As the announcer's voice rang out, his final declaration slicing through the uproar like a crack of thunder, a deafening roar exploded from the stands.
The civilians of Zerafhon, intoxicated by violence and bloodsport, erupted in wild cheers and savage howls that thundered through the coliseum.
The sound was overwhelming—reverberating across the massive arena in crashing waves, as if even the stones beneath their feet were compelled to tremble in excitement.
They had heard the new rule—and they loved it.
The brutality of it, the sheer cruelty, only served to amplify their bloodthirsty pleasure.
Faces lit up in excitement while others bellowed in approval.
It was a crowd drunk on suffering.
But for the slaves below—both the adults already engaged in chaos and the children still paralyzed by fear—the sound brought only despair.
The moment the new rule sunk into their minds, expressions twisted.
Eyes bulged wide, jaws hung open, some dropped their weapons in disbelief.
Whatever sliver of hope they held onto, whatever shred of courage remained… shattered in an instant.
They knew deep down—some of their children would not survive, and others, far too weak to even fight back, were already marked for death.
At that moment—
Panic took over.
Across both the adult and children's areas, slaves broke into a frenzy.
Fear turned their movements frantic.
*Clang! *Clash! *Fwhip!
Some ran blindly, others swung wildly at anything that moved.
The arena floor quickly descended into madness.
Screams pierced the air—of agony, of terror, of rage and desperation.
Bodies tumbled over each other.
Some slipped in blood, others were trampled beneath uncaring feet.
Screams turned to gurgles, to silence, as lives were snuffed out in seconds.
Death moved like a wave—cold, merciless, inevitable.
*Bang! *Bang! *CRASH!
Driven by pure survival, the children had no choice but to fight.
Their young faces—once soft with innocence—now contorted with fear.
They moved in uncoordinated flurries, swinging weapons far too large for their size, shooting blasters without aim or control.
They weren't warriors.
They were scared children forced into hell.
There was no strategy, no technique.
Only chaos.
*Thud! *Thud! *BANG!
Tears streamed down dirt-smeared faces as tiny fists clenched swords.
Some clashed with one another while others froze completely, unable to move a muscle.
Thirty seconds passed.
Then—
*BOOM.
A single detonation cracked the air like a gunshot.
One of the frozen children—still too paralyzed to strike—collapsed, his headless body flopping onto the ground,
*splat!
blood spraying in all directions.
His neck detonated by the very device attached to him.
And it didn't stop there.
*BOOM!
No rest.
*BOOM!
No pause.
*BOOM!
No mercy.
*BOOM!
Stand still—and die.
*BOOM *SPLAT
Fail to kill—and die.
*BOOM!*BOOM!*SPLAT!!!
This was the nightmare they were thrown into.
Jinn's gaze darted left and right, sharp and calculating, as he tried to assess the situation.
His mind raced for options, adrenaline already flooding his system.
But before he could act, a sudden blast of energy screamed through the air just inches from his head,
*HISS!!!
burning strands of his hair as it flew past.
Jinn instinctively ducked and spun around, eyes wide with alarm.
He spotted a trembling girl—barely older than him—staggering backward, her hands fumbling with the blaster she had just fired.
"H-Heek!" the girl whimpered in terror, her entire body shaking uncontrollably.
Without warning, she fired again—
*Bang!
then again,
*Bang!
multiple rounds,
*Bang!*Bang!*Bang!
energy blasts streaking wildly toward Jinn.
*Fwhip! *Fwhip! *Fwhip!
Each shot missed by mere inches as Jinn weaved through them, his body shifting side to side in fluid motions.
The girl was clearly untrained—her aim erratic, driven purely by fear.
Jinn, however, was fast.
Too fast.
To the point it was abnormal for a child like him to move like that.
Closing the gap in an instant, he brought his sword upward in a rising arc.
The blade struck true—
*SLASH!
not the girl, but her weapon—
*Crack!
shattering the blaster into pieces.
Sparks scattered as the broken fragments hit the floor.
The girl stumbled back.
Her weaponless hands trembled in the air.
A dark wet stain spread across her pants as fear overtook her body
. She lifted her arms instinctively in defense, voice cracking.
"M-Mommy!" she screamed, her voice raw with helplessness.
Jinn stood before her, sword raised.
But he couldn't move.
His grip trembled, muscles frozen.
His eyes locked on hers—terrified and innocent—and he felt his breath catch.
She wasn't a monster.
She wasn't his enemy.
She was just like him—a child thrown into madness, forced to kill or die.
His heart pounded in conflict.
A voice screamed in his head:
Do it, Jinn, or you'll be the one to die!
But his hands refused to obey.
That hesitation cost him.
Before he could act, a sudden, searing pain ripped across his body.
