Her sword rang.
The Endless Sword technique rippled through the dense sword aura, which Shoumei had already begun gathering to herself.
Since it was under the control of her Ruler technique, the Endless Sword didn’t have as much impact as Yerin had hoped. She’d hoped it would cause the mass of aura to explode and tear Shoumei in half.
But it still opened up bleeding wounds all over Shoumei’s body, and her spirit trembled. Yerin would have finished her off, but her spirit warned her in time to spin her around and send as much madra as possible into her Steelborn Iron body.
Crusher’s fist slammed down onto her upraised sword.
Yan Shoumei had named her Blood Shadow well.
Yerin was crushed down, cracking the ground beneath her feet, and her entire body screamed under the impact.
But she only had to endure it for a moment as Ruby dashed back into the fray, red hair streaming behind her.
Her own sword rang.
Dozens of wounds cut Shoumei all over her body, cutting her more deeply this time. She cried out in pain, and the Archlord technique pulsed, ready to escape her control.
Crusher swiped back at Ruby, but with its other hand it struck Yerin’s sword again.
It felt like her bones would break under the impact, and it was all she could do to endure.
Then Yan Shoumei released her bowstring.
A lance of dense silver-and-red aura lanced out straight for Yerin, and there was nothing she could do. She still hadn’t recovered from Crusher’s last blow, and he loomed over her, prepared to land another.
Until something hit him from the side.
Ruby tackled Crusher, staggering him just enough to knock him into the path of Yan Shoumei’s Ruler technique.
A full Archlord using the weapon would have launched the technique faster and with more focus, but Yan Shoumei had enough trouble controlling its power at all.
Both Blood Shadows fell in front of the technique.
Needles erupted from their bodies, shredding them from the inside out.
The aura controlled the blood inside them, sharpening it and bursting through their skin. Ruby was annihilated in an instant, and Yerin felt her scraps return; without Northstrider’s restoration after the battle, it would take her weeks and specialized resources to recover.
But Yerin was untouched. Ruby had succeeded.
Mostly.
Clumps of Crusher oozed together, forming into a massive lump. She could already see hair growing on what looked like a limb.
But Crusher wasn’t her target.
Yerin looked to Yan Shoumei, who had dropped the bow and raised both her hands into claws. She was covered in wounds, her face was torn beyond recognizing, and she shook as though she could barely stand. From head to toe, she was soaked in blood.
Pain erupted all over Yerin’s body as her own flesh turned against her, seized by Yan Shoumei’s own Ruler technique. She’d burned soulfire for this, as it affected Yerin quickly, making her muscles twitch and her heart convulse.
But Yerin didn’t need to move her body.
Aura echoed from the black sword that had fallen at Yan Shoumei’s feet. The Endless Sword rang out, opening the Redmoon artist’s throat.
From his viewing platform, Reigan Shen let out a disappointed tsk.
It seemed that everyone who owned a powerful weapon fell to the same mistake: relying on it. Yan Shoumei had so many other options, but she was blinded by the power of her Blood Shadow and of her bow.
Then again, Yerin was perhaps her natural enemy.
Yerin could match up to Crusher’s strength, however briefly, and her own Blood Shadow copied a large measure of that same power. That alone mitigated Shoumei’s biggest advantage.
In virtually every other category, Shoumei was outmatched. Yerin had more powerful techniques, more combat experience, and a powerful will for her level.
He had hoped for a win, and even coached Yan Shoumei personally for a few days, but ultimately it affected little.
He had always been playing for second place.
He sent Seshethkunaaz a message through vital aura.
“Are you going to buy her out?”
The reply was quick in coming. “I have no interest in bribery. Whoever wins the contest is most worthy of possessing the prize.”
Reigan Shen chuckled. That was an easy stance to take when you were almost guaranteed to win.
“I think I’ll try my hand, then,” he sent.
“Do as you wish.”
Malice would never allow her final representative to give in to temptation, but it couldn’t hurt to try. A victory that was almost guaranteed still left too much room for error.
Instead of reappearing in her waiting room, Yerin re-formed in a room she’d never seen before.
Instantly, she drew her sword.
It was a small sitting-room filled with blankets and plush furniture, and everything was some shade of purple, black, or silver. From silver lamps covered in purple shades to purple tapestries hanging on the walls sewn with images in black.
A moment later, a woman emerged from a door in the corner, wearing a simple purple dress.
Yerin had never seen Akura Malice up close with her own eyes before, only from a distance or in the blurry memories of others.
This was clearly her.
She looked like Mercy’s older sister, with the addition of black lips, amethyst nails, and hair flowing behind her like shadows. She looked Yerin up and down with eyes an even brighter purple than her children’s.
“Don’t be startled,” she said. “Shen was trying to contact you, so I decided to keep you close.”
Yerin slid her sword back into its sheath, but she shivered at the thought of Reigan Shen’s contact. If a Monarch wanted revenge for the defeat of his champion, she was in for a rough life. And probably a short one.
“Thanks for cutting that off,” Yerin said. She collapsed back onto a purple-cushioned couch.
Though her body and spirit had been restored by Northstrider, she was still mentally tired. It had been a long day.
Malice looked surprised for a moment. Maybe Yerin hadn’t been supposed to sit, but she felt like she should have some privileges as Malice’s only remaining fighter, so she sank even deeper into the cushions.
It was the most comfortable seat she’d ever experienced. She tried not to sigh in relief.
“I’ll have to hold you here for a moment so Shen gets the message, and it’s about time that you and I got to know each other anyway. Which means you now have a Monarch at your disposal.”
Malice sat in a throne-like cushioned chair, crossed one leg over the other, and leaned one elbow on the armrest. “How can I help you win this tournament?”
“Expect you’d know better than I would.”
Malice’s smile was slow and showed no teeth. Yerin didn’t trust it.
Or anything else about this woman, really.
“Charity and Min Shuei can teach you almost anything I could. Though I have more skill and experience than they do, imparting it to you is another matter. You must advance to have the tools to win, and if you somehow fully manifest the Sword Icon, you will of course win handily.”
Malice gave a frustrated huff. “But no one develops such stable authority before Archlord nowadays, sadly. It used to be more common, but then Paths had a much lower survival rate.”
A question occurred to Yerin, but she wondered if she had enough spine to ask it.
Then she remembered that this Monarch’s life was currently in Yerin’s hands. If she didn’t take advantage of it now, when would she?
“Found a question for you,” Yerin said casually. “Why do you treat your daughter like your second-favorite dog?”
Malice’s smile didn’t slip, or even flicker. “Should I have rewarded her for failure? The world is not so kind. She had every advantage, just as Sophara did, and yet she came up lacking. Should I have soothed her feelings by pretending there are no consequences when she put our family in danger?”