And, of course, Eithan had done this back when he was in charge.
He had very often shirked his normal responsibilities, but whenever he had been in the city, he had walked its length and breadth. He intervened in problems, no matter how minor, and made sure the Arelius presence was felt.
Cassias didn’t have Eithan’s talent in using their bloodline legacy, but he was still an Arelius. He saw more than anyone else could.
So he stepped aside gracefully as Eithan plummeted from a rooftop above him.
The Archlord landed gently, as though he’d merely stepped off a stoop, but he still clicked his tongue in disappointment.
“Were you trying to land on me?” Cassias asked.
“I was going to land on your shoulders. Then I was going to make a joke about how it was your turn to hold me up, but now it’s dead.”
“That doesn’t sound like a very good joke.”
“Well, the moment’s gone, isn’t it? You ruined it.”
Despite his words, the smile on Eithan’s face looked more genuine than usual. He took a deep breath of the cool night air as he spread sapphire sleeves wide.
“You ever have a night when you’re just glad you don’t have to fight to the death?” Eithan asked.
“Yes. Every night.”
“Every night? Really? What do you do if you’re not fighting for your life?”
“Literally anything else.”
“Huh. Well, sometimes even I prefer not to have the pressure of the world on my shoulders.” Eithan looked at Cassias’ shoulders and sighed in regret, no doubt thinking of the missed opportunity for his joke.
Cassias glimpsed something in the strands of power constantly radiated by his bloodline, and looked off to his left. Two streets over, someone was creeping along an alleyway outside a restaurant. A quick scan showed that their spirit was veiled. A robber?
They were walking away from the restaurant, but there were houses that way. Cassias was about to leap over the house and confront the sneaking man when Eithan manifested a ball of madra between his fingers. A tiny Striker technique.
He closed one eye, aimed for a moment, and then hurled it into the sky.
It came down on the same man Cassias had been watching, driving into the man’s spirit and tearing through his veil. He yelped. An employee of the restaurant came out furious while wiping hands on her apron.
“Thief?” Cassias asked.
“He dined without paying.” Eithan shook his fist at the sky in mock outrage. “Not in my town!”
Then he strode down the street, whistling.
They didn’t foil any more crimes that night, though Eithan shouted encouragement to a girl trying to work up the courage to dance, then led Cassias up to a bird’s nest on top of a chimney. Cassias had expected them to be dreadbeasts or hostile sacred crows or something, but no, Eithan had just wanted to show him some sparkly eggshells.
Eithan then climbed to the top of the highest tower around—if you could call soaring from floor to floor with one tap of the foot “climbing”—and trusted Cassias to follow.
With a lot of grumbling and much more physical exertion, Cassias eventually made it up.
He found Eithan sitting on the edge of the roof, staring out into the night. Usually, his hair would be blowing in the breeze, and Cassias was glad he’d seen sense and kept it short. Long hair could be a liability in combat.
Although Cassias reflected on that as he sat down by Eithan. That was true in combat between Golds, but Eithan was an Archlord now. How could an opponent getting a grip on his hair possibly inconvenience him? And he couldn’t be blinded by it fluttering into his eyes.
“What a beautiful city,” Eithan sighed. “Then again, I’ve found that most cities are beautiful, if you have the right perspective.”
Cassias shook himself back to reality. He had just gotten distracted thinking about hair.
Eithan would be proud.
“I don’t often find you in a contemplative mood,” Cassias said. These days, he mostly didn’t find Eithan at all. The Archlord was in high demand.
“I contemplate all the time! Truly, my deep machinations make Monarchs and emperors tremble.”
He waited a beat, then added, “I am shocked that man on the third floor can eat so much fried meat at once. Truly shocked. It’s not his Iron body or anything, I think he’s just…very hungry.”
Cassias wasn’t paying attention to the man on the third floor of the tower, as he was studying Eithan. The Archlord had leaned back on his palms, his feet still dangling off the edge, and was now staring up at the stars with a small, content smile.
“You look happy,” Cassias observed.
Eithan responded without looking away from the sky. “I’m always happy. Haven’t you noticed how much I smile?”
“Then you’re doing well?”
“My new haircut suits me, so I suppose I’m doing wonderfully.”
Cassias nodded and leaned back himself, looking up at the stars. Eithan would answer seriously soon, or he never would.
After a minute or so of silence, Eithan spoke. “Sincerely, I am content. Better than I have been in…a long time.”
Cassias thought back to the beaten, battered, and burned Underlord that had come through the Arelius family portal about nine years ago. Since then, as long as Cassias had known him, he had been searching for something.
“I’m glad you found what you were looking for,” Cassias said.
Eithan seemed to know what he meant, because he nodded. “Everything’s finally—”
With a slap to his own mouth, Eithan cut himself off. The slap made such a loud explosion that Cassias shot up, cycling his madra against an attack.
Eithan gave a heavy breath of relief. “I almost said ‘Everything’s finally perfect.’ Can you imagine what a mistake that would have been? I can’t afford to tempt fate like that.”
Cassias was happy for him, he really was, but he still kicked Eithan off the tower.
It felt just as good as the Emperor had promised.
Reigan Shen coughed up blood, which wasn’t as bad a sign as it seemed.
Nine flying tridents wove around him each glowing with the soft green flame of death madra. He directed the Nightstone Spear Formation according to a method passed down for generations on the Iceflower continent.
They swept through in a complex pattern, butchering the army of blood spirits that filled this massive chamber. He had to fuel their flight by scattering his own natural treasures, given the lack of wind aura here, but their performance was worth it.
The Blood Core’s prison looked identical to the one that had held the Storm Core, except instead of being covered in flowing blue crystals, this one was filled with semi-liquid beings that hungered to consume flesh. The second Reigan Shen had blasted his way in here, he’d been flooded by a tide of blood spirits.
The rich blood aura was too much for his weakened body, especially combined with the half-formed Ruler techniques of this host. Blood oozed from his eyes, from the smallest of scratches, and pooled in his chest.
Perhaps a human would have died. Reigan Shen didn’t know. He wore his human form like a cloak.
And lions were not so fragile. He maintained his concentration, focusing his will on the nine tridents as they wove a complex web of green death throughout the room.
In seconds, there was silence except for the red liquid spattering to the stone floor.
The pressure on Shen’s veins eased up, and he wiped off his lips with the back of one hand. The Blood Core sent a crimson pillar of light up to the ceiling. If not for the suppression field, its power would have blasted through the entire mountain and pierced the sky.
Then again, if it weren’t for the suppression field, the Blood Core would have no reason to be here.
Shen readied the second of the four silver containers he had prepared. He’d chosen the order of this operation very carefully.