Only a few seconds after Lindon stepped out on the ash, another section of wall on the opposite side of the arena began to rise.
“Naian Blackflame, fighting for the black dragons!”
The skeletal young Underlord rushed out, flecks of spittle flying from his unrestrained snarl. His eyes blazed with hunger, and he rushed through the layer of ashes on bare feet. Lindon was somehow disconcerted to see that Naian didn’t share the Blackflame eyes that he and Orthos did. The Goldsign of the main Path of Black Flame was their tail.
Compared to the visions Lindon had seen in the dream tablets, Naian looked even worse. His tail whipped behind him in a frenzy, dirt and grime smeared his matted, unshaven face, and wild, stringy hair hung from his head.
Worse, he was still shackled; a scripted collar around his neck shone red, and Lindon could tell that he was attempting to force madra through it. His hands were tied behind his back with a series of scripted chains.
There was no reason in him. He rushed at Northstrider like a mad dog unleashed.
And slammed into an invisible wall only inches from the Monarch. He fell backward, howling with pain, twisting and writhing to get back to his feet with his hands tied behind him.
A few scattered laughs sounded from the audience, but Lindon saw nothing funny.
Northstrider finally opened his golden eyes, looking first to the Akura team, ignoring the Blackflame artist who was trying to break an invisible wall with his teeth.
“Which of you fights first?” he asked.
Lindon stepped forward. “This one will, if it pleases the Monarch.”
“It does.”
Lindon turned at the sound of stone grating on stone. A booth had risen from the arena floor, surrounded by scripts.
“Akura Mercy. You will watch from inside this room unless and until your turn comes. The battle will not touch you.”
Mercy bowed and returned, patting Lindon on his arm before she left.
Leaving Lindon to face his opponent with Northstrider standing between them.
Overhead, the rainbow voice played up the match. “A fighter from the Blackflame Empire versus the last descendant of their original royal family!”
Aside from wondering if Naian really was the last descendant, Lindon gave her words no thought. He focused on the man lashing his tail at the transparent barrier in front of him. He could hear the passage of the tail through the air—that was not a weak blow, but against the will of the Monarch, it might as well have been breeze from a sparrow's wing.
“He will be unbound, won't he?” Lindon asked quietly.
“As much as he can be,” Northstrider answered. The Monarch's attention turned to Lindon, and Lindon's spirit shook. He felt a spike of worry for Dross, but the mind-spirit was stunned into a sort of awed silence by the Monarch’s sheer presence.
“Do not let compassion disarm you,” Northstrider said. “He is no less deadly for his condition.”
Fireworks sounded overhead, and Naian snarled at the sky.
Northstrider unfolded his arms, and Lindon cycled the Path of the Black Flame. Naian noticed, turning to glare at Lindon with dark human eyes. Lindon met them with the eyes of a dragon.
With a hiss, the metal collar around his neck split apart. It fell to the ash, and the belts around his arms whipped through the air as they unraveled. He looked down at himself with surprise, stretching his arms, staring at his own fingers.
Then a Burning Cloak sprang up around him, thicker and wilder than Lindon's, like an unrestrained forest fire. He howled.
“Begin!” Northstrider commanded. He, and all barriers restricting the fighters, vanished.
Lindon used a Burning Cloak of his own, closing the distance between him and Naian. He knew from the dream tablets that reason would not work on the Blackflame. Certainly not while black dragon madra still poisoned his mind. Lindon needed to weaken the man first.
He kicked up ash with every step, landing beside Naian, reaching out with his hunger arm. The more Blackflame madra he could drain away, the more lucid his opponent would become.
Naian didn't react the way Lindon had expected he would. For the first instant, he didn't react at all. He stood, staring at his own hands, a furious Burning Cloak blazing around him.
As though it had a mind of its own, his tail struck with blinding speed.
It slapped Lindon's Remnant arm so hard that a crack appeared on the back of the white hand, and a lance of pain shot through Lindon's spirit. In the same instant, it struck again, stabbing at Lindon's face.
He got his shield up in time, taking the blow on the metallic surface, but it hit like a hammer. Lindon was thrown backward, skidding to a halt in the ash.
He twisted his shield in an instant, readying dragon's breath, but Naian was gone.
Lindon felt burning heat in his spirit from behind and threw himself aside as a bar of dragon's breath slashed from left to right at neck height. Naian followed it up, using the red-and-black madra like a furious sword.
An actual sword would be faster; every stroke of dragon's breath took a little time to gather. But the Blackflame made sure that Lindon had no time to recover, dashing at him with the Burning Cloak in between Striker techniques. He fought like a furious beast, mixing the Cloak and the dragon's breath into an unrelenting assault. Only by blocking with his shield and his flying sword could Lindon keep up.
Dross! Lindon called desperately.
[Done,] the spirit replied, and suddenly Lindon could see a ghost of his opponent overlapping his actual movement. A ghostly echo that preceded his action instead of coming after.
Dross moved the flying Wavedancer to block a punch while Lindon sheltered from the Striker technique behind his shield. He pushed the dragon's breath back, stepping forward. And now, in the prescient shadow of Naian's movements, he could see an opening.
In a burst of the Burning Cloak, he leapt forward. His right hand landed on the Blackflame's thigh, and he triggered his hunger binding.
It felt chaotic but powerful, far denser and more potent than his own. The main Path of the Black Flame used a Jade cycling technique that focused on power, not on expanding the core like his Heaven and Earth Purification Wheel did.
This original Blackflame madra reminded him more of the black dragon's power, but more tempered and controlled. No less potent or explosive. The original Blackflame madra mixed into his core, blending into his spirit just as the dragon's had.
Naian didn't like having his soul drained.
He lashed out with a kick that Lindon anticipated, breaking off the hunger technique after only a second. The shadow that Dross provided rushed at Lindon, who raised a shield to block the attack...which didn't come.
Instead, Naian used a technique that Lindon had never seen before.
He gripped his right arm in his left hand, the fingers on his right hand forming a claw and trembling as though under a great weight. Madra pooled there, and aura gathered, as though he was focusing his Burning Cloak into a single punch while also using a localized Void Dragon's Dance.
[We should stop that,] Dross suggested, and Lindon could only agree.
His flying sword swept in, striking at Naian from the right, and the Blackflame heir fought it off with lightning-quick flicks of his tail. At the same time, Lindon swept in a dragon's breath from the left, and Naian dashed away.
Each step was a burst of speed, powered by the full-body Enforcer technique, but there was a moment in between each leap where he had to come to a stop. Lindon aimed for those moments, following him with both a sword and a beam of madra.
That exchange only continued for a few seconds, and Naian never dropped his technique. Finally, Forged claws of red-and-black grew from the fingers on his right hand, encrusting from his fingers to his wrist in dark, fiery crystals.
The aura around it stormed with fire and destruction, flashing red and black, and with enough madra condensed into the technique to melt through a castle wall. Soulfire rushed through it as well, increasing the pressure until Lindon felt as though he could barely breathe, making the Forged claws vivid and distinct.