Lindon History's Strongest Unsouled

I don't own anything.


Chapter 7: Life in the Alliance

As dawn's first light filtered through the blackened trees surrounding the Five Factions Alliance, Yerin returned, dragging a bright blue corpse behind her. It looked something like a crab painted onto the world in the colors of the sky, and it leaked azure light as she trudged through the outer gates and down the main street.

At her peak condition, she should have been able to run carrying something as light as this, but she felt like her bones had been filled with lead. Now that she settled down and thought, she hadn't had a real rest in... months, probably.

Even now that she'd crossed the threshold to Gold, gaining a shiny metal arm with a sword stuck on it, her body had limits. She was starting to feel them.

Didn't help that every rotten set of eyes on the way in was looking at her like she was dragging a bloody sack of dead dogs behind her. This was a camp of sacred artists, wasn't it? Couldn't be that unusual, seeing someone dragging in a Remnant corpse.

Or maybe it was the cargo she'd slung over her shoulder that they were staring at.

It took her a handful of wrong turns to find the Fisher section of camp again, by which time she wondered if she could learn to sleepwalk on the fly. The crowd could just wash around her like a river around a boulder, and rot take them all.

Finally, she passed down a street she recognized, dragging the blue-leaking Remnant under trees that had been decorated with spider constructs the night before. It looked different in the light, like it had been dyed a different color.

She grabbed some Fisher pup about ten years old, demanding directions to Fisher Gesha. He looked like she'd popped out an extra eye -worse than that, to be true, since there were more than a few Goldsigns that gave you an extra eyeball- but he gave her rough directions.

When she followed them to a huge barn that had been slapped down in the middle of camp, she almost turned back to show the kid the flat edge of her sword. Soulsmiths required a lot of space for their work, that was true, but it was her observation that they liked to do their business in as flashy a place as possible. Last Soulsmith she visited had built a glowing palace out of shining pillars and sat on a throne of burning inhuman skulls.

But the Desolate Wilds were the back-end of nowhere, where even Sacred Valley looked civilized. Weak, but civilized. Maybe working in a barn was showing off out here.

She could have rapped on the door, but that would have taken energy. Instead, she simply hauled the door open.

It slid on a track, spilling sunlight into the barn.

The floor was actually covered in hay, but this was clearly the foundry of an active Soulsmith. A rainbow of severed limbs hung from hooks in the ceiling, drizzling colored sparks. Spiders hung from the rafters like bats in a cave, and stalls that should have held animals instead contained massive constructs -duller than Remnants and mysterious in construction. She didn't want to think what constructs that size had been built to do, so she didn't bother.

Lindon was sitting at a long workbench arranged down the center of the room like a feeding trough, broad shoulders bent over a half-assembled spider. He looked older than he was, until she happened to reach out and scan his spirit. Then she'd sense the pathetic strength of a Copper, which she always associated with children. It gave her a queasy feeling, like seeing a grown man with a baby's head on his shoulders.

It was a relief to see him, though she still hadn't fully shaken her irritation. He'd insisted on joining a faction, like he knew up from down out here without her. He did need some real training in the sacred arts, and she couldn't give it to him, but this was still an inconvenience.

Now that she had eyes on him, her previous worries seemed simpleminded. Foolish. Of course he wasn't going to run off, leaving her alone in a sea of strangers without a single friendly soul. No reason he should.

Fisher Gesha hopped down from an upper floor that Yerin hadn't noticed, caught by the legs of the spider-construct that jutted out from under her robes. She held her hands behind her back, wrinkled face stuck in a mask of irritation. "What is this? Hm? You think we take customers now?"

"Rumor says you take in strangers for a price," Yerin said. She hauled on the rope binding the Remnant, brining the blue crab forward. "This is supposed to be worth something." She'd found it by following a team of Fishers who had skirted around this Remnant as too dangerous. Not so dangerous when she dismembered it from two hundred feet away, it turned out. Now its limbs were bundled upon its carapace, and she pulled it along on its belly.

Fisher Gesha rubbed her chin with two fingers. "What do you want?"

"Shelter in the Fishers for me," Yerin started. Then she pointed to Lindon. "Training for him. Real stuff, not this sweep-and-gather rot."

Lindon raised one sheepish hand. "Gratitude, Yerin. I will repay you for this, but she already agreed-"

The Fisher cut him off with a gesture, eyeing the pack on Yerin's shoulder. "You have something else for me, don't you?"

Yerin slapped the bundle down on the floor, unrolling it with one foot. It was a trio of blood-spattered furs that, until a few hours ago, had been worn by Sandvipers.

"Dead?" Gesha asked, eyes sharp.

