Lindon groaned. “What can I do for you, Dross?”

[I know you don’t like me waking you up, but you are really going to want to hear this. I may or may not have stolen some memories from Northstrider.]

The idea that Dross may have stolen something from a Monarch had Lindon in a sweat, but his interest was certainly piqued. “What memories?”

[You see, that’s the thing. I’ve spent the last few hours putting together some pieces, because I couldn’t take everything. A full memory from Northstrider would make me burst, I think. Just pop, and there I go. There were memories from lots of people in there, but I was most interested in the ones from Northstrider himself.]

Lindon forced himself to wait patiently. Dross would get around to answering his question eventually.

[I think I can show you his ascension to Monarch.]

Lindon instantly forgave Dross for waking him. And for everything he had ever done, would ever do, or might think about doing.

“Dross, I have never been as grateful for you as I am now.”

[What about all those times I saved your life?]

“Even then. If you could show me that memory now, I would be in your debt.”

[Oh, and you don’t even know the best part! We were right! Northstrider uses…well, that would spoil the surprise. Now, remember that this is more like a painting of a memory than a real memory. I couldn’t understand the true depths or powers involved, so I can’t pass those on to you.]

Lindon sat cross-legged in a cycling position. “Anything you can show me is appreciated.” Even a glimpse of ascension to Monarch could guide him for the rest of his life.

[All right, then, here we go. And pay attention to his madra, remember! His madra.]

Information requested: Northstrider’s ascension to Monarch.

Beginning report…

The Sage of the Hungry Deep tracks a rogue black dragon to the Everwood continent.

He normally wouldn’t get involved here, but the Monarch Emriss is abroad. She spreads peace and education all over the globe, so every decent person respects the sanctity of her homeland.

Only the vilest criminal would bring violence while her back was turned.

The dragon has been careful enough to move under a veil, but sloppy enough to leave a trail of devastated forests and villages in its wake. Northstrider follows it easily, promising justice to the survivors.

Wading through the destruction, too late to save the innocents, is enough to break his heart.

The closer he comes to his quarry, the more careful he has to be. Eyewitness reports can’t agree on the dragon’s size or gender, only its color, so he is wary about finding more than one.

He deduces that the black dragon must be equivalent to an Archlord, so while he has confidence in hunting one, he will have to flee from more than that.

He finds the serpentine black dragon coiling around a stone tower in the center of a burning town. Ash drizzles from the air as the serpent cycles fire and destruction aura.

It’s a disgusting creature in Northstrider’s eyes, a scavenger that feeds on corpses. He wants to kill it immediately, but there’s one problem.

This beast isn’t an Archlord at all. It’s a Herald.

None of the witnesses had the experience or the perception to know the difference, and Northstrider never expected a dragon to have the self-restraint to hold itself back to Archlord techniques.

He has walked into a trap.

As soon as Northstrider feels the dragon’s power in his spiritual sense, its black-and-red eyes snap open.

Fear shoots through Northstrider like lightning through his spine, and he stretches out to the Way. His only thought is to run somewhere, anywhere.

No sooner has the portal begun to form than the dragon’s willpower overwhelms his own. Blue light is snuffed out, space sealed shut.

And the Sage Northstrider swallows his fear, clenches red-scaled fists, and turns to do battle.

Dross’ voice interrupts the vision.

I’m sorry about this, but this is exactly where my understanding breaks down. They’re both using principles in their techniques that I can’t sense.

Lindon is no longer inside the vision, but a spectator of it. His sense of himself returns, and he watches the battle as though a passenger behind Northstrider’s eyes.

Though he can see only brief images, the battle is still full of useful information. One of Northstrider’s Enforced punches takes a chunk out of the dragon’s side, but black-and-red fire madra rushes to fill in the gap in the dragon’s body.

And then that Blackflame madra becomes flesh. It Forges into something resembling a Remnant at first, slowly hardening into an indistinguishable patch of black scales.

Can all Heralds rebuild their body with madra, or is this a special property of some Path? Northstrider would know, but Lindon is too distant from the memory at the moment to read his thoughts.

Northstrider fights by tearing at the dragon with blood aura, summoning living techniques shaped like red dragons that hurl themselves at the enemy, and by unleashing blows that slam the dragon into the ground hard enough to cause earthquakes for miles around.

The dragon sprays dragon’s breath all over Northstrider, calls columns of fiery destruction from the sky, and blackens the terrain. It even becomes fiery madra for a moment, to move in a rush of flame.

There are a treasure trove of insights here, but Lindon focuses on Northstrider’s techniques.

When he gets an opening, he sinks his hands—which are scaled in red, not black—into the dragon’s side.

And he pulls with the full force of his spirit.

A hunger madra technique.

Lindon has to choke off his excitement before the strong emotion disrupts the vision. He and Dross guessed that Northstrider incorporated hunger madra into his techniques, but they’ve never known for sure.

Now they know.

Northstrider is beaten and bloody and exhausted when he finally tears off the dragon’s head. Only the power he stole with his hunger madra kept his spirit moving.

He drains even more, trying to stop the Remnant from rising, and this time Lindon can feel a little more of the technique. It’s pulling not just madra, but everything. Life, physical strength, even some of the dragon’s thoughts and personality.

Northstrider has to struggle to control it all, and Lindon desperately wished he could feel more of that process.

Unfortunately, the Sage isn’t in time. The Remnant rises.

It’s nothing like any other Remnant birth that Lindon has ever seen.

The corpse becomes Blackflame, transforming into black fire, twisting and evolving until it is a spirit of black-and-red madra that only vaguely resembles a dragon. It looks almost as physical as before, so that Lindon almost can’t identify it as a Remnant.

It launches dragon’s breath from its mouth and both arms, and Northstrider calls a barrier.

Of this battle, Lindon could see virtually nothing. It’s a gray blur with half-felt spiritual sensations.

Sorry, sorry, Dross says. Fights, like I said. Let’s move to the next part.

Northstrider drags himself across the ground, victorious but gravely wounded.

He can heal himself with blood aura easily, but he needs a safe place to stop and do so. He senses distant enemies.

There were more dragons after all.

These are actually Archlords, but Northstrider doesn’t feel equal to even a Gold at the moment. If they arrive before he restores himself, he will surely die. But he has stolen power from a Herald; he can try to advance.