Underlord (Cradle Book 6)

by Will Wight

  While musing, Eithan casually slapped aside a ball of wheeling golden energy that would have crashed into Cassias’ back.

  The Underlords on either side would avoid bloodshed as much as they could, but there were many Blackflame Truegolds onboard. Accidents happened, and Akura Charity would not hold a handful of deaths against anyone.

  So Eithan had to hold those accidents back, at least until the Sage herself intervened. And she would.

  After his students finished their business.

  ~~~

  As Fisher Gesha told it, she’d been working in her foundry some months ago, working on ways to get extra output out of Gold bindings. It was a known fact in Soulsmithing that some techniques would resonate with one another when activated together, producing a result greater than the sum of its parts. However, it was a rare enough phenomenon that it was difficult to count on.

  The Fisher had, on paper, worked out a plan for a launcher construct that relied on this effect. And not only one pair, but three pairs, all working together.

  It was only viable in theory. A fun but impractical thought experiment. Until Eithan had found it and helped her make it real.

  His bloodline legacy had been invaluable for tracking down the right Remnants, his connections had given her the materials, and weeks of experimentation had produced one workable prototype.

  Made of six Truegold bindings, linked together by a Fisher Soulsmith, washed in soulfire, and activated by a Highgold, it had scored a deadly hit on a Redmoon Hall Underlord.

  She had told him that she couldn't have been the first Soulsmith to think of such a method, but the practical considerations were too great. First, finding six bindings and linking them all with not just each other, but with the Soulsmith's madra and the user's...it was exponentially more difficult than creating a regular launcher construct. Second, the weapon was 'loud,' spiritually speaking. The enemy would sense it coming. Third, the six bindings put a heavy strain on the construct's physical form, so it could only be used a few times. Three shots, if you were lucky. One if you weren't.

  So three days ago, when Lindon had discovered what Dross could do for a Soulsmith, Gesha's resonance cannon was among the first projects he'd turned his mind to.

  He'd expected to fight Kiro again. And if he did, he wanted to have something to punch through that shield.

  The cannon he pulled from his void key was made entirely of Remnant parts. It looked like it had been created from slick bones of black light; it was too big to be used in one hand, and it had a rounded, organic appearance that came to sharp points. Its mouth was the snarling maw of a dragon's skull, and it was made of black madra with ripples of dark red.

  Blackflame dead matter. He'd raided the Skysworn foundry for a Blackflame Remnant; if it hadn't been for his status as a Truegold in the top one hundred, he would never have been allowed to take it.

  This was his solution to the second problem of Gesha's. It was easy to sense coming? Not if he kept it in a separate space.

  Now that he pulled it out, it practically screamed in his spiritual sense, and the aura around him screamed with it.

  It sounded like a dragon's roar.

  Seishen Kiro put up his shield, the lion facing Lindon, and flooded it with madra and soulfire. The shield expanded immediately into a solid gray dome that protected the Underlord.

  For a moment, the world was silent. Then devastation thundered from the cannon.

  There were six techniques bound up in Lindon's resonance cannon.

  Spear of the Golden Sun, from a Path of light and fire.

  Heart-seizing Claw, from a Path of blood and destruction.

  Phoenix Wing Burst, from a Path of force and fire.

  Song of Falling Ash, from a Path of destruction.

  Gravetouch, from a Path of death.

  And black dragon's breath, from the Path of Black Flame.

  All of those techniques were Striker techniques, all of them lethal, all compatible with one another, and all compatible with the Path of Black Flame.

  The combination of techniques was too bright to examine directly, though Dross had shown Lindon its effect in a dream simulation. It was a riot of colors, from ragged thorns of red to a rushing spray of fire, all synchronized to feed on one another.

  The madra closed the gap between Lindon and Kiro's shield in a blink of an eye. The floor, which had only heated from the passage of dragon's breath, exploded outward, sending chunks of rock flying to either side. If they breached containment on the wrong natural treasures, all of them would die, but it was too late for caution.

