by Will Wight
But Charity was not shackled to that presentation. Though she wasn't in the same room as her grandmother, all of the private Monarch platforms had access to their own viewing constructs.
Charity reached out to a script-circle at the side, etched into a diamond tablet the size of her two hands put together. It was a treasure worth cities, but the Ninecloud Court had provided several to each Monarch.
With a flicker of spirit, Charity watched her niece and nephew. The tablet grew clear, and in its depths she could watch whichever trial she wished without alteration.
Mercy fired Forged arrow after arrow, and even though she didn’t have a bow, her Striker techniques were powerful enough to destroy or seal the enemy sacred artists in the back row. She wiped the most dangerous foes from the battlefield, and as soon as they regenerated from their constructs, a hail of shadowy arrows met them again. It wasn't long before the white army overwhelmed the black.
Mercy passed in six minutes, twenty-seven seconds. That put her in fourth place...for this first trial of the round. There were fourteen trials to go.
Not a bad start. The top sixty-four by the end of the round would pass; there was little chance that either of Malice’s children would come close to failing.
Pride fought alongside his soldiers, tearing a spear from his enemy and putting it through the head of another. When he'd torn a gap in the front line, he was released into the archers. A wolf among sheep. Each of his fists shattered stone, and his movements were a blur compared to the Forged soldiers.
The sacred artists had to band together to lock him in place, but that drew their attention away from the rest of the line, creating weaknesses. Soon after Mercy's, his soldiers mopped up the enemies.
Eight minutes, eight seconds. Twelfth place. A respectable beginning.
Then she turned her attention to the third member of her team.
At two minutes, Lindon had returned to his dome and pressed his hand against the ground. She could sense a little of the spirit involved, enough to know he was manipulating the madra of his hunger arm, but not specifically to see what he was doing with it. She thought he may have been drawing on the constructs for power until he vented the force madra into the air.
Another minute passed. Then he activated his pure madra Enforcer technique, madra rippling around him in a blue-white flame, and dashed into the soldiers.
His movements were quick and fluid, though not as quick or as coordinated as she knew he was capable of. That was good—he at least recognized the value of holding back.
When he finally broke through the third line of sacred artists, she expected him to attack the dome. So did the soldiers; three of the sacred artists in black used barrier techniques, surrounding their base in protection as archers fired on the intruder.
Lindon fell to his knees, sliding past the arrows, and dug his right hand into the ground. Hunger madra activated again.
He was attacking the constructs that produced more soldiers. Charity resisted the urge to put her head in her hands. He thought he was being clever, but it wasn't as though the soldiers would leave him unharmed.
As expected, they didn't. He had to break off his technique when a sacred artist swept a line of sword-madra at him, but he fell back down and continued draining the shield.
An archer fired an arrow at him, and he slipped under it, letting the projectile pass over his shoulder. Then he vented a bolt of stolen force madra into the chest of an approaching soldier, forcing him back.
And returned to devouring the construct.
Finally, as one of the destroyed archers rose from the stone behind him, he succeeded. The archer crumbled to dust half-formed, the construct creating it destroyed, and Lindon ran from his pursuers.
That was twelve minutes. Two minutes later, at fourteen minutes, forty-two seconds, his soldiers cleaned up the enemy.
Down in the arena, each of the shining lists displayed his current rank. Sixty-sixth. More than just speed was taken into account, and Lindon's victory had been messy. If he had cleanly destroyed the enemy base, he would have placed perhaps fiftieth.
Charity sat, tapping her fingers together, thinking. He had used only three techniques—his hunger arm, his dragon's breath, and the Soul Cloak. It would not be clear to many what exactly he'd done with his arm, and he had used neither of the other techniques to their full capacity.
He was keeping his weapons concealed. That could be an advantage. So far, he hadn't stood out; the display in the arena hadn't shown him once. Any opponent who did not do their thorough research would overlook him.
But if he wanted to win, he'd have to stand out eventually.
~~~
The second trial found Lindon in a much smaller room, about the size of the meeting rooms the Skysworn used back in Starsweep Tower. There was one table, two chairs on either side, and a metal box the size of his hand sitting on the surface.
“Open the Box,” the glowing golden letters said.
A man made of Forged gray madra sat in the seat opposite Lindon. He was much more detailed than the soldiers had been, with stone clothes and a fully developed face that registered boredom. He looked ordinary, like a shopkeeper tired of dealing with customers all day.
Once again, a scroll fell into Lindon's hand.
In the second trial, the box must be opened. As before, participants would be graded on both speed and skill. The man in the chair had the key to the box in his soulspace, and they could treat him as they would a living human being.
The box itself could be opened without the key, but only if the puzzle locking it was solved.
That was the end of the scroll.
Lindon put it down and looked to the man. “Apologies for my rudeness, but would you mind giving me the key to this box?”
The man snorted, looking away from Lindon.
[I wonder if you could bribe him,] Dross said, but Lindon had already picked up the box. There were sliding panels all over the box, and it looked as though if he slid them apart in the right sequence, the box would open. But every panel he moved affected all the others in an intricate, interlocking cascade.
