Its foot landed, but was frozen in place. Lindon was astonished at the power output of the weapon, but it was overshadowed by worry for Yerin.
Not that he had time to dwell on it. There was too much else going on.
Green rings had bloomed one after the other, stretching off to the south. Ziel flew through the air like an arrow, each ring of script hurling him into the next. Lindon wondered why Ziel hadn’t used that technique to escape, but his question was answered by a quick scan of his spirit.
He was straining his channels and running out of madra. He couldn’t keep this up for long.
As he flew in, another spiritual presence caught Lindon’s attention. Mercy dashed in, covered in her Akura bloodline armor, and she wasn’t flying. She was running.
She was already the size of a tall building, and she carried something tucked under her right arm.
No, Lindon realized what the object was as soon as he noticed it.
It was Orthos, all curled up in his shell.
Orthos, whose body was slowly filling with soulfire.
When the Titan found its leg stuck by Yerin’s technique, it threw a punch at Mercy. A golden nimbus covered its fist: the original version of the Enforcer technique the Abyssal Palace cultists had used.
The wind from the punch was like the breath of a hurricane.
Mercy slipped under the punch. Her armor was still growing, and Lindon knew from his experience with Harmony—and his own research—how much of a burden the armor put on the spirit. The larger it was, the harder it was to control. But she moved with liquid grace as she ducked the punch.
Then she took a lightning-quick tail to the breastplate.
It cracked, and Lindon fully expected the armor to shatter. Instead, despite what must have been horrific spiritual pain, she braced her feet and stood her ground.
As she did, Mercy lobbed Orthos through the Dreadgod’s legs.
And the turtle began to grow.
Soulfire burned away by the second as it expanded Orthos’ body. He landed with legs the width of tree trunks, but they grew to cover houses in a moment. Soon, he was half the height of the Titan.
The Dreadgod turned over its shoulder, madra building between its jaws.
[That’s your cue!] Dross shouted.
On his Thousand-Mile Cloud, Lindon shot forward.
No matter how much madra he poured into the cloud, it would be a few seconds before he reached the Titan. It would have shoved Mercy back and released its technique on Orthos by then. Dross had called him in too late.
Green light flared behind Lindon.
He couldn’t spare the attention to turn and watch, but he wished he could. His spiritual senses treated him to the feeling of Eithan flying through the air like a thrown spear.
He was kept aloft by his own aura control, so Ziel’s circle only added acceleration. As he flew closer, Lindon heard a voice, which started soft and steadily grew louder as its source approached.
“Jump!” Eithan called as he flew past Lindon’s face.
Mercy endured another heavy blow, falling to one knee under the pressure. The Titan unleashed a stream of powerful earth madra with its breath. Orthos shoved himself into position, and—though he took a glancing blow on his shell that left cracks and a lancing pain that Lindon could feel through their bond—he and Mercy managed to wrestle the Dreadgod around to face Lindon.
It didn’t cut off its Striker technique. As it braced itself on its tail, it refocused on the next target it saw: Eithan, whose madra was blazing like a beacon.
Lindon expected Eithan to take the hit on his Hollow Armor, but Lindon had been given his instructions. He jumped.
Eithan reversed direction in a burst of force aura, shoving himself down and to one side. The Titan’s Striker technique streaked past in a thundering stream of bright golden light.
The river of madra passed over both Eithan and Lindon’s heads.
It tapered out almost immediately as the Titan returned its attention to Mercy and Orthos, grabbing one in each hand.
Lindon dragged his Thousand-Mile Cloud down to him, and once again it caught him.
He saw what Eithan had done. If the Titan had noticed Lindon, that blast would have been on target, and it might have even moved its head to follow Lindon as he fell. Instead, Eithan had drawn its attention upward.
By falling suddenly, Lindon had ducked it.
Orthos roared, and now that he was empty of soulfire, he was truly gigantic. While not a match for the Dreadgod, he was at least the size of a large dog compared to the Titan.
But he was still just an Underlord.
No matter how weak the Wandering Titan had become, and no matter the equalizing effect of the suppression field, Orthos was no match for a Dreadgod under any conditions. His shell splintered as the Dreadgod’s grip tightened, and Orthos would be torn apart in moments.
Lindon tried to send reassurance through their bond. Orthos didn’t need to hold on for long.
Lindon was coming.
He landed a moment later on the back of the Titan’s neck.
And with all his will, he began to Consume.
Lindon had fed on the thoughts and memories of the Wandering Titan before, so he knew what to expect this time. Even so, he was almost overwhelmed on every front.
The madra threatened to break his arm, and to be too much for his Heart of Twin Stars to process. The memories and impressions flooded Dross, poised to drown Lindon’s identity. And the willpower, titanic and voracious, crashed into Lindon’s like an avalanche.
Lindon was tossed in a whirlpool of the Wandering Titan’s emotions, but they weren’t the timeless fury that he had expected.
He felt frustration.
Irritation.
Dissatisfaction.
Exhaustion.
He had come here to satisfy its eternal hunger. He’d followed the scent of the one thing that could end its suffering, only to find that it wasn’t here. The trail was cold. And now he was being kept awake by some annoying, buzzing flies when all he wanted to do was eat and then sleep.
No, he wasn’t. The Titan was.
It was hard to tell the difference.
He broke contact with a gasp, his head pounding. The Titan rumbled beneath him, and this was as far as Dross had guided Lindon.
It’s working too hard, Lindon reported to Dross. I want to…it wants to leave. We can drive it out.
The Dreadgod tossed Mercy down, and her armor shattered. Essence covered the valley in a luminous violet cloud.
It dragged a struggling Orthos in its left hand, like a forgotten toy.
Slowly, the Titan turned back to Mount Samara again, and this time Lindon knew why.
It wasn’t focused on cracking open the mountain and getting to the treasure inside, though Lindon was certain there was another one in there. It didn’t even care to eradicate the people trying to escape.
It just wanted out of the suppression field. And this mountain was in its way.
First, it had thought this mountain might be its ancient home, but a long inspection had determined that not to be the case. It simply felt wrong.
This was not home. Not quite.
The Titan lifted the giant Orthos, and Lindon’s stomach twisted as he realized what it was about to do. It was about to hurl Orthos at the mountain.
[Deeper!] Dross shouted. [Dig deeper!]
This was the one chance Dross had seen of them driving off the Dreadgod.
The Titan abandoned targets that cost it too much energy. And Lindon could take that energy away directly, but he could only hold so much. His arm had limits, and so did he.
Though he hadn’t rested enough, he returned his right hand to the stony skin and once again used Consume.
As the Titan’s power crashed over him again, Lindon knew immediately that they weren’t going to make it.
This amount of energy loss was nothing to the Titan. It was vaguely aware that there was some kind of flea draining its spirit, but it couldn’t be bothered to deal with him yet. Lindon could drain its power all day, and maybe then tire the Titan enough to make it a little sleepy. But before that happened, it would have long since swatted Lindon away.