Beginning report…

Path: Wasteland. The Path of the Wasteland has aspects of earth and wind, and its techniques take the form of blowing golden sand. It is a versatile and adaptable Path, often used to call sandstorms, form complex shapes from sand at great distances, and scour flesh from bone.

Gold dragons have a natural affinity for fire and water aura, but Seshethkunaaz was born in the desert. An exile, he was left by the rest of his kind to die.

He was found by a group of human nomads, who saved the dying dragon and raised him as part of their family. He formed a contract with one of their children, providing him with enough pure madra to dilute his spirit. With time and great effort, he was able to change the nature of his madra and embark on the Path of the Wasteland.

He and his contractor were raised as brothers, and they advanced together at great speed. When he reached Underlord, he took on a human form like that of his contractor. His adoptive parents shortened his name to Sesh, introducing the two of them as twin brothers, and explaining Sesh’s remaining draconic traits as part of his Goldsign.

For years, they remained content. Until Sesh’s brother killed a child.

In a conflict between hot-tempered boys, Sesh’s young contractor lost his temper. He struck a Lowgold, forgetting his strength as an Underlord. His victim perished instantly.

In many lands, an Underlord would not be held responsible for any actions against a Gold. But the laws of this nation prohibited the murder of anyone regardless of advancement, and the young victim was the descendant of a powerful clan.

Sesh’s family fled in the night, but they were soon caught. Sesh’s brother was executed for murder, reckless use of power, and fleeing justice.

To this day, the King of Dragons walks the desert in the form of a human boy, hair dark and skin tanned by the sun, wrapped in a cloak against the harsh wind. He admires humans, but hates human civilization, that collection of unnatural rules under which the weak are favored above the strong.

If power and survival were the only laws, he believes all would benefit. Even humans.

Suggested topic: Seshethkunaaz and the Dread War. Continue?

Denied, report complete.

~~~

Naru Saeya, sister of the Blackflame Emperor, hovered above Yerin. Emerald wings from the Path of Grasping Sky barely flapped as wind aura held her motionless in the air. Even when they both stood flat on the ground, Saeya loomed over Yerin, but that wasn't enough. She just had to fly too.

She wore sacred artist robes in a color that matched her wings, and the cloth was as fresh as if it had been sewn this morning. Her hair had been tied back into a tail, all the better to fight, but a fan of peacock feathers still stuck up over her ear.

Yerin glared at those feathers, clutching an iron bar in her hands. This was a handicap she had given herself; blunt instruments gathered no sword aura. She had to beat her opponent with combat skills, not with her madra techniques.

It was more irritating than she'd expected.

“You expecting us to get much practice done when you're hanging from the ceiling?” Yerin asked.

The ceiling in this wing of the imperial palace was over a hundred feet tall, and Saeya wasn't even close to it. If she had been, maybe Yerin could have dashed up the wall or tried something else.

The Emperor's sister looked as irritated as Yerin was, holding her own iron bar. She had refused to take any weapon advantage over her training partner.

“It will only go the same as before,” Saeya said.

Yerin sharpened her senses, letting madra flow through her Steelborn Iron body. Strength flooded her Underlord body, and she felt invincible as she never had as a Truegold.

“One more try,” Yerin said through gritted teeth.

Saeya didn't say anything, but wind madra gathered up inside her, and then she vanished in a blur of green. Yerin swung her bar with all her strength, whipping up a whirlwind in the training room, but she hit nothing.

A sharp pain cracked against her back.

“If I slow down enough to let you hit me,” Saeya said from behind her, “you'd break me in half.”

The Naru woman walked around to Yerin's front, letting her practice weapon drop. “We're a bad match. I have virtually no defense against your Path, so if you had a real sword, I'd have to keep my distance. When you don't, either I'm too fast or you're too strong.”

Saeya hurled her iron bar so hard to one side that it struck against the wall like a bell and sent a chip of stone flying.

Yerin felt like doing the same thing. The iron bar felt odd in her hand, and she looked down to see that she had squeezed fingerprints into the metal.

“You want to go into the tournament betting that you'll only face good matches?” Yerin challenged. In truth, she felt the same way. Neither of them were getting good practice out of this.

Naru Saeya took deep breaths, clearly fighting down her frustration. “We need to be familiar with each other if we're going to fight side-by-side. Maybe we should spar together against another pair of Underlords.”

“Cheers and celebration, you've struck gold. I'll sit here and polish my sword while you find another pair of Underlords who can match us.”

The Blackflame Empire had doubled its number of Underlords during the competition in the Night Wheel Valley, but over the last few weeks, Yerin had found out firsthand that most of the newly advanced Lords and Ladies weren't much to her. If she held back everything from her Path, they weren't her match in swordsmanship. The gap only widened with madra.

The only young Underlords worth anything to Yerin had been stolen by Akura Charity.

The older Underlords would be a real challenge, but they had one and all left the capital to deal with their own responsibilities. They had been gone for too long during the qualification fights, and now they had to make up for lost time.

As far as Yerin knew, only two people left in the city could challenge her or Naru Saeya. One was the Emperor, who was busy signing laws and looking stern. The other was Eithan, and only the heavens knew where he had vanished to.

Naru Gwei had dumped Yerin and Eithan out of Stormrock at the first possible opportunity and had suggested that he wouldn't come close to Eithan ever again without an Imperial command.

“We fight for the honor of the Empire,” Saeya said, “but we can't sacrifice the stability of the Empire for the honor of the Empire. This is our problem to solve.” She didn't sound happy about it. She stared out the window overlooking Blackflame City, glaring at the buildings below as though they were holding her back.

“Then let's stop fighting like Coppers.” Yerin tossed her iron bar aside, too. She walked over to the corner, where she had propped her master's sheathed blade. “We gather up every Underlord and Truegold we can get our hands on and face them all at once. Pile on enough straws, and eventually we'll feel the weight.”

Saeya let out a long breath. “You're right, we should. It's important that we get you more experience against different opponents.”

“If you had so much more experience than me, you'd be too old for the tournament.”

“There's a big difference between thirty-five and...what are you, twenty?” The tall woman eyed Yerin.