~~~
“Seize the crown!” the Ninecloud Soul's pleasant voice rang throughout the arena, and instantly a forty-foot image was projected in the center of the air.
It showed a sacred artist with a blank face approaching a golden crown, which hung suspended in a column of yellow light.
“There are thirty-two crowns scattered across a beautiful tropical island,” the voice continued. “The crowns can be easily identified, as they send up a beacon of golden light. When you place a crown on your head...”
The illusory image reached out, snatching the crown and placing it on his head. The beacon intensified, turning white.
“...then you must keep it on your head for a full minute! If you succeed, you will be instantly returned back here, qualified for the third round!”
The crowned sacred artist winked, then disappeared.
Take notes, Lindon ordered Dross.
[...all right, but are you really not going to remember this without my help?]
“Be certain you’re ready when you put it on, because once you place the crown on your head, there’s no going back! The crown is only removed if you are killed while wearing it!”
A weapon speared the sacred artist through the chest—no blood sprayed, but he fell over like a doll—and the crown rolled from his head. It glowed gold again.
“Not to worry; you are still under the infallible protection of a Monarch! If you die, you will be held for one hour, after which you will be returned to the island!”
The sacred artist appeared again, good as new.
Lindon could already see that the odds of moving on to the next round as a full team were low. They would have to gather three crowns before anyone wore one, and then channel them one at a time—but it would be obvious to everyone on the island what they were doing.
“In just a moment, the competitors will be transported to the island along with their teams! For those of you who lost your teammates in the first round, don't be discouraged: if you're alone, you only have to hold one crown!”
Though they would also have to defend themselves from all the other teams who would be out for their blood. Dying in the competition might not mean dying for real, but a one-hour delay for a lone sacred artist would virtually guarantee losing the round.
“Thirty-two crowns mean thirty-two spots for round three!” the Ninecloud Soul called. “Competitors, ready yourselves for glory! Prepare your plans, firm your resolve, and let your spirits—”
“Begin,” Northstrider commanded.
The world faded away, and the rainbow light vanished.
~~~
Lindon found himself standing in the sand, a salty breeze ruffling his outer robe. Waves lapped behind him, reminding him of Ghostwater, and he hurriedly scanned up and down the coast.
Nothing but ocean, sand, and the thick trees of the island in front of him.
An instant later, Mercy popped into existence on his left, taking a deep breath and shaking out her hair. “I hate being launched through space without warning,” she said. “It messes with my head.”
Pride appeared on his right in a combat crouch. He clenched his fists, spinning around, looking for something to fight.
“Just as we planned.” Lindon had hoped to bring his void key along, but that was against the rules. Any sacred instruments they brought had to be carried in a soulspace, which severely limited his room. But he could afford to carry around a handful of weak, small constructs.
He pulled a simple circular construct from among those in his soulspace. It was essentially a cluster of Remnant eyes, and he threw it straight up into the air, linking his spiritual perception to it.
The crude construct brought him far too much information, but Dross helped him sort it so that he could get a general glimpse of his surroundings. The island was vast and largely flat, with a few small hills, all covered in thick trees. He could see almost nothing of the ground beneath. He caught a glimpse of the ocean on the far side before the construct started to fall, but no other competitors.
...until a red diamond blasted from the trees, spearing through the construct.
His perception cut off, and he watched with his own eyes as a wave of Forged knives tore the cluster apart.
Chunks of madra dissolved all around him as he reported his findings to Mercy and Pride. “No crowns yet, but we're not alone.”
Pride didn't respond, marching up to the trees. “Come on, Mercy. Let's go hunting.”
Lindon pushed down his irritation. They had a plan: to stay put and call the other Akura faction teams to them. He was confident that the other factions would be trying to join forces as well; it was the obvious strategy.
“We don't know where the crowns will be placed,” Lindon said without moving. “We should follow the plan.”
Pride continued trudging through the sand. “They'll be put deep into the island, to encourage us moving toward one another. Try using your brain before you open your mouth.”
One hour. If Lindon put a dragon's breath through Pride's back, he wouldn't have to deal with him for an entire hour.
Mercy let out a breath and jogged backward toward Pride, addressing Lindon as she did. “I know how he can be, but if we let him go alone, he's going to get torn in half by a Striker technique before the crowns show up at all. We should cover for him.”
“I need you to cover for me,” Pride said as he entered the trees. “Maybe we could use him for bait.”
[His mother is definitely watching us,] Dross noted. [We'll have to be very sneaky when we stab him in the back.]
Lindon pulled out another simple construct, like a throbbing pink heart, and activated it. It began to flash brightly, each flash sending out a unique spiritual pulse. It wouldn’t do anything, but the Frozen Blade and Akura backup teams had corresponding constructs that should be able to detect its signature from anywhere on the island.
He hadn’t given the Blackflame team anything of the sort. Eithan and Naru Saeya would be able to find him regardless.
He was supposed to find a safe place and stay there while everyone in the Akura faction gathered together, but now they were walking into the jungle. Which increased the odds of enemies detecting them and made it harder for their allies to find them.
[I’m no strategy construct, but I wouldn’t call this the best plan.]
The trees were thickly pressed together, the life aura almost choking in its strength. Without warning, a massive yellow-furred monkey came shrieking down from a tree, carrying wooden spears in both hands and emitting the spiritual pressure of an Underlord.
Mercy hurled arrows of black madra without hesitation, but the monkey slapped them aside, his weapons a blur. He was going to land straight on Pride, his feet extended like hands. He didn't have time to move, and Lindon held his technique. He wanted to see what Pride could do.
At the last instant, the short Underlord leaped and drove a punch into the monkey’s gut.
Black and gray madra flashed from the point of impact, accompanied by a sound like a great flag snapping in the breeze. The monkey blasted backward, crashing into a tree hard enough that he left a crater that sent splinters flying.
By the time Pride landed, Lindon finally decided to release his Striker technique. Black-and-red madra struck the creature…
Several people locked their perception onto Lindon, and his spirit shivered. Their location construct was difficult to detect except by someone with the corresponding detection construct…but his dragon’s breath was not so subtle.
“We have to move,” he said, and even Pride didn’t argue. The three of them darted into the underbrush.
~~~
The crocodile-creature had some hardy skin. It withstood Yerin's first strike.
Just not the next seven.
She left it in bloody pieces on the jungle floor. Naru Saeya lowered herself from the treetops, cradling a wounded left arm; she hadn't even cleared the trees, trying to get a look around, before a monkey had sliced her arm with a sharpened branch.