Pride had never looked away from Lindon. “You have chosen him over us, Aunt Charity? ...and Mercy?” His voice smoldered with barely-contained anger.
Mercy seemed surprised that he had included her.
“I have,” the Sage said smoothly. “I believe he can bring glory to the Akura clan, and if two-thirds of our team consists of family members, that will be enough.”
“Then Mother’s nomination goes to Mercy, and yours to the outsider. Only Uncle Fury's nomination remains for us. What if there are two of us more qualified than this Blackflame?”
Charity leaned forward as though about to take a step. The first row of Underlords shifted back.
“Have you advanced to Archlord while I went north, Pride?” she asked.
Pride shivered. “I apologize, Aunt Charity,” he said, the boldness in his voice fading. “My concern is for the honor of our family. I will treat him as an adopted member of the clan.”
Lindon didn't know exactly what that meant, but several of the wolf-eyed Lords suppressed sudden smiles. He felt like he had been threatened.
“An adopted clan member and a protected guest,” Charity added. “That will be acceptable.”
Mercy gave him a consoling pat on the shoulder, and Pride bared his teeth as though he almost couldn't keep from throwing himself at Lindon.
The Sage let a whisper of her spirit move over the room, which quieted all speech. “I trust none of you will waste too much of Lindon's time. Or Mercy's. Over the next nine months, we will be training them even harder than we train the rest of you. At the end of that time, my father will hold a competition to select the final competitor of the Uncrowned King tournament. I suggest that you all try your hardest to distinguish yourselves.”
With that, Charity turned to Lindon and Mercy, speaking in a lower voice. “I will now leave you to get to know your peers. I believe it could benefit everyone. Mercy, can you handle it?”
Mercy, still looking at her brother, nodded.
“Good. Father will be along to train you any moment. I hope. In the meantime, please keep Lindon safe.”
“What?” Lindon said. “I mean, ah, forgiveness, but...couldn't I come with you?”
“Think of this as an opportunity for training,” Charity said. Then, a breath later, she faded into the shadows.
Leaving Lindon standing on the dais next to Mercy.
Half of the Akura Underlords surged forward at once, but Mercy stepped in front of Lindon. “I'm back, everyone!” she called. “I've missed you! Hey, I’ve got an idea: why don't we have a little competition to celebrate my return?”
The crowd wilted back.
“Are they afraid of you?” Lindon whispered to her.
“In a way they're afraid,” Mercy said, but she didn't keep her voice down at all. “We compete for standing and favor a lot, and I’ve beaten…yeah, I think everyone here at least once.” Some faces flushed, or fists tightened in embarrassment, but no one said anything to dispute her.
“I hoped they would be glad to have me back,” Mercy said sadly, her gaze drifting back to her brother.
Pride pushed his way through the others. He looked from his sister to Lindon, standing right behind her, and his face twisted with the hate that Lindon had sensed earlier. Was he so offended that Charity had chosen Lindon?
“We've all seen what Mercy can do. Now that she's an Underlady, I'm sure she's even more...impressive.”
Mercy walked toward him. “Come on, Pride, let’s go home first. I missed you.”
He held up his hand again, just as he had before, but he didn't look at her. He was fixed on Lindon.
“None of us have seen what you can do, Arelius,” he said. “How about you show us?”
[I can think of many ways this could go wrong,] Dross said. [So many ways. In fact, I'm having trouble imagining a way in which this goes right .]
Lindon was in perfect agreement. “I apologize, brother Pride, but I must save my strength for training.”
Pride's spirit exploded out of its restraint. Benches pushed back, the shadows darkened, and black tattoos crawled on his skin.
“Brother?” the Akura Underlord choked out, his skin red with rage.
[Is that an insult here?] Dross asked, but Lindon was just as baffled.
Pride disappeared in a puff of shadow.
He reappeared in front of Lindon in the same instant. Black lines coiled over his skin, spiraling up each of his fingers and his arms, even across his face. He struck with thunderous force, punching at Lindon's chest.
Thanks to Dross' enhancement of Lindon's mind, he reacted in time. The Soul Cloak sprung up around him, a blue-white haze of energy, and pure madra carried power through Lindon’s body. The back of Lindon's fist knocked Pride's away, but rather than following up with another attack, Lindon hesitated.
This was his chance.
Pride’s left hand took Lindon in the chest, and a burst of black madra exploded from it. An ice-cold detonation launched Lindon backward, into the purple stained glass.
His back smacked into it, but the glass didn't crack even a hair. Instead, Lindon slammed against it as though into stone.
But the pain in his body was nothing to the pain in his soul.
Whatever technique that punch had contained, it had struck at the madra channels in his chest, searing his spirit. The shock blanked Lindon's mind for an instant.
He came back to himself as he lay crumpled at the bottom of the wall, but Pride had not given up. Mercy had barred his path with her staff of slick, twisted black madra, and was trying to talk to her brother.
Lindon extended his perception to try and get a sense of Pride, but it was hard to read him. It was as though Lindon’s spiritual senses slid away.
[A property of shadow madra, I'm sure,] Dross said.
That would make it harder to react to anything Pride did, and more difficult to read his techniques. Pay close attention, Lindon said to Dross.
He could drop it here. Let Mercy take care of her brother.
But this was his opportunity to leave. If he could show Charity that he wasn’t the right choice for the competition, she would send him home. Mercy would make sure nothing terrible happened to him.
If he played this correctly, he might be able to learn something too.
He would have to make the fight convincing, so he pulled Blackflame madra from his core. With the Path of Black Flame filling him, holding back became twice as hard. He didn’t want to take a loss. He wanted to teach Pride a lesson.
The Burning Cloak sprung up around Lindon, a flame of black and red surrounding his body, and the dragon advanced.
Lindon rushed forward, slamming his white Remnant fist over Mercy's staff and into Pride. The short Underlord caught the blow on his forearm, but the force still launched him down the entire hall and out the open doors.
He landed on his feet, but Lindon had followed him with another punch.
Shadow burst like smoke where Pride had stood, and he disappeared again, Lindon's fist passing through immaterial darkness. He turned, expecting Pride behind him, but something slammed into his ankles. Pride had gone low, sweeping Lindon's legs out from under him, and Lindon pitched onto his back.
As he hit the ground, the air rushing from his lungs, Lindon hurled a dragon's breath upward. Pride would have followed up with a new attack, ready to hit him while he was down.
Sure enough, Pride had followed him, and a beam of black-and-red madra caught him full in the chest.
Lindon cut off the technique immediately, for fear of drilling a hole in Mercy's brother, but Pride was unharmed. Gray haze covered his skin, and the Blackflame madra had simply washed over him.
He drove his fist down onto Lindon, and an orb of shadow madra exploded from the hit, this time into Lindon's stomach.
Lindon's spirit screamed in pain, and so did he.
His consciousness blurred away for longer than it had before. This time, when he came to, he found Pride glaring contemptuously at him from fifteen feet away.