CHAPTER 176: CHAPTER 176 | DROPLET

Jinn and Akavi climbed the small polished steps of the Royal Palace, each step echoing lightly beneath their feet as the night air slowly faded behind them.

When they finally reached the tall entrance doors that led into the main hall, Jinn narrowed his eye in preparation, something he didn’t imagine doing aside from battle.

Two soldiers stood guard at the doorway—the very same guards who earlier barred Jinn from entering because the herald had not spoken his name. Now, however, the moment they saw Akavi approached, her chin raised and her expression sharp...

They stiffened almost quickly in recognition.

Who wouldn’t?

A princess is before them.

Neither dared to speak. They simply bowed their heads and moved at once as they pushed the heavy doors open.

*creaaaaaaak!

The door groaned loudly, releasing a slow creak as the smell of high nobility rushed out like a thick wave that Jinn instantly recognized.

The moment the scenery unfolded before him, it hit him immediately.

Dozens of unfamiliar scents surged toward him, strong perfumes mixed with polished metals... sweet wines... and something almost too clean to be natural.

His lone eye flicked around the massive hall, subtly widening at the expanse before him.

Multiple figures extended down the entire length of the polished hall, nobles standing in small groups... like clusters of brightly colored birds.

Some wore layered, ornate outfits covered in gemstones and fine materials, clearly the type of highborns who had never once seen a battlefield—their perfumes and fan-covered laughs reached Jinn even at a distance.

Meanwhile, others wore armor polished aggressively that the lighting within the hallway bounced off their highly advanced plates. Those ones carried themselves with a stiff pride, their chest puffed out as if the insignias of their houses alone made them stronger than everyone else.

A very familiar sight to Jinn, soldiers and warriors of the battlefield.

Jinn winced subtly, his eye twitched as the overwhelming stench of intoxicating nobility washed over his eyes. He could see their fake smiles, stretched across their faces as they discussed amongst other nobles, their voices unusually high... voices, exaggerated tones they clearly use when pretending.

Even their laughter sounded... decorative, almost hollow.

The expensive perfumes clung to the air in layers so thick he felt like he was inhaling nothing but chemical sweetness.

Smoke, blood, stench and sweat—those

were the scents he had gotten used to...

but this?

This is an entirely different dimension for him.

It was strange, almost uncomfortable, and for a brief second he wondered how anyone could stand being in such a place like this for more than a few minutes without losing their mind.

Now that you think of it...

It was only then, as he stood beside Akavi, that realizing something.

He had never truly attended a gathering like this—at least not one with many nobles crowded in one place.

His years in Zerafhon had been spent almost entirely in quiet isolation.

Most days he trained with the harsh yards of House Sorellia under the cruel training of Venedix herself.

If he wasn’t being pushed to the brink of death there, then he would be inside the tower of Nythrael, buried in lessons and lectures under Troy’s intense and almost strict guidance.

There was simply no time, nor any reason, to attend noble balls, highborn celebrations and the such.

And even after all that, most of his later years were spent knee-deep in mud and blood on the battlefield, living under the command of General Gaius.

Out there, far away from shining chandeliers and overly sweet—almost disgustingly intoxicating—pefumes...

Everything made sense to him.

Orders were clear. Strength mattered. Loyalty mattered.

Nobility and rank mattered—yes—but only when it was useful.

Here, however, everything looked twisted, decorated too much, polished too much, and filled with people who could perhaps smile at you while secretly waiting for you to die.

"THE SCION, JINN! AND PRINCESS AKAVI!"

The words echoed around the hall like a sudden call to attention.

"The scion...?"

"That must be Venedix’s apprentice"

"With Princess Akavi?"

"The slave..."

The announcement wasn’t only an introduction. It was a signal—telling Jinn that this was his first step into a battlefield without swords, where every smile hid a play, and every handshake hid a test.

He was like a single droplet, dropping into a sea filled with invisible blades floating just beneath the surface.

Jinn’s brow lowered as he and Akavi walked down the long flight of stairs together, each step slow yet steady.

Hundreds of eyes snapped toward them, heads turning sharply with curiosity—a curiosity sharpened even more because of how late Jinn’s name had been announced.

It was unusual, almost disrespectful, and everyone in the hall clearly understood that.

*clap! *clap! *clap! *clap!

Some of the nobles began to clap, mostly those who wore armor, the soldier-nobles who marched under General Gaius during past campaigns.

"Hail the scion!"

"A true warrior!"

"Hail, apprentice of the blademaster"

The applause of the soldier-nobles felt genuine, carrying a warmth Jinn understood well...

Respect earned in blood and battle.

But many others didn’t clap at all.

Nobles dressed in shimmering embroidered clothing simply stared at him, their eyes narrowing with something that felt like greed... or disgust... or perhaps fear.

"So that’s the slave?"

"The apprentice of Venedix is a Rinarian...!?"

"Ugh, blue eyes..."

"Interesting..."

They continued to whisper behind their fans, their perfume-coated breaths hiding judgment.

Their reasons?

Jinn could guess.

Discrimination?

Probably, he was a slave before a soldier after all.

Or was it greed?

A new piece had entered the twisted chessboard of politics—an unknown weapon that some wanted to control and others wanted to erase.

Whatever their reasons were, Jinn understood clearly that he had stepped into an entirely different domain within Zerafhon.

A domain that was the complete opposite of war.

Out there, he killed his enemies. In here, the killing was slower, hidden behind polite laughter and poisoned smiles.

And in that very moment, he finally understood the value of Troy’s endless teachings.

Every lesson, every warning, every story Troy shared was meant for moments like these—moments where a single misstep could tear a man apart, without shedding a drop of blood.

Whether Jinn would fall prey to the jaws of these noble sharks or rise above them would depend entirely on him.

But even so, Jinn’s mind was steady, and his blade—both literal and metaphorical—was as sharp as ever.

He took one more step forward, ready to face this unfamiliar battlefield.