Ozmanthus barked a laugh. “I thought you knew me well. I said one attack…” Suddenly, towering ancient armor swallowed him, so he hovered at the center of a giant that stretched from the ground to the clouds. It reminded Lindon strongly of Malice’s bloodline armor.
A gray, translucent cloak billowed from the Forger technique’s shoulders, and it held a spear in one hand.
“…not one opponent,” Ozmanthus finished. “Brace yourself, future disciple.”
[You need to take lessons from him on style,] Dross commented.
A cold star blasted through the air from Malice. An arrow layered with many techniques and condensed power. From the other side of the valley, a serpentine dragon was Forged from Northstrider’s madra. It thundered through the sky to them, and the weight of its charge reminded Lindon of a physical blow from a Dreadgod.
In a delicate dance, Ozmanthus spun the cloak that surrounded him.
The Mantle of the Hollow King caught Malice’s arrow as though in the flow of a river, dragging it miles away from its course and flinging it back at Northstrider. At the same time, the Hollow King’s Spear pierced the dragon, blasting into the horizon as a Striker technique. Its destruction tore a ditch in the landscape in a straight line that stretched as far as Lindon could see.
Northstrider dodged the spear, but not Malice’s arrow, which had been subtly redirected according to Ozmanthus’ will.
“One,” Ozmanthus murmured, “two. And…three.”
Lines of light fell down from the stars overhead. The Hollow King’s Crown dissipated harmlessly long before it ever struck the ground, but the technique intercepted something on its way.
Lindon sensed Reigan Shen’s vaults being torn apart, far above. Even the separate space in which he’d hidden was shattered, and his spiritual presence weakened considerably.
Lindon was sure his eyes were wide. “Incredible.” Though different in many ways, this was still Eithan, and stroking his ego couldn’t hurt. But it wasn’t as though he needed to fake his amazement.
Ozmanthus had already started to fade, but he tilted his chin up. “Hardly worth mentioning. Summon me properly next time, and I’ll show you something you can really be proud of.” His eyes flicked to the top of Lindon’s head for a moment. “…and get a haircut.”
9
Orthos and Little Blue fought together against a single opponent.
They stood in an ocean of darkness, where it was impossible to tell apart the ground from the horizon. Little Blue defended them both, deflecting madra attacks and disrupting the spiritual power of the enemy, while Orthos stayed on the offensive. Lances of dragon’s breath shot from his mouth while he dashed, jumped, and slammed his shell into the enemy.
The blonde, smiling, well-dressed enemy.
Eithan slid between them as easily as if it were a dance they’d all rehearsed. He twirled a spoon in each hand, using one to slash open Little Blue’s Hollow Domain even as he used the other to nudge Orthos’ charge off-course.
They had been at this for almost an hour, and Orthos was rapidly losing patience.
Finally, after Orthos put his all into a Void Dragon’s Dance that Eithan scooped away with a casual sweep of his spoon, Orthos called the fight to a halt. “Dross! Enough!”
The darkness evaporated, as did their still-smiling opponent. Eithan even ushered them out with a bow, as though he were aware that their battle was only a simulation that was now coming to an end.
Dross coughed and avoided Orthos’ gaze. [Well, you could call that progress! I’m saying you could, not necessarily that I would.]
Orthos growled and wondered if he could hit Dross with Blackflame. “This is not fair. How are we supposed to defeat Eithan?”
He had seen Eithan erase stars. That was not an opponent, that was a global disaster.
[This is a projection of Eithan as he was at Overlord. He’s not using any of his…] Dross waggled his arms. […incomprehensible outer-reality nonsense.]
“We’re exhausted!” Orthos barked. “Look at Blue!”
Little Blue was lying on her back and gasping for breath. She tried to sit up at the sound of her name but chimed in frustration when she failed.
“He didn’t get tired in there. How are we supposed to fight if he can keep going forever?”
[He can’t. He has the same stamina limits as Eithan did at Overlord. He would have been tired if you had, you know…tired him.]
Orthos glared at Dross but could find no flaw with his logic. That didn’t make the situation any less frustrating.
In the months they’d spent inside Ghostwind Hall, Orthos had only managed to advance to Overlord. By normal standards, Overlord in a matter of months would be an impossible feat, but they were pushing for greater miracles.
Fighting an Overlord Eithan should have been an even match. Better, technically, since Blue was at a level comparable to Archlord. Not that she could express that in her techniques, most of the time.
In frustration, Orthos looked around for something to snack on, but the sparring hall into which Dross had projected his mental simulation had no rocks, no useless furniture, not even a crunchy mouthful of pebbles.
[I have a great model of Eithan at Underlord!] Dross suggested. [Why don’t you start with that? Although…he did defeat a veiled Monarch in nine seconds. Hm. I could take a guess about what he was like at Gold?]
Orthos seethed. The only thing more frustrating than his wounded pride was the knowledge that he had no excuses.
If they were going up against Monarchs and Dreadgods, then they were fighting opponents that couldn’t be exhausted or outlasted. A mere Overlord, no matter how skilled, was little better than a Copper on that scale.
Dross floated over to him and placed a tentacle on the back of his neck in a friendly gesture. [Hey, I know it’s tough. You were the first to collapse in the willpower training, you’re the least advanced, and all your friends have passed you by. You know you need the most help, and you feel inadequate. Insecure. In…flated. No, that one doesn’t work. Incompetent!]
Orthos wanted to lash out at Dross, but he closed his eyes instead. “Yes.”
Little Blue gave him a soothing pat on the leg.
[And what about you?] Dross asked Blue. [How do you feel about this?]
Little Blue’s response was the urgent tinkling of a bell. She was impatient.
[Well, if it means that much to you both…I could technically speed up your training regimen.]
Both Orthos and Little Blue turned to him. Orthos was skeptical. “Putting us in the training room against Eithan more often isn’t going to help us.”
[No, I mean you’ve both been on the diet Lindon has prepared for you. We scheduled that out with some margin for error. If you stick with the current schedule, you definitely won’t lose your identity and go insane. We could put you on a faster plan, if you’d like.]
“Would we lose our identities and go insane?”
Dross beamed. [Only maybe!]
“How big of a chance?”
[That depends on how much faster you go!]
Orthos had been burned from the inside out by Blackflame before. He didn’t like even the possibility of losing himself again.
“Lindon has the black dragon Remnants locked away,” Orthos pointed out. Lindon had moved Orthos’ training materials to a locked void key when Orthos had lost himself after a particularly rough transfer of will and memories. He had tried to rush inside and fight all the remaining Remnants himself.
Dross whistled nonchalantly and spun a ring of keys around his tendril. After a moment, he said, [These are not real keys, you understand. They are an illustration to let you know that I’m allowed to unlock his void key. I’m not even the real Dross, just a temporary copy left to operate these illusion constructs. Is this too much for you? Should I slow down?]