WebNovels

Chapter 46 - Chapter 46 | Birth of a Swordsman

*Transitioning back to Jinn's POV

"More! You've got more in you—use it on your muscles!" Zendrell shouted, his voice cracking through the air like a whip, his blade roaring to life with brilliant crimson eidra as he lunged forward, swinging it toward Jinn with terrifying speed.

*CLANG!

Their weapons met in a sharp, bone-rattling collision that echoed across the training grounds, sending sparks flying into the sky.

"Become the eidra itself—don't just use it, be it!" Zendrell barked again, his words relentless, each one a blow just as heavy as his blade.

His stance was wild, his eyes alight with madness and energy, but his command carried clarity.

Discipline beneath the chaos.

It had been three grueling days.

Three days of nonstop drills, parries, forms, strikes, and failures.

But through the punishing tempo and endless repetition, Jinn had finally crossed the threshold.

He had learned to channel the crimson eidra coursing through him—truly and completely.

It no longer flickered like a candle;

it surged like a tide.

He now flooded every inch of his limbs with it, letting the power envelop his bones, his skin, and even his breath.

Every swing of his sword became faster, sharper.

Each step he took felt lighter, more explosive—until he could see and react to even Zendrell's split-second strikes.

And more importantly—

he could fight back.

All around them, guards ringed the training area, silent at first—eyes wide with awe, mouths slightly agape.

What they were witnessing was something absurd.

Three days.

That's all it took for Jinn to achieve what most could only dream of after months—years—of struggle.

He had learned to use eidra in live combat with fluid mastery, adapting to Zendrell's merciless pace like he had been born for war.

Then came the roar of approval.

"Not bad kid! You were being tossed around when you first came here!" 

"So this is the one chosen by Venedix herself?" 

The soldiers, unable to contain their disbelief and excitement, erupted into cheers.

Their voices flooded the dome, a thunderous applause for the youth who was now dancing with one of the Empire's fiercest warriors.

Zendrell chuckled under his breath at the noise, shooting a glance toward the crowd of armored men and women before flicking his attention back to Jinn.

"Look at them," he said, the corner of his mouth tugging upward into a small grin.

"They're cheering for you now. Doesn't that make you proud, boy?"

Jinn didn't flinch.

He raised his sword again, steady and two-handed, shifting smoothly into a firm, anchored stance.

His eyes locked onto Zendrell's—not with ego, not with gratitude.

Just focus.

Steel focus.

"Hardly," he said flatly, his voice calm, his breathing measured.

Zendrell lowered his blade slightly, a smirk curling on his lips.

His posture eased, his body relaxed—almost lazily.

But Jinn didn't fall for it.

He had seen this before.

Zendrell's false calm, the casual tone before the storm.

It was a trap.

A trick to lure you into letting your guard down.

And Jinn wasn't a fool.

He stayed grounded.

Zendrell casually raised the flat of his blade and tapped it against his shoulder, metal clicking gently against metal.

"A few more hours left," he said, voice suddenly playful.

"Then it's back to the slave camp for you. The second trial awaits. But now that you've learned to wrap yourself in eidra…"

His tone shifted again, darker now—wilder.

"I suppose it's only fair to show you a move or two—Zendrell style."

"Zendrell sty—?" Jinn began, but before the thought could even leave his tongue, Zendrell was—

Gone.

In a blur faster than thought, he vanished, closing the distance between them like lightning splitting the sky.

His body exploded forward in a blur of momentum, and this time—it wasn't the chaotic, wild form he had used before.

No.

This movement was sharp, calculated, practiced.

Precise.

Zendrell's muscles coiled and surged with eidra, his grip tightening around the hilt of his weapon. Crimson light danced through the veins along his arms, the muscles straining as his blade came sweeping upward in a savage arc from below.

*GRRRRHHH!

He growled like a beast, his teeth clenched, his eyes wide and glinting with thrill.

Jinn saw it.

He saw the attack, his normal eye tracking the motion with perfect clarity.

But his body…

It froze.

His breath caught in his throat.

His heart skipped a beat.

Zendrell's presence, his aura—his eidra—it wasn't just overwhelming.

It was terrifying.

It exuded a primal pressure, one that didn't just weigh on the body, but gripped the soul.

Every instinct screamed.

Move.

Every thought shouted.

Dodge.

Every fiber of Jinn's being pleaded.

Survive!

But nothing moved.

Not a toe.

Not a finger.

Even the crimson eidra inside him—usually so vibrant—had gone quiet.

Frozen.

As if stunned by the raw brutality bearing down on him.

And then…

Zendrell changed the trajectory of his swing.

Just slightly.

The blade passed by, its edge mere centimeters from Jinn's face.

*ROOOOOOAAAAR!!!

A torrent of crimson eidra exploded from the sword's tip, tearing skyward like a beast released from chains.

