Lindon ignored the Blood Shadow and moved to pick up her sword, walking like a crippled old man. "I'm waiting for you." He glanced up to the creatures on the stairs, then added, "...hurry, though."
She stared after him.
"If the emissaries of Redmoon Hall already did it, you can," he said reasonably.
With that, he ran to support Mercy on the stairs.
When you put it like that, it didn't sound so bad.
Instead of trying to push it back into place with her unsteady and failing madra, Yerin reached out to the Blood Shadow like it was her madra. Her spirit. Part of her.
It resisted her, of course. But this didn't have to do with advancement level. It was pure grit.
As far as that went, she wouldn't lose to anybody.
Lindon knew Mercy didn't really need his help. Not as long as her madra lasted, anyway, though based on her heavy breathing and the fading sense of her spirit, that wouldn't be much longer. She held the stairway with webs, keeping the bloodspawn back.
She didn't actually destroy any of them, but she locked them up. When they destroyed themselves unleashing their power, they'd break through, but she put up more barriers.
It was good that he didn't have to do much. Yerin's sword felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.
Mercy wiped sweat from her forehead, shooting a brief glance back at Yerin. She had been standing in one place, spirit and body still, for...too long.
"Is there anything we can do for her?" Mercy asked, sounding worried.
"We won't need to," he said. Oddly, he was confident. Eithan had implied he thought Yerin could control the Blood Shadow, and others had managed it. Yerin could do it.
And if she didn't...well, then the parasite in her body would kill him, so he wouldn't know any differently.
A bloodspawn compressed itself to slither through a gap in the web—none of them had done that before, and he wondered why. He drove his sword through it, and it froze, then shattered.
That was...strange. The Blood Shadow hadn't done that. Maybe it was a property of the madra that had gone into making the sword's blade; it had always given him the impression of icy cold.
Whatever the reason, he was glad he had a weapon that could oppose the bloodspawn without using his own madra. Because Mercy was running out.
The spirits seemed endless, and as far as he knew, maybe they were. More and more slipped through, and he had to use the sword.
It wasn't long before he could barely hold up the sword, and Mercy was breathing so long she could hardly speak. "I...have...one more trick," she said, panting. "Hoping...to save it...sorry."
Lindon couldn't imagine what she was apologizing for, but before she could do anything, the bloodspawn froze.
They didn't turn to ice, like they did at the touch of the Sword Sage's blade. Instead, they simply...stopped. Like constructs that had run out of power.
Relieved, he turned.
Yerin stood with hand held out, trembling.
And a red shadow stood behind her.
The Blood Shadow wasn't as distinct this time—it looked more like an actual shadow cast by the Dreadgod's bloody light. But it was very clearly standing an inch behind her, mimicking her every move.
"It's about time I gutted that fish," Yerin said, and though she swayed on her feet, her smile was radiant. "Stone simple. Who's in control now, huh?”
Lindon sagged down, sitting on the lid of a nearby jar. His right arm was limp, like it was made out of nothing more than wood and string, and he thought he might have actually torn open a wound in his spirit.
"Knew you'd do it," he said, using what seemed like a great effort to push a smile onto his lips. "Knew you would..."
Finally, a warm presence approached, crashing through the web on the doorway with a roar. Mercy stood abruptly, but he flopped his hand in the air to wave her down.
Orthos stomped through the bloodspawn, splattering them on the stairs, snarling. Two of them burst into dark flames, but the others were just destroyed.
"On time like a rising sun, you are," Yerin said, releasing her Blood Shadow.
Orthos growled, but shook his head to show he couldn't speak. He chomped into a nearby jar, crunching mouthfuls of the uncooked rice within.
Finger on her chin, Mercy looked at Yerin. "Does that let you command the bloodspawn?"
"Just cut them off from the mother," Yerin said, then winced. "...the Dreadgod." She brightened. "And I can do this."
The Blood Shadow formed fully this time, as though it were going to attack, and Lindon couldn't help but flinch. It stood next to Yerin...but this time, a red line stretched between their feet. The Shadow jumped up and down, waving its arms.
"It's a new weapon," Yerin said, re-absorbing the spirit. "I'll need practice."
"That's amazing," Mercy said in awe. "Can you—" She cut off, her head whirling to one side. "Oh no..."
Lindon didn't need another "oh no" in his life.
Mercy threw herself onto the ground. "She's here!" she shouted. "Get down!"
A new presence stabbed into his spirit like a light seared into his eyes. He let himself fall to the ground.
And the house above them was torn away.
It was as though a shovel the size of a mountain had scooped out the ground in a second. Between one instant and the next, the view above Lindon transformed from a dirt ceiling to a red-stained sky.
He had seen nothing but a wave of dark purple. Felt nothing but overwhelming, crushing power.
Mercy was pulling on his left arm, urging him to get up, to run. He stumbled after her, though Orthos was actually leading the way. He had bolted up the stairs like a spooked rabbit.
"Can't stay here," Mercy shouted over the rushing wind. "We need to find another—"
Whatever she was going to say was obliterated by an unimaginable crash. The sun went dark.
A wall of purple-edged darkness covered everything to the west. An enormous tower of crystalline amethyst rose from one end of the wall. And there was something above even that, something that blacked out the sky...
Mercy pulled on him again, and Yerin lurched out in front, so he followed.
An instant later, the wall vanished.
Wind actually pulled him off his feet, sending him tumbling down the street, so he lost himself for a moment. When he looked up again, the tower was gone.
No...it had moved.
The Dreadgod had taken to the sky, farther away now, but still incomprehensibly vast. It's sickle-like beak opened, and though its screech still pained his ears, it was nothing like before.
Now, it was focused on its opponent.
A giant stood beneath it, holding a spear. A giant covered from head to toe in armor of dark purple crystal. From the smooth facets of its face, a pair of violet pinpricks shone with light.
It was many miles away—how many, Lindon couldn't begin to guess—and he could still see it clearly. How large was it? There was a mountain by its knees, and when it adjusted its stance, half of the mountain crumbled away.
His brain finally snapped the pieces into place, and his jaw slackened. What he had taken as a wall covering everything to the west was just one of its boots. The tower had been its leg.
There came a flash of color and power as the two monsters exchanged blows, but he couldn't even catch a glimpse. A wall of heat and pressure pushed against Lindon's face. The skin of his scalp pressed back against him, and his eyes spiked with pain.
He fell back, but raised two fingers to his eye. Blood ran like tears.
As his Iron body pulled the last of his madra to heal his eyes, he saw bloodspawn rise from the ground…until Yerin reached out a hand and dispersed them to nothing.