Underlord (Cradle Book 6)

by Will Wight

  The oath loosened around her, pressure on her madra channels relaxing slightly. She had every intention of fulfilling her promise, which satisfied their soul oath. Though she did feel a pang of grief for opportunities lost.

  She had wanted a little more time.

  “Then in return, I lift the seal on the Book of Eternal Night. Let your power be returned to you.”

  The first page flipped to the second, and Mercy felt her mastery of the Shadow’s Edge returned to her in full. Then the third page, and the Nightworm Venom flooded back.

  Her spirit surged from Highgold all the way to the peak of Truegold on the edge of advancing. Where it belonged. Soulfire rushed from the book back into her spirit.

  Mercy looked up expectantly. She was looking forward to what happened next.

  A smile touched the edge of Malice’s lips, and she waved her hand again. “And also, I return to you the full measure of your physical talents.”

  It was like her skin had been a poorly fitted suit, and now—with a shudder that passed through her bones—it had been tailored for her. She took a deep breath, stretching one arm, then another. She wiggled her fingers.

  Her eyes grew hot with tears. It had been too long since her body had been hers again. To prove she could, she sprang into a backflip, spinning her staff all the way around her body as she did so. She landed in a handstand on the top of her staff.

  Then she released one hand, holding it out to the side as she balanced on the other. There was nothing holding her up but the staff, and it didn’t even tremble.

  Effortless.

  Mercy dropped, spinning Suu into the air and catching it. She didn’t stumble. Didn’t fall.

  “That was the worst part,” she admitted.

  “To strip away what the family gave you, I had to include your Puppeteer’s Iron body and the results of your training. Even with your spirit restricted, you would have had it too easy.”

  Malice rarely explained herself, but she looked as though she was relishing her daughter’s joy. That warmed Mercy’s heart, and she squeezed Malice’s fingers in return.

  “The others curry favor with me because they can strive for nothing more,” Malice said. “You should be different. Ascending to the Lord realm means accepting who you are, not who you will be.”

  “That’s what Aunt Charity said.”

  “And who do you think taught her?”

  Mercy smiled up at her mother, but Malice’s face was no longer pleasant. She was looking over Mercy’s shoulder, into the darkness.

  “As per our arrangement, I expect you to advance immediately. I need you as an Underlady, not a Gold. Once you have, report directly to Charity for transport. You may not return to the Blackflame Empire.”

  “Yes, mother,” Mercy whispered. Then she realized what Malice had said, and she looked up in confusion.

  “You will lead our team in the Uncrowned King tournament. Fury and Pride will be informed. I expect you to represent us in the individual matches, so your instruction will resume at an increased pace. You have missed a year of training, and I need you in shape.”

  “Did you say…are you not taking me now? Are you leaving me here?”

  The shining purple eyes of the ancient Monarch met hers. “Do you not have unfinished business here?”

  This was Mercy’s chance. She released her mother’s hand, bowing low. “I beg you, as a personal request from me, to save my friends.” Damage to Yerin’s lifeline was a minor inconvenience to a Monarch, and she could send their enemies back to the Seishen Kingdom with a thought. Or evaporate them. “For me, will you intervene on their behalf?”

