At the peak of a towering mountain, where sharp rocks seemed carved by the harsh fingers of time and wind, a small caravan struggled to ascend. Their faces were colored, horns protruding from their foreheads, and their breaths quickened from the sheer incline and deep-seated fear.
When they finally reached the summit, they found themselves before a massive stone gate guarded by a large number of Jinn like themselves—but these wore the armor of servitude to the masters. An old man from the caravan stepped forward, his back bowed and his horns dipping in submission.
"T-this is this month’s provision, sirs," he said, his voice trembling with humiliation. "Please tell the High Lord Ross and the High Lord Naymor that we have fulfilled our covenant... there is no need for them to trouble themselves by descending to us."
The Jinn guard burst into a rough laugh, kicking dust toward the old man. "Get out of my sight, you wretch, before I change my mind and crush your horns and bones instead of taking your food! Move! Out!"
The caravan hurried back, shame weighing their steps more than their loads. On the way back, a young Jinn youth who had accompanied the caravan for the first time could no longer suppress his rage. "Why?! Why do we give them our food? This humiliation... it makes my blood boil!"
The old man sighed, looking at the boy with withered eyes. "My son... this is the only way our race stays alive in this valley. If we stopped for one day..." He shuddered. "They would destroy our city to the last brick. And worse... the High Jinn, Ross and Naymor, might descend from the mountain themselves."
The old man paused as if recalling a terrifying memory. "When that happens... say goodbye to everyone you love. I remember in my youth, I saw them bring down an entire kingdom by themselves, without an army, as if they were playing. For those of 'Pure Blood,' wiping out our region is nothing but a passing amusement."
The boy struck his thigh in frustration. "Damn it! Why does the world give power to such cursed people?!"
The old man shook his head in sorrow. "No, boy... you are wrong. The world gave them nothing but 'purity of blood.' What they are today... is but a mercy from the world upon us. Their pride has trapped them on this mountain. If they ever descended, there would be no place left for the weak like us."
In the heart of the mountain, inside a massive stone hall smelling of heavy incense, Ross and Naymor sat on their elevated thrones, shouting orders at the trembling guards below.
Ross sat like a mountain of muscle and rage. He was terrifyingly massive, wearing black armor decorated with gold that highlighted his broad chest. His features were sharp, adorned with a savage smile revealing white fangs, and his eyes gleamed with a blood-red glow. His two large black horns rose from his head like a crown from hell, and his shaggy white hair hung wildly around his face.
Beside him sat Naymor in a more relaxed, cold posture. He wore an elegant dark outfit leaning toward deep crimson, his long black hair cascading over his shoulders. His features were deceptively handsome and calm; his single visible red eye (the other covered by his hair) looked on with boredom. He raised a gloved hand slowly, gesturing to the guards as if commanding insects, surrounded by a faint red aura resembling mist or evaporated blood.
"Where is the wine?!" Ross roared, shaking the hall. "Must I rip your heads off to make you move faster?!"
Naymor whispered in a voice smooth as poison, inspecting his nails with indifference, "Bring the finest you have... or your blood will be my next drink."
Ross exhaled in annoyance, his voice echoing like muffled thunder. "Where is that bastard Ceres?! He was supposed to be here an hour ago!"
Naymor didn't even look up. "Calm down, my bulky friend... you know the rules. If hitting him wouldn't summon Ashura and bring hell upon us, I would have plucked his head from his body long ago to teach him respect for appointments."
Down the mountain path, the caravan was descending quickly. The young boy kicked a stone in spite. Suddenly, he glimpsed a shadow passing them in the opposite direction. It was a stranger, wrapped in a tattered cloak that hid his features, ascending the mountain with steady, calm steps against the flow of the fearful.
The old man called out a warning, "Boy! You there! I don't advise going up... death awaits you at the top!"
The stranger ignored him completely. However, as the wind blew, the cloak shifted slightly, revealing his skin. The old man’s eyes widened in shock. It wasn't the colored skin of the "Common Jinn," but a clear, different complexion. "Is he a noble of Pure Blood... or is he human?!"
Before the old man could process the thought, his eyes fell on something hanging from the stranger's waist, thumping against his thigh with every step. The old man looked closer... and gasped as if his heart had stopped. It wasn't a bag or a weapon... it was a severed head. The face frozen in an eternal scream was one he had seen on statues and banners many times: it was the head of Ceres, one of the Seven High Jinn.
The old man's knees shook. "Ozmek is dead... Gaultet is dead... Cassid as well... and now Ceres? My God... there are only three of the High Ones left!" He grabbed the boy's hand. "Let’s get out of here quickly! Hell is coming to this mountain!"
The stranger stepped toward the massive fortress gate. A guard blocked his path, leveling a spear. "You, boy! Get out of our sight before we send you to hell!"
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
The boy didn't stop. The air around him suddenly intensified into violent currents. He whispered, "You get out of mine."
In an instant, the currents formed a concentrated, powerful vortex that struck the guards all at once, tossing them like broken dolls from the mountain peak into the abyss.
Ross felt the vibration from outside and growled, "Is that bastard Ceres here to show off? He's late, and then has the nerve to cause a commotion at my door? I’ll crush him myself!"
Ross rose from his throne with murderous intent, but the massive doors burst open as if driven by a gale. From the dust emerged a stranger—not Ceres. Naymor narrowed his red eye. "Who are you, you wretch? And where is Ceres?"
The stranger didn't speak. He untied the rope from his waist and threw the severed head; it rolled across the floor and stopped at their feet. The stranger said mockingly, "He missed you both dearly."
Ross’s red aura exploded. "You bastard!! I’ll tear you apart!!"
Naymor raised a hand to stop him. "Wait, Ross... let us see who dares challenge us. Identify yourself."
