Mercy shut her mouth. They were right. Now that she thought of it, she didn’t know why she’d bothered to defend her relatives in the first place.
She had never liked the way her family handled things. They twisted themselves in knots to appease those stronger, and expected the same from those beneath them. They never associated with the weak unless they stood to gain something.
It wasn’t as though she really thought her family was better than that, she just…wanted them to be.
“Yeah,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
The emotions she’d been feeling before—sorrow at the loss of her family members—came back in full force and blended with her guilt. With Uncle Fury and his immediate family leaving, there were even fewer good people left in the Akura clan.
Not that Fury didn’t have his share of issues. The legends of certain cultures regarded him as a monster.
Maybe there were no good people in her family.
The air around her began to literally darken as her shadow madra leaked out, reflecting her gloom.
Yerin rapped her on the top of the head with one knuckle.
She hadn’t struck particularly hard, and Mercy’s Overlord-level body was resilient. Even so, the impact hurt.
Mercy clapped one black-clad hand to the injury, but Yerin didn’t look the least bit sympathetic. “You can cut that off right now. You know we’re not putting anything they did on your account.”
Mercy blinked rapidly and took deep breaths to get ahold of herself. It had been a long few days.
Before she could thank Yerin, Uncle Fury emerged from the crowd, looming over most everyone—though not Lindon—and beaming ear to ear.
He strode confidently up to Yerin, and to Mercy’s horror, he had his right hand cocked back and gathering madra. It looked like he was about to attack.
Yerin pushed past Mercy, her own right hand drawn back.
Mercy’s horror choked her, but disbelief prevented her from moving. Someone should stop this. She should stop this. What was—
The palms of the Herald and the Monarch cracked together in an explosion that left some of the nearby crowd stumbling back. The wind snatched at formal robes and shoved snacks off platters.
Yerin and Uncle Fury clasped hands, Fury grinning and Yerin wearing a similar expression.
“I’m so jealous,” Fury said. “What did it feel like, killing a Monarch?”
Yerin snorted. “Didn’t get him in a fight, did I? About like swatting a fly.”
Uncle Fury closed his eyes and breathed in slowly through the nose as though savoring a scent. “Like swatting a fly…oh, it’s beautiful. It’s better than I ever imagined. The King of Dragons, swatted by a child. Like a fly.”
He took another deep breath. “Perfect.”
“Half-certain I’m the one who’s meant to be jealous.” After a deliberate pause, she added, “Monarch.”
“You kidding me? Who am I going to get to fight me now?”
Lindon answered that one. “Heavenly warriors, I would guess.”
Red eyes lit up, and Fury released Yerin’s hand at last. “That’s the idea!” He put fists on his hips, facing Lindon. “I’ve had somebody take care of your points. The rest of your team got to make their own choices from what we had left. I’d give you something myself, but I hear Charity’s taking care of it.”
Lindon forced a smile in return. “Gratitude. What about the ones we lost?”
That was enough to darken Mercy’s mood again. She had seen Grace die, and Douji as well. She hadn’t personally witnessed Courage fall, but she felt it.
“They were all clan members, and we take care of—Oh, hey, look at that!” He raised a hand and beckoned to someone in the crowd.
A moment later, a purple-eyed man and woman emerged. They looked to be in their mid-forties, but their faces were weathered and haggard as though they hadn’t slept in days.
Mercy’s throat tightened.
“Akura Earnest and Kiya,” Uncle Fury said. “Grace’s parents. They’re coming with me tonight, but they wanted to meet you first.”
Akura Grace had been the pride of her immediate family, skilled as she was among her generation. She was supposed to raise her parents up to further prestige within the clan.
Now she was gone.
Mercy hadn’t seen Earnest or Kiya since their daughter’s death. She’d been with Pride, and there had been too much going on.
Lindon looked like he wanted to bolt. He bowed as deeply to them as he had to Aunt Charity earlier. “This one cannot express his regret. Please accept my deepest apologies.”
Grace’s mother laid a hand on Lindon’s arm. “For what?”
He straightened cautiously.
“You avenged our daughter,” Earnest said. He bowed at the waist. “She was a warrior, and an Underlady, and prepared to die. Still…please accept our thanks.”
He pressed a purse into Lindon’s hands.
The pouch of scripted purple cloth wasn’t nearly as high-quality of an item as a void key, but it was still made by Charity to compress Forged madra. Indeed, Mercy could sense the power of at least a dozen types of scales coming from within.
They were leaving this world behind, and they had no other children, so Mercy wouldn’t be surprised if they had left their entire fortune in that purse. They would have wracked their brains for a gift worthy of Lindon. It wouldn’t be unheard-of, to leave such a reward to someone who had avenged a loved one.
Mercy knew Lindon well enough to see that he was struggling with himself. He looked as though he wanted to turn this down, because he thought he didn’t deserve it.
But his hands moved without him, and he tucked the pouch into his pocket before they could change their minds and take it back.
“Gratitude,” Lindon said, dipping his head over a salute. “I don’t know how to properly express my condolences, other than to wish you well as you journey onward.”
Fury clapped Earnest on the shoulder. “Take it easy if you need to. I’ll join you in a minute.”
Grace’s parents saluted Lindon in return, bowed to Fury, and then drifted away.
Once they had left, Uncle Fury watched their backs and spoke with unusual gentleness. “Time doesn’t heal everything, but it does help. Never gets easy, though.”
Yerin looked up at him. “Is it good for them, going with you? Could be like losing everybody at the same time.”
Fury shrugged. “I think it’ll help. They’ll have a new purpose, and a lot of their closer relatives are coming too. But they wanted to come, and I’m not telling them no.” He turned back to Lindon and Yerin. “It’s too bad you’re not coming up yet. Never did get a chance to fight you.”
“Apologies, but I don’t think we would make worthy opponents.”
“Well, yeah. Otherwise I’d be fighting you right now. But hey, I can wait a few years.” He gave them a cheery wave and started to walk backwards into the crowd. “See you on the other side, you two! Mercy, you want to give me a hand?”
Uncle Fury didn’t need her help. He just wanted to talk.
“Just a second,” she said to Lindon and Yerin, and then she hurried after her uncle. Well, her half-brother.
He spun around, walking forward with both hands laced behind his neck. People to either side had to duck his outstretched elbows, but most of the attendees here were advanced sacred artists. They managed.
“Thought we ought to talk about you before I’m out of here. The three stars of the clan are down to two, now. I suspect we’ll end up stronger than ever in the long run, now that the snake isn’t around anymore, but that doesn’t mean we won’t have a weak point for a couple years.”
Mercy straightened as she walked. “I’m ready to accept my responsibility.”
“…yeah, I thought so. The family will expect a lot from you when I’m gone. They want you to fulfill your duty to the family, and they all have their own ideas for what that looks like.”