Lindon had fought them both several times apiece. In his head, he’d faced them hundreds of times. He knew exactly what they could do.
“If they won’t let you take one until our current mission is finished, then hunt dreadbeasts or Forge scales.” Scales couldn’t be exchanged for points, but they might be able to buy things that could be. “Naru Saeya and I will handle the assignment.”
Pride straightened. “This is a task they would normally assign to an Overlord. Don’t let your pride drag us down with you.”
Lindon seized him by the shoulders and shook him. “This is about points.”
Pride looked furious, but he left.
Lindon had already taken over the control panel, shoving his pure madra into the scripts until the cloudship blasted forward. Pride had been taking them closer to their mission, where he had surely intended to land and approach on foot, collecting dreadbeast bindings as they went.
The ship shot over treetops in a blur.
“They won’t like that,” Saeya predicted sourly. “Pride is well-named.”
Lindon’s void key had opened again, and he manipulated aura and extended strands of madra to flip open scripted boxes and pull out bindings and dead matter. “I know what they’re like. I’m sure they didn’t listen to a word you said the entire time you were with them, and that’s why you’re with me.”
Dross was working to supplement his concentration and his pure core was emptying like it had developed a leak as he assembled a construct and piloted the cloudship at the same time, so his attention was barely on his words as he spoke. “You also have the skills I need right now. You’re faster than they are, your perception extends farther, and your Path is perfect for rescue.”
He was as tightly focused as if his life was on the line, his objective all he could see.
Saeya blinked as she looked from him to the construct assembling itself behind him and back.
“You know, you should act like this more often,” she said. “Yerin would love it.”
Lindon wasn’t listening.
Soulsmith products could be purchased for points, which meant that they had Soulsmiths doing that work who must get paid, so he could take on Soulsmithing jobs as well. How many missions could his team complete per day? Two? How many dreadbeasts could they defeat? How many were there?
Saeya pointed him in the right direction, and soon he could see a red flame blazing from the side of another rocky fortress. This one didn’t have the hastily built look of the Seishen Kingdom’s construction, but was as big as a small town, and rose in layers like a cake. The red fire covered half of the structure without going out.
Over a hundred Gold dreadbeasts tore at the sides of the fortress, opposed by sacred artists inside, but it was another humanoid dreadbeast that provided the real threat.
This fat, rotting, man-like creature opened its jaws and spewed red flames across the fortress wall. They splattered like liquid, some fires extinguishing but others burning on.
This creature gave off the pressure of an Underlord. At least. It was hard to rate dreadbeasts like sacred artists, but Lindon wouldn’t be surprised if someone were to compare this specimen to a weak Overlord.
The mission parameters were to rescue a few key members of the sect who had made this fortress their home. Any further sacred artists rescued would mean bonus points, but the situation was more complicated than it seemed on the surface.
A protective script covered the outer wall of the fortress, which was why the Overlord dreadbeast hadn’t killed everyone yet. Neither the fire nor the army of monsters had penetrated the outer wall of the fortress yet, but they would soon.
If he engaged the Overlord in battle, the Golds would make it impossible to win quickly. Already flying dreadbeasts were diving to attack their ship.
Their full team of eight would have surely swept this battlefield clean with minimal risk, but their safest options would have also taken the longest.
Lindon’s dead matter was all in place, and he let the cloudship’s speed fall, devoting himself to Soulsmithing. Every piece of the construct floated in his pure madra, and he Forged them without tools, shaping them according to the image in his mind.
Each binding shone in his spirit like a star, and Dross’ calculations prevented the slightest mistake.
The Spear of the Summer King went opposite the red dragon’s breath.
The Storm Lotus opposed the Titan-Slayer Axe, and the Grave’s Last Word matched against the Bloodwash Wave.
All six Striker techniques reacted with one another, sending off sparks of many colors, settling into an equilibrium with the other bindings, the dead matter, and his own madra. It was Soulsmithing that should have taken weeks of testing, measuring, and planning.
The launcher construct settled into his hands as the fat dreadbeast turned to face him, roaring. Red flame gathered at the back of its throat.
Lindon leveled his newborn cannon and fired.
A lance of blinding light slammed into the creature’s belly, carving out a chunk of flesh. The giant gave a pained roar, and this time its hands glowed red as well. A more complicated technique, easily powerful enough to reduce their cloudship to splinters.
Bat-like dreadbeasts screeched as they dove for him, but he gave them no attention. Naru Saeya met them with wind in one hand and a rainbow sword in the other.
Lindon forced his spirit through the cannon, pushing out another shot before the weapon had been given a chance to recover from the last one.
The giant’s head exploded. Burning, rotten flesh sprayed across the stony landscape as the dreadbeast toppled.
Lindon’s construct broke apart, and he tossed it aside, trying not to calculate how many points its materials would have been worth.
Saeya had rid herself of two flying dreadbeasts, but was flying circles around two more, harrying them with her weapon and techniques.
Lindon took them out with dragon’s breath.
The Naru woman hovered down to him as his cloudship slowly came to a stop over the fortress. She looked shocked as she surveyed the dead Lord-stage beast. Rotten blood had splattered across her outer robe.
But she roused herself quickly. “I’m heading inside.”
Lindon tossed her another construct, one that he’d prepared beforehand. “Break this if you need help. I’ll clean up out here.”
She nodded and shot down, stopping to identify herself to the defenders on the wall and convince them to let her through their protective script.
Lindon dropped to the ground himself, switching to Blackflame as he fell. The Burning Cloak ignited, dragon’s breath formed in his hand, and Wavedancer flew from his void key.
The flying sword, beautifully crafted from the blues and greens of wind and waves, responded eagerly to his will.
He landed with a squelch on the ruined dreadbeast and laid waste to the army around him.
The Archlord flying sword sliced Truegold dreadbeasts in half with a single swing, as did the thin bars of Blackflame he sent slashing out.
At the same time, he tapped into his soulfire, using the blood aura in the giant’s body to pull apart the flesh in its chest. Meat and tendons tore away from the binding he sensed near its heart.
Hurry, Lindon thought. I have to hurry.
If even one prize escaped his grasp, he was going to weep blood.
10
Eithan waded through an ashen maze of jagged walls that were all that remained of his homeland.
He doubted he had ever stood in this particular building before, but even if he had, there would be no way to tell now. The earth had shifted and the sky rained living lightning, until what was left was unrecognizable.
The layer of ash only remained now, eight years later, because of the endless destruction aura that enveloped the whole continent. If he were to open his aura sight, he would see a black shadow clinging to every other color. His outer robes and the tips of his hair would slowly dissolve, if he let them.