“Apologies, but your mother…”

“Grandmother. Stopping the Bleeding Phoenix cost her. Her holdings around the world were taken or sabotaged while her attention was occupied. We have recovered some of them, but not all. It is very likely she lost more than she saved.”

Lindon knew a Monarch’s responsibilities were broad, but his mind boggled at the scope.

There had been an important reason to stop the Phoenix, and he thought he knew what it was.

“The labyrinth. The Dreadgods are after it.”

“They are, though why is another one of those mysteries you’ll have to discover for yourself.” She didn’t seem too concerned, explaining impassively. “Even I don’t know what’s inside.”

“And what happens if they reach it?”

If they wanted it so badly, surely it was important for the Monarchs to stop them from getting there.

“Nothing,” Charity said calmly.

Lindon waited for the rest of the explanation, suspicious. It couldn’t be that simple.

“The defenses on the labyrinth are legendary. The Dreadgods usually can’t locate it at all, as the entrances remain sealed, so they spend their time awake wandering around and satisfying their hunger. During the destruction of the original Blackflame Empire, they converged on the location of the labyrinth. They tore up the ground for miles, but found nothing.

“Yes, the labyrinth is perfectly secure. But the people living around it are not. It is still a mystery how one Underlord opening an outer hatch for a handful of minutes caught the attention of Dreadgods so far away. We discussed executing your Blackflame Emperor for dereliction of his duty, but even throwing all the entrances in the Empire wide open for years should not have produced such a result.”

She shook her head. “In the end, we can only blame fate.”

Lindon looked down at the new “island” resting in the ocean and shivered. Only a few weeks, then the Dreadgod would rise.

“Gratitude,” Lindon said. “I can make it from here.” He sensed a large collection of sacred artists at the edge of town opposite the Dreadgod’s hand, behind a large stone wall.

“I will accompany you,” Charity said. “I have to speak with the Overlord in charge.”

The Sage seemed to be waiting for him to take the lead, so he hopped over the edge. Only while falling did he notice the nature of the ball they had been standing on.

It was the pommel of a sword. He fell past the hilt, guard, and gleaming white blade, which had been driven into the earth.

Extending his perception, he saw that what looked like metal was actually unbelievably dense madra. This was a Forger technique.

Why had it been Forged with a hilt and guard? Why not just a sharp blade?

It reminded him of Yerin’s Final Sword. She and her master had Forged the technique into the shape of the full weapon.

There had to be a reason.

When they landed—Charity lightly, as though she weighed only a feather, and Lindon surrounded by the blue-white Soul Cloak—he asked about the sword.

“This town was once the site of a battle between the Winter Sage and the Herald of the Tidewalker Sect,” she explained. “The final attack that drove him off remains to this day, and is one of the reasons we’re here.”

At the base of the blade, the locals had raised a stronghold of wood and stone against the flat blade. An iron-banded wooden gate kept the fort shut, but he sensed powerful earth aura inside.

“The introduction of such powerful madra from the Winter Sage had a unique reaction. The sword formed a certain synergy with a strong vein of earth aura, and this became one of the few places in our territory where it is possible to mine wintersteel.”

She gestured back to the shore. “It is why we’re here, and why he is here too. The Wandering Titan feeds on powerful materials, especially minerals. Aside from evacuation and protection, we are also here to remove as much of the mine’s product as possible.”

Lindon didn’t see how anyone could be left to evacuate, because every inch of the town swarmed with dreadbeasts.

The creatures filled the streets of the dead town with a putrid stink, but they stayed far away from Charity as she and Lindon dashed to the fortress wall at the edge of town.

The wall was forty feet high, made of stone that had clearly been pulled from the earth and sealed together by a Ruler technique. Blood and scorch marks stained the bottom third of the wall, and dreadbeast corpses were piled at the bottom.

Even more creatures scrambled over those.

Every animal within miles had to have been warped by hunger madra to form the army of dreadbeasts that Lindon had seen already, and sacred artists at the top of the wall swept the monsters with Striker techniques.

The guards were Golds with the occasional Lord or Lady, almost all of them wearing full armor. Over their heads, flags of the Seishen Kingdom flew proudly.

The creatures beneath them must have been Truegold or lower, but the impression they gave off as a group was far more dangerous. Though Lindon could destroy any number of them from a distance, if he fell into such a group, they would tear him limb from limb.

Dreadbeasts flitted through the skies as well, though fortunately fewer than those on the ground, but they kept largely clear of the Kingdom encampment.

In the skies over the fortress, the Seishen King Dakata did battle.

He was a hulking, broad-shouldered bear of a man, especially in his bulky gray armor, but he faced a creature that dwarfed him.

Lindon would call it a dreadbeast, but it had the figure of a human with long, grotesquely twisted limbs. Its pale skin was broken and rotting, its jaw hung loose, and the beast gave off the impression of a horrific puppet made of corpses rather than any sort of living thing.

It flew on wind madra, sending Striker and Ruler techniques after the King in such a furious barrage that Lindon suspected it would tear its own madra channels apart. King Dakata weathered the assault like a boulder in a stream, but the Thousand-Mile Cloud on which he stood wavered with every hit.

This was a dreadbeast with the power of an Overlord. Fear shivered through Lindon’s heart. How powerful could these become?

[Uh, well, the one in the ocean can literally eat Monarchs, so…that powerful.]

Charity drew her hand back, then flicked her fingers forward.

Clouds of silver-and-purple madra swept forward like a bank of fog, and Lindon was certain that he was watching the Striker technique of a Sage. Then the madra formed into distinct figures, hundreds of ghostly specters condensing from madra.

The phantoms raised their swords, reaping dreadbeasts like wheat. Each figure struck once and then dispersed, puffing into essence. One specter, larger and more distinct than the others, skewered the Overlord dreadbeast through the back with a spear.

The humanoid creature stiffened and screamed in what sounded like terror before King Dakata’s sword took off its head.

Every other dreadbeast that had been struck by Charity’s technique died. In seconds, the army besieging the fortress had been reduced by half.

Lindon had seen living techniques before, but now he had to know the secret. Was that a Forger technique, or a Striker technique come to life?

As the Seishen soldiers sent up a cheer, Charity glanced over to Lindon. “Striker technique,” she said. “Imbuing a living will into techniques is very advanced, but you will learn someday.”