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Chapter 48 - Chapter 48 | Prelude to Cruelty

Seconds blurred into minutes, and minutes dissolved into hours—

until finally, like the drifting of shadows across an endless plain, three full days had passed.

Three days of separation.

Three days of pain.

Three days of preparation for what came next.

Jinn and his companions—once frightened, once trembling in chains—had been split apart during that time.

Each one was taken under the wing of a different mentor, all handpicked by Lady Merilyn herself, acting under the orders of Venedix.

But these mentors were not ordinary instructors, nor were they kind or soft in their teachings.

They were scarred warriors, hardened survivors, eidra specialists who had danced on the edge of death and lived to teach the price of life.

Each child faced their own mountain.

Each learned through sweat, through the sting of failure, and through the pain of pushing past limits they never knew they had.

Not simply to fight—but to endure.

To survive.

To become something...

more.

And now, that moment had finally come.

*GONG… *GONG… *GONG…

A deep, resonant ringing cut through the sky like a blade through fog.

It began faintly—barely noticeable, as if echoing from some distant tower lost in time.

But with each second, it grew louder, heavier, closer.

The very air seemed to shudder beneath its weight.

The bells rang not just for those who trained, but for the entire city to hear.

From the highest balconies of nobility to the lowest alley corners of the slums—the sound reached them all.

The second ritual had begun.

Or is about to.

Outside the fortress walls of House Sorellia, Jinn and the others stood in a solemn line, shoulder to shoulder.

Their expressions had shifted.

Their bodies bore signs of recent struggle—bandages, bruises, a limp here and there—but what stood out most was the look in their eyes.

Gone was the untempered fear that once defined them.

In its place… readiness.

Determination.

Merilyn walked calmly in front of them, her long coat flowing behind her like a shadow with purpose.

She moved without hesitation, and the group followed, their feet falling in rhythm over the cold stone roads, a silent cadence of will and resolve.

Civilians gathered on the streets as the children passed by. Their voices murmured like wind brushing through tall grass—soft, unsure, and curious.

"There… there they are..."

"That's the group from the first trial…"

"I heard one of them uses crimson eidra."

"Yes—him. The one with the hair like fire."

Their eyes lingered on Jinn longer than the rest.

Some with awe, others with fear.

But he heard none of it.

The world beyond his path blurred into a haze.

He kept his gaze forward.

Focused.

His sword—Fangeryth—rested against his hip, secured tightly by a custom sheath carved from dark leather and lined with obsidian edges.

Its presence was comforting.

A reminder of who he had become.

A symbol of the power he had earned.

The crimson eidra within him hummed beneath his skin.

It wasn't raging, nor roaring—it simply pulsed with a steady rhythm, like a second heartbeat.

It was there.

Waiting.

Ready.

His limbs ached.

His joints protested with every step.

But he did not falter.

He would not.

They crossed a wide bridge overlooking the city's lower districts.

Far below, markets bustled faintly in the distance, unaware—or perhaps deliberately ignorant—of what was about to unfold.

The buildings looked small now.

The people even smaller.

Above, the sky brooded with heavy clouds.

Gray and cold, like slate pressed against the heavens.

A wind blew hard and sharp, cutting through the streets with more force than usual.

But Jinn and the rest didn't flinch.

They were no longer the same.

The eidra within them shielded them from the cold of Juggernot—a cruel weather that once froze their bones now merely passed like air across armor.

They marched on—

Toward the next battlefield.

Toward what fate had in store.

Jinn's eyes narrowed slightly, his breath calm but sharp.

Memories of Zendrell's training played in his mind—how the crimson energy surged through every fiber of his being, how every strike felt like a declaration of who he was becoming.

That strength—it was his now.

His gaze shifted, landing on his friends walking beside him.

Each of them bore a different expression. Vox walked with quiet pride, his eyes low but burning.

Verhedyn wore a smirk, casual yet focused.

Orin's face was unreadable, distant.

Yet in all of them, something new stirred.

It wasn't terror.

It wasn't the innocence of hope.

It was steel.

The kind forged only through hardship and fire.

Jinn could feel it in them—in their steps, in their silence.

Their mentors had left scars that went deeper than skin.

Wounds that had forced something inside them to awaken.

Not everyone could survive that.

But they had.

His hand tightened over Fangeryth's hilt.

He glanced at Merilyn, whose figure moved ahead with grace and poise.

Despite her silence, there was something different about her today too.

"So… what do we expect in the second ritual?" Jinn asked aloud, his voice clear, cutting through the cold.

Merilyn said nothing for a moment.

Her boots echoed against the road, the wind tugging gently at her long coat.

Then, softly—quietly—without turning back, she spoke a single word.

"Cruelty."

Jinn blinked, his breath catching slightly.

The word settled into his chest like a stone dropped into a still pond—simple, but heavy.

It sent ripples through him.

It said more than any long explanation could.

Cruelty.

That's what waited.

And he believed her.

Whatever this next trial held, it would test not only their bodies—but their minds, their hearts, their very will to live.

He felt the eidra respond to his thoughts.

It didn't flare.

It didn't grow cold.

It simply acknowledged.

"Worry not, children," Merilyn spoke again, her voice calm, yet woven with something warm.

"What you've learned these past days—carry it. Let it shape your actions. Let it pierce through this ritual."

She turned to them now, her violet eyes shining with something gentler than before.

It wasn't just command.

It was care.

"I shall meet you all again," she said, voice low. "When the time is right."

And then the gates appeared.

Massive steel doors, blackened and bolted with iron ridges.

The entrance to the slave encampment loomed ahead like the mouth of a beast.

Beyond it, a storm of voices clashed and stirred.

Nobles, merchants, commoners, and even slaves—laughing, crying, roaring with anticipation.

It sounded like celebration.

But it felt like bloodlust.

A twisted festival.

Two soldiers in black armor saluted Merilyn without a word.

Their gloved hands gripped the gate handles, and with practiced effort, they pulled the heavy doors open.

*creaaaaaaaaaaaak!!!

The creak echoed like bones shifting.

Merilyn stepped aside, turning toward the children with a small, solemn smile.

"Use all of your eidra wisely—my children," she whispered.

Jinn gave a slow nod and walked forward.

His boots stepped into the open threshold with certainty.

"No use stalling now," Verhedyn muttered as he followed behind, his voice light but his jaw clenched.

The rest moved next, each step a promise to themselves.

At the rear, Orin paused.

Her hand trembled slightly—not from fear, but from conflict.

She turned, her gaze meeting Merilyn's.

A thousand unspoken words passed between them

. Orin remembered the whispers of flame in her veins, the fury Merilyn had told her to master—not kill, but tame.

And now… she felt another wind.

It wasn't fire.

It was gentler.

Calmer.

A breeze brushing through scorched lands.

A reminder that rage did not have to consume.

She didn't know which part of her would win.

But she stepped forward anyway.

And so, the children of House Sorellia entered once more into the heart of judgment.

Into the place where blood would spill, where the world would try to break them.

Would they endure?

Would they rise?

Or would they fall?

Only time would know.

But with every step, they drew closer.

To strength.

To freedom.

To themselves.

And for Jinn…

It was one more step toward his dream.

One more breath closer to destiny.

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