  “I don’t need to intervene,” the Monarch said. “You will.”

  ~~~

  Kiro's armor was falling apart, he'd used far more madra than he could believe, he'd lost his shield, and his arm was trembling so badly that he felt like he was about to lose his sword. His body ached all over, and his left arm was numb.

  If he let Lindon keep shooting him, he was going to die.

  He burned everything he could of the armor's power, and it shone at the edges, flooding him with strength. It wouldn't last long, especially not with so much damage, but it would make him far faster than his own Enforcer technique.

  Before Lindon could activate his launcher construct again, Kiro was on him.

  He slashed at Lindon, who reached into his void key once again. The Blackflame pulled out his axe, its haft a long bone, its sharp edge gleaming red.

  Kiro's sword was turned, but he struck with enough power to force Lindon backwards. He couldn't let up; again and again he struck, and again and again Lindon was overpowered. The Truegold’s white arm began to crack, spraying madra into the air like blood, and Lindon flinched with visible pain.

  But Kiro couldn't get that final hit. He was faster and stronger, but Lindon kept slipping by.

  The Titan's Blade technique expanded the size of his sword tenfold, and he slammed it down on Lindon like a hammer of judgment.

  Lindon stepped aside as though they were dancing and he knew all the steps. A fiery black-and-red haze sprang up around him, his eyes glowing, and Kiro braced himself to receive an attack.

  Then the Truegold turned and ran.

  His Enforcer technique gave him explosive strength, and he dashed around the central spire. On instinct, Kiro chased after him. His mind only engaged afterwards. Had Lindon run out of madra? Was he weaker than Kiro had expected?

  Kiro launched a bright blue lance at Lindon's back, but once again, Lindon slipped aside like he had eyes in the back of his head. Maybe Lindon practiced a core cycling technique that improved his spiritual sense; it would explain how he always escaped with his life.

  Rounding the spire, Kiro caught a glimpse down the halls at the two other battles. Meira was engaging the sword girl and her Blood Shadow. The Truegold had lasted longer than he'd thought; he would have expected her to be dead by now. It looked like Meira was struggling to escape, but there was no way that could be true.

  She would be fighting to save him.

  Well, there was no need to worry about her. Daji looked like he had his fight in hand; some Forged strings of black madra hung from the ceiling, and he was holding a bloodstained sword in each hand.

  Kiro could only pray to the heavens that his brother hadn't killed the Akura girl. He should never have left her to him…but then again, he couldn’t have left his little brother to face that Blackflame cannon either.

  Then he turned the corner, chasing Lindon, and lost sight of Daji. Meira was fighting in the hallway opposite him, but he focused on his prey.

  Lindon had come to a stop in the middle of the hall, tossing his axe back into his void key. The closet-sized entrance zipped shut, leaving him holding nothing. He stood, quietly watching Kiro.

  The lights went out and flickered back on in an instant, flooding Kiro with panic, but when the shadows faded, Lindon looked as confused as he was. He hadn't followed up on Kiro's instant of distraction.

  So Kiro would be the first to move.

  His sword swelled with the Titan's Blade, and Kiro thrust forward, the power of his armor fueling the attack. It was so fast that it astonished even Kiro, almost instant. There would be no dodging this.

  Lindon caught it in the palm of his white hand.

  The Remnant limb fractured again, barely holding together, and Lindon shouted in pain. A binding triggered deep inside, and Kiro felt his Titan’s Blade destabilize, the technique fading. He pulled his sword back, its length ordinary again.

  The Truegold stood in front of a natural treasure display, panting and cradling his broken prosthetic arm. It was difficult to look past him; the light from the display shifted and danced, and it was hard to make out exactly what was in there. At first, it looked as though the nook was filled with living creatures scuttling and squirming, but then Kiro would have sworn it was filled with paintings. Actual paintings, framed in canvas or spread out on huge wall scrolls, decorated every surface. But no, may
be they were statues...

  He blinked to clear his eyes. Those would be the dream treasures. Or maybe light and dream, with some illusionary aspect.

  Lindon didn’t miss that moment. He dashed forward, slipping behind Kiro while he was distracted. Kiro spun into a slash, using the Titan’s Blade again.

  The Forged blade slammed into Lindon’s forearms, which were held up to shield him. The Truegold cried out, armor cracking, and his white arm hanging from the elbow by only a thread. But he wasn't pushed aside. He fell to his knees, then sprang up, slamming his shoulder into Kiro's breastplate.

  Kiro was pushed back a step or two. The dream aura whispered behind him, dangerously close.

  From down the hall, Meira screamed his name.

  She always worried about him, but this time, her concern was wasted. Lindon had accomplished nothing with that attack. He was off-balance, too slow, and his Remnant arm was falling off.

  Kiro had him.

  His enlarged sword swept through Lindon's neck in a flash. He felt no resistance, and for an instant, he was sure he had decapitated the man so smoothly that he'd felt nothing.

  But then his senses caught up, and he realized Lindon had, once again, ducked out of the way.

  Something shoved him from below, a burst of wind, and he staggered back. Only a step or two.

  He crossed over into the dream display, and his senses were overwhelmed.

