He would continue walking this road he had paved for himself. And someday, the dream artists had promised him, he would become Redmoon Hall’s second Sage.
Longhook’s weapon fell from his sleeve with a thud. He strengthened his grip on the chain again, dragging it behind him. The endless rain had churned the dirt road to mud, so his hook dug a trench as he pulled it along. He didn’t spare the effort to pull it back up.
Squinting, he fixed his one eye on the mountain peaks in the distance. Soon, he would be out of this Empire for good. After he escaped and recovered, he could meet back up with the Sage and the other surviving emissaries. Then, they could figure out what had gone wrong.
He couldn’t extend his spiritual perception far without dropping his veil, so his Blood Shadow was the first to notice his enemies. It flinched and coiled up around his core, like a beaten dog flinching back from a raised fist.
Longhook raised his weapon to defend himself from an attack from above, but it didn’t come. He looked up at an emerald green Thousand-Mile Cloud floating a hundred feet up.
He cycled the Path of Rolling Earth, funneling the strength of boulders through his arms and his weapon. He hadn’t seen what happened to Gergen, but if all three Blackflame Underlords had survived, he would stand no chance even if he were at full power.
He looked forward to seeing how he escaped this one.
“Excuse me!” someone called from behind him, and Longhook spun instantly, whipping his hook-and-chain in an arc.
Eithan Arelius leaned back, letting the hook pass in front of his nose. He held a blue umbrella of waxed fabric over his head, and even when he dodged Longhook’s attack, he angled the umbrella so not a drop of rain fell on him.
It was clear from his appearance that he’d never worked for his sacred arts. His blue robes were pristine, sewn with dragons in green thread wrapping up his sleeves and around the hem. His long, blond hair flowed smoothly down his back, and his smile was bright and unstained by worry.
Longhook wished he’d killed the man the first time.
“Slower than last time,” Eithan noted. “Wounds catching up to you?”
Longhook didn’t respond, releasing the veil around his spirit, scanning his surroundings in an instant. As he’d expected, there were two more Underlords on the cloudship above him.
But why hadn’t they come down with Arelius?
“I’d like you to know that it was a Highgold who operated the launcher construct that almost killed you. I reinforced it with my soulfire, of course, but even so. Sometimes the simplest of tricks can bring down the largest game.”
“What do you want?” Longhook asked. It would be hard to hear him over the roar of the rain; the old injury to his throat had not even been repaired by his ascension to Underlord. Maybe one day, when he reached Archlord, he would be able to speak normally again.
Eithan gestured upward with his umbrella. “They have agreed not to interfere. It was easy to get them to agree; I think they want to see me suffer.” His smile brightened. “And you get to fight me in single combat! It’s a win for all of us, isn’t it?”
“...why?” Longhook asked.
No matter how he looked at this, it made no sense. This had to be another ambush. He had beaten Eithan Arelius in combat before without even unleashing his Blood Shadow. Now they had him at a three-to-one disadvantage, and they weren’t using it.
“On behalf of the Emperor of the Blackflame Empire, I charge you with the slaughter of innocents. He has judged you and found you guilty, and I am here to execute his will.”
For a man delivering a notice of execution, he sounded too cheerful. Especially for one who was so weak.
“Why alone?” Longhook clarified. This was definitely a trap; there was no other explanation.
Eithan cast his eyes up for a moment, then leaned in as though to share a secret with Longhook.
“I want to show you something,” he said.
His umbrella snapped shut, and he rushed to close the gap with Longhook. The emissary had prepared for this since the instant the cloudship had appeared overhead. He pulled his chain back so he was holding the hook, driving its point up for Eithan’s shoulder.
The other Underlord slipped the point of his umbrella through one link of Longhook’s chain. He pushed down with surprising strength, jerking Longhook’s hand aside so his attack slipped through Eithan’s hair.
The Arelius Underlord seized the collar of Longhook’s robe in one fist. Before he could respond, Eithan turned, heaving with all his strength.
Longhook found himself hurtling through the rain. How had that happened?
He landed on his feet a hundred yards away, but his left knee screamed and buckled, leaving him standing on one leg. The rain matted his hair to his neck, and thunder cracked overhead. He stretched out his perception, searching for the Arelius.
A finger tapped him on the shoulder.
This time, his Blood Shadow unfolded from behind him, striking out with a copied Rolling Earth technique. A fist of blood madra, dense as a hammer, struck out from his back. Longhook turned to follow up, but saw only darkness and rain.
Something hit him in the back, and he was flying through the air again.
He landed with a new pain in his spine added to his collection. This time, he held nothing back. Rolling Earth madra flooded through him in the Mountain’s Fist Enforcer technique. Power of force and stone gathered in his hands, and his Blood Shadow flew out into a rough red copy of him.
It was still wounded and broken, but the Shadow could do its job for a short time. Certainly enough to take care of one pure madra Underlord from a backwoods country.
Longhook hurled his hook with the power of the Mountain’s Fist, strong enough to crack bones. His Blood Shadow mimicked him. Eithan arrived, holding his folded umbrella to one side like a sword, and the two Enforced hooks crashed into him.
The Blood Shadow’s red hook burst apart into madra as it hit; Eithan had dispersed it. But his own hook landed on Eithan’s arm.
It should have crushed the man’s bone and caved in his ribs, but the Arelius just grunted and shoved away the hook. He winced, rolling the arm.
“That’s going to bruise,” he said, looking back to the sky. “Now, I think we have a moment. In this storm, they won’t be able to sense us clearly. And it will take them a minute or two to catch up.”
The rain had already soaked through Eithan’s hair and robes, but he didn’t seem to mind, giving his umbrella a few test swings.
The Arelius gave a sigh of relief. “At last, I don’t have an audience.”
Longhook hurled his Striker technique: the Meteor Breath. A comet of earth and force madra flew out from his fist, a rolling yellow ball of pure power. His Blood Shadow echoed him with a red copy of the same technique.
In the brief instant before the madra hit him, Eithan leaned forward on the balls of his feet, his left hand coming up to the side. Madra flooded out of him, bending the air so it looked like he was covered in a transparent bubble.
It wouldn’t work. He couldn’t stop Longhook’s technique with a shield of pure madra. He wasn’t strong enough; Longhook’s power would crumple his defense like a hammer hitting rotten wood.
The Meteor Breath hit the edge of Eithan’s shield...and was caught like a leaf in a whirlpool.
The madra was spinning. Eithan seized the Meteor Breath with his madra, whirling it around and around his body like he stood in the eye of a hurricane.
Then he released his grip, sending the Meteor Breath hurtling back at Longhook.
Longhook met his own technique with an overhand strike fueled by the Mountain’s Fist, punching the ball of yellow madra. It exploded against his fist; he felt like he had struck a plate of lead, and shards of his own broken madra pelted his face and arms like debris.