But only two.
Ziel was a mystery, and Dross agreed. His brief rampage against Brother Aekin had astonished Lindon, before Ziel had succumbed to spiritual injury. Whether Lindon won that battle depended on how much Ziel could express his power and how long he could stay whole.
But the fact remained that Aekin and Calan were the only ones that Lindon was confident against.
[You know, you can train against them some more if you’d like.]
Tonight, Lindon promised.
He wasn’t likely to fight Sophara anytime soon, and losing over and over to Dross’ illusory version of her was depressing him. If he fought outside of tournament rules, he could win, but he still had no confidence in defeating her in a straight-up fight.
He needed new opponents, and the two Uncrowned that seemed weakest would be perfect. He was growing tired of losing so much, even in practice.
The important thing was that Yerin had won.
She had grown stronger, which he was glad to see, so now she would enjoy the prizes of the top four. And she was the only hope remaining for the Akura clan to win Penance.
Now, they would spare no expense for her.
Lindon clenched his right hand. The Consume technique alone might not be enough to catch him up to Yerin.
His desire for the prizes of Sky’s Edge redoubled.
Yerin re-entered the waiting room with her body and spirit repaired. Not that she’d suffered much injury. She gave off the spiritual impression of someone in peak health.
Though she looked miserable.
Mercy screamed and cheered and clapped all at once when Yerin arrived, but Yerin didn’t bother to respond. As for the Winter Sage, she looked like she was ready to grind steel between her teeth.
“We must seal that parasite,” she said, the moment Yerin appeared.
“Are you crazy?” Mercy asked. “It almost beat the Stormcaller on its own!”
“It’s out of control!”
“Then we should help her control it!”
While they debated—Mercy not backing down in front of a Sage—Lindon watched Yerin. She looked like she’d just lost the fight.
He had to try something.
“I didn’t know your master,” Lindon said quietly, “but I know he would be proud.”
Her face wrinkled until he thought she might cry. “Would have been proud of me if I’d done it. Why would he give one thin hair for a match my Shadow fought?”
Lindon knew he might be stepping into hotter water, but from what he’d learned from Yerin, he thought he’d put together a decent picture of the Sword Sage’s personality.
“Apologies, but do you really think he would care how you won?”
She looked like she wanted to argue, but the cloud over her face slowly lifted.
“Adama would never have allowed your Blood Shadow to develop to this point,” the Winter Sage said with certainty.
Lindon wanted to punch her, Sage or not, as Yerin’s shoulders slumped again.
The Sage noticed and backtracked. “But he would have been proud of you, of course. Whatever the…means…you cultivated the Blood Shadow yourself, no different than a weapon you created. He would be very proud. But he would be more proud if—”
Maybe it was the look on Lindon’s face or maybe she realized what she was about to say, but the Winter Sage cut off her own words.
“Well, at least top four’s a treat,” Yerin admitted. “When do I get my prizes?”
Lindon had been wondering that already.
“There’s a ceremony for the top four tonight, but the prizes won’t be ready for a few days. We’ll have them sent to us back at the School.”
Yerin glanced up to Lindon. “Two weeks until the next round.”
That reminder raised complicated feelings in him.
On the one hand, he’d barely gotten to talk to Yerin at all since he’d been back from Sky’s Edge. Now that chance was over, and two weeks sounded like forever.
On the other hand, he was confident he could earn two thousand points in two weeks. Maybe a little more, since Abyssal Palace was supposed to receive reinforcements. That was one more prize, maybe two.
From that perspective, two weeks felt too short.
“We have the rest of the day,” he responded.
Then Charity swept in, one of her owls perched on her shoulder. “I’m afraid not. You’ll be accompanying my father back to Sky’s Edge immediately; we need him back in place without delay. Congratulations, Yerin. Your training has now become our family’s number one priority.”
Lindon was paying attention to Yerin’s reaction, so he felt when blood madra surged within her. She grimaced as she suppressed her Shadow.
He expected her to respond lightly, but she pressed her fists together and bowed. “I’ll be grateful.”
The Winter Sage looked delighted. “You’ll see amazing things if we can get her to Overlord, I guarantee it.”
The stirring blood madra inside Yerin stilled as she spoke. “Means I could use another training opponent, true?”
Lindon saw where she was going with this, and he brightened.
It would be a shame to give up the opportunity in Sky’s Edge, but if the full resources of the Akura clan were focused on Yerin, he could potentially get more from helping her train. Surely they would want her training partner to be as strong as possible.
And, of course, he’d be with Yerin.
“You will no longer have time for that,” Charity said, and Lindon’s vision was crushed. “Min Shuei and I will be handling your training directly. Sparring against others at your level will have only minimal impact at this point.”
The Blood Shadow went from silent to fighting so violently that everyone felt it.
This time, the struggle inside Yerin caused the air around her to glow red. She strained visibly, forcing the parasite down, but both Charity and the Winter Sage had their attention focused on Yerin.
“…and we’ll have to seal that thing,” the Winter Sage spat.
Charity shook her head. “On the contrary, we’ll need to improve its state of existence. It’s perfect willpower training, and I can’t imagine any advantage we could give her in only two weeks that is better than a more complete Blood Shadow.”
The Winter Sage staggered back in shock.
When Mercy had learned that Aunt Charity couldn’t transport them to Sky’s Edge on her own, she had felt a nervous fluttering in her stomach.
When Malice had sent word that she would be the one to cast them on the first leg of their journey, Mercy’s nerves had gone from fluttering to churning.
Then her mother had instructed Mercy to arrive early for a private talk.
That was when Mercy really began to feel sick.
The Monarch hadn’t spoken with Mercy since her loss, nor made her opinion known to the rest of the family. She had stayed as aloof and apart as ever.
As a result, Mercy didn’t know how her mother felt about the fight against Sophara. But she wouldn’t be pleased.
Mercy arrived in the floating Monarch viewing platform to find it occupied only by one person. Dozens of comfortable seats remained empty, the corners of the vast room were draped in shadows, and the silence echoed in the empty space.
Her mother lounged in a dark throne, hands folded in her lap, waiting for Mercy to enter.
Mercy had far greater access to Malice than most anyone else, but that still meant that months often passed with no contact between them at all. As she approached, she felt as much as she ever had that she was a stranger in the presence of her Monarch.
She went to one knee, bowing before her mother. “My greetings, Mother.” While she didn’t enjoy being so formal, she wasn’t sure what else to do.
“Rise,” Malice commanded.
Mercy did, hoping to see the Monarch soften into a mother. When her smile remained cold and distant, Mercy knew she was in trouble.
“How should I treat someone who let the family down so badly?”