When his sight cleared, the Blood Shadow’s copied technique was hurtling at him too.
This one hurt worse, breaking the skin on his knuckles and sending blood spraying into the air. Its power sank into his arm, striking his bones like a gong. Blood madra affected living bodies directly, so the Blood Shadow’s copy of the Meteor Breath caused him much more pain than his own had.
His breathing turned ragged, but he tapped the last of his soulfire, pouring it into his Enforcer technique. The strength of soulfire soaked into him, empowering his limb and his weapon.
Eithan was Forging stars of pure madra in the air. They sparkled in the flash of lightning like birds of glass, but Longhook swung his hook through them, crushing the Forger technique before it was born.
Arelius batted the hook away with his umbrella, but the Blood Shadow had reached him from behind. Its arm morphed into a hook, and it was filled with its own version of the Mountain’s Fist. It slammed its hand into Eithan’s back.
The Blood Shadow’s hand shattered like a hammer made of ice striking rock. The Shadow screamed, its agony flowing into Longhook’s soul. Eithan stood untouched.
This time, Longhook could feel what Eithan had done. He’d projected a layer of pure madra armor, dense enough to stand against the Blood Shadow. It would do him no good against a sword, but against any spiritual attack, it would be a solid defense.
But Longhook could hardly bring himself to believe it. Eithan would need to flood such a technique with madra. It was one of the biggest wastes of power he could imagine; no one would be able to maintain a defense like that for longer than a few seconds.
When that armor fell, Longhook would have his last chance.
His Blood Shadow was weak, falling apart. It would help him no further in this battle. He had one wisp of soulfire remaining, to empower one last attack. The cloudship—now a few hundred yards behind and above them—was starting to move. And Eithan stood in the rain, umbrella in one hand and a grin on his face.
Longhook reached deep into himself, seizing the Blood Shadow with his will. It struggled, sensing what was coming.
He had sworn he would never do this. It would set his growth back by years, especially after the damage the Shadow had sustained. It might never recover to its current level.
But he needed an edge.
Flexing his spirit, Longhook devoured his Blood Shadow. The red spirit let out a silent scream that cut into Longhook’s soul, and from its position behind Eithan, it began to dissolve into sparkling particles of red essence. As though caught in a swift breeze, the blood essence gusted toward Longhook.
The power flooded into him, supplementing his madra, knitting his wounded body back together. Blood madra stitched the muscle and bone in his broken arm, accelerating his healing. He stood tall, full of power, eyes flashing red.
There was a gap in his spirit where once his Blood Shadow had rested, but for now, he was fueled by its power. His core was stained red, and it burned hot.
Eithan watched, an infuriating smile still on his face. Longhook had been prepared for his interference, but he hadn’t moved an inch.
That would be his last mistake.
Longhook lifted one foot, gathering up a Ruler technique and cycling it down. He stomped onto the ground, splashing mud onto his ankle and delivering the pulse of madra into the ground.
Golden earth aura flared beneath him, responding to his call.
Fingers of stone rose from the earth, each the size of a man’s torso. They closed around Eithan, grasping at him. He twisted to avoid each one, leaping and turning as new pillars of rock broke the mud and tried to grab him around the waist.
Longhook felt the armor around Eithan fade away as the Arelius shifted his focus.
Now, the Redmoon Underlord seized his chance. Holding his two palms a few inches apart, he crafted one final Meteor Breath. It gathered, a chunk of yellow earth madra tinted with the red of blood, and he poured the last wisp of his soulfire into it. The colorless flame soaked in, empowering it, and the technique became brighter and more solid, almost as dense as a Forger technique but raging with power.
The rest of his madra, and the residue of his broken Blood Shadow, all of it went into this technique. The ball of power shone red and gold, brightening the shadows of the stormy night. It radiated such force that the mud and rain flew away from him. A Lowgold might have been struck dead with the spiritual pressure alone.
Eithan jumped, avoiding Longhook’s ongoing Ruler technique. The pillar of stone brushed the edge of his robe, but failed to find purchase, and now the Arelius was in midair.
With the last remaining vestige of his spiritual strength, Longhook launched the Meteor Breath.
It streaked through the night, trailing red-and-gold light, bright as dawn. It moved like a bolt of lightning, the force of its passage tearing a line in the ground beneath.
With the technique only inches away, Eithan extended a hand.
Longhook saw what happened as clearly as a painting. Pale gray soulfire swirled in Eithan’s palm for an instant, vanishing as it soaked into a technique. Pure madra gathered, condensed and empowered by soulfire so that it shone blue-white. It drew to a point in front of Eithan’s hand, then fired out in a finger-thick line.
The bar of pure madra pierced his Meteor Breath, punching through without resistance.
Longhook’s technique burst like a bubble, exploding in a devastating wave of force that knocked Eithan off-balance and tore a crater in the earth. But it hadn’t hit. Eithan spun once in the air, but landed on his feet, umbrella braced on his shoulder.
At first, Longhook thought the shooting pain in his spirit was a side effect of exhaustion. It was only by chance that he glanced down to see the line of pure madra spearing him straight through the center.
It did nothing to his body, but his core shattered. A cold pain started sharp and only got worse, spreading through his spirit. His Ruler technique faltered and failed, stone fingers crumbling to the ground.
He tried to cycle his madra, but nothing happened. He might as well have tried to catch a handful of air.
Eithan’s umbrella caught him beneath the chin, and his vision faded.
A moment later, he was lying on his back in the mud, staring into the rain. Eithan Arelius looked down on him, umbrella unfolded and held over his shoulder.
Power erupted from Eithan, rising like a pillar into the sky. He was gathering up a technique of such magnitude that it could shake the ground for miles around, though outwardly he was doing nothing but standing still. How could one man have so much madra?
Longhook turned his good eye to Arelius. “My fate...does not...end here...”
Eithan’s smile softened. “Everything ends.”
The power rising from him tapered off, leaving a mass of pure madra hovering in the sky far over Eithan’s head. He looked down on Longhook and pointed.
The pure madra in the sky, vast as one of the stormclouds, gathered together into a single point. It was so dense it looked blue-white instead of colorless, like a newborn star.
Longhook stared into it for a moment, enjoying its beauty. Then he closed his eye.
Like a heavenly sword of judgment, the madra stabbed down into him, obliterating his spirit. And he knew no more.
Highgold-level dragons were just big lizards. In the days she and Mercy spent running from dragons through the woods, Yerin never saw them breathe fire or use any flame arts at all. She only saw them use three weapons: their claws, their fangs, and their tails.
“What is burning them up?” Yerin said for the thousandth time, as they crammed themselves into a tiny gully and drew a scripted blanket over themselves. The script only dispersed spiritual senses, so it worked on top of the veils in their spirits to keep them hidden.