But he didn’t retaliate.

Beneath him, under the roof of the fortress, Archlords had started to gather up the Golds in front of a tall, scripted stone.

This was their emergency escape: an evacuation portal. It connected to a network of permanent gates, but even so it was a huge expense to activate. Especially since it was meant to escape four hostile Heralds.

Mercy and Pride stood whispering frantically to one another near the portal, and Lindon could imagine from their gestures what they were arguing about.

Either Pride wanted them both to leave and Mercy wanted to stay until the others were evacuated, or they each wanted the other to leave.

He wanted to go weigh in his opinion—Mercy and Pride should both leave, given their relative importance to the Akura clan—but the Seishen Underlords were nearby. Meira stood in full armor, looking up the stairs, while Daji glared holes through Mercy and Pride.

At least he wasn’t angry at Lindon.

Lindon exchanged nods with Akura Grace as he walked further away. Talking with the Seishen Kingdom around would be too uncomfortable.

And he wanted to be close to Fury so he could get the battle report that little bit sooner.

When the violet spark appeared only a moment later, his throat clenched shut. The only reason for the fight to be so short was Sophara annihilating Yerin.

[Yerin won,] Dross repeated. [Yerin won! She…wow, we owe Yerin some congratulations.]

Overhead, Fury began to laugh.

Yerin started the second fight once again with no technique forming and her madra still.

Gold light began to condense over Sophara’s head.

She didn’t play around with Ruler techniques this time. She didn’t even start out with dragon’s breath.

The Dragon King’s Totem condensed into a crown of power over her head. A majestic golden serpent drifted over her, crafted from powerful madra, whipping up a sandstorm of Forged madra. The spirit of the Totem glared down on Yerin with majesty that pressed against her spirit…and given that her spirit was now interwoven with her flesh, it felt like it was pushing down on her body.

“Begin,” Northstrider said.

Yerin used the Final Sword.

Her sword shone mostly silver, but even this was tinged with red. A greater will battered at hers, trying to stop her technique, and sand tore her skin.

Yerin unleashed her technique, and red-white light blasted through the image of the golden dragon overhead.

It detonated, blasting out a hurricane of wind. The burning waterfalls from the ceiling sprayed outwards, and sparks of golden essence filled the sky like fireworks.

Sophara staggered back as her technique was broken, and Yerin appeared at her throat with the Moonlight Bridge.

A white blade lopped off the dragon’s head.

Reigan Shen turned to the Blood Sage.

“Ready yourself,” he said. “This tournament is over.”

Over the Sky’s Edge fortress, Akura Fury drifted higher into the air.

His voice boomed out over the valley, echoing across every inch between the giant white blade stabbed into the earth and the black stone hand clutching the bay. “What’s wrong, everybody? You don’t want to play anymore?”

Inside the fortress, a doorway ignited. Blue light swirled, and the Archlords started loading Golds into it.

A massive gold dragon slithered out of the clouds on the back of a sandstorm. “Don’t get excited, Fury,” she said. “We’re not letting you leave because we’re afraid of you.”

Fury laughed heartily.

“You’re letting me leave, you say?”

In the fifth and final fight of the last round of the Uncrowned King tournament, Sophara launched herself at Yerin, screaming.

Northstrider hadn’t even called the beginning of the fight yet, but he didn’t stop her. Quickriver was covered in orange flame, the Archlord Enforcer binding, and Sophara launched dragon’s breath from her left hand.

Yerin’s spirit gave her no sense of danger, so she decided to experiment.

The Moonlight Bridge carried her behind Sophara, and she realized that there was still something in her soulspace.

She summoned the black-bladed sword, Netherclaw, and activated the technique.

Sophara whirled and tried to engage Yerin blade-to-blade, but Yerin moved away in an instant flash of moonlight.

The clawed hand appeared faster than it ever had before, and more solid than she’d ever seen it. It filled the arena with so much power that it almost felt like a real Archlord technique.

Yerin poured not only soulfire into it, but put all her will behind it. She urged the claw to become stronger.

Sophara put both hands behind a river of dragon’s breath, still screaming.

The Netherclaw crashed into the ground.

It crushed Sophara.

It shattered the ground.

It split the arena in two, revealing a shimmering barrier of purple light separating the arena from the outside world.

And then even that barrier cracked.

The Ninecloud Soul’s voice leaked in from outside. “…witnessing history here today! Sacred artists one and all, bear witness to the eighteenth Uncrowned King!”

Sophara’s dragon’s breath faded to white.

Lindon wondered if Fury was going to get them all killed.

Why was he taunting the enemy at a four-to-one disadvantage? It was insanity.

Xorrus the gold dragon Herald gave a sigh that rang over Sky’s Edge. “We’re letting you out of the trap, humans. Go home.”

Inwardly, Lindon urged Fury to take the deal.

But the Akura Herald was still laughing. “Yeah, but see, we’re not the ones trapped here.”

Lindon didn’t see the punch, but he saw the aftermath. Fury disappeared and reappeared beneath Xorrus, driving his fist up and into the dragon’s stomach. Lindon saw no flash of darkness; as far as he could tell, that was just a punch.

In the sky, clouds split apart.

And Fury shouted in a command that shook reality itself: “Break.”

It was the authority of a Sage.

The dragon split into fragments, each piece dissolving into shining golden sand.

Xorrus started re-forming herself, but a new image had appeared across the entire sky: a fist, facing down as though about to plunge and annihilate the earth beneath them.

The image shook Lindon’s spirit with the impression of absolute strength before it vanished a moment later.

What was that? he asked, shaken.

[Uh, well, I’ve never seen it before, but it’s pretty…distinct. That’s called the Strength Icon, or the Fist Icon, or the Symbol of Bodily Power, depending on where you’re from.]

An Icon. Fury had broken through.

He was ascending to Monarch.

Only then did Lindon feel the madra, overwhelming and impossibly powerful, as the entire valley was covered in shadow.

Xorrus choked out a voice tinged with fear and anger, “Why? If you could advance, why did you wait?”

A Forged hand of shadow grabbed her by the scaled throat, and Fury pulled her close. He was only the size of one of her eyes. “To see this look on your face.”

Then three other Heralds unveiled their power, and the true battle began.

26