a given." Jinn shifted his gaze towards Ophelia. "We have grown stronger than before and gained power—let's use it."

Kain nodded silently, his eyes steady and firm.

He recalled the teachings of his mentor—the importance of a steady heart, especially in life-or-death situations. The lesson resonated deeply within him—grounding his resolve.

Verhedyn, meanwhile, couldn't help but remember the grueling experience he had with his so-called "mentor."

The relentless training, the endless pursuit that never seemed to stop—it had pushed him to his limits.

More like an assassin who never stopped chasing me, Verhedyn scoffed in his mind, rolling his eyes at the thought.

He had come to loathe the memory, but it was a part of who he was now, no matter how much he wanted to forget it.

Ophelia, on the other hand, felt her hands tighten into fists as she recalled her heritage.

She was a child of the Holy Seraphim Empire, a place of ancient power and influence.

Amaron had taught her to harness her eidra, yet the weight of her lineage felt heavier now than ever before.

The knowledge that she was inside an enemy empire that loathed the Seraphim Empire, made her anxious—her heart racing with uncertainty.

But in the midst of that anxiety, a spark of determination ignited within her.

She steeled herself.

I will not falter, for me and my friends she thought resolutely.

Her heart was set—she would use the powers she had learned to protect her friends, to ensure that they survived, no matter what challenges lay ahead.

Hector, too, was lost in his thoughts.

His hand gripped tightly around the object wrapped secured to his hip, his thoughts briefly flashing to his father.

Anger flared up within him for a moment, but he quickly suppressed it.

He knew that right now, his emotions had no place in the present. Survival was the most important thing, and any distractions could lead to disaster.

Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself.

Focus Hector he reminded himself.

Whatever happened in the trial, he would give his all to protect his friends—the friends he now considered his family.

As they each stood there, lost in their own thoughts, the children silently reflected on the teachings of their mentors.

Their hearts were heavy with the weight of their pasts, but their resolve was growing stronger with every passing second.

They were ready—or at least, as ready as they could be, for what was about to come.

A familiar voice then pierced the air—it was the announcer from the first ritual.

"Ladies and gentlemen! ARE YOU READY!?" the voice boomed through a microphone, igniting a wave of cheers from both nobles and civilians.

*LOUD CHEERING!!

"Here we go again..." Verhedyn muttered, crossing his arms.

"The time has come! The slaves are gathered, and the bells have rung high!" the announcer declared, as multiple floating projections materialized above the arena.

Displayed were various landscapes, each sharing a common trait: dense, dark forests stretching endlessly.

"For the second ritual... as requested by the princess herself—the planet of Gravemarch!"

*LOUD CHEERING!!

"Tch!" Biyo clicked his tongue, his face contorted in anger. "They've really done it."

"Should we be concerned?" Jinn asked, turning to Biyo.

Biyo nodded, his eyes fixed on the projections. "Gravemarch... the forest of the Zaeth, land of the sanguine beasts."

"Sanguine beasts?" Ophelia inquired, her brow furrowed.

"Creatures born of blood and shadow," Biyo explained.

"Well. Shit." Verhedyn clicked his tongue before his eyes narrowed in seriousness.

- End of Volume: In Shackles - Slave Rituals I -