Dross, make a model, Lindon said, holding up the box.
[Keep your perception on it, please. Hm, yes, yes, I see. Turn it slowly. Slower. Faster than that. All right. Slide some of the panels aside. Just play with it for a minute. Hm, interesting, interesting.]
What are you doing? Lindon finally asked.
[Oh, nothing, I was just thinking about what a nice vessel this would be for a memory construct. I've got the model.]
And the solution?
[I think so. Fiddle with it a little bit.]
“You'll never figure it out,” the statue of the man said with a sneer, “but I could take pity on you and give you a hint. What has three legs—”
The box snapped open.
~~~
Yerin landed in the next room. Words appeared in front of her, but she couldn't read them. She didn't waste her time glancing at the scroll.
“Rules?” she asked impatiently. When she hadn't read the text in the first trial, the voice from the Ninecloud court had explained things to her.
“Open the box,” the disembodied woman explained. “The man in the chair has the key in his soulspace, or you can solve the puzzle keeping the box shut. You will be graded on speed and skill, but you may use any methods you like.”
Instantly, Yerin drove her hand—surrounded by sword madra—at the man's Forged gray throat.
He slipped aside, as fast as she was, and his eyes shone with a bright platinum light. “Thief!” he roared. A pair of axes appeared in his hands, and he revealed his spirit: Underlord.
He swung his weapons at her, but that was his mistake. The sword-aura around them rang like a bell, and sparks flew as the Endless Sword blocked both blows. His weapons flew to either side, and Yerin drove her hand through his chest.
He broke apart immediately, but the key didn't just fall to the ground, as she had hoped. A fake Remnant
rose from his body, a towering shrimp-like creature with claws poised.
Yerin leaped into the air.
~~~
The instant the words “Open the Box” appeared, Sha Miara gave a delicate laugh. She placed her fingertips on the box, filling its every nook with her royal madra, the power that commanded all.
The puzzle solved itself.
As it popped open, she let a ripple of rainbow madra flow from her into the Forged man in the chair.
“Congratulate me,” she commanded, and he fell to press his forehead against the stone.
~~~
Sophara held the box in her hand, drowning it in Flowing Flame madra. Golden power surged around it, heating it, breaking it down.
“That box is protected by the power of an Overlord,” the man said, holding his chin in one hand.
The Underlady slipped some soulfire into her technique, pouring forth more madra. The box rose into the air at the center of a golden globe, blazing bright.
After less than a minute, molten metal poured out.
~~~
Eithan tapped the edge of the table with the scroll. “You look bored.”
“I have to look after you,” the construct-man answered, rolling his eyes.
“Ah, but that is your good fortune! For I am the most delightful conversationalist the world has ever seen.”
“...I'm not going to tell you how to open the box.”
Eithan folded his hands into his elaborately ornamented sleeves and leaned forward, smiling eagerly.
“I'm sure, I'm sure, but I need to wait a good minute or two before I leave. So tell me, as we pass the time, what's it like being you? Are you being controlled by an outside force, are you a copy of the one who created you, or do you only have your own rudimentary awareness?”
Chapter 11
Lindon passed the third and fourth trials without using any new techniques. He was afraid that he might be exposing a few too many of Dross’ capabilities, but who could tell what was going on inside Lindon’s head?
[Northstrider,] Dross answered, as the darkness faded away to reveal the fifth trial. [Northstrider could. He’s smart enough on his own, and who knows what version of me he’s cooked up since Ghostwater? Maybe he’ll pull me out of your brain without hurting you!]
Lindon resolved to use Dross as little as possible, but the fifth trial tested his determination immediately.
In a cramped room with a high ceiling, a nightmarish creature loomed over him. It was a giant shaped like a man, and its leathery gray skin bulged with muscle.
It hunched over him, dressed in ragged scraps of hide, its arms hanging so low that his knuckles scraped against the floor. It wore a hideous bone mask that grew over its face, a long red tongue lolling out of its mouth, and it carried a rough metal cleaver the size of Lindon's body.
At a glance, he suspected there was exactly enough room for the creature to swing the weapon.
Golden, fiery letters appeared in front of him: “Kill the Enemy.”
There was no scroll this time. Instead, a monstrous gray hand swept a jagged blade at him.
With a hasty Soul Cloak and the reaction speed that Dross provided, Lindon slipped aside...but the impact of the cleaver against the ground shook the room, ruining his footing.
Lindon dashed forward, pushing through the creature's powerful stench. Another palm rushed at him, and Lindon had no choice but to catch the attack in his own hands.
He caught the strike, but the giant's strength shoved his body backward against the ground.
[I bet you wish you had a weapon,] Dross observed.
Remind me to get one, Lindon responded, calling Blackflame into his palms. The giant roared and lashed backward, and Lindon conjured dragon's breath.
~~~
Charity watched Lindon on the display in the arena for the first time. He shoved the giant's hand aside, drilled a hole in its arm with black dragon's breath as it tried to swing the cleaver at him, and then burned through its skull.
