Violet crystals started to form all over Mercy’s arm, and then the madra washed over them.
It detonated as it hit, scorching every inch of Yerin’s exposed skin. She couldn’t tell how much of it had been pushed away by her Enforced sword, but it hit her weapon like a hammer, slamming it back into her, driving her back into the trees.
Yerin lost herself for a second. She saw only light and motion, heard only a formless roar.
When she came back, she was looking at the sky. Her face, her arms, her head—in so much pain she could barely breathe. She pushed herself up to sit, her Steelborn Iron body draining madra, and the flash of pain was so intense she almost passed out.
Pieces of her robe crumbled away as she moved. The skin of her right arm was red-and-black, twisted, almost melted. Her master’s sword lay not far away. It was unharmed, and she crawled for it.
Then she saw Mercy.
The girl’s left arm was covered in a violet crystalline armor the same color as her book had been. Slowly, the armor faded to essence, revealing an arm that looked totally untouched.
It was the only part of her body that looked that way.
Most of her hair was scorched off. Her robes were half-melted to her body, and all her skin was red and burned. She cradled Suu in her arms.
At first sight, Yerin was sure she was dead. Only her spiritual perception said otherwise.
Another sunset-colored light bloomed, and Yerin turned slowly to face it.
If anything, the Underlady looked even more furious now. Tears streamed from her eyes, and she gathered this Striker technique in both hands.
A Truegold dragon leaped in front of her.
The man fell to his knees and spread his arms, clearly pleading with her.
Yerin understood. She wasn’t the only Underlord on this island. The dragons knew they had come from the Blackflame Empire with the Skysworn, but they also must see the two of them as members of Redmoon Hall and the Akura family.
If she, a Lady, struck down two Golds, the other Lords would do likewise. It would be an invitation to tear the dragons apart.
But Yerin wasn’t going to stick around and see where the dice fell.
Her Steelborn Iron body was drawing on her spirit to keep her limbs moving, and she positively flooded it with madra. She hauled Mercy onto her shoulder, skin screaming and tears flooding her own eyes in the pain.
She gathered her master’s sword and the ancient bow under one arm. Then she started jogging into the woods.
If they got far enough away, she could pull the tent from Mercy’s void key and hide in its veiling script. That was their only hope.
For now, though every step was agony, she had to run.
Chapter 14
At the end of the second week after reaching the Spirit Well, Lindon advanced to Highgold in his pure core.
It struck him again how much longer it took to raise the Path of Twin Stars. If he had focused on only one Path, he would surely be Truegold by now, thanks to the miraculous properties of the Well water.
Even with the distractions of raising Dross and his pure core, his Path of Black Flame had advanced significantly into Highgold. He wasn’t knocking on the door of Truegold yet, but he could at least see it in the distance.
This was the easiest his advancement would ever be, and he relished it. Every sip of the Spirit Well water felt like a victory.
Orthos’ spirit burned brighter than Lindon had ever felt it. If the Dream Well water had helped him to stay focused, his newly cleansed spirit meant that Lindon no longer had to feed him pure scales or keep him calm. He spent his days cycling with Lindon, drinking from the Spirit Well, or swimming around the habitat. Lindon was fairly certain he’d been fighting with Sea Drakes, because sometimes he returned from his swims with an exultant look in his eye and scratches all over his skin.
Little Blue was once again a deep ocean blue, and she scampered around like a child in a field. She played with some of the more advanced Dreamseeds, the ones who had taken a more solid form. The less-advanced spirits were hazy and ever-shifting, and they didn’t seem to have minds at all.
Though it still knocked Lindon sideways when Dross said he wanted to eat some of them.
“It’s not eating as you do it,” Dross said from within Lindon’s core. “No, thank you—that’s disgusting. It’s more like a...merge. A merge in which I take in everything and they cease to exist.”
Lindon supposed there was nothing different about that than using Remnant parts, but he couldn’t help but think of some construct devouring Little Blue.
“The little ones don’t have minds. They’re like plants. If you wanted to feed them and raise them for a few years, sure, then they’d be all cute. And then you’d feel like a monster. But you haven’t done that, so we’re all clear!”
Lindon gave in. Dross was confident that this would be the last stage of his growth, and that after this, he would qualify as a living spirit rather than a construct. Lindon was curious to see that, and just as importantly, he wanted the construct out of his spirit. Dross was taking up far too much of his time and water each day.
Unfortunately, that meant he had to do the job of consuming the Dreamseed himself.
“You’ve got an arm for it!” Dross said. “Just walk over there and slurp it up.”
“it won’t work. My arm can’t draw anything into my core.”
“Get it into your madra channels and I’ll do the rest.”
When Lindon tried to consume the first Dreamseed, which clung to one of the nearby walls in a translucent purple blob, his arm of hunger madra drained something out of it and left it a lifeless husk of dissolving dream essence.
The next time, he restrained the limb, pulling the Dreamseed into his core as delicately as he could. It swirled into his spirit, a mass of impressions that felt surprisingly compatible with his pure madra. Dross had been right; these spirits were less like real dream madra and more like pure madra pretending.
That was interesting, but not as interesting as what happened to Dross when he absorbed the Sylvan.
He shivered inside Lindon’s core, his essence shifting, and some of the sparks inside him gathered together. It looked like he was forming a core of his own.
“Oh yeah, that’s it. That’s the right stuff. Now grab the one that looks like a flower.”
It took six Dreamseeds before Dross stopped talking. Inside Lindon’s spirit, the construct spun, turning in faster and faster loops.
Lindon funneled as much power from the Spirit Well to Dross as he could. He didn’t know if it was helping, but he reasoned that it couldn’t hurt.
Dross started pushing at Lindon’s core. It was only a little pressure at first, but it grew stronger and stronger, until Lindon had to extend his left hand and push the construct out like he was releasing a Striker technique.
The ball of purple light spun into the air, wobbling. He was more solid now, a more clearly defined orb. Now, twisting lines of light formed a web through the mechanical spokes at his center, all leading back to a single spot of bright light.
A madra system. He had grown madra channels and a core.
“Oh, this is brilliant! Brilliant stuff! It’s like all my thoughts and memories are crawling together and breeding new ones! I’m having ideas now!” Dross spun excitedly around Lindon’s head. “We don’t have to go to the portal at all, do we? We could harness fish and ride our way up! No, wait, we’re in a pocket world. We could harness fish and ride our way through space.”