The barrier holding her apart from Calan dropped, and storm madra gathered around him. She fought against all her training and experience, waiting until that silent music moved her.

A Striker technique blasted toward her, and it took all her willpower to stay still.

Someone’s sword madra sliced it apart.

Did I make it?

Maybe this was what it felt like to succeed in manifesting the Sword Icon: like she was feeling someone else fight instead of herself.

The moment she had the thought, she knew it wasn’t true. That sword madra had a source.

And it radiated the power of blood.

Her concentration vanished, and she opened her eyes and drew her sword at the same time.

The Blood Shadow dashed after Calan Archer. The big, sandy-haired man jumped and landed on a Thousand-Mile Cloud, which he used to speed away, but the spirit raised a black blade and used the Endless Sword.

Aura erupted from each of his seven bladed rings. They weren’t knocked back as effectively as if Yerin had deflected them—the Blood Shadow still had to dodge two. But she managed to put a cut on Calan’s forearm.

The Shadow’s smile gleamed white. She looked more and more like Yerin, except for her ruby eyes and bright red hair. Her teeth had once looked like she’d chugged a tall glass of red paint, but now Yerin couldn’t tell the difference between the spirit’s smile and any human’s.

Her skin was still tinged pink, and she let out wild laughter that never could have come from Yerin.

The Blood Shadow was trying to cheat her out of a chance to advance like a Sage.

Furious, Yerin pulled on her connection to the Shadow. The spirit stumbled, red robes waving in the air like actual cloth, and from its knees it turned and gave her a scarlet glare.

Then it pulled right back.

Yerin stumbled this time, her madra faltering in its cycle as the Shadow regained control and continued pursuing Calan. Rain began to fall as his Ruler technique spread a storm over her.

For a moment, she was frozen in indecision. Should she stay and try to recapture the feeling of the Sword Icon, or should she join the fight and push to win however she could?

The Blood Shadow traded blows with Calan, leaping off one of his jade circles and tossing a red-tinged Rippling Sword at him. A thin line of blue-gold light lanced down from the clouds; Calan’s second Striker technique. It drilled a hole through the spirit’s hand, and though it growled in pain, the power of blood madra stretched out and flesh knitted back together.

The Shadow was keeping his attention, and though Yerin hated to waste the opportunity to sense the Sword Icon, there were lives at stake.

She had to fight.

Even if it meant giving up this chance to get closer to her master’s power.

She lifted her sword, reversing the white blade and gripping the hilt in both hands. Then she bent all her madra and soulfire to the binding within.

With great effort, she could activate the Archlord binding, but there wasn’t enough madra in her entire core to fuel it. The technique drew its power from the sword itself, which was dangerous and unstable.

It could damage the blade if she used it too much, although it was safer with the Winter Sage around to do maintenance. But it was doubly dangerous for her. Without Northstrider’s protection, she wouldn’t have been willing to risk it.

Archlord madra exploded from her blade, filling most of the arena.

Raindrops froze to ice…and stopped in midair, hanging in place.

A lightning bolt in the clouds overhead stopped, glowing in a cloud like a light trapped in smoky glass. Calan and his blades froze too, but he could fight back against the technique. He could move, if he pushed through.

But there was more to this technique than locking the subject in place. Tiny shards of Frozen Blade madra hung in midair, ready to cut. The solid raindrops gleamed silver with sword aura.

Lines of red had already appeared on Calan’s skin where the madra and aura had sliced him.

Yerin’s spirit trembled and her core drained noticeably. She couldn’t move while controlling this technique; without the Diamond Veins, her madra channels would have torn apart, but now they were the most stable part of her.

One of the most difficult parts of the technique was keeping the Blood Shadow as an exception. The spirit could still hurt itself on the floating Frozen Blade madra, but Yerin could keep the aura from restricting it. But doing so took even more concentration and control, and she was strained to her limit already.

The Shadow wove easily through the specks of white power hanging in the air, getting closer to Calan. Yerin hated that she was reliant on the Blood Shadow to win the fight while she was locked in place, but she had to admit it was an effective combination.

Suddenly the aura rushed away from Calan. He must have used all of his soulfire to push away an Archlord’s Ruler technique, but he didn’t waste the opportunity, shoving his hands up and blasting a thick lightning dragon through the Blood Shadow’s middle.

Rather than defending itself, the spirit snarled and swept its blade at Calan’s legs.

Half of the Shadow was torn away, and Yerin felt its pain. It was enough of a shock to her mind to shake her concentration, and she lost the Winter Sage’s technique.

All around the battlefield, frozen raindrops crashed to the ground.

Calan didn’t come off any better than the Shadow. He fell off his cloud, blood spraying into the air.

He landed in one place, his legs in two others. The Shadow had sliced through his knees.

The lightning dragon looped around and returned to him, and from what Yerin knew about the Stormcallers, it would be carrying some of the Blood Shadow’s madra back to Calan.

She whipped a Rippling Sword at him. Finishing him off was no more than mercy.

But a brief shower of bright lines fell from overhead. A Striker technique he must have already prepared. The blue-gold madra pierced through her own Rippling Sword, destroying her technique.

The Blood Shadow hadn’t re-formed, and the dragon sank into Calan’s body as it returned. He clenched his jaw, red madra blasting out behind him as he vented blood madra. Yerin was surprised to see that his technique was so similar to Lindon’s arm.

Then his seven jade rings gathered, his Thousand-Mile Cloud swooping down. He hauled himself up with his arms, levering his body onto the cloud. The bleeding from his severed legs had already stopped; either his Iron body healed injuries, or he’d controlled the blood aura in his own body to seal the wounds.

His eyes turned to her, and his gaze was firm as stone. The pain of losing his limbs hadn’t shaken him at all.

Yerin couldn’t help but be impressed.

Out of respect, she had to match that determination. She drew her sword back, cycling her madra.

Then he vanished as the Blood Shadow re-formed and slashed a sword through the space where he’d been.

He reappeared closer to Yerin, but had to turn to face the spirit, and Yerin used the Endless Sword.

She felt dirty for doing so.

When his Jadeclaw Rings went out of his control, the Blood Shadow dealt with his Striker techniques, and Yerin’s follow-up Rippling Sword cut him in the back.

It didn’t sever him in two, which was a testament to the power of his spirit. He didn’t scream, either.

Until the Blood Shadow pounced on him.

When it gleefully leaped on him, he shouted. Then it began to draw blood aura from his wounds as though inhaling…and the longer it inhaled, the more of his power escaped. And the louder his scream grew.