  ~~~

  Darkness flickered before Daji's eyes and was gone.

  He looked around, wary, but he didn't sense anything to worry about. It was like he'd blinked one extra time.

  Meira's presence was growing more and more chaotic, and Kiro's was weak and distant. Meira would be fine, but his brother needed help.

  He couldn't wait to be the one who saved Kiro's life.

  Daji dashed on, suddenly eager, but the power had run low in his armor. He had to deactivate the scripts to save madra, but it had taken too much structural damage. Now it hung heavy on his body and his spirit, making running awkward.

  Still, he was an Underlord. He drew on his own madra, Enforcing his whole body, and kept running until he reached the central spire. He spotted Meira down a hall to his right, shining green and surrounded by a storm of slashes. Her opponent was the scarred girl in green armor, six bladed arms sticking out from her back. She fought to keep Meira pinned down as a blood-drenched twin mirrored her on the other side.

  That was a strange technique, cloning yourself. He had heard of such, but only in legends.

  It looked like Meira was fighting to escape, though that was impossible. Her opponent was only Truegold. Maybe he should help—saving Meira would look even better than saving Kiro.

  As he paused in indecision, she saw him. Screaming, she pointed down another hall. “Kiro!” she shouted.

  He turned, following her finger, and saw his brother.

  Kiro's shield was gone, and his armor was a smoking mess, venting yellow and silver madra. Those huge blasts earlier had done quite a job on him. He still held his sword, infused with the Titan's Blade technique, and he swung it at the Blackflame. The strike was so fast it was almost impossible to see, a blur in the air even to Daji's eyes.

  But the Blackflame, Lindon, ducked as though he'd known it was coming, and the air around him exploded soundlessly. Some kind of wind technique. Kiro was shoved backwards.

  Into one of the natural treasure displays.

  Daji sauntered forward, waiting for his brother to emerge. Most of these nooks didn't contain anything dangerous to an Underlord. Even if they did, if it didn't kill him immediately, Kiro would only have to take one step to leave.

  But he didn't take that step.

  A spark of concern kindled in Daji's chest, and anger along with it. How dare this Truegold touch his brother.

  Daji shouted, drawing the Blackflame's attention; black-and-red eyes fixed on him. A rectangle the size of a closet door suddenly appeared next to Lindon, and he reached inside with his one remaining good arm.

  Daji didn't care what kind of weapon the Gold had inside. He had weapons of his own. He raised his swords, reaching out for their Striker bindings.

  Then tendrils of shadow grabbed him from behind and pulled.

  He was hauled off his feet before he could react, dragged back around the corner and down the hall.

  In a second, he flexed his full strength, tearing the strings loose around his arms and slicing them apart. He rose to his feet again, ready this time, looking around. Maybe he had activated a security measure, or someone new had shown up.

  Akura Mercy stood at the end of the hall, holding her bow in one hand, straightening her ponytail with the other. Her green armor had been broken, and he could see bloody holes in the robe beneath, but the skin of her ribs was now whole.

  Daji suddenly felt danger.

  She was Truegold again, and stronger this time, but she had suddenly raised her advancement before. It hadn't helped her then.

  This time, she had returned to life.

  Something strange was going on.

  Daji summoned the shield from his soulspace, replacing it with his left-hand sword. Now he held the shield in front of him, approaching with caution.

  “Why did you have to threaten them?” Mercy asked, and for the first time he saw anger in her eyes. “You think killing them will make Aunt Charity happy?”

  Aunt Charity. This was the Heart Sage's niece.

  Daji's anger receded a little further, replaced by fear. If Mercy had stayed dead, he might have been in some real trouble.

  But she was alive now. Everything was all right, he just had to be careful not to kill her this time.