  The Striker technique struck Kiro's shield. The soulfire-infused Forged barrier burst like a soap bubble, exploding with enough force to send a roar echoing down the halls and hurl the Underlord backwards, but that was all Lindon saw.

  The cannon was under great strain. It could last for another shot or two before it was depleted of its essence and destroyed.

  Had Kiro's shield withstood the impact? Had Kiro himself?

  If he waited to see the effect, it would be too late. He couldn't let up. He had to assume the prince had survived.

  One of the other drawbacks of the weapon was that it took a moment to refresh itself, the bindings drawing new power from the stockpile inside the weapon. In another battle, perhaps he could wait the few seconds it would take.

  Lindon dropped his cannon and pulled out a second.

  Before the dust had cleared from his first shot, his second was already in the air.

  This one wasn't made from Blackflame dead matter—the materials he had used in the first were too rare and valuable to be used too frequently. This one was a sacred instrument, like Gesha's original prototype—it was a construct in a physical shell. Plates of goldsteel restrained the excess power of the bindings, and scripts focused them together. These techniques weren't as compatible or as destructive as the first set.

  He blasted Kiro anyway. The force lit up the hallway with another flash and a roar, tearing a groove in the floor.

  This time, he caught a glimpse of the Underlord again—the man's body was spinning through the air, his armor chipped and smoking. His shield was nowhere to be seen, but his sword was still in his hand.

  Lindon had already dropped the second cannon and picked up the first again. The hallway roared.

  Still, he couldn't let up. This battle couldn't take a second longer than necessary, or Yerin would pay for it.

  “Dross,” he said. “Battle plan.”

  Information requested: combat solution against Seishen Kiro.

  Beginning report…

  Not to criticize, because it’s nice to be needed, but are you sure you need a plan for this? Sorry, I'll focus.

  First, he's hurting, but he isn't dead.

  Lindon empties both cannons into Kiro's flying form, driving him back to slam into the wall over the open gate. His body falls from there, crumpled onto the floor, but he pushes himself shakily to his feet.

  That is some high-quality armor. Prime stuff. The Seishen Soulsmiths were not playing around with this, I can tell you that much.

  The outer plates of gray madra are cracked and split, smoke leaking from the armor, but the broken plates only reveal shifting parts of silver and gold beneath. Kiro activates his armor, and a network of bindings trigger all over the suit, linked by a method that Dross doesn't understand. Gold light shines from within the helmet and through each joint.

  You're looking at, oh...Enforced strength and speed, a Forged barrier inside the armor, and a Ruler attack that has its own guidance construct. It will aim straight at you.

  The chunks of stone, pieces of the floor broken by Lindon's cannon, are shaped by yellow earth aura into fist-sized balls. Yellow light flashes and they're hurled at Lindon, who dodges the first, deflects the second with his armor, and by the time the third arrives, Kiro is on top of him, sword in hand.

  Without the new armor, he'd be dead already. I give you fifty-fifty odds of surviving, and only a twenty percent c
hance of killing him.

  Wow. Looks like you really did need a plan.

  Wind bursts from Lindon's green armor as he activates the Skysworn's emergency wind barrier, knocking Kiro back a step and grabbing the enemy’s armor with his Remnant hand. The hunger binding devours the strength of the armor.

  It works: the Ruler binding stops shooting Lindon as it loses power, and just in time. Lindon's armor had been starting to crack. Kiro tries to fight back, but he can’t muster enough power in time. He falls to the ground, trapped in powerless metal.

  It doesn't work: Kiro takes a step back, and Lindon reaches out with his white arm, but the Underlord is too fast. He brings his sword up, and Lindon has to pull his arm back or lose it.

  Now Lindon is on the back foot, and Kiro has every advantage. The Ruler construct keeps pelting Lindon with projectiles, breaking his Skysworn armor piece by piece, as Kiro pushes him backwards.

  Eventually, Lindon runs out of tricks, and is pinned to the stone by the Underlord's sword.

  You'll have better odds if you fight to run away, but I know that’s not what you want. You want to win, I can tell.

  I’ve got a plan for you, but it’s not an easy one. You’re going to have to take some risks...

