The Final Sword chewed through his barrier in seconds, and her heart dropped. Dross hadn't been able to persuade him either.

This was not how she wanted to win her crown.

The last of the barrier shattered, but as soon as she was through, her blade clanged against something solid. And stopped.

The sword Wavedancer. Its broad blue-tinged bulk hovered over Lindon like a second shield.

But it could only block so much. A waterfall of silver power still thundered down onto Lindon, washing over the flying sword.

Her feet only touched the ground as her technique began to fade, and she pulled her master's blade away. The sword-light died. For an instant, she expected to be jerked away from the arena instantly, her anger still unsatisfied.

Then she realized Lindon's presence hadn't disappeared.

A solid turtle's shell rushed at her chin. Yerin caught it on one of her sword-arms, but Lindon had anticipated that. He pivoted into her, plunging his white fist into her gut.

Breath rushed from her lungs and she flew back, head ringing. Her spiritual perception caught the madra lingering around his skin, and she realized what he'd done. He had blasted pure madra from all over his body, covering him in an inch of spiritual armor. Eithan's technique.

The sword-aura had still passed through, which he must have weakened with soulfire control. But he couldn't have stopped everything that way.

Sure enough, she caught a glimpse of him as he followed her. He was covered in blood...but his eyes had life in them. He loomed over her, blood matting down his black hair, shield braced in his left hand and his Remnant hand still tightened into a fist. Wavedancer hovered over his shoulder.

Though his clothes were torn and madra essence streamed from cracks in his shield, his spiritual pressure pushed against her like she was facing a deadly enemy.

Finally, Lindon had shown up to the fight.

Before even landing, she spun in the air, sweeping her master's sword at him. She had dropped her Flowing Sword technique already, so this was a raw hit with no Enforcer technique, but her strength was enough that it would send him flying and create some space.

The Burning Cloak sprung up around him, outlining him in black and red. Her sword passed over his head as he ducked low.

And she lost him as he vanished.

Her spiritual sense followed him as his burst of speed carried him behind her. She landed while striking out behind her with her Goldsigns.

Lindon didn't step into their reach. Instead, three feet from her back, he shoved both of his hands forward.

Two bars of dragon's breath shot toward her.

She almost wasn't fast enough to react. Her six sword-arms closed into a cage behind her, flowing with her madra and with quick flames of soulfire.

The Blackflame madra hit, the heat searing her back and her spirit, but her madra held it off. Still, she wasn’t on the Path of the Endless Shield. If she let him land hits, he’d roast her alive.

Reaching her perception inside her spirit, Yerin called for help.

The Blood Shadow peeled away from her front, a spiritual copy of Yerin in shades of crimson. As it materialized, it drew the black sword from Yerin's second sheath.

Ruby lips twisted into a smile as Yerin's red copy saw the opponent.

“Lindon,” the Shadow whispered, drawing out his name. The parasite laughed as it leaped over Yerin, swinging its blade down at Lindon's head. Scarlet hair trailed behind it, and its laughter was like a bubbling swamp.

Yerin would have preferred not to call the Shadow against Lindon. It had some strange fascination with him. But if she wanted Lindon to let loose, she had to do the same.

The stream of dragon's breath cut off as Lindon defended himself, his shield knocking the black sword aside. Without pressure on her, Yerin turned and joined the fight.

Now they were back to where the fight had started: Yerin on the offensive and Lindon scrambling to save himself with his shield.

But there was a world of difference this time.

Soul Cloak flowing around him, Lindon moved like a new person. His shield stopped her blade, its binding activated for a fraction of a second to block the aura of her Endless Sword, while with the other hand he drove a massive Empty Palm at the Blood Shadow.

The huge blue-white palm print crippled the Shadow for a moment, but he had already begun a new attack. His eyes became red circles on darkness, and his calm blue-white nimbus turned to furious black-and-red. Powered by the Burning Cloak, he dashed back from Yerin’s Striker technique, struck the paralyzed Blood Shadow with a backhand blow of his shield, and swept a finger-wide dragon's breath at Yerin.

He wasn't as strong as she was, so he never met her blows strength-for-strength. He deflected at just the right angle, slipped aside by inches, dodging and counterattacking in the same fluid motions.

He fought Yerin and her Blood Shadow, directly, without backing down. Guided by Dross and his new combat training, he moved as though he could see her every motion a second in advance.

Together, in that empty world, they danced.

Yerin's anger had blown away. She exulted in the fight, and whenever she had to abandon an attack to stop a stream of deadly madra aimed at her face, joy built in her heart.

This was it. This was what she wanted.

Lindon saw her at her best, and he moved up to meet her. She didn't need to hold back for him...and he pushed her forward too.

To match each other, they needed to be at their peak.

Her spirit shouted a warning, and she cast her perception upward. A broad, swirling bank of black and red aura hung over their heads like stormclouds. Every time Lindon switched to Blackflame madra, he molded the aura a little more, gathering it, setting it spinning. Preparing his Ruler technique.

While fighting, he was building a Void Dragon's Dance.

Yerin laughed out loud. She and her Blood Shadow leaped away from Lindon without a signal, creating distance. She reversed her grip on her master's sword, holding it point-down.

Lindon didn't wait for her to use the technique. He reached up with his left hand, extending Blackflame madra, pulling a cyclone of fire and destruction from the sky. In an instant, it would consume the entire stage. She had nowhere to hide.

“Surprise,” Yerin said.

She activated her master's sword.

~~~

It had taken Lindon and Dross both to the point of exhaustion to keep up with Yerin and her Shadow. His madra channels and body throbbed with the effort of switching cores so many times so quickly while fighting. They had pushed his body, mind, and spirit to the limit.

It had been exhilarating, but he couldn’t enjoy it yet. He had to win. For that, he had prepared his Void Dragon’s Dance.

Weaving the Ruler technique while keeping Yerin's attention all on him had been nothing short of a miracle, but he'd done it. He felt when her perception rose to the sky and she and her Shadow leaped away, preparing their defenses. He had caught her.

But when he pulled spinning fire from the sky, certain in his victory, Yerin's sword burst into icy white light.

It glowed, sharp and cold, for just an instant. Yerin had carried that sword for three years, since the day after they'd met. He had never seen her activate the binding, never heard her talk about it.

He'd forgotten it.

[I, uh, I did not model that.]

White Archlord madra swallowed up the stage.

Frigid cold pierced Lindon to the bone as ice madra saturated the air. White haze swallowed the entire arena-world, now a domain of wintry fog. He could still see clearly, but the cold seeped through his muscles, stinging his spirit.