A round of cheering sounded in the crowd—mostly from the Akura section—but nothing particularly enthusiastic. The view soon returned to more exciting fights. Many of the failures were more interesting than Lindon. Some of them got cut in half by the giant, only to re-form seconds later and start the fight from the beginning while still trembling in fear.
She watched the closest ranking board as Lindon's name moved up to thirty-first.
He began the sixth trial only a few minutes behind the top competitors.
~~~
In the eighth trial, Lindon had to run through a hazy yellow fog that burned his lungs with every breath. Biting snakes and stinging flies lunged at him from within the fog, and the entire place was filthy with venom aura.
He managed to dodge the snakes, but there was no avoiding the flies. They and the fog filled his veins with poison.
Which his Bloodforged Iron body broke down almost immediately.
Lindon jogged forward without obstruction. His madra had been restored at the end of each test, so he fueled his Iron body without worry.
[You're probably falling behind,] Dross said. [You don't want to be in first, but you don't want to be in last either. Why don't you make up some time here?]
After giving it some more thought, Lindon activated the Soul Cloak and ran all-out.
~~~
On the board, Lindon's name ticked up to twentieth.
~~~
“Stay on the Bridge,” the fiery letters told Lindon.
A bridge stretched out before him over an endless chasm. As he watched, it split into five bridges, each stretching in a different direction. The bridges began to undulate like swimming snakes, and then each bridge splintered into five more.
[Illusions, blech,] Dross said.
And Lindon saw one bridge stretching in front of him, perfectly straight. Ghostly illusions moved to either side, but they no longer fooled him.
Just like in the previous test, he ran steadily forward. The bridge was broken in places, but nothing he couldn't jump.
When he reached the end, he was a little disappointed. Is that all?
[Stay on your guard,] Dross said grimly. [Next is test number ten. The fifth trial was a mandatory fight, so if I'm right...]
The world darkened and brightened again, revealing a wide arena-like room filled with blowing wild grass. Another creature waited for him, a bone mask growing from its face, but its resemblance to the fifth-trial guardian ended there.
It was small, flat, and hunched, with grass growing from its back like fur. It clutched a staff topped with a human skull, and pale light pouring upward from the skull's eye sockets. The monster’s forked black tongue flickered out of its mask, tasting the air.
“Kill the Enemy.”
As soon as the letters faded, the creature raised its staff...and split into three. Its duplicates raised their staves, and all three faded away until they were halfway transparent. They ran around him, trailing green fog that drifted closer to him.
[Uh, they were supposed to turn invisible there. Pretend you can't see them.]
It was painfully obvious which of the three was real. The others looked like flat drawings, and he was the only one with depth. The two illusions ran around, rustling grass and pretending to release clouds of green fog, while the real one actually generated poisonous gas and crouched, motionless and supposedly invisible, amidst the grass.
Poison and illusions.
At the center of the poison gas, Lindon sighed. Then he speared the creature through the mask with a lance of dragon's breath.
Dross coughed. [Well, that one was free.]
~~~
Charity watched Lindon finish the tenth test in eighteen seconds.
He was first in the trial by a wide margin. This enemy toyed with the competitors using venom and dreams, immobilizing and entrancing them into wasting time. Even Sopharanatoth, first place overall, was trapped for six minutes in the fight before she managed to shake loose.
Lindon's place flipped up to tenth.
Now he had finally gathered attention. Behind Charity, some of the other members of her family highly ranked enough to join her on the Monarch’s platform began to mutter, and she caught Lindon's name from more than one voice.
The Ninecloud Soul brought up Lindon's image five times. She had even speculated for the entire arena to hear about how Lindon had done so well in trial ten; did he have eyes that could pierce illusions? A spiritual sense developed far beyond his peers? Perhaps he had brought a Divine Treasure that could reveal the truth to him?
That was the closest to the truth, Charity knew. His mind-spirit must have held off the illusion for long enough that Lindon could destroy the real body.
Anyone with enough knowledge could make a similar guess, so that made four things he had now revealed. His Soul Cloak, his dragon's breath, his hunger binding, and his mind-spirit.
In her estimation, her niece and nephew were performing much better.
Mercy mixed her techniques together into her arrows, so they were hard to analyze, and had yet to reveal her Dream of Darkness technique or her bloodline armor. The Akura armor was common knowledge, but her command of it would not be. Their enemies would have to test her limits for themselves. The only ability Mercy had fully revealed was her proficiency with Striker techniques, which couldn't be helped.
Currently, she was placed seventh. Very respectable; her mother was likely proud. Malice was watching now, Charity knew; the Monarch had slipped in just as Northstrider arrived and now observed from the top of her floating mountain, though Charity had not been invited to join her.
Pride had used part of his armor but had revealed only two of his four Enforcer techniques. As a result, he’d taken a little too long and fallen to twenty-second place, but someone who specialized only in Enforcer techniques would have problems with such flexible scenarios as these. He would redeem himself in the duels.