Lindon was staring at the wall, his mind churning. Dross, did you get that?
[I mean, I remember it, but I don't know if I can help you do it. He's using shadow madra, and he's just...you know, a lot better at this than you are.]
Dross ran him through a quick simulation in his mind. Lindon moved slowly on the outside, cycling his madra, trying to create the feeling that the Herald had just produced.
The first models that Dross fashioned didn't work well. It was a hard feeling to grasp; Fury had been using shadow madra, and Lindon was trying to make use of the same principles with an entirely different aspect. Not to mention that he'd never tried Forging something so quick and rough. It was more like a Striker technique than like Forging a scale.
He ran through the motions, both spiritually and physically, at reduced speed as Dross worked to process new possibilities and present them to him.
After a few false starts, Lindon made an attempt. It was like localizing the Soul Cloak just to his arm while executing the Empty Palm as he always had, and at the same time projecting a second copy of the technique off to the side. It took all of his concentration, aided by Dross, and it still felt as though he'd cobbled the technique together.
When he struck the post, he lit up all three rings of script. And there was a blue-white blur in the air above and to the right.
“Wrong,” he muttered.
[On the right track, though!] Dross encouraged him. [Who knows? By the time the tournament starts, you might be able to slap all the spectators at once.]
Lindon snapped out of his concentrated trance to find Fury looming behind him, red eyes blazing, shadowy hair writhing in excitement. He wore a crazed Eithan-like grin.
“Now that is what I like to see,” the Herald said. “Let me run you through a few more possibilities.”
Chapter 5
Lindon slid on his back across the smooth floor of his basement. As he came to a stop, he spat out a mouthful of blood from a gash in his lip.
A short girl with long pigtails and a massive hammer stood over him. She snorted as she turned away, saying something he couldn't hear over the ringing in his ears. No doubt it was cutting.
That's her third time, isn't it? Lindon asked silently. These conversations with Dross gave him something to focus on besides how much he wanted to stop taking beatings.
[My model of her was at about ninety percent before, but now it's a nice and clean one hundred. If you had asked me for a combat report, you would have toyed with her. Why didn't you do that?]
Lindon dabbed the flesh around his eye, now tender and swollen. I almost had her on my own.
This time, he had gotten close with the Burning Cloak and landed a solid hit with his right hand. He could have activated the hunger binding in his arm and drained her madra or unleashed dragon's breath that would have torn her apart.
But he was trying to beat her using his pure madra alone. With only two combat techniques, it was a rough trail to walk.
Lindon rose unsteadily to his feet as the Bloodforged Iron body drew on his madra, but he stopped as he realized the girl with the hammer hadn't left. She stood with her arms crossed as her friend took over.
When they came to beat him, they almost never came alone.
A tall, lanky Underlord had been shifting from foot to foot in the corner, waiting for the first fight to be over. Now that it was his turn, he stepped forward eagerly, conjured lightning around his fists.
The observation construct intended to witness the fight drifted in the air around them, and Charity's silver-and-purple owl lurked in the corner.
“Wei Shi Lindon Arelius, I challenge you,” the young man said.
Lindon wanted to give up.
But this was the path he'd chosen.
“I accept,” Lindon said, though his voice wavered.
That was all the Akura Underlord needed before he cast a dome of crackling lightning over them both. A Ruler boundary field.
Lindon had fought him twice already. The boundary field was weak, only enough to give Lindon the occasional twitch or twinge of pain, but his opponent used it as a distraction to keep Lindon from concentrating on any larger techniques. In the meanwhile, he whittled Lindon down with thin whips of lightning.
Not every Akura clan member followed a shadow Path. He had learned that lesson early on. It was better for his training this way, because no doubt he would face opponents of all different aspects in the Uncrowned King tournament, but that meant the torments were new with each defeat.
This time, Lindon really didn't want to lose again.
He'd practiced against this young man's model a dozen times. With full use of his abilities, Lindon could win easily. It was all about keeping the fight short. With only his pure madra...
Lindon kindled the Soul Cloak as a lightning whip came flashing at him. He dodged, closing the gap, ignoring the sting of the boundary field.
The Akura triggered a binding in his bracer, and a pulse of force madra flooded out, pushing Lindon away.
But Lindon had already been reaching for it. As soon as the construct was activated, Lindon's right arm was ready. He drained the madra as it came out, so it didn't even slow him down.
The force madra rushed through his Remnant arm in gray veins, but he grabbed it and cycled it through his hunger binding. He had to use it up or vent it, or it would pollute his arm or his own madra.
His control over force madra was lacking, but it was enough for a very simple attack technique. Lindon’s punch to the Akura's chest flashed gray as it struck, smashing the enemy backward.
He flew into the wall, cracking his head against the metal plates, and Lindon dashed after him. He gathered madra into his Empty Palm, and the young man looked up with fear in his purple eyes.
Lindon hesitated.
His instinct, born from the last two years of bloody competition, told him to finish off the enemy immediately. If Lindon hit the Akura too hard, he might kill him.
It was only a moment of indecision, but it was enough. The lanky young man reached out to the boundary field, gathering it into one larger bolt of lightning.
It struck in a flash of light, and Lindon passed out again.
He woke up on the floor, aching and groaning, with Little Blue injecting soothing madra into him. She patted his forehead.
He glanced up to find that his visitors still hadn't left. Instead, another Underlord had joined them.
Akura Pride, short and glaring, folded his arms and glared down at Lindon. He stood apart from the other members of his family, and from the looks they shot Pride, Lindon gathered that Mercy’s brother still wasn't the most popular.
“Give up,” Pride said abruptly.
Lindon pushed himself to his knees. When he straightened his back, he could look Pride in the eyes. “They were just giving me some pointers on my techniques. Nothing to be upset about.”
The girl with the pigtails snorted.
“Go home,” Pride continued. “Leave my sister alone. Give up on the tournament. You won't even make it past the first round.”
Lindon was sick of kneeling before Mercy's brother. He rose to his feet, where he towered over Pride.
“That's why I'm grateful to your cousins for their help in my training.” Lindon smiled, tasting the blood on his teeth.
He had trained against Dross' model of Pride many times. Though Dross couldn't swear to its accuracy, Lindon only won three out of every ten simulated matches. Even with his full power.
In a real fight, he’d have to cheat.
Pride stepped so close that his chin almost touched Lindon's chest. He stared up, eyes full of rage. “Uncle Fury's selection is in ten days. I want you to be there. And when I win, I will challenge you in front of everyone. I will beat you into the ground every day until you give up or you can't fight anymore.”