He spun, slashing the Striker technique apart with his hand, absorbing its madra and immediately venting it into Harmony’s face. He ignited the Burning Cloak, ducking the blind slash of the axe and wrenching Harmony from his feet.

He snatched the axe and dashed from Harmony’s feet to his head in one movement. The cross of shadow-blades passed through the space where he had been standing.

Lindon plunged the axe down on the chest of Harmony’s armor, which burst instantly. Now he only had to stand aside and wait for Orthos’ breath to obliterate the Akura’s body.

Instead, he kicked Harmony to the side.

Blackflame carved a trough in the stone, but Harmony tumbled to one side, his Goldsign slicing the stone.

Orthos tracked Harmony’s movement, turning the dragon’s breath to the side, moving the stream closer.

Lindon stood in front of him, raising a hand. Orthos slammed his jaws shut, madra spilling from the sides of his mouth.

Finally, Lindon relaxed. That had been a risk. He could deflect a certain amount of Blackflame madra, but it wasn’t as though he would walk away unharmed.

“Kill him!” Orthos demanded. “What are you thinking?”

Lindon’s Burning Cloak faded away, and Lindon tapped his pure core. His madra channels were sore and aching after the fight, and he’d used up quite a bit of his madra.

He looked down into Harmony’s eyes, and he saw there only anger, humiliation, and exhaustion.

“We’re leaving,” Lindon said at last. “As a gesture of goodwill to the Akura family, I would be happy to take you with us.”

Without waiting for a reply, he walked over to the jade arch of the portal. Orthos followed him, speaking as low as he could. “If we bring him back, he will bring word to his family. The Akura family has more Underlords than you can imagine, and they do not suffer disgrace lightly.”

“Will they see this as shame?” Lindon asked curiously. “I would think they would see it as mercy.

He held out his left hand, conjuring Dross. The spirit rushed out of him, spinning into existence as a hovering purple head with one giant eye. Their connection did not weaken at all with distance.

Dross drifted over to the scripted panel next to the portal. [Hm, yes, this will be tricky. It will require all of my skill and enhanced knowledge.]

“Will it take long?” Lindon asked.

The script lit up, and suddenly a portal rippled swirling blue and green in the center of the arch.

[Honestly, that was much easier than I thought it would be.]

Fractures spread immediately from the portal, crawling away from the frame at visible speed. Clearly, the world wouldn’t last much longer.

Scuffling from behind told Lindon that Harmony was climbing to his feet. Dross’ mere existence helped him sort through sensory information much more clearly. It didn’t expand Lindon’s senses, like the powers of an Arelius might, but it helped him organize everything neatly with only a moment of focus.

Yerin would be jealous.

“The pride of the Akura does not bend,” Harmony said, his voice heated. “The next time we meet, I will be a Lord. And I will raze your home and burn your family, root and branch, until your name is used as a curse.”

Lindon turned to see Harmony reaching into space, pulling out a lump of chalk that glittered blue.

The Soul Cloak, which Lindon had already prepared, flared around him so that he shone in a cloud of smooth blue-and-white light.

Harmony’s core was all but empty, and Lindon sensed nothing Enforcing his limbs. The Burning Cloak lent itself to sudden, violent bursts of movement, but that also meant it was difficult to control.

The Soul Cloak, on the other hand, helped his body move almost before he thought of it. No sooner had he activated the technique than he stood before Harmony, clasping his wrist in one pale hand.

“That seems a little extreme,” Lindon said, plucking the gatestone from his hand. He hurled it against the wall, where it burst into blue light and another mess of spatial cracks.

The room was crawling with hairline fractures now, and they were getting faster and faster.

Harmony lunged for him, swirling the last of his madra to Enforce himself.

Lindon slammed an Empty Palm into his core.

As the Akura dropped, Lindon walked back to the portal. “He has refused our offer of a way home, so we’ll leave him to make his own way back.”

Dross drifted back into Lindon’s body, and his madra didn’t block the spirit any longer.

Orthos glanced back, but walked through the portal. They didn’t know where the doorway would take them, but at least it would be somewhere on the outside.

Lindon followed.

For one blink, they were buffeted on all sides by textured blue light. Then the air tore around them again, and they were standing inside a shallow cave.

Moss and bright mushrooms filled the space like grass, and the jade arch was set against the wall. Sunlight spilled through the mouth of the cave, and he could see it shining on an endless field of waves.

Lindon heaved a deep breath of salty air, feeling as though he had crawled out of a hole for the first time in weeks.

The portal, which was transparent from this side, showed a steadily cracking image of Harmony scrambling over the pocked and pitted floor left behind after their battle. He crawled for the portal as Ghostwater collapsed around him.

Lindon watched, locked in a debate. On the one hand, Harmony had made it clear that he wouldn’t cooperate. On the other hand—

Orthos blew a finger-thin stream of dragon’s breath through the arch, and the portal disappeared.

Lindon stared at the spot where the portal had been for a long moment.

“He asked for that,” Orthos said.

“…I can’t argue with that.” Lindon turned back to the ocean. “Now, Dross: where are we?”

[Oh, I don’t, ah, I don’t know. Is that the sun?]

Chapter 18

The green-armored guards lifted their spears and stepped to the side, allowing Eithan to approach the tall doors to the Emperor’s audience hall. He was expected.

Fisher Gesha fussed with her hair, bowing to both of the Truegold guards as she walked in Eithan’s wake. She had left her drudge behind today, so the top of her head was barely above Eithan’s waist.

“This will not go as you expect,” she muttered. “Did you ask me what I wanted? Hm? No. You just drag me along, like luggage. He will not see me. Do you think Highgolds go before the Emperor every day?”

“Don’t worry,” Eithan said, marching forward. “He’s not as intimidating as you think.” Wind aura swung the door open before he touched them.

The doors opened onto a long hallway, decorated with enough opulence to shame the halls of heaven. Everything was sheathed in gold: the dragon statues hanging from the ceiling, the pillars lining the hall, even the floor tiles.

At the end of the hall, the Emperor sat on his throne of gold and jade. Naru Huan, Emperor of the Blackflame Empire, was the picture of a hero: he was powerfully built, with piercing eyes and a short beard that emphasized his square chin. His hair was pinned back by an ornate crown, and his wings spread to either side, flanking him in shining emerald feathers. His Overlord spirit spilled freely through the halls, pushing down on them with the weight of true power.