Yan Shoumei’s Blood Shadow cloak was split in half, revealing deep red sacred artist’s robes beneath. She hissed and backed away, her Shadow drawing itself together, but she seemed unharmed.
An instant of pain flared through Lindon’s soul, and Orthos howled.
His shell split open, spraying dark blood and ruddy light in equal measure. He staggered back, letting off flares of Blackflame madra out of sheer panic and instinct. His pain dimmed Lindon’s mind, but it also stoked the rage of the Path of Black Flame. Without thinking, Lindon tapped back into his Blackflame core, and the Burning Cloak sprang to life around him.
Everything had taken only a few breaths, and the battle was so far above Lindon’s level that he had unconsciously shrunk back. But now he had a task he could handle: get Orthos back through the portal. If the rest of them could make it out alive, that would be a victory.
It took the strength of his Enforcer technique to restrain Orthos, who was lashing out with blind pain, but Lindon hauled him to a stop and started pushing toward the portal. He glanced back at the Akura man, only to see him lifting his arm again.
That gesture was enough to fill Lindon with terror now, but the purple eyes weren’t fixed on Lindon.
He was looking at the portal.
Following his gaze, Lindon noticed with a jolt that the portal was transparent from this side.
Bai Rou was holding Mercy back with one armored hand, dragging her away from the portal. He was clearly trying to retreat. A handful of yellow madra droplets blasted out of his other hand, striking at Yerin.
Who was darting for the gateway.
She slashed back without turning, her white blade casting a storm of invisible swords that shredded Bai Rou’s Striker technique. Her eyes were fixed on the portal.
Sometimes it felt like it had been a lifetime since he’d left Sacred Valley. Other times, he felt like a child who had just left home. The reality was, he had been outside the Valley for a year and a half. He was overwhelmed by the weight of so much time. Surely it couldn’t have been that long. But at the same time, he wasn’t sure how he’d crammed so much into such a short time.
But through all of it, he’d been with Yerin. By now, he knew her as well as he knew anyone. Seeing her face as she ran, he knew in a split-second what she was thinking. In that moment, he understood her thoughts better than he understood his own.
She was coming for him.
Whether she had sensed something from the other side or whether she’d heard Renfei’s report to Bai Rou, she knew something was wrong. She was headed into the hands of these Truegolds, and she didn’t even know it.
But if she did know, she would only run faster.
Ever since Lindon had first adopted the Path of Black Flame, he’d lamented how long it took him to gather dragon’s breath. Never had every fraction of a second burned him like they did now, as he shoved his hand of flesh in front of him and poured madra into it.
Dark fire gathered in his palm, pointed at the portal. Was it faster than the shadow the Akura was calling? He didn’t know. He couldn’t know without turning, and that would take him precious instants.
Yerin kicked off from the stone floor. Lindon scorched his madra channels, pushing power in a loop through his soul with every breath, Blackflame burning his body and his soul as he forced it to move faster.
The world darkened. Shadow flickered.
And a bar of Blackflame madra tore through the thin, green metal frame of the portal.
Instantly, the window into another world winked out. A blade of darkness sliced a smooth gash in the sand where the portal had once been.
The sand was bare. No Yerin.
Lindon’s breath of relief disrupted his cycling technique for a moment.
Thick, choking spiritual pressure fell on him like a weighted net, but he still couldn’t look back. His Remnant hand didn’t pass through living beings like it did through objects, so he pushed Orthos with both hands, struggling against the huge sacred beast’s strength.
The Akura could cut him down at any time from behind, but he shoved Orthos through the sand. The Burning Cloak worked in bursts of strength, so it was easier to punch or kick than to carry something heavy, so he could only push Orthos a few yards at a time, moving him toward the nearby boulder. He didn’t know if it would stand up to the young man’s shadow blades, but at least they wouldn’t be so close.
The pressure faded before Lindon reached the boulder, and he was so surprised that he couldn’t resist a glance back.
The Akura man had closed his eyes again, returning to his cycling. He had taken the destruction of the portal as nothing.
But he was the only one.
The other three all stared at the damaged portal frame, their battle forgotten. The Redmoon Hall girl stared out of the veil of her hair and trembled like she was watching her own home burn down. The man with the emerald horns looked from the portal to Lindon and passed a hand over his face. And the dragon-girl had both clawed hands in front of her mouth, eyes wide.
Then she and Yan Shoumei turned to Lindon. Rage of red and fury of gold pushed against his spiritual senses.
Black-and-red haze flared around Lindon as he heaved Orthos with all his strength, sliding the turtle behind the boulder. Orthos’ struggles had gotten weaker and weaker, and Lindon could feel his consciousness fading. It sent a spike of alarm through Lindon—he hoped this was just exhaustion caused by exertion and injuries, but it felt like a slide into death.
Hunkered down behind the boulder, Lindon felt the flares of madra recede. It seemed they were trying to keep all disturbances to a minimum to avoid waking the cycling Akura again.
Which gave him a window to find a way out.
Suppressing his dread and alarm, he scanned the darkness of the water around him. He was only steps away from the bubble that separated him from the cold, black water all around them.
However the fight among the Truegolds fell out, it wouldn’t bode well for Lindon. He needed somewhere to escape. He’d closed the portal, and that fact hung over him like a sword suspended by a string: he had destroyed his only way home.
But he shoved that panicked thought to the back of his head for later. There had to be another way home, and now that he had the Eye of the Deep, he held the key to the entire Ghostwater facility. If there was a way, he’d find it.
He just needed to get out of here now.
He scanned the black water along the ocean floor, looking for other spots of light.
A gold sun rose behind him, and his Enforced jump sent sand spraying behind him. His Burning Cloak surged, his madra channels still shrieking in protest after he’d abused them to force out the dragon’s breath.
Lindon twisted in midair, bringing his white arm up in front of him as a shield.
The golden dragon-girl stood before him, necklaces hanging against her golden chest, her silks shimmering in many colors. She held out a claw.
“The sapphire, the pack on your back, and anything you have in your pockets. You have no idea how expensive it will be to return home without that doorway.”
So there was a way out, and these Truegolds knew it. Lindon tucked that fact away.
“If you compensate me for my expense and give me something that is worth more than your life, I may leave you unharmed.” She was keeping her voice low, shooting frequent glances at the spot where the black-haired man meditated.
Lindon ducked his head toward her, raising his hands and letting the Path of Black Flame fade from his spirit. The Blackflame urged him to fight her for dominance, but he shoved it down and drew from his pure core instead. He needed a clear head.