  ~~~

  Yerin used her Endless Sword like the wind, and an invisible blade struck Meira's scythe, knocking it back before it could slice into her.

  “You stabbed him,” Meira muttered as she leaped down the hall, swinging her weapon at Yerin. “You cut him. You hurt him. You made him bleed.” The green flame of her scythe passed without harm to the stone, but each swing was more pressure on Yerin, pushing her back down the hall.

  Meira’s body had been reforged in soulfire, but Yerin’s Steelborn Iron body gave her more than enough physical strength to match her. Unfortunately, physical strength wasn’t coming into play as much as Yerin wanted.

  That was her only edge. She couldn’t summon her Blood Shadow unless she had no other choice. It was too strong now; it could even speak. It was only holding back from draining her dry because it felt like it. What if it changed its mind? Would it hollow her out and wear her like a suit? Would it be her, walking up to Lindon while he had his guard down?

  No, the Blood Shadow wasn’t an option. She had to win this one herself.

  “I'll kill you,” Meira said, her voice suddenly pleasant.

  “You're cracked in the head,” Yerin said, whipping a Rippling Sword at her opponent. The silver slash flew through the air, and Meira avoided it effortlessly, but the point was to buy time. Yerin created a few more feet of distance between them.

  Meira's helmeted head twitched. She reached out one hand, gathering up a ball of green light, and then pointed to Yerin.

  A lance of life-madra blasted at Yerin, who managed to get the flat of her white blade up in time to catch the beam.

  “I'm not insane,” Meira said, suddenly calm. “I owe him a debt. He took me in, when his family didn't want him to. He trained me at his own expense. He has been with me every day since I was a girl. He will be a wise, selfless ruler, and I have sworn to protect him.”

  She drew back her scythe, the blade burning green. “And while he was under my protection, you stabbed him in the back.”

  Sweat rolled down Yerin's face. She had barely stopped that Striker technique, and her lifeline was shaky as it was. If she slipped and let one attack like that through, one more sweep of the scythe...that was it. Her Path was over.

  If Meira had followed up that attack instead of stopping to talk, she might have been dead already.

  Yerin shivered at the feeling of death passing so close, but her training took over as the Underlady dashed back at her.

  She activated the Endless Sword with all six of her Goldsigns, conjuring a storm of silver power. The vital aura was strong here, but not much of it was sword-aura...and even if it had been, the aura was too strong for Yerin's Gold spirit to control completely. So the Endless Sword was no stronger than usual.

  But she poured her madra into it and didn't bother with control.

  She rang like a bell as a thousand invisible blades chewed through the air around her. Her own green armor was chipped and gouged, and a handful of new paper-thin wounds appeared on her skin as the technique passed a little too close to her.

  Meira slammed into the Endless Sword head-on.

  Her armor screamed and sparks flew as the blades of aura tore long scratches in her brown plates. A chunk of her helmet was torn away, exposing green and silver Remnant parts beneath, and smaller pieces on her chest, shoulder, and limbs tore away as well.

  But Meira didn't defend herself.

  She pushed through, heedless of defense, scythe swinging for the kill.

  The blade of green flame closed in, with Yerin raising her master's sword to meet the weapon, but she could feel death breathing down the back of her neck.

  Silently, she apologized to Lindon. To Eithan, to Orthos. And even to Mercy. She knew the pain they would go through after her death.

  But she also felt a little relief. At least, by going first, she wouldn't have to feel the pain of losing them.

  Something in her soulfire stirred.

  Yerin’s sword reached the scythe, and the scythe reached her. She couldn't tell which would strike first.

  Then a red hand reached out of her chest.

  It grabbed the scythe, stopping it long enough for Yerin's blade to connect. The weapon was knocked aside, but Meira spun into a kick aimed at Yerin's back.

  The Blood Shadow rose completely.

