“I’m examining him to see if his initiative and ability to propose solutions are tied to his personality and self-awareness,” Northstrider responded. Lindon couldn’t tell if he had been annoyed into answering or if he was rewarding academic curiosity.
“I am also testing his capacity and resolve, as well as his spiritual structure. I would like to see if replication is possible without waiting fifty years.”
“Ah, I see. Thank you for enlightening me.”
Though Lindon was curious about the Soulsmithing principles involved, he didn’t want to take the conversation in the wrong direction. Instead, he crept closer to what he really wanted to know.
“I have been training diligently, as you instructed.” Lindon didn’t need anyone’s encouragement to train, but if Northstrider thought he was doing it out of obedience, that could be helpful.
“Watching Eithan fight has given me some thoughts about the direction I could take my own pure madra, so Dross and I have been testing some of those. My Dragon Descends technique—the one I used at the end of my fourth-round match—is still unstable and takes too long to form, so I practice that regularly.”
He flexed his white fingers. “But I’ve begun to believe that I’m not leveraging every weapon I have to its fullest potential.”
When the only response he received was silence, Lindon wondered whether he was being too subtle or too bold.
The gap in the conversation stretched endlessly before Northstrider said, “Four minutes remaining. Did Dross show you the memory he took from me?”
Lindon’s alarm raised several levels, but he extended a cautious answer. “He only showed me the pieces he could put together.”
“What aspects does my madra have?”
Lindon began to sweat. Maybe all the Sages and Heralds knew exactly how Northstrider’s techniques works, but to the average person, Northstrider was a total mystery.
But in front of the stone expression and piercing golden eyes, Lindon was more frightened of lying than of telling the truth.
It was best to pull a dagger out quickly. “Blood and hunger.”
Then he clenched his fists, bracing himself for a Monarch’s punishment.
Northstrider returned his attention to the shimmering orb. “Hunger madra is perhaps the most dangerous aspect to its user. But danger, properly harnessed, is opportunity.”
Lindon eagerly waited for more, but Northstrider glanced at the projection of the Uncrowned ceremony.
The Uncrowned were joined by Sages, each standing behind their chosen pupil. Charity floated behind Mercy, of course, while the Winter Sage chose Yerin.
Unsurprising. Yerin had told him about the connection between her and Yerin’s master. The tan, white-haired woman glared at the Dreadgod cultists as though she meant to draw swords right there.
Behind Eithan appeared a woman that Lindon had never seen before. Her hair was equally yellow and gray, and there were wrinkles on her face, which would make her unique among the Sages that Lindon had seen.
She wore the deep blue of the Arelius family, and a smile that reminded Lindon strongly of Eithan.
Lindon was very curious about this woman’s identity, but Dross emerged from the oracle codex, panting and swiping an arm across his forehead.
“Well done,” the Monarch said.
Dross raised a shaky limb, the end curled as though into a fist. [I…am…the greatest! My power is endless. Now please let me sleep.]
Northstrider nodded once. Then, finally, he spoke to Lindon again.
“Observe.” He waved a hand.
A void key—or something like it—opened in the center of the room. An instant later, the corpse of a giant pig fell out.
Its hide looked like dull metal, and it filled up the entire room, stinking of musk and filth. With a start, Lindon realized he could feel the spiritual pressure of an Overlord from this sacred beast. And its chest was rising and falling.
It was asleep.
Northstrider extended one hand, cycling madra in a slow, exaggerated motion that Lindon had no problem following. He could sense only blood madra.
Although…
Now that he was searching for it, and Northstrider was allowing him such a thorough look, he realized that there was a similar feel to Northstrider’s madra and that in his own arm. As though they shared a personality. An endless, hollow greed that could never be satisfied.
“Open your aura sight,” Northstrider commanded.
Lindon did, overwhelmed by the blood aura in the air. It drowned out everything else, reducing the other colors to dull smears.
Then the Monarch put his palm onto the pig’s swelling side and…pulled.
His hand itself didn’t move, but the madra in his body cycled rapidly, creating a suction as though the technique was taking a deep breath.
Northstrider inhaled the blood aura through his hand, but not just the aura. Sparks of bright green light joined it, and when Lindon concentrated, he could see that the beast’s lifeline had dimmed. He was draining its life.
And…everything else.
Witnessing the process himself had far more impact than watching a cobbled-together memory.
More colors joined the maelstrom, including gold and yellow that Lindon took to be its madra. Surely those aspects couldn’t be compatible with Northstrider’s Path, but he took them in anyway. There were even brighter sparks of red: blood essence, the power in the creature’s body, and hazy purple specks that Lindon took to be the dream aura of the creature’s mind.
That was dim, as this sacred beast had never gained awareness, but it was still there. And there was something else, gaps where Lindon could sense nothing, but he was certain there was something there.
When Northstrider finished, the pig went on snoring. He had taken only a portion of the creature’s vitality, and he banished it back to storage with a wave of his hand. A few fleas hopped over the carpet, but were incinerated in midair.
Lindon was grateful for that.
He was about to thank the Monarch for the demonstration, which had given him much to think about in terms of his hunger madra, but Northstrider wasn’t finished.
He stood still, eyes closed, cycling the powers. Processing them. Sending them where they were needed.
Though he did not veil himself and allowed Lindon to observe, Lindon couldn’t follow all of it. But Northstrider was using his madra, inwardly focused. A spirit Enforcer technique.
When the Monarch opened his eyes a second later, then Lindon bowed.
“Eternal gratitude,” Lindon said. “I will go to work on this technique immediately.”
“This is called the Consume technique. If you can master it, you will no longer need advancement resources. Only enemies.”
It would have been embarrassing to show delight in front of a Monarch, so Lindon held himself back.
“I have never had trouble finding enemies,” Lindon said. “But I would find plenty if I joined the Akura operation around the Wandering Titan. Of course, if you needed me to stay close for the sake of Dross, I could give up that opportunity and remain here.”
The black orb over Northstrider’s shoulder shimmered and vanished. “You would be wise to go and train yourself. I will come to you when I require Dross, wherever you are.”
“Then…pardon if I overstep myself, since you have already done so much for me, but would you mind sending me there directly?”
“I will not,” Northstrider said.
That was as flat a refusal as Lindon had ever received.
“It will be one more week before the Akura expedition arrives in Sky’s Edge. You should find a Sage to ferry you there. Or persuade Malice’s daughter to petition her mother. My time is too valuable.”
“Apologies, but I thought they would have arrived already.”
Lindon had seen Sages and Monarchs travel great distances at a thought. They had even transported most of the sacred artists in the Blackflame Empire to the Night Wheel Valley all at once. He had expected Fury’s cloudship to pass through a portal and then simply…arrive.