A blade slashed from his shoulder down to his hip—
*Riiiip!!!
his shirt tore open as blood sprayed out.
"Argh!" Jinn cried out in agony, stumbling forward as his knees buckled under the pain.
From nearby, Ophelia's head snapped in his direction.
She had heard the cry.
Her eyes widened in alarm as she spotted him clutching his side, blood pouring from the wound.
"Jinn!" she screamed, breaking into a sprint.
*Fwhip!
Dodging a sword aimed at her in mid-run, she pushed forward—desperation etched across her face.
But just as she neared him, her foot struck something.
She fell.
A body.
Cold, lifeless, and small.
The dead eyes of a child stared up at her from the blood-soaked ground.
Ophelia recoiled in horror, the image searing itself into her mind.
But she pushed herself up.
She had no time to cry.
Yet a shadow loomed over her.
A boy stood above, his sword raised high, its edge gleaming with cruel intent.
"Shit!" Ophelia gasped, trying to crawl away.
Jinn looked up.
His bloodied face twisted in panic as he saw her pinned and helpless.
His heart lurched.
She was in danger.
She was going to die.
"Shit!" he roared, pushing his injured body forward.
But as he tried to move toward her, a wall of children stepped into his path—swords drawn, faces blank.
"Outta my way!!" he screamed, lunging toward one.
*Clang!
He barely reached the first before the rest moved.
Blades swung from every side.
Jinn blocked
*Clang!
and dodged,
*Fwhip!
but several slashes made contact—
*Slash! Slash! *Splurt!
cutting into his arms, his sides.
Blood spattered the ground beneath him.
"Tch!" he hissed, clenching his jaw.
He pushed harder, gritting his teeth, slamming his blade against one attacker, forcing them back.
"Get out…" he growled, pressing harder, fury swelling in his chest.
"OF MY WAY!!"
The child staggered, but the others retaliated.
Jinn was forced to block again,
*Clang!
now pinned down in place.
"Good job guys!" laughed the boy above Ophelia.
"Keep him busy. This one's mine!"
The child raised his blade and struck downward.
Ophelia twisted her body in a desperate roll.
The blade missed her chest—
*Crunch!
but sank deep into her arm.
"ARGH!!" she screamed, blood gushing from the wound.
"O-OPHELIA!!!" Jinn roared.
His eyes went wide—
then something inside him broke.
In that instant, something awakened.
Something powerful.
A flame sparked within him—no, not a flame, but something hotter, wilder.
It wasn't rage alone.
It was something deeper, something that coursed through his very veins.
An inferno that coursed through every fiber of his being, each heartbeat pounding like a war drum in his ears.
Blood boiled within his veins.
The pain in his wounds became irrelevant.
His vision pulsed red, and then, it happened.
The heat inside him crackled.
The tremble in his hands turned into violent shivers.
His breath turned sharp and erratic.
Sparks—no, lightning—began to flicker across his body in thin arcs, dancing like furious serpents wrapping around his arms and shoulders.
Crimson Lightning.
Powerful Crimson Lightning.
"MOTHERFUCKERS!!!"
Jinn's scream erupted like a detonation, so loud and furious that it silenced the entire coliseum.
Every noble, every commoner, every soldier and slave—everyone—was frozen by the sheer force of his voice.
Even the civilians in the farthest stands could hear the wrath in his voice.
*crack! *crack!
His sword, still clenched in trembling hands, began to crack and hum.
Sparks of red energy surged across its surface, veins of light bursting through the blade's structure.
Jinn gritted his teeth until blood poured from the corners of his mouth, his body vibrating with energy.
Then—
he swung.
*Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzttttttt!!!
A wave of red lightning shot forth, a slash so fast it bent the air around it.
It tore through the space ahead of him like a sonic scream, aimed not just with fury, but with instinct.
The children blocking his path didn't even have time to scream.
*ROAR!!!
The wave tore them apart instantly—limbs flying, torsos split, bodies erased by the raw destructive force.
Blood sprayed in thin red lines, painting the ground in horrific streaks.
.
.
.
Silence returned—but it wasn't peace.
It was shock.
Up in the noble stands, Venedix jolted.
Her eyes widened, her lips parted ever so slightly.
The way he moved.
The way that lightning danced around his limbs.
The color of it.
Her heartbeat quickened.
She slowly stood, gripping one of her blades. "That can't be…" she muttered, disbelief mingling with fascination.
Back below, Jinn moved.
*BANG!
No longer shackled by pain, no longer slowed by injury—he blurred forward, faster than the eye could track.
His movement left a trail of red crackling lightning, scorching the stone beneath his feet.
In an instant, he appeared before the boy who had stabbed Ophelia.
The boy barely had time to gasp before Jinn descended upon him.
