CHAPTER 174: CHAPTER 174 | UNNECESSARY CRUELTY

Jinn’s words hung in the air for a long yet subtle moment, echoing quietly within the minds of every soldier seated at the crowded table with him. Multiple soldiers from other tables went in to join the conversation, clearly interested and surprised that Jinn was there.

Jinn’s words... Those simple lines that were spoken without pride nor arrogance, just honest and straightforward—helped them understand a little more of who he was behind the title of being a Scion.

It wasn’t much that it would describe Jinn’s whole personality and character, but even that slight understanding made them loosen up, their shoulders dropping, their voices no longer tense now that they realized he wasn’t like those warriors of noble blood who always seemed to look down on them as if they were the dirt stuck on their boot.

Albright slightly, the soldiers’ posture softened, and the tension that usually followed Jinn’s presence seemed to melt away bit by bit. It was the kind of shift that happened slowly but surely...

but it was there, clear as day.

"Don’t mind me asking..." one soldier blurted out, leaning forward on the table with his elbow propped up, curiosity overcoming him. The man was sitting just across from Jinn, eyes wide with a mix of curiosity and subtle excitement.

"Is it actually true that you participated in House Sorellia’s slave rituals!?"

"Yes," Jinn answered almost instantly, his voice steady but carrying a faint heaviness... as if the word itself tugged at memories, memories that were etched within his mind, forged by both pain and struggle.

The moment he replied, the scenes of those days surged through him in a violent and instantaneous flash. Entering the arena where children were forced to kill one another for entertainment, being kidnapped by Malgareth, cutting down Verkaryon, and tapping into the raw and powerful powers of Muradryn for the first time.

And above all that, he remembered the moment his friends departed while he himself chose to stay behind... trading their own freedom so they could live their lives without the chains of Zerafhon wrapped around their necks.

The memories hit him like a surging storm, carving a sharp almost painful feeling through his chest. It reminded him of the endless hardships him and his friends endured just to survive another day.

Pain, cold, desperation, anger, all of it.

Jinn’s hand slowly clenched into a fist—not out of rage, not out of hatred... but simply from remembering.

Remembering the pain.

Remembering the loss.

Remembering Nevi.

And remembering the boy he used to be and the man he had become—no, had to become because of it.

"My city was razed to ashes by the empire," Jinn spoke, his voice low yet clear enough for everyone to hear near the table he was in. The soldiers around leaned in unconsciously, captivated and interested, their earlier chatter fading completely.

"And it was also on that day that I met my mentor."

Silence wrapped around them as he continued, every soldier’s eyes fixed on him awe, in quiet disbelief as the mentor Jinn was talking about was no other than Battlemaster Venedix herself.

"And through that," Jinn continued slowly, "I was taken by House Sorellia. Captures. Marked. Destined to become a slave... used for entertainment and for war."

His lone eye narrowed, not at anyone near him, but at the bitter memories twisting within his mind. For a brief second, something fierce flashed across his face... fire and resolve blending together that made the nearby soldiers’ eyes widen.

"But I refused that destiny," Jinn said, the words slipping off his mouth like a vow he had said a thousand times before.

"I refused to grovel... and I refuse to die weak."

"But... aren’t ya a Rinarian? We kill Rinarians, those filthy scum!" the drunk man beside him spoke up, now being held off by another soldier who seemed to be his friend.

"Hush, you damned drunken fool!" another soldier raised his voice yet in a whisper.

"Come on! Get that drunken maniac outta here!" another soldier slammed his mug on the table in an annoyed gesture.

"Dammit Jordan... you and your drunken antics!" the woman soldier holding off his friend gritted her teeth, slightly nervous at the reaction of Jinn.

Yet Jinn wasn’t angry or even bothered, as he had long grown used to remarks like that, especially when they came from men who were clearly drunk and barely thinking straight.

Instead of reacting, he simply lifted his mug again and took another swig, letting the bitter ale roll across his tongue. The taste was sharp and dry, that kind of sensation that made your throat warm for a moment before finally fading.

He then released a huff of breath as he ignored the drunk man.

The soldiers waited as Jinn looked like he was about speak... yet before he could react any further, a new voice drifted from behind Jinn—soft at first, then much clearer, followed by a familiar touch that wrapped around his back and onto his abdomen, sliding into something felt almost like a casual, confident hug rather than anything formal.

