by Will Wight
A massive scripted cauldron, big enough to cook an ox in, sat in the center of the display. It was filled to the brim with those black death-aura skulls, from as small as a fingernail to bigger than an actual human skull. Other, similar objects had been placed in the corners, or on shelves around the walls: a black vase that spilled ominous green aura, a sword with a blade stained in green-edged black, and a little statuette of a cat licking its own paw with eyes that blazed green-and-black.
The whole display radiated death. There was nothing that walled off this nook from the hall except a line of script around the inside of the entryway. If Lindon stepped across that line, he was certain the death aura would kill him instantly.
And there was another nook above that one. Two rows per wall.
Opposite the hall, on his left, was a similar display filled to bursting with the power of water. The center of that display was a fountain rather than a cauldron, and its shelves sported seashells, clear blue fruits, crystal-clear clouds that wept rain, bars of reflective blue steel, and swirling orbs like trapped whirlpools in every size from small enough to fit in his palm to bigger than his entire body.
He scanned down the hall. There were ten such displays in each row on either side, and both an upper row and a lower row. So forty natural treasure displays in this hall alone.
There were four hallways radiating out from the central atrium. And maybe more, further down; who was to say that this was the only crossroads in the entire vault?
“There has to be one of these filled with swords,” Yerin said, looking hungrily from one to the next.
[If you find one for dream aura, I promise I will stop altering your memories while you sleep,] Dross said.
Lindon missed a step.
[Kidding! Or am I? You won't know unless you bribe me.]
“There are sixteen for shadow aura,” Mercy said, hobbling down the hall on her staff. “As I'm sure you noticed, darkness is thicker than weeds out there.”
Even with the spire at the end of the hallway drawing off excess aura, there was still enough power here to overshadow the Night Wheel Valley many times over. Lindon felt like he was about to advance just thinking about it.
But he kept a close eye on Yerin.
“We can give you as much time as you need,” he said, but he was hoping that being here would somehow lead her thoughts in the right direction.
They reached the spire, which was ringed by a waist-high wall. She hopped up onto it, sitting high enough that she could look him in the eye. “No sense in that. You advance, then we stuff our pockets. I'll keep an open eye.”
“First, why don't you—”
“Listen,” she interrupted, “I'll be thinking 'till my skull pops while you do it. Maybe the feel of you advancing will set a spark to my torch and light my way forward. But whether it does or doesn't, we could use an Underlord right now.”
Lindon's conscience wasn't entirely at ease, but he already felt like he couldn't wait anymore. Without further argument, he sat on the ground, resting his back against the wall. Yerin's armored boots dangled next to him, and Mercy's staff ground into the stone on his other side. They would make sure he was undisturbed.
Facing back down the hallway, he tapped his void key and opened his storage. He felt ridiculous using his own natural treasures when he sat here in an endless treasure vault, but he didn't want to spend the time to select the perfect balance of aura. He decided to think of it as emptying his storage so he could fit more in later.
Lindon carefully withdrew the set of natural treasures that he carried for his advancement, placing them around him. Then he closed his eyes, letting his perception flow along the lines of aura, tracing the source.
It was many times easier here than it had ever been before. He felt connection to everything all of a sudden; from the stone beneath him to Yerin's beating heart. Her lifeline felt so thin that it pained him. It was a central pillar holding up a house, but it had chunks taken out of it like bites. How long would it hold up under the weight?
He refocused his mind, feeling his connection to the world around him. The soulfire echoed that connection, forming a bridge between his spirit and the aura.
I practice the sacred arts, Lindon began, so that I—
Yerin's spirit and Mercy's flared at the same time. The script around the entrance was disrupted for an instant.
Someone had entered the vault.
He snapped his eyes open, deactivating the void key so that he could see. He therefore had a clear view of the Underlords marching on him.