His sword, now glowing red-hot and fracturing under the pressure, was no longer a blade.
It was an extension of his will, of his unfiltered rage.
He swung—
*Slash!
not once,
*Slash!*Slash!
but many times—
*Slash!*Slash!*Slash!*Slash!*Slash!*Slash!*Slash!*Slash!*Slash!*Slash!*Slash!*Slash!*Slash!*Slash!*Slash!*Slash!*Slash!*Slash!*Slash!*Slash!*Slash!*Slash!*Slash!*Slash!*Slash!*Slash!
so fast and so violently that his strikes blurred into one.
He hacked, slashed, and tore.
His movements were savage, wild, without elegance or form.
But they were filled with unrelenting power.
.
.
.
And then… silence.
Wind swept through the area, catching up to the ferocity of Jinn's strikes.
The boy collapsed in pieces.
Not chunks—but pieces.
Blood sprayed in the air in a horrific mist, flesh and bone dropping like wet meat.
Jinn's sword gave its final groan, then shattered completely—
*tsss.....
its remains turning into glowing dust that floated into the wind.
And then he fell.
His body wobbled, knees buckling beneath the weight of everything he had unleashed.
Darkness filled the edges of his vision.
His strength was gone.
His fire extinguished.
"O-Ophelia…" he whispered weakly, collapsing toward her.
But she caught him.
She dropped her weapon and wrapped her arms around his body, pulling him into her chest.
Blood from her wound soaked into his clothes, mixing with his own.
"I-It's all right, Jinn…" she whispered, voice trembling.
"Just rest… You've done enough."
Her eyes were wide—staring at him as if seeing him for the first time.
She didn't understand what had happened.
But she knew that something within him had changed.
Something powerful.
Something terrifying.
"Hector! Everyone, over here now!" Ophelia shouted, snapping out of her trance.
At once, the others sprinted toward them.
Verhedyn, Hector, Kain, Vox—all of them came running, their expressions filled with concern and disbelief.
As they gathered around Jinn, the arena remained unnaturally silent.
Not a single soul dared to speak. Not even the announcer.
What they had just witnessed…
"What the fuck… was that…?" muttered one of the civilians in awe.
"He just… destroyed those kids…"
"That power… he's just a Rinari, right?"
"The nobles… they're gonna go crazy over him!"
In the noble stands, the air was different now.
No more casual mockery, no idle chatter.
Even Venedix's siblings had stood up, expressions twisted in awe and shock.
"Brother…" one sister said softly, her voice breathless,
"That technique—those lightning slashes…"
"I saw it," the brother replied, arms crossed.
"That was Sunder Surge."
Another noble gasped.
"That's Venedix's Eidra! There's no mistaking it!"
Before more could be said, one of the nobles pointed.
"LOOK!"
Their eyes shifted to the arena floor.
Venedix herself had vanished from her seat.
She was already down in the sands, walking calmly toward the fallen Jinn and his friends.
The crowds stared, their cheers replaced by low murmurs. Even the announcer dared not speak.
Her boots clicked with every step as she approached, her expression unreadable.
She looked down upon the bloodstained pair—Ophelia holding Jinn's limp body in her arms.
"What a familiar sight," Venedix said softly, almost to herself.
Ophelia blinked up at her, mouth slightly agape, unsure whether to speak.
From behind, Hector and Verhedyn skidded to a halt.
Hector's eyes widened when he saw Jinn.
"Ophelia! Is he—?"
"He's unconscious!" she barked. "But he's alive!"
"Where's the injury!?" Hector asked frantically, hands trembling as he looked over Jinn.
"His back!" Vox pointed urgently. "There's blood on his back!"
Venedix scoffed, her eyes narrowing. "It's nothing fatal," she muttered.
"His body will heal."
Then, with a flick of her wrist, she unsheathed a sword—
*sssht!
a beautiful one, the blade humming faintly with power—and threw it.
*Chuck!
The weapon pierced the stone ground beside Jinn's unconscious body with a deep thud.
"Give it to him," she said, her voice cold but commanding.
With that, she turned.
Her cloak billowed behind her as she walked away, her voice rising once more—loud, sharp, final.
"The first part of the ceremony is now concluded!" she declared.
"We continue… tomorrow."
The silence in the arena broke with whispers, soft voices wondering what this all meant.
But beneath the murmurs, one thought began to take root.
Something had changed.
That boy—Jinn—had shown something… more.
A relationship between him and Venedix, perhaps?
A connection no one expected?
And as word spread through that crowd like wildfire, one thing became clear:
The tale of a slave boy—a Rinari with crimson lightning in his veins—would soon echo across every corner of the Zerafhon Empire.
And his name…
Was Jinn.