Jinn BLADE-Chapter 179 | Recognition

"What is happening/" Merilyn approached, her heels softly tapping against the polished floor as she held a glass of champagne in one hand, the golden liquid still swirling from her hurried steps. She halted the moment the crowd of onlookers parted just enough for her to see the scene at the center.

Her breathing caught, as her eyes widened before she leaned forward slightly.

"Is that... Jinn?" she spoke, almost in disbelief.

It had been years since she last saw him—years since that small boy that always seemed to be the leader of a group of children that he treated like family—years since he had boarded a military transport with General Gaius, heading toward battlefield after battlefield.

Now, standing there with the weight of countless victories behind him and holding the focus of an entire hall full of nobles, he looked nothing like the child she remembered.

"He has... truly grown, that boy! He might actually be taller than me now!" Merilyn lifted her free hand as if trying to measure Jinn’s height even from a distance, her jaw dropping in amused disbelief as she observed him from afar. 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

"And his presence... he looks way more mature."

"Hah!" Zendrell crossed his arm, an almost proud smirk emerging from his face. He never took his eyes off Jinn, who now stood unflinching as the young Vulkan noble aimed his blade at him.

"He’s still still lacking a bit of muscles... but you’re right, he definitely improved. And his control earlier—that instantaneous flash of eidra, that was more condensed than what he showed before when I trained him."

Zendrell’s smirk deepened, amusement evident in his eyes.

"Elder sister really hammered her teaching into him. Looks like all that training under Venedix was not wasted."

"I’ve heard he was also taught by Troy from House Nythrael?" Mezra added as she slid next to them, fixing her glasses with a small push of her finger.

Her eyes, sharp and analytical, immediately drifted to Troy, who was leaning quietly against a pillar at the edge of the hall. His arms were crossed, his expression unreadable—though something in his gaze suggested that he was testing Jinn, watching and observing how he handled political confrontation just as he would handle battle.

"Mhm... he taught the boy well," Mezra continued, her eyes flicking towards Jinn.

"For him to know even an unspoken rule within the culture of Zerafhon—then use it to bait his opponent... forcing a duel... I applaud the boy."

"Heh, to raise a sword at someone in Zerafhon is to declare war," Zendrell said with a subtle shake of his head, though his smirk never faded.

He then exhaled through his nose, almost as if pitying the young Vulkan noble.

"Poor fucker. I think Jinn’s about to slaughter him in front of half the noble houses."

Merilyn’s smile faded as she heard Zendrell’s words, worry creeping back into her face.

"Wouldn’t that anger House Vulkan even more? Us and them... we’ve never really had a good relationship. This might push it further... their hatred toward us is grave as it is."

"Perhaps," Mezra replied in her usual calm voice, though her eyes drifted toward a cluster of nobles gathered near the inner ring of the forming dueling circle.

Nearly all of them wore the fiery insignia of House Vulkan, their expression a mix of arrogance and irritation—likely preparing to use this event for their own leverage.

"But then again," Mezra continued, her voice subtly dropping as she adjusted her glasses once more,

"This isn’t the first we’ve had... complications with them."

She tilted her head, seriousness evident in her face.

"Whether Jinn kills the child or not, our relationship with them is bound to worsen anyway."

*cough! *cough!

Merilyn coughed as she shifted her head toward Mezra.

"Really? Kill?" She emphasized the last word like she was trying to swallow it and cough it out at the same time, disbelief painted on her face.

She found it hard to believe that Jinn—who just arrived from war with all the achievements and all—would kill a noble boy at a royal banquet no less.

Why would he even do that? He will cause unnecessary drama!

Merilyn thought within her head.

She believed that Jinn would only beat him down just enough to remind him of his place, perhaps to make an example of him, but not go too far as to slaughter him in front of his family.

Not here at least, for all the nobles to see.

But before any of them could continue the discussion,

*Whirrrr!

A sudden eruption of energy rippled outward from the dueling circle, flickering like a rising bubble of pure condensed eidra.

It was Dreilla’s, her eidric energy wrapping around the entire ring space, creating a semi-transparent dome that shimmered with streaks of faint blue light.

It was a protective barrier, a necessary one, meant to prevent any stray strikes of eidra from tearing through the crowd—especially the high nobles who clearly had no ability to defend themselves.

Many nobles flinched at the sudden burst of power. A few stepped back, clearly unfamiliar with the feeling of a warrior’s eidra crackling close to them.

Except for the warrior nobles themselves, who stood just a few feet away from the barrier, their eyes focused between the two, already making bets within their mind as to who would win.

Meanwhile, inside the barrier, the young Vulkan noble had just realized what he’d just done. His expression shifted rapidly.

From shock, then hesitation, then frustration... to anger... and finally, acceptance.

The young noble glared at Jinn, his jaw clenching as he sheathed his sword as if priming it.

"Clever play, slave," he mocked, fury evident in his voice as eidric flames began to rise from his body, licking at the air with violent bursts. His eidra flared and rolled outward, the heat so intense that the air inside the circle visibly wavered like a mirage.

"But you seem to forget—I am one of the rising prodigies of House Vulkan. A family of swordmasters!"

"He raised his blade once more, this time unsheathing it fully with a burst of eidric energy. The entire length of the sword burst into a raging blaze, the flame so bright it dyed the entire dueling arena in shades of red and orange.

The heat radiated outward in waves so intense that even those behind Dreilla’s barrier could feel subtle heat.

A testament as to how powerful the young man’s eidra truly was.

"Name’s Krane," he said, voice dripping with arrogance as the flames coiled around his arms and chest like a living serpent.

"Remember it while you die."

Across from him, Jinn remained still—calm, quiet, almost annoyingly composed.

His expression didn’t change, but within that single eye of his, there was the slightest glint... not of fear, but of recognition.

He couldn’t deny that Krane was strong—stronger than some of the enemy officers he had fought on the battlefield.

The boy’s eidra was fierce, condensed, and undeniably powerful.

For all the barking this dog had been doing, Jinn now understood something clearly.

This one... actually has a bite.