  “This is a battlefield, not a playground,” Daji said, firing a beam of blue lightning from the point of his sword. To be safe, he aimed at her leg.

  Mercy's hands blurred, there was a flash of darkness, and his Striker technique deflected to splash onto the wall between natural treasure displays.

  She had blocked it.

  With an arrow.

  Daji decided to change tactics. “How about this?” he yelled, his tone challenging.

  He raised his sword, letting her think he was about to attack. Then he poured all his power into his shield.

  He used the Titan’s Blade, injecting the technique with soulfire, and a curved gray wall bloomed from floor to ceiling. It was solid as stone, at least for the next few minutes, and it would block her off.

  He wasn't allowed to kill her, but he hadn't seen her use any big destructive techniques. She would be trapped in there while he rejoined Kiro and Meira. Then, once they'd gotten rid of the other two, they could decide what to do with the Akura.

  Daji ran away, proud of himself. Kiro had looked like he was in the most trouble, so Daji would go to him first. Then...

  The aura of the vault shifted, like a river suddenly changing course. Suddenly, a spirit began to swell with power.

  ~~~

  Sweat ran down Yerin’s face and her spirit trembled as she held her technique. She had never maintained the Endless Sword for so long before; it wasn’t like her to fight for a stalemate.

  But the longer she could hold Meira in place, the better.

  The Underlady’s armor had practically crumbled off her by now, and strands of gray hair were falling to the ground. Still, she tried to push forward, as though pushing against a strong wind.

  The light blinked off.

  For a second, Yerin wondered if her eyes had quit on her, but only a moment later the younger brother Daji ran around the corner, his footsteps pounding on the stone floor. His armor hung heavy on him, and it wasn’t glowing as brightly as before. It was almost out of power, she was certain.

  Not that it mattered for her. The swords he held in his hand would bury her well enough.

  He turned his helmet toward her, adjusting his grips on his weapons, and the bottom fell out of Yerin’s stomach. This was it. She always figured she would meet her end in a hopeless fight.

  Then Mei
ra extended a finger and screamed, “Kiro!”

  Yerin felt hope again.

  Daji turned away, running the other direction, but she couldn’t relax. Daji was going after Lindon. Even if Lindon could hold his own against one Underlord, he wouldn’t stand up against two any better than she would.

  She pulled harder on her spirit, though her madra was getting dangerously low, her channels aching and strained. A little more, and maybe she could hit the Underlady hard enough to matter. Her Blood Shadow sensed the same opportunity, and though it must be running dry just like Yerin, it pushed harder too.

  Yerin’s knees buckled.

  She fell, bracing herself against the floor with her hands. Her Endless Sword technique faded, and rather than pushing against a strong wind, Meira staggered forward.

  Yerin’s vision doubled, and she was seeing two of her master’s sword lying on the ground, then four, then six.

  She turned her sense inward.

  Her lifeline was gone.

  Instead of an unbroken line of green running down her spine, it was like a faint wisp of green gas. She had gone too far, and now she was out of time.

  But the fight wasn’t over.

  With the last dregs of her strength, she stumbled to her feet, raising her master’s sword. She couldn’t let Meira get away…

  Meira wasn’t running. She had sensed Yerin’s condition and turned, scythe spinning up.

  Yerin’s Blood Shadow snarled and rushed in, firing a blood-fueled Rippling Sword Striker technique, but Meira batted it aside. Yerin moved in, lifting her white sword, though it felt a thousand times heavier than normal.

  Only minutes ago, she had thought she was ready to die, but now everything was different. Now, she was an inch away from Underlord.

  She was too close to give up now.

  Her Blood Shadow swept a sword at Meira, but the flaming blade of the scythe cut into its side. The spirit shrieked, stumbling back. Yerin prepared her own sword.

  Then the aura swept down the hall as Lindon started to advance.

  As soon as Yerin sensed it, she moved. Meira would be distracted. This was her chance.

  Sure enough, the Underlady shifted, her attention moving to the other battle. To Kiro. She let down her guard for an instant.