The Spear of the Summer King went opposite the red dragon’s breath.

The Storm Lotus opposed the Titan-Slayer Axe, and the Grave’s Last Word matched against the Bloodwash Wave.

All six Striker techniques reacted with one another, sending off sparks of many colors, settling into an equilibrium with the other bindings, the dead matter, and his own madra. It was Soulsmithing that should have taken weeks of testing, measuring, and planning.

The launcher construct settled into his hands as the fat dreadbeast turned to face him, roaring. Red flame gathered at the back of its throat.

Lindon leveled his newborn cannon and fired.

A lance of blinding light slammed into the creature’s belly, carving out a chunk of flesh. The giant gave a pained roar, and this time its hands glowed red as well. A more complicated technique, easily powerful enough to reduce their cloudship to splinters.

Bat-like dreadbeasts screeched as they dove for him, but he gave them no attention. Naru Saeya met them with wind in one hand and a rainbow sword in the other.

Lindon forced his spirit through the cannon, pushing out another shot before the weapon had been given a chance to recover from the last one.

The giant’s head exploded. Burning, rotten flesh sprayed across the stony landscape as the dreadbeast toppled.

Lindon’s construct broke apart, and he tossed it aside, trying not to calculate how many points its materials would have been worth.

Saeya had rid herself of two flying dreadbeasts, but was flying circles around two more, harrying them with her weapon and techniques.

Lindon took them out with dragon’s breath.

The Naru woman hovered down to him as his cloudship slowly came to a stop over the fortress. She looked shocked as she surveyed the dead Lord-stage beast. Rotten blood had splattered across her outer robe.

But she roused herself quickly. “I’m heading inside.”

Lindon tossed her another construct, one that he’d prepared beforehand. “Break this if you need help. I’ll clean up out here.”

She nodded and shot down, stopping to identify herself to the defenders on the wall and convince them to let her through their protective script.

Lindon dropped to the ground himself, switching to Blackflame as he fell. The Burning Cloak ignited, dragon’s breath formed in his hand, and Wavedancer flew from his void key.

The flying sword, beautifully crafted from the blues and greens of wind and waves, responded eagerly to his will.

He landed with a squelch on the ruined dreadbeast and laid waste to the army around him.

The Archlord flying sword sliced Truegold dreadbeasts in half with a single swing, as did the thin bars of Blackflame he sent slashing out.

At the same time, he tapped into his soulfire, using the blood aura in the giant’s body to pull apart the flesh in its chest. Meat and tendons tore away from the binding he sensed near its heart.

Hurry, Lindon thought. I have to hurry.

If even one prize escaped his grasp, he was going to weep blood.

10

Eithan waded through an ashen maze of jagged walls that were all that remained of his homeland.

He doubted he had ever stood in this particular building before, but even if he had, there would be no way to tell now. The earth had shifted and the sky rained living lightning, until what was left was unrecognizable.

The layer of ash only remained now, eight years later, because of the endless destruction aura that enveloped the whole continent. If he were to open his aura sight, he would see a black shadow clinging to every other color. His outer robes and the tips of his hair would slowly dissolve, if he let them.

He stopped in the shadow of the largest chunk of wall still standing, gazing through an empty window down a row of shattered homes. He tried to use that image, to let it remind him of the consequences of his own bad decisions, but it was too late. That wound was too old and too deep. Nothing he could do today would bring feeling back to that scar.

The people who had died here had belonged to House Arelius. Once, losing family had evoked great passion in him.

Time had dulled that edge. So had knowledge. He didn’t need vengeance, he needed the power to change a system that had broken long before he was born.

Though he was oddly pleased to feel an ember of fury stoke to life as he saw the man approaching him from behind.

Reigan Shen’s steps crunched in ash that he had made himself. “Eithan Arelius. I expected to find you in Tiberian’s palace.”

He prowled with great confidence, his white-gold mane glossy, and in Eithan’s opinion he would not look out of place with a tufted tail swinging behind him.

The Monarch was thoroughly veiled. Here in secret, then. As expected.

Eithan turned and gave him a blinding smile. “What’s left of it, you mean? You expected to see me weeping in the ruined foundation?”

“So you haven’t returned. I left it mostly intact, out of respect.”

Returned.

“Ah, you remember me.” Eithan swept a bow. “I’m honored.”

The Lion Emperor nodded. “It is not often that understanding so exceeds age and advancement. If Tiberian had used you more carefully, perhaps it is I who would have fallen.”

“Tiberian trusted you to act in your own self-interest,” Eithan said. He was pleased that he still sounded unfazed, though he was growing closer and closer to angry every moment. “As, I admit, did I.”

“None of you understand my interests, which always surprises me. I feel I have been very consistent.”

“You could have ascended like a king. Who is Kiuran of the Hounds? You know as well as I do those like him would have licked your boots the moment you ascended with a Dreadgod weapon in your hands. You would have dwarfed Northstrider’s most ambitious dream.”

Reigan Shen laced his fingers together, and his jeweled rings flashed in the dying sunlight. “My desires have only ever extended to this world, not beyond it.”

That was almost enough to start Eithan shouting, but Shen continued in a melancholy tone.

“I have heard your arguments from Tiberian’s mouth. Perhaps my people would be safer and happier if we had destroyed the Dreadgods. But they are safe, and they are happy, and I am here to guide them. And the heavens have offered me the means to achieve our goal, your goal, without abandoning my people.”

Eithan focused on his cycling madra, controlling his emotions. Equilibrium returned soon enough, and his smile was more genuine. “We both know that won’t work. If you don’t ascend, it will be for nothing.”

“It will buy us time to put new systems in place. You are not the only one who understands the nature of things, Arelius.”

Shen’s words sunk Eithan’s spirits. It will buy us time. That was all they ever wanted. Stall tactics. No real solutions.

Yes, millions of people will die, but still an acceptable number. It’s not as if we’re doing nothing. Perhaps we could reduce that number to zero, but it’s too much risk. Too much personal sacrifice.

How could anyone justify leaving the Dreadgods alive, even to themselves? Just because he would have to leave this world behind.

“I do,” Eithan said heavily. “I understand. But it seems that soon, I will be in the position to decide.” His smile returned. “So why has the lone Monarch of the Rosegold continent deigned to visit me today?”