Of course, that was nothing next to the Akura clan’s gift.

It was a life-size statue of Ekeri made of goldsteel, crafted by the Heart Sage herself.

Sophara tore it apart with her bare hands.

About a week since the dragons had come to pen them inside their own fortress, Seishen Daji lost his patience.

The dragons and cultists outnumbered them at least four to one, and with Fury in the fortress they couldn’t attack. According to the reports, they hadn’t even attacked the shelters containing the evacuated civilians, which Daji thought was too good to be true.

Dragons had no compassion. Neither did Dreadgods or those who worshiped them. If they were sparing the evacuees now, it was for something worse later.

When they couldn’t attack the fortress, they had resorted to taunts. Volleys of insults peppered the fortress at all hours, along with bright lights and loud noises to stop them from sleeping. Corpses of dreadbeasts or of their own dead were hurled over their walls to be incinerated by defensive constructs, leaving a stench that hung in the air everywhere.

They had lost relatively few lives—only a dozen or two between all the Akura loyal factions, hardly worth mentioning—but being sealed up in the fortress had chafed Daji raw. He was restless, and he was sick of being disrespected.

Only a day or two ago, the enemy had started a new tactic: trying to lure them out.

They would slam a valuable weapon onto a hill visible from the fortress walls and dare the Akura sacred artists to come take it. Or they would send out a duelist who would swear to veil himself, or wear a blindfold, or tie one hand behind his back.

No one ever took them up on the offer. Not even when a Highgold Abyssal Palace acolyte challenged any Underlord. Daji himself had picked up his swords and started to leap out, but his father had grabbed him from the air.

What kind of fish knowingly bit a hook?

Daji knew what was wise, but he hated how often what was wise and what was cowardly looked like the same thing.

Meira reacted to the siege the same way she’d reacted to anything since Kiro’s death: quietly. She trained every day, performed tasks as assigned, and tended to a garden that she’d started inside the grounds.

His father had wanted to execute her, when he learned of Kiro’s death. He’d held a blade against her neck.

She hadn’t even tried to resist.

That had won Dakata’s pity. And Daji understood.

Even when he saw her out there by herself, the glowing flower in her hair blending with those she’d planted, she didn’t look happy. She looked like she’d given up.

He avoided her as much as possible. His own grief was hot and angry.

The Blackflame Empire had humiliated Kiro before they’d killed him. They had embarrassed him and Meira just as much…and then shamed him again only weeks ago.

It had done nothing but stoke his hatred hotter. He had seen the reports from the Uncrowned King tournament, but that opportunity should have been his. Or at least Meira’s.

Knowing that Akura Mercy and Lindon Arelius were in this fortress with him made the days of suffering unbearable. He’d even seen Mercy, who had the audacity to smile and wave at him when she saw him, but he hadn’t sensed the Blackflame.

Still, he had to get out. He would do anything to escape.

That was when he overheard the newest scout report: Abyssal Palace had grown complacent and had placed one of their pointless collection towers just out of sight of the fortress. Fury was looking for a team of volunteer Underlords to wipe it out and return, and had placed a bounty of contribution points.

Points were scarce since the battle had died down, and Daji leaped at the chance to persuade his father.

It was the lowest risk possible, being close enough that King Dakata could rescue them if something went wrong. And it would give Daji a chance to do something.

Daji intended to take the assignment whether his father approved or not, but the king needed little persuading. He wanted to demonstrate the value of the Seishen Kingdom to Fury, and contribution points were valuable to anyone.

So Daji chose his team. Meira came with him almost by default, and he picked the other four youngest Underlords he could find. He wasn’t eager to split the prize six ways, but he also wasn’t an idiot. He knew he couldn’t do this on his own.

As soon as night fell, he and his team snuck out.

The outer wall had been designed with several hidden entrances, so they essentially melted the wall and passed through it before it re-formed. He also carried a construct designed by the Seishen Kingdom Soulsmiths to hide them from observers in the air; it bent the light around them and assisted their spiritual veils, so they would be all but invisible unless someone scanned them directly.

Creeping over the hill in the dead of night went without a hitch. The squat tower, made of packed earth pulled up from the ground with a Ruler technique and scripted in haste, stood there as though to mock them.

The script around the top of the tower prevented his perception from entering, but their scouts had reported no more than two Underlords and a handful of Golds. They could destroy it from here, if the scripts didn’t stop them.

But the towers were made to take a beating, so the easiest way to destroy them was from the inside. They would go in, kill the inhabitants, take their masks, and then blow up the tower. Simple, easy, effective.

Although it concerned Daji that there didn’t seem to be any guards or lookouts posted around the outside. Their reports were clear that six people had gone into the tower, and there was no other exit. Were they all just huddled up inside?

That ceased to matter when a line of script lit up beneath Daji’s feet.

He shouted a warning and drew his swords, but he needn’t have bothered. It was an alarm.

Nearby, a flock of dragons unveiled themselves and swooped closer. Underlords.

“Retreat!” Meira shouted, but he cut her off.

“Not yet!” There were four Lords with the dragons and two more in the tower. If they could deal with the group in the tower first, then they could accomplish the mission and still avoid fighting an equal group. The dragons would have to wait for backup, and by then Daji and the others could be back to the fortress.

He dashed for the tower as soon as the thought occurred to him, swords drawn. The others would have to follow him. They couldn’t abandon their prince.

This plan required them to obliterate the two Lords inside the tower as soon as possible, so he began rousing the bindings in his swords. Lightning, light, and force crackled down the weapons.

He’d had them made with the same blueprints as his first pair, which had been stolen. By the Blackflame.

He was about to blast through the door when it opened, and he was so astonished at the face on the other side that he came to a stop.

Lindon Arelius filled the doorway, shuffling half a dozen Abyssal Palace masks in his hands. He tossed them into a closet-sized opening to his right, through which Daji caught a glimpse of metal and glowing dead matter. Pieces of his own armor.

His spiritual sense couldn’t pass into the tower, but he saw bodies piled behind Lindon, and the interior of the room was scorched. He couldn’t tell if they were dead or alive.

Daji remembered the ease with which Lindon had dispatched him before, and glee rose up as he realized that this time he had the advantage. And he had five allies backing him up, while Lindon was alone.