The stranger slowly removed his hood, revealing his young features and his mismatched eyes—one purple, the other white. A defiant smile played on his lips. "I am known as Argus."
"Human?!!" Ross roared. "A cursed human dares to do this?!"
Ross didn't wait. His red aura turned the air into suffocating heat. He struck the stone floor with his armored fist. "Vibrational Collapse!"
The stone floor split, and a devastating crack launched at the speed of sound toward Argus. But Argus didn't flinch. His purple eye glowed. "Heavy," he whispered.
The moment the crack was about to reach him, Argus focused a Gravity Field on the flying rocks, making them drop instantly to form a defensive wall that blocked the shockwave. From the dust, Argus launched like an arrow, carried by wind currents, appearing above Ross’s head.
"You are too slow, big guy," Argus said coldly, forming a massive blade of compressed wind and bringing it down toward Ross’s neck.
Before he could touch him, Argus felt an unseen force clamp onto his chest. He stopped in mid-air as if held by an invisible hand. Naymor, still seated, smiled maliciously, raising a single finger. "Rude... Pressure Prison."
The atmospheric pressure around Argus multiplied a hundredfold in a second, crushing him into the floor and creating a crater. Ross laughed savagely, jumping into the air to deliver a double-hammer strike weighing tons.
At the final second, Argus smiled bloodily. his white eye glowed. "Weightlessness!"
The weight vanished, and Argus flew aside with supernatural speed. Ross’s fists struck the empty ground, causing an explosion that shook the entire fortress. Argus stood at a distance, wiping blood from his nose. "Is that all you have? Or did I overestimate the 'High Jinn'?"
Naymor’s stared with wide eyes, his mind struggling to comprehend what had just transpired. For a fleeting moment, his cold composure shattered, and he whispered in a faint voice laced with utter shock and denial, "Did that bastard truly merge with the elements? Gravity and wind simultaneously? This is impossible... a human body cannot contain such a contradiction without tearing apart!"
Argus laughed. "Impossible? Save your shock, I have something much stronger! I will kill you and rip out your souls as atonement for the torment you've caused humanity!"
Ross mocked him, "Oh... so your engine is revenge? How tragic!" His tone turned savage. "Tell me, little one... which of your loved ones died to make you this angry? Did we crush your family? Or slaughter your little friends? Or did we... annihilate them all?"
Argus didn't answer. The wind currents around his right fist thickened until they turned dark purple from the sheer pressure of gravity. In a blink, Argus vanished, leaving a sonic boom, and appeared directly before Ross’s face. "You talk too much..." Argus muttered calmly, and unleashed his fist
Ross tried to block, but it was too late. Argus’s punch was a miniature black hole wrapped in a hurricane. "Crush!"
The punch pierced Ross’s defenses and shattered his chest plate like paper, sending him flying backward with such force his eyes rolled back in pain. Naymor intervened, waving his fan to release crushing air pressure on Argus. "Get away from him, you insect!"
Argus didn't retreat. He raised his left hand toward Naymor without looking. "Negative Gravity!"
Naymor’s power vanished, and the pressure recoiled on him, making him stumble. Argus used the opening to deliver a second strike to Ross, even more powerful than the first, reinforced by a concentrated air explosion in the center of his chest. Ross’s massive body flew through the hall, smashing through stone pillars until he became a distant speck.
"Ross!!" Naymor shrieked, losing his cool. He rushed to his partner, catching Ross before he hit the final wall.
It was a strange sight; the arrogant Naymor holding Ross’s bloody head, his eyes overflowing with genuine concern and a terror he had never felt. "Ross... you stubborn fool... are you breathing?"
Argus hovered above them, a cold smile on his face. He closed his eyes for a second, seeing the image of his mentor, Lux. He remembered the harsh training to merge contradictions: stillness and movement, white and black.
Argus opened his eyes and slowly brought his hands together. "Storm Cage."
The air screamed as it compressed into a single point between his palms. A bright, pure white sphere formed, its surface smooth as a full moon. But inside that calm white shell was a raging purple hurricane spinning madly, striking the walls of the sphere with chaotic violence.
"Vanish," Argus said.
He launched the white sphere. It traveled with deceptive calm at first, but the purple hurricane within grew more frantic with every meter. Naymor saw death coming. He gripped the unconscious Ross’s shoulder. At first glance, it looked like he was trying to protect his friend with his own body in a final moment of despair.
The sphere struck. The white shell shattered, and the trapped purple hurricane unleashed all at once, creating a chaotic explosion that swallowed half the fortress. When the dust cleared, a giant crater remained. Argus descended slowly, confident in the result.
But in the center of the crater, Naymor was still standing, staggering. His clothes were torn, his body bleeding, but he was alive. As for Ross... nothing remained but charred and torn remains beneath Naymor's feet. Ross's massive body had taken the brunt of the strike and died completely.
Naymor looked at Argus, a wicked and terrifying smile on his blood-stained face. He sank his sharp nails into Ross’s mangled body. He coughed blood, then whispered with cunning, "You fool... did you think I was protecting him?"
Naymor looked at the remains of Ross with cold contempt. "He was an excellent shield to absorb your hurricane... but more importantly..."
Naymor raised his hand, thick with his partner's blood, and began to mutter in an ancient, forbidden language. The blood began to glow with an ominous dark red. "The blood of a High Jinn has been shed... a High Jinn has caused the wound of another... the condition is complete, and the gate is open."
Argus’s eyes widened in shock. Naymor hadn't tried to save Ross; he used his death as a sacrifice.
Naymor burst into hysterical laughter as the air began to crack. "I have summoned him! The Lord of Destruction... ASHURA IS COMING!!"