"Yes... a Rinarian who has slain thousands and thousands of enemies of the empire... and a thousand more under our name and flag," the voice whispered, carrying a tone that immediately made Jinn narrow his eye in recognition.

It was Akavi.

Her words came with a smooth sharpness, like she was announcing a fact the entire void should already know. Her chin rested lightly on Jinn’s shoulder the next second, her presence calm yet heavy, and her glare shot toward the soldier who had dared to spit out such a remark toward Jinn.

"You have no right to judge an esteemed warrior that belongs to our ranks no less... soldier," she said, her voice low and dangerous, every syllable slicing through the noise of the courtyard.

"Y-Your grace!"

The response came instantly.

*thud! *thud! *thud! *thud!

Soldiers left and right dropped to their knees as if being pulled downward by chains. Maids and butlers who had been walking by froze mid-step, then followed suit, bowing low. Other soldiers across the courtyard noticed her presence and also knelt in waves, until the entire area lowered itself before the princess.

Even the drunk man who mocked Jinn, fell to his knees so fast he hit the ground with a loud thud, his entire body trembling at the sight of Akavi. The ale in his system almost seemed to vanish at once, fear sobering him far quick than any cold water could.

"I-I apologize to your highness... I-I was not in my right mind..." the man stammered, unable to keep his voice steady as he continued to press his forehead on the ground in respect of Akavi.

His hands shook, his shoulders lifted with every breath, and every bit of his drunkenness faded away.

"Mhm."

Akavi narrowed her eyes slightly, not saying more, not saying less. Her face remained unreliable for everyone around them—everyone except for Jinn.

She leaned in closer to hip, her dark lips near his ear, her tone softening into something almost playful... as if a devil was coercing Jinn with their whispers.

"What shall we do, Jinn? Shall we forgive him?" she whispered, her voice rising just a bit at the end as if his answer alone would decide the man’s fate.

Soldiers around them, though still bowing in respect, stiffened in reaction.

They knew she was not asking out of kindness,,, she was declaring in her own manner that Jinn had the authority to choose.

Tsk...

Jinn clicked his tongue very quietly, the sound full of subtle annoyance. He didn’t like theatrics and most of all, he didn’t like being used as a spectacle.

He slowly exhaled, then spoke with a calm and steady tone that carried across the table even though he didn’t raise his voice.

"Every soldier... is like every brick that makes the empire functioning, a functioning iron-clad wall made of loyalty... a wall that deters enemies with great resilience, taking one brick off with petty reasons will make every other brick waver," Jinn said.

His words were firm, shaped with the kind of honesty that didn’t need to shout.

"And in the battlefield, one’s loyalty shall never waver... unless you want dissidents within your ranks?"

It was clear what Jinn meant.

Punishing the man over something so insignificant would do more harm than good.

As to what is a ruler who punishes his or her subjects because of petty reasons?

"A true ruler punishes when it is needed," Jinn continued, looking at Akavi just behind his shoulder.

The bowed soldiers couldn’t help but widen their eyes when they heard him.

They never expected the Scion—the one with such a terrifying battle history, the one who slaughters his enemies with brutality—to defend a normal soldier like them.

It made something warm flicker inside their chests, something close to probe or perhaps even belonging.

Akavi’s eyes narrowed again, this time with disappointment or irritation—hard to tell which—at Jinn’s answer.

She straightened her posture and slowly unwrapped her arms from him, crossing them across her chest with a long sigh that felt like Jinn just gave her a wrong answer.

"No," she said sharply.

Her voice cut the air clean.

"Sometimes you need to show an

Akavi’s eyes narrowed again, this time with disappointment or irritation—hard to tell which—at Jinn’s answer. She straightened her posture and slowly unwrapped her arms from him, crossing them across her chest with a long sigh that felt like she was already preparing to ignore him.

"No," she said sharply.

Her voice cut the air clean.

She then snapped her fingers,

"Kill him, wraith."

"By your command," a gleaming blade emerged from a mist of darkness as a hooded figure appeared just behind the groveling man, the blade already snapping towards the man’s neck.

"J-Jordan!" the woman who seemed to be the man’s friend shouted just behind him.