He Forged Blackflame so easily, Lindon sent to Dross, pulling his flying sword back and raising his shield.
[Most Paths can be Forged. Some sacred artists just have more talent than others.]
Naian roared, mad fury in his eyes, and jumped at Lindon.
Prepared, he lowered Wavedancer in front of him, holding out his shield behind that. Naian didn't bother knocking the Archlord weapon out of the way; instead, he slammed his claws into the flat of its blade.
The technique sent Blackflame madra and waves of flame—conjured by aura—blasting out in a sheet. It engulfed the sword in a cloud of deadly black, red, and orange, and Lindon hurriedly triggered the binding in his shield. The pulse of force pushed some of the fire away, but he was still consumed.
He drained some of the madra from the air with his right arm, pulling it into his Blackflame core, while at the same time contesting the Path of Black Flame with his own spirit.
Even so, he was burned.
The force of the attack shoved him back, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut against the heat, which beat at him like a furnace. While drawing on his fire Path, he had a higher tolerance for heat, but streaks of fire still seared him where the attack pushed through his spiritual protection. His robes caught fire in a dozen places, scorching his skin. Several of the trees around him burst into flame, crackling as they exploded.
Gritting his teeth and cycling Blackflame, Lindon endured. When the cloud of flame from the technique washed away, he was ready to react immediately, though his madra channels already ached. He pushed both hands out in a two-handed blast of dragon's breath.
Naian held up his left hand as though he held a sword...and then he did ; a sacred instrument manifested itself from his soulspace. A squat, wide orange blade that glowed at its core like a sunset. It had no problem enduring Lindon's dragon's breath.
[Above!] Dross called, dragging his attention higher, but Lindon had already noticed. He opened his Copper sight to see clouds of fire and destruction aura gathering over him in a slowly spinning vortex.
Naian was using the Void Dragon's Dance.
Lindon cut off his dragon's breath immediately, focusing his spirit on controlling the aura released from the burning trees. The rotation of the aura clouds stuttered, turning slower then faster, as he and Naian Blackflame wrestled for control of the technique.
Naian gripped his sword in a trembling hand, snarling at Lindon through gritted teeth, pouring his wild and focused soul into the Ruler technique. He could have attacked, but he couldn't afford the slightest loss in attention. An instant of distraction would yield the Void Dragon's Dance to Lindon.
It was the same for Lindon, but he had joined the technique too late. Naian had control over most of it, and though Lindon poured all of his will into the aura, his grip was slipping. If he took a second to attack, a tornado of fire and destruction would strip the flesh from his bones in an instant.
He couldn't spare the attention...but Dross could.
His flying sword darted over to Naian, slashing at him with wide, elegant sweeping motions. It targeted the side of his neck, forcing the Blackflame to slide away, batting at the weapon with his tail.
Which allowed Lindon to get a firm grip on the Void Dragon's Dance.
Through whatever damage years of captivity and the rigors of his Path had done to him, Naian recognized what was happening. Rather than give into his opponent, he tore at his own technique, trying to disperse it. Lindon firmed his soul, pushing madra out, trying to stabilize the vortex under his control.
Neither got their wish.
Torn between two spirits on the Path of Black Flame, the Ruler technique detonated. In a blinding flash, all the natural fire in the area exploded outward, consuming anything in its path with the speed of destruction aura.
Lindon focused his spirit on defense, which meant that instead of burning through him like a fire through dry tinder, the flame hit an unfocused barrier of Blackflame madra. It slammed into his chest and cracked his ribs, sending him tumbling back.
His eyes and his spiritual senses were stunned, and he lost his breath. He clawed his way back to his feet before he could even feel the world around him again, trying to force his lungs to move. He felt as though he'd been pelted with rocks all over.
Naian had fared no better, a few patches on his skin blackened and cracked, and one of his knees twisted around the wrong way. He limped up, bracing on his tail, and snarled as he drew up dragon's breath.
Lindon wouldn't win a contest of Blackflame. But this had always been about wasting his opponent's madra.
The weaker the Path of Black Flame was in Naian's spirit, the more control his mind would have.
Lindon’s channels screamed with pain as pure madra ran through them, but he felt powerful again. Even his Bloodforged Iron body ran better on pure madra, healing his wounds more quickly, fighting the destruction of his flesh that Blackflame caused.
The Soul Cloak sprang up, and he ducked dragon's breath as he ran in, smacking the blade aside with his shield. Naian fought with blinding speed and bestial aggression, but between Dross' anticipation and the control of the Soul Cloak, Lindon reacted better. His shield and his flying sword protected him as they fought at arm's reach.
Fear pestered him—an unwelcome distraction. His shield was breaking under Naian's blade, and his own flying sword was just enough to defend him from the Blackflame's whipping tail. If he took a hit from this close, the fight could be over. He had only his Iron body to rely on.
But he had to create an opening.
Dross, he asked, can you numb my pain?
[I see what you're thinking, and if you weren't being protected from death by a Monarch, it would be unspeakably stupid. But you are, so go crazy.]
Lindon moved aside, and instead of crashing onto Lindon’s shield, Naian's orange sword skewered him through the stomach.
The audience erupted into wild cheers, lights flashing from the audience in the dragon tower.
Either Dross really had done something to numb his pain or Northstrider's protection helped, because Lindon's mind should have been erased by agony. Instead, though the three feet of metal scraped his ribs as they pierced him through, he was still able to function.
At least enough to pull Little Blue from his soulspace.
His concentration was shaky. As she emerged, he focused on his blood spraying all over his white arm, leaking through his Akura clothes. Those were expensive...
[Focus!] Dross said, and then Lindon could.
The Sylvan had screamed upon seeing him, scrambling to help, but Lindon pushed her toward Naian. The Blackflame was trying to pull his weapon free, but Lindon's left hand had his arm in a death-grip. At the same time, Dross controlled the flying sword to attack the man's back, engaging his tail.
Little Blue had an opening. And, with a sorrowful note, she took it. Ocean-blue hands landed on Naian Blackflame's wrist.
Cold sparks of her madra passed into his channels, and every muscle in the man's body went stiff. Even his tail froze, and he showed no reaction as a sword plunged into his back.
Despite Dross' stimulation, Lindon's mind was fading. With the last threads of madra he could control, he reached out his right arm and used the hunger binding.
Blackflame madra flowed into him. The less madra Naian had, the better, though it was hard for Lindon to remember why. Some of Little Blue's madra came back to him too, but the spirit was pumping more in, so most of it stayed in Naian's spirit.
The Blackflame swayed on his feet, and Lindon felt the same way. Little Blue was growing pale.