The sound was thunderous, the shockwave a bellowing cry as the force of the swing carved a bright crimson arc across the upper dome of the sky.

The air howled with its passage.

And then silence.

Zendrell's sword felt like a living thing—wild, furious, and untamed.

Jinn stood rooted, sweat dripping from his brow, his chest heaving.

He couldn't believe it.

He had just felt a fraction of what Zendrell was capable of.

This was only a glimpse of the real power that lay beneath that smirk and wild laughter.

And if he could do this with a standard blade—then what horrors waited within the true weapon he had always used?

That massive sword that Zendrell never even touched?

Zendrell turned, swinging his blade to his side before pointing its edge toward Jinn again.

"What do you think, kid?" he said with a grin, stepping lightly back to the center of the field.

"You might not be able to copy it exactly—Venedix's eidra's built different than mine—but that kind of force? That kind of instinct? You've got it in you. I see it."

Jinn lowered his sword slowly, walking toward him with interest flaring in his eyes.

"Seems useful," he said with cool detachment.

"Teach me."

Zendrell gave a hearty nod.

"It's simple, really," he said, rotating his blade and resting it flat against his shoulder once again.

He ran two fingers down the length of the blade.

"You remember how you learned to flood your whole body with eidra, right?"

Jinn nodded.

"Well, same deal here," Zendrell continued, his voice becoming more measured.

"Except now—you channel that energy straight into your weapon."

"You don't stop coating yourself. That part stays. But now, you send even more into the blade. Stack it."

He lifted his sword, swung it once through the air with a crisp whistle, then shielded his eyes as he looked skyward.

"When it's built up... when it's ready to snap… you let it fly."

He lowered his hand and fixed Jinn with a stare.

"Every drop you've got—into one attack. That's what makes it sing."

"And from there," he added, grinning again, "you stop copying moves—and start building your own. That's what makes you more than just a soldier."

Jinn's eyes narrowed.

He slowed his breath.

Felt the flow of eidra pulsing through his muscles.

His hands.

His core.

His veins lit up—glowing with soft crimson under the skin.

He drew it down into his weapon, slow and precise, feeding it steadily into the metal like pouring fire into a mold.

The blade began to tremble.

*crack... *CRACK...!

Energy sparked.

Lightning curled across its surface.

Jinn didn't stop.

*CRACK!!! *CRACK!!!!

*CRAAAAAAAAAACK!!!

He kept pushing.

Kept feeding it.

Until the blade felt heavy, humming with power that begged to be released.

Then, with a sharp breath and a growl, he swung.

"RAAAHH!!"

*CRACK—

*BOOOOOOM!!!

The air split open

A red arc tore through the sky above, shredding clouds and slicing air.

The blast howled through the dome like a divine thunderbolt.

Guards ducked.

Soldiers staggered.

Even those far from the arena paused and turned toward the heavens.

It wasn't just an attack.

It was a declaration.

Miles away, Merilyn's words faltered as the sound reached her.

She turned her head slowly toward the window, eyes narrowing at the faraway glow.

"…Elder sister?" she whispered.

HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Zendrell's laughter exploded like a cannon, echoing across the field, booming alongside the wild cheers of the watching soldiers.

He pounded Jinn on the back, each thud like the crash of a war drum.

*THUD! *THUD! *THUD!

"Venedix's eidra—my technique! Hells, boy, that was beautiful!" he roared, eyes gleaming with pride and mischief.

Jinn's arm shook.

The power still buzzed through his muscles like electricity.

He glanced down—

—and saw the sword in his hand crumble.

Dust again.

Just like before—just like the time he protected Ophelia.

His hand curled into a fist.

"This power…" he muttered. "I need to control it."

Zendrell threw back his head, barking another laugh.

"Control?! Who the hell controls power? Let it out! Let it scream!"

He tossed a weapon toward him—Fangeryth.

Venedix's gift.

Jinn caught it with his trembling hand, the familiar weight bringing a strange comfort. "No," he said under his breath.

"If I keep going like that… I'll burn out."

"I need to build it up slow. Learn how to pour just enough—then more, over time."

Zendrell crossed his arms and smirked.

"Hmph. If you're talking about true mastery—control over eidra at the highest level…" he scoffed, voice trailing off.

"No one's better than Venedix herself."

He paused, gaze darkening. "Or that damn house of Nythrael…"

"Venedix…" Jinn repeated, his voice trailing into thought.

But Zendrell didn't give him time to wander.

*THUD!

His boot slammed into Jinn's gut.

Jinn stumbled—but didn't fall.

His body could take it now.

He looked up, eyes flashing.

Zendrell grinned.

*Thud

He let his sword drop to the ground.

"Come on," he said, rolling his shoulders, "let's see how you handle fists."

Jinn raised his own, a small smirk playing at his lips.

"Fine then," he replied.

His stance was ready.

His eyes steady.

"Grit your teeth."

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