Ziel’s hands trembled as he held the medicine. Just like that, Northstrider was proven right.
Unraveling his madra channels would not undo the damage done to them or to his body. It wouldn’t make him an Archlord again, or put him back on the path that might have made him a Herald one day.
But it would allow him to use his madra without pain and to exert the skill he had earned. When the pill finished its work, he would be a sacred artist again.
He placed the pill in his mouth and sat down to cycle, holding it on his tongue and drawing lines of power away from it and into his core. He had to fight back his hope. Something would stop him. The pill wouldn’t work, or the Monarch would take it back, or he would restore his channels only to find that the damage was even more extensive than he’d realized.
Something would go wrong. It always did.
Sure enough, the Monarch’s voice continued after a long pause. “…do not push yourself too hard,” she said, “but I see only one way for you to become the man you once were. It will take the direct intervention of myself and several other Monarchs. Do you understand?”
He did. There was only one way he would get such attention: if he won the Uncrowned King tournament.
~~~
“It’s an elixir,” Altavian’s voice explained to Yerin. “I know it doesn’t look like one.”
Yerin looked down at the fist-sized diamond in her hands. She’d grabbed it immediately, thinking it was a construct.
“Put it in a bucket or a bowl and run your madra through it. It will dissolve into a liquid, and then you drink it one spoonful at a time.”
Yerin held up the crystallized liquid to the light, wondering if it was worth the trouble, then dug around her rooms for a large bowl. She didn’t see why anyone wanted to live with so much space; it became a nightmare finding anything.
“It’s called a Diamond Veins elixir,” the voice went on. “You have to cycle it a little at a time over the next three days, but it’s said to make your madra channels as pure and resilient as a diamond.”
She raised her eyebrows as she dug through some cabinets. If the elixir did what it sounded like it would do, she couldn’t see why Altavian hadn’t taken it himself.
He hadn’t finished talking, it turned out. “In our fight, you avoided straining your channels.” She had, but only to the degree that any sacred artist did. More durable madra channels would allow her to put more power into her techniques and use them more often.
“Now you won’t have to,” he said, his voice now tinged with amusement. “You’re the one who beat me. You’d better win.”
~~~
Lindon’s prize looked like a heart cast in dark gray metal. It was so detailed that he half-expected it to start pumping blood.
[Do you think it’s a threat?] Dross asked.
“Upon examination of your last several rounds,” Veris Arelius’ disembodied voice said, “we’ve determined that you rely on your Iron body for healing, but that isn’t its primary purpose. It’s far better suited to fighting off venom and disease.”
[They have been watching you, haven’t they?]
“House Arelius,” Lindon said. “I’m sure they’ve been watching everyone.”
“This Divine Treasure was crafted by our Soulsmiths from the cores and blood essences of a hundred Lord-level Remnants. Take it into your spirit, and it will supplement your Iron body. Every bit of madra you funnel into your Bloodforged Iron body will be a hundred times more efficient, and it should enhance the regenerative effect of your body tenfold. Incidentally, it will strengthen your lifeline as well, though that is more of a byproduct.”
With every word, Lindon’s expectations grew until they were sky-high.
“This is a reward for your hard work so far,” Veris continued, “but we also consider this an investment. House Arelius needs allies now more than ever, and we hope we can count on your loyalty.”
Lindon ran his spiritual sense through the Heart, letting Dross get a good feel.
“It looks like our debt to the Arelius family is getting deeper and deeper,” Lindon said aloud.
[Absolutely right,] Dross agreed, [except it is your debt. I know that’s what you meant; I just want to be clear.]
~~~
Sophara bowed as she finished listening to Reigan Shen’s voice, holding a bottled elixir of her own.
The Monarch of House Shen had made a deal with her divine ancestor. She did not know the details, did not need to question the arrangements of Monarchs, but she knew that she had his support.
Which explained the royal prize he had bestowed upon her.
Advancement elixirs for Truegolds and lower were common sights in powerful families. There were no elixirs that would give enough insight to raise a Truegold to Underlord. There were , however, elixirs to help Lords advance. They were obscenely rare, even for Monarchs.
Sophara cradled in both hands a transparent glass vial with a thread of shining, pure silver liquid twisting in the center. It circled in on itself, winding in an endless loop.
The Gate of Heaven elixir was extremely volatile and difficult to refine, even for the world’s greatest refiners. The ingredients and conditions for its creation were closely guarded secrets, and Sophara had heard that it even required attention from Sages.
Now she was seeing it with her own eyes: an elixir that smoothed the road from Underlord to Archlord.
She had already been on the verge of becoming an Overlady. Now she could advance whenever she wanted.
~~~
Lindon's Void Dragon's Dance fell on Sophara, tearing at her with winds of fire and destruction.
She pushed through the red-and-black cyclone as though through a stiff breeze. He dropped the Ruler technique as quickly as he could—he had practiced for this, trained himself to switch techniques instantly.
He was still a moment too slow. While the dragon's breath formed on his fingers, Sophara had closed the gaps with quick, fluid movements, her feet glowing orange. Golden madra gushed from her hands, flowing into his chest from only a moment away.
He held up his shield and tried to trigger the binding, but her power was too strong. The shield melted, its technique failing. Lindon's flying sword, Wavedancer, was too far away to recall in time.
The fire madra seared him, and her claws were already at his throat.
The vision shimmered and vanished.
Lindon opened his eyes. He sat in a cycling position next to an artificial waterfall in his personal training room, and though he hadn't moved a step, sweat streamed down his face. His breath came in ugly rasps.
The more intense his training with Dross, the more it took from him.
[A new record!] Dross cried. [You lasted twenty-one seconds that time! This is progress!]
Only eighteen tries, and he had exhausted every tactic he knew. He had at least managed to go from dying immediately to holding his own for a few breaths of time, but that wasn't as much progress as Dross pretended.
Birds chirped and flew from a tree planted in one corner of the room toward a bed of flowers all the way at the other. Most of the room was empty space, but evidently the Ninecloud Court believed in decorating everything.
He spoke aloud as he toweled sweat from his head and neck. “Gratitude, but even if I manage to win, I will have only beaten your version of Sophara. The real one will be stronger.”
[Yes, she almost certainly has more in reserve than she's shown, just as you do. Yes, she is the strongest competitor in this tournament. Yes, she will have gotten her own prize after the third round that will surely make her even stronger. Yes, she will be preparing for this match against you while you are preparing against her.]