"Not quite," Yerin answered, because she had known better than to unleash three hostile Remnants in the middle of a crowd. "But I can tell you they're not happy."

A smile creased Gesha's face. "I think we can find a space for you."


The space they'd found for Yerin was among the main sect, in rooms reserved for the women of the Fishers. They'd given Lindon a spot up among the rafters, in a pile of hay only accessible by a creaking ladder -thus he simply hops up instead of actually using it. Nothing like adding a little extra leg exercise to ones daily routine, his masters would have approved. He had to sleep motionless on his back so not to roll off the edge, which meant he spent his nights staring up at the spider constructs dangling over his head.

The first day, Gesha had her drudge run over the blue crab Remnant that Yerin had brought, the construct's eight legs moving at blurring speeds to dismantle the spirit and separate it into usable parts. She handed him first a claw bigger than his whole upper body, then a pile of tubes that looked something like intestines, then a Forged blue beak. The whole mess didn't act quite right; it smelled of lightning storms and salty water rather than rotten guts, and it felt more like oiled glass than anything natural.

After he'd separated the parts into buckets, a task he'd often performed for his mother, he sealed them with scripts to prevent them from decaying and 'sent to storage.' Which meant that he shoved the boxes into the giant closet at the back of the barn, labeled only with a code that he hoped Fisher Gesha could read.

Most of the crab would go back there, to serve as what Gesha called 'dead matter.' These would be the most mundane parts of a construct -maybe the shell of a spider, maybe the hilt of a sword- and were needed only for their physical properties.

The parts she didn't send into storage, the parts she kept out on her workbench, those were more interesting.

Lindon's mother had never allowed him to help with this part, though he'd caught glimpses through cracked doors and around corners. This was the part of being a Soulsmith that required delicacy and skill, but Fisher Gesha hacked away at these treasures like a butcher working on a slab of meat.

She started with a cluster of blue rocky madra about the size of a fist, but after a few strokes of her bladed goldsteel hook, she was left with a...

He wanted to call it a 'heart,' because that was the nearest analogy in a living being, but it didn't look like the mass of muscle that was left over after he'd cleaned a deer. It was a tightly wound tangle of tubes, so that Lindon thought it might actually be one tube, so folded and looped in so many different directions that it became a knotted mass.

Gesha held it up in one hand. "We call this a binding, you see? We work with these like a blacksmith works with iron."

"And the rest of the material? Do you still use it for constructs?" he asked, gesturing back toward the closet door. Even dead matter of an unusual Remnant would have supplied his mother for months.

She snorted. "We fold into different shapes, use it to build the skeletons, but the heart and soul of every construct is a binding. If we could work with bindings completely, we would. You think the rest of the Remnant is expensive? No. This is the gemstone inside the mountain."

She tossed it to him, and he caught it in both his hands. It smelled like a rainy day.

"Put your hand over the tube at the top," she ordered. "Point the other end-no, not at me! You want me to toss you out? At the floor! Now, funnel a trickle of madra into it. Just a little, do you hear me?"

Lindon did, careful not to put in too much. The binding made a tiny whining sound.

"Well, more than that," she said.

He took deeper breaths in rhythm, cycling his madra and forcing more power into the binding. He had eaten the second Lotus Bud last night and it was fuzzing up his madra cores, thus taking more effort than normal. It squealed louder.

Gesha muttered to herself.

He forced all the madra he could into the twisted organ, and finally it spurted out a spray of water.

"Finally," she snapped, snatching it back. She shook the binding in her hand, drawing his attention to it. "This was a Purelake Remnant, you hear me? Primary aspect water. When this sacred artist was alive, she made water from aura in the air, you see? This was a technique she'd mastered, and it becomes part of her spirit. Her Remnant uses this binding, doing the same thing."

Lindon's jaw almost cracked under the force of his questions.

"Her technique becomes a part of the Remnant? How? Why?"

"Patterns," Gesha stated shortly, tucking the binding away in a drawer. "You've seen scripts, haven't you? What are they, if not shapes that guide madra? What is a technique, if not weaving madra in a certain pattern?" She held out a hand. "You move the right madra, in the right way, with the right rhythm, and you get..." A pair of pliers smacked into her open hand; drawn by some technique she'd used. "You move it any other way, and you get..." She waved her hand. "...nothing. Hm? You, see?"

"I believe I do, but please forgive another question. A binding is like a script inside your soul?"

"You think it's that simple? No. A script is a drawing, a biding is a statue. Bindings are pearls, and Remnants are the clams around them. You, see?"

On some level, he did. Bindings had weight, depth. A script-circle was nothing but