Kiro walked in the center, helmet on, his armor working smoothly around him. Unlike the crudely Forged madra he'd worn before, this was clearly Soulsmith work, and through each seam in the other layer of dark gray madra, Lindon caught a flash of bright silver or dull yellow beneath. Nothing of Kiro himself showed through. He carried the same sword with the bright blue spark curling around its edge, and the lion-faced shield.
The young man Lindon took to be his brother sauntered along with him on the left. He held two swords and no shield, and his armor was slightly thinner. He was also walking with his helmet dismissed, and by his expression was eager for violence.
Meira walked to Kiro's right. Unlike the last time Lindon had seen her, she wore armor as well. Her armor was sleek and smooth, seemingly made of plates of polished wood with green shining beneath. He could see no trace of her hair or the Goldsign running through it, only an ornate chestnut-colored helmet that shone from within with a verdant green light. He only recognized her by the scythe she carried propped up against her right shoulder, the blade a standing banner of life-fire.
Three enemy Underlords, and clearly they had come here for him. Behind them, a silver-and-purple owl fluttered within, perching on the edge of a nook on the upper row.
[Okay,] Dross said, [this could be good! It isn't the worst possible scenario. It is the...fifth worst.]
Lindon scooped up the natural treasures he’d prepared for advancement, hurriedly tossing them into his void key. It wasn’t the most dignified thing to be doing in front of the enemy, but he didn’t want to leave the wealth behind.
He rose to his feet, cycling pure madra and activating the communication construct in his left arm. He had removed it from his previous armor, but after re-examining the suit with Dross, they had found the space to return it. And they had decided to do so, in the case that Dross needed to preserve his energy.
And when he wanted to send a message to the Skysworn without broadcasting his thoughts to every mind within range.
“Three Seishen Underlords in the vault,” Lindon said quietly. “Require assistance.”
The butterfly-shaped construct hovering over his bracer flashed once, then vanished. If Eithan knew their situation, he would find a way to help.
“Come at me all at once,” the younger brother shouted, his swords flaring blue.
Yerin tilted her head. “Whose little brother are you?”
The youngest Underlord's face turned purple as he ground his teeth together. “Your Remnants should remember the name of the man who killed you! I am Seishen Daji!”
Mercy waved. “Hello, Daji! I'm Mercy!”
Dross, how fast can I advance? Lindon asked.
[There are records of Truegolds advancing to Underlord in one breath under ideal conditions, and these are ideal conditions. Except for the people waiting to kill you. But I wouldn't count on doing it that fast. Say...two minutes, to be safe? That's two minutes in which someone won't stab you to death, so probably not these two minutes.]
He didn’t have that long. Even if he ended up being one of the people who advanced in a breath, Kiro only needed one breath to spear him through the chest with a Striker technique.
Lindon cycled Blackflame. “Yerin, are you feeling enlightened yet?”
Her sword was in her hand, the power of her spirit scraping at the edges of her armor. Her six sword-arms bristled around her, gleaming silver. “Can't say that I am.”
&nbs
p; He turned blackened eyes from her to his enemies. “Then I don’t see a reason to leave,” he said. “Do you?
She drew aura around her sword as she passed it through the air. “I'm starting to like it here.” Her tone was deliberately casual, but he caught the strain. She was afraid.
[That would be the correct reaction,] Dross said.
Mercy's staff melted, the dragon's head sliding down to the center as it transformed into a bow. She pulled the string, manifesting an arrow. “Three of them, and three of us. Could be worse!”
Dross slid out of Lindon and held a tentacle over his mouth as he cleared his throat. [Ahem. AHEM.]
Mercy brightened further. “So we outnumber them!”
Meira's voice rang out through the hallway. “We expected you to use this time to surrender,” she said. A ball of green light appeared on her upturned palm. “I'm glad you didn’t.”
A line of life energy burned the air toward Yerin. At the same time, a crackling blue light streaked out from Kiro's sword, and a silver-gray bar of Daji's own madra.
No one was caught off guard.
