If he had removed the Titan Core to the west, the golden beam currently streaming into the sky would have been interrupted. Everyone in a hundred miles would notice.
Likewise with the east. When he removed the Silent Core from beneath Mount Samara, its ring would begin to fade within a day.
He had spent almost a year living here, in his own personal Netherworld of private torment, taking his time at every turn. He had mapped and cleared the routes between all four peaks, disabled countless scripts, and even tampered with the great script-circle that maintained the suppression field. All to allow this.
When the locals noticed, it would only be a matter of time before the other Monarchs did as well.
This was the last step he could perform slowly. Soon, the race would begin.
Reigan Shen seized the Blood Core, as large around as his own midsection, and shoved it toward the opening of a silver, rectangular case small enough to fit in one hand.
Space distorted as the Core was slurped inside, like water draining.
He could rest now, catch his breath, take his time. Only when the next step began would he have to rush.
For now, he simply had to take the Blood Core to the south and return it. To where it had always belonged.
Lindon strode through the school building that the city had given him, watching the rows of students wearing burnt orange and pale blue.
There were about forty of them, all younger than Lindon himself, most Copper or Iron. They had gone through the training to cleanse their madra, returning it to a pure state—if they had been too advanced, it wouldn’t have worked.
Now they had their eyes closed, cycling clumsily according to a spiritual Enforcer technique that Lindon had taught them.
The Heart of Twin Stars.
Lindon had to point out mistakes here and there, but for the most part, their madra control was more than good enough for the technique. And they weren’t splitting their cores today; this was only a cycling technique to prepare them.
Under Lindon’s supervision, they should have an easier time than he himself had. But his stomach rolled as he sensed them.
What if he was wrong? What if they messed up under his guidance, and damaged their own spirits? What if he hadn’t eased the way for them as much as he thought, and the spiritual pain was too much for them?
It was gut-churning, being responsible for someone else advancing safely. He preferred when it was only his own safety he risked.
Little Blue patted the back of his ear and quietly whispered encouragement to him. It did help. He was confident in his theoretical understanding, though he would be more confident if Dross were still around.
Lindon flexed his right arm. He had stitched it together with hunger madra he’d gathered from dreadbeast cores, though the limb was barely functional. It looked like it was covered in painted-over cracks, which from a Soulsmithing perspective was roughly what he’d done.
He could use the Consume technique again, and he did. But he was careful every time. With a less-functional arm and no Dross, the burden on the Heart of Twin Stars technique was increased. He had to take much longer to sort the various powers he absorbed.
Therefore, Lindon’s comprehension of Heart of Twin Stars was higher than it had ever been. He should be completely confident in teaching it to others. There was only one person Lindon knew of who might understand the principles of pure madra better than he did.
As if summoned by Lindon’s thoughts, Eithan swooped in through the window at that exact moment.
He straightened his pink-and-yellow clothes once he landed, then smoothed back his hair, which was all reassuringly normal behavior. But he stared off into the distance with a distracted frown on his face.
The students all bubbled at his entrance, their cycling forgotten. Some called questions, while others whispered his name.
For his part, Lindon swept his spiritual perception over the students again, suddenly frightened that Eithan had sensed a problem or cycling deviation that he’d missed.
But while he panicked internally, he kept himself under control outwardly so he wouldn’t disturb the students. Strong emotion could disrupt the Heart of Twin Stars.
“How can I help you, Archlord?” Lindon asked.
“Did you sense anything just now?”
Lindon followed Eithan’s gaze. The Arelius was staring through the western wall.
Why was Eithan coming to him?
Surely if there was anything he could sense, Eithan would already have seen it. And if it were a matter of spiritual perception, Yerin’s could extend the furthest among all of them.
So it must be…
Lindon aligned himself to the Void Icon. It had become easier this year, though it was still strange. While he touched the Icon, he felt everything around him as vessels that could be drained, material that could be consumed.
But he sensed no authority challenging his own.
“Nothing,” Lindon said, though he didn’t release the Icon.
Eithan tapped his own lip. “I’m not sure I did either…it’s nothing, I’m sure. Almost sure.”
That didn’t give Lindon much information, but he tried to stretch his perception even farther. They were hundreds of miles from Sacred Valley now, but that was the direction Eithan was looking, so he reached.
He passed through an uncountable sea of powers, madra and aura of every aspect, and here and there a will that might have been strong enough to affect something.
An ordinary population, in other words.
“What am I looking for?”
“I don’t know.” Eithan gave Lindon a brief embarrassed shrug. “Perhaps it has been too long since I’ve lived without a crisis. I shouldn’t have disturbed you.”
But his frown deepened, and Lindon’s forehead broke out into a cold sweat.
Eithan was being both serious and uncertain.
“Students, I need to have a word with the Archlord. Cycle with your parasite rings for an hour tonight, but don’t activate the Heart of Twin Stars. Wait for my supervision. All right?”
They murmured their agreement, but most of the students weren’t in a hurry to leave. They filtered out with many a glance backward. Some hid beneath the windows, hoping to hear something.
Lindon even felt some spiritual senses brushing up against the building; some students must have gotten their parents or older siblings involved. And quickly; they’d only left seconds ago.
But there was nothing for them to sense yet.
“So you had a…premonition?” Lindon asked, keeping his voice low.
“A bad feeling. Intuition.” Eithan tapped his chin, still staring to the west. “It’s like all the aura in the world suddenly shifted, like a loose tile. But when I looked closer, everything was as it should be.”
“Sacred Valley?” Lindon asked.
“I hope not. I’m not in a hurry to return.”
Lindon appreciated Eithan’s implication that he would immediately rush toward the source of trouble.
If Eithan was this serious, then Lindon couldn’t brush this off as a feeling. He sat down in a cycling position, where a student had sat only a moment before, and cycled his pure madra. He opened up his perception as broadly as he could.
All the while, he stretched out to the Void Icon. Emptiness, hunger, and nonexistence.
He didn’t sense anything that alarmed him, but he didn’t give up right away. Better to be safe.
Reigan Shen stood beneath the Greatfather once more, at the heart of the chamber filled with oozing blue crystals.
He had gone through great battles, suffered indignities, and lost weapons of incalculable value these last few days. But now there were no obstacles remaining.
He raised the silver container at his belt, the one that had been stained red. The Blood Core was overpowering its case.
Fortunately, he didn’t need it anymore.