  It was a more complete copy than when she had seen it last, so it must have made good use of that meal. It had her hair, but bright red, her skin except pink. The whites of the Shadow's eyes were almost really white, its irises fully detailed but red. Six blades gleamed metallic red on its back, and it even wore a sacred artist's robes. Crimson, of course.

  Its bladed Goldsigns caught the kick before the attack connected with Yerin, pushing it aside. Meira backed up a step, bringing her scythe around.

  From a sheath at its belt, the Blood Shadow drew a pink-bladed copy of her master's sword, pointing it at Meira.

  Horrified, Yerin tried to pull the Shadow back inside her, but it resisted easily. Yerin shook; how much control did she have over the spirit? How much control had she ever had?

  At least it was pointing its sword in the right direction, but how far could she trust that? How long would it protect her, and what might make it change its mind?

  For the moment, Yerin set her thoughts about the parasite aside. Something had shifted in her soulfire a moment ago. What was it?

  She was relieved to her bones that she hadn't been killed, of course, but for a second she had touched on a deeper fear even than that. She felt like, if she could only examine her thoughts for a moment, she could touch it again.

  An explosion echoed through the halls, along with a flash of light.

  Yerin felt it in her spirit: a detonation of many different techniques all at once, howling with power like a dragon Lord's roar. Even through the overwhelming aura in here, it was easy to sense.

  Meira spun around, ignoring Yerin, her head turning down the hall. Around the corner, they saw a billowing cloud of smoke and debris. And Lindon, standing there holding a launcher construct that blazed with spiritual power.

  The Underlady screamed in rage and panic, and green light flared from the gaps in her armor. She was Enforcing herself. She no longer cared about Yerin anymore; she was too focused on Kiro.

  Terrified of losing him.

  Yerin's thoughts snapped into place. She'd been on the right track before, but hadn't taken it far enough: she wasn't growing strong in order to protect the people she cared about. She pushed herself because she wanted to avoid the pain she'd felt so many times before. The pain of loss.

  I practice the sacred arts, she thought, because I don't want to hurt anymore.

  For an instant, the soulfire inside her thrummed, and she could feel the
aura around her vibrating in sympathy. Maybe it was because of the environment down here, but she could sense the unity of aura clearly, even without having intentionally extended her perception. It was all so clear that she wondered how she had ever missed it in the first place.

  Though her revelation was so embarrassing she wanted to die.

  Heaven’s truth, I wish it had been about protecting people.

  Meira hurled herself toward Lindon, leaving a streak of green behind her. First, she had tried to kill Yerin. Now, she was trying to take someone away.

  Yerin used the Endless Sword.

  At the same instant, so did Yerin’s Shadow.

  A storm of blades surrounded Meira, visible only by the sparks and pieces they kicked up from her armor. Now, through the gaps, Yerin could see sprays of blood shooting up.

  Meira tried to push through this one too, but the Blood Shadow's added assistance made it too much. She turned, her armor ragged, one eye visible through her broken helmet. There was a familiar fear in her eye.

  Yerin raised her sword.

  “Did I say you could leave?” the Truegold asked the Lady.

  With an ear-piercing shriek, Meira turned from Yerin and raced away once again, trying to escape.

  Yerin and her copy followed.

  ~~~

  People had always looked down on Seishen Daji.

  His father was so proud of Kiro because Kiro was born first. And was good with people. Well, Daji had made it to Underlord earlier than Kiro had. His swordsmanship tutors said he was savage, which he knew was a compliment. He'd used his sacred arts to beat a dozen other students at his own stage into the ground.

  Even the Sage was looking down on him, saying he wasn't ready to compete in her tournament. He'd been born to fight, everyone said it. He'd show the world. He hadn't been an Underlord for a week, but he knew he could go toe-to-toe with anyone of his generation.

  Meira...didn't count. Her Path wasn't meant for combat, and that she could fight anyway was because she'd been born a freak. She was so obsessed with his brother that it scared him a little. Only a little.