Lindon's dragon's breath met Kiro's sword-blast, and the beams deflected one another. Blackflame left a line of red-hot stone in the floor, though it didn't melt anything—the Akura vault was not so easily broken. Kiro's blue madra traced a thin line on the ceiling.
At the same time, Mercy's black arrow met the line of force madra from Daji. The arrow was blasted aside. Yerin blocked his attack with one bladed arm, though it took a great effort of madra, but it didn't stop her from retaliating with a wave of sword-madra from her Rippling Sword technique.
Which left the green line of life madra blasting for her.
Lindon reached out his right hand.
He activated his hunger madra, swallowing as much of the green light as he could, but this was the attack of an Underlady. The light knocked his white hand back, splashing him with madra that attacked his lifeline.
It was like trying to chop down a tree with a paper axe. Before Lindon's lifeline, which had been reinforced by Ghostwater's Life Well, Meira's madra withered away.
He pulled the green madra from his arm into his body, but not into his core. The madra went wild, trying to harm him, but his Bloodforged Iron body was already feeding on it. The life madra attack dissipated, accomplishing nothing.
But he didn't have time to relax or retaliate, because after that volley of Striker techniques, the Underlords were upon them.
While Lindon was still recovering, Meira hacked at Yerin with her scythe. Yerin leaped backwards, and the Underlady narrowly missed cutting the spire at the center of the room. Lindon didn't know what would happen if she broke those scripts, but it wouldn't be anything good. Yerin fled down one hallway, with Meira chasing her.
Lindon tried to chase after, but Daji dashed for him, and he readied himself to meet the new Underlord’s attack. An instant later, he didn’t have to: Mercy’s Strings of Shadow technique snared Daji’s feet, tangling him up. He tore through her power easily, still set on Lindon.
Then a black arrow took him in the cheek.
He conjured his helmet, roaring at her, and finally changed his target.
Daji swiped at Mercy, but she turned her third page, radiating the power of a Truegold. In an instant, she was pulled away on Strings of Shadow. The young prince followed her down a different hallway, shouting.
Leaving Lindon standing and facing Kiro. If he turned his back on the prince, he would die.
Slowly, the Underlord raised his shield. “I expected you to run,” he said.
“You were wrong.”
Lindon was afraid for Mercy; she was completely outclassed in this contest, but she was an Akura inside her home. Killing her would mean swift and certain execution for the Seishen Underlords.
He was even more afraid for Yerin. If they had to fight Kiro and Meira again, Lindon had intended to be the one to fight Meira. But he had missed his opportunity to take that fight, so he had to turn his focus to the one ahead of him.
He had to end this quickly.
“Let Yerin advance,” Lindon said quietly. “Leave us alone, and I will swear an oath right now to turn down any nominations for the tournament.”
Kiro stopped his gradual advance. His shield lowered slightly.
“I beg you, please stand down. She is dying.”
The prince hesitated. Lindon thought he sensed uncertainty in the man's spirit, and for a moment Lindon hoped.
Then Kiro shook his helmeted head. “I can't. I bear greater responsibility than you can imagine.” He lifted his sword, his shield rising to match it. “And why should I make a deal with you? You're not even an Underlord.”
Lindon's Blackflame madra surged, and he reached into his void key.
“I don't care,” he said.
Then he pulled out a cannon.
Chapter 18
The Emperor’s ship fled through the darkness, flanked by enemies on all sides. Even Eithan’s sight was restricted by the shadow aura of the Night Wheel Valley, but he could still see Underlords dashing through the trees on either side, pitching Striker techniques at their hull.
Most of the Truegolds were either maintaining defensive scripts in the ship or using their own techniques to defend them. Cassias and Naru Jing were no exception, standing at the railing and taking shots at distant enemies.
They were only inches away from where Eithan stood, pouring his madra into the ship’s propulsion constructs, fueling their flight. Eithan reached one hand over to tap Naru Jing on the arm. “Would you hold on to your husband for a moment? The skies are about to get rough.”
She looked confused for a moment, but then her yellow Remnant eye flashed, and she threw her hands around Cassias’ shoulders.
“Your turn,” Eithan called, and behind him, the Emperor spread wide emerald wings.
“We know,” Naru Huan said. His spirit surged with power.
A different Overlord’s madra swept over them all, coalescing into a gray blade that hung over their cloudship. It plunged down, stabbing into the deck. Eithan was certain that the attack was intended not to kill, but to destroy their vehicle and scatter them, leaving them at the mercy of the Seishen Kingdom.
From his soulspace, Emperor Naru Huan pulled out his weapon.
It was a long, straight-bladed sword that looked as though it had been made from black glass rather than from metal. As his spirit flowed through it, waves of red began to shine like rising flames all over its dark surface.
Blackflame ignited on the Emperor’s blade. The madra trailed behind his swing as he swept his weapon at the sky, slashing at the sword descending upon them all.
Red-and-black fire drove up through the Seishen King’s technique, splitting it in half. The Blackflame madra tore it apart, reducing it instantly to a cloud of gray specks.
The clash of Overlord techniques shook the cloudship like an earthquake. The deck shuddered violently, sending sacred artists tumbling in every direction.
Naru Jing flapped her wings, hanging in the air, Cassias steady in her arms. Naru Saeya, the Emperor’s sister, used her Grasping Sky madra to seize half a dozen Truegolds before they were lost, pulling them back down to the ship.
Eithan was tossed in the air as well, which broke his contact with the propulsion constructs. A gray-bearded Truegold stumbled past him, destined to fall over the railing, but Eithan seized the back of the man’s robe. While still in the air, Eithan pulled the old man back, though that only accelerated Eithan’s trip over the side.
He silently thanked his Raindrop Iron body as he twisted in midair, grabbed the railing, and pulled himself back on one-handed.
Without the reaction speed his Iron body gave him, he’d have fallen to the forest below. Which would have been beyond embarrassing.
The Seishen King’s smaller cloudship had caught up to them, which had been inevitable as soon as Eithan had lost his grip on the propulsion. Enemy Underlords caught up to them, flying up from the forest to
land on their cloud base or cling to the sides of their hull.
It was a pity. The portal to the Blackflame Empire was just in front of them, a tall column of darkness leading into the night sky.
Now the King himself looked down from his tiny cloudship, a grin splitting his bearded face. He had a lion-headed shield in one hand and a sword in the other, and his armored form loomed over the Emperor.
“Rude of you, Naru Huan, trying to leave without greeting us.” He laughed heartily, though no one else did.
Green wings stirred the wind aura, and Naru Huan drifted up, trailing Blackflame madra from his weapon. “Would you attempt to stop us from returning to our Empire?”
King Dakata hefted his weapons. “I couldn’t waste this chance to give my Underlords some exercise. And it’s been a long time since I could stretch my own spirit. What do you say, Huan? Should we exchange techniques?”
By this time, Seishen Underlords had crawled up onto the ship from all sides. Some of them floated on Thousand-Mile Clouds, Remnants, or flight techniques. Others had pushed their way onto the deck.
Naru Saeya drifted over to Eithan, her sword of rainbow glass shimmering in one hand. She looked as grave as the situation deserved, but if he didn’t know better, he’d have said she was enjoying this.
She kept her voice low. “You think the Sage is watching us?”
There were two silver-and-purple owls observing them at that moment, and considering the restrictions Night Wheel Valley put on his bloodline powers, perhaps many more. “I have no doubt,” he said.
“Good,” she said. “This is my chance to give her a show.”
Overlord madra detonated above them, as the King and the Emperor clashed, and that was the signal. The fight began.
Saeya dashed out, wings shining and rainbow sword flashing. She zipped from one Underlord opponent to another, engaging them in the air. They struck at her with her own techniques, but she was already gone, moving to the next target. With her speed and senses, if she kept that up, she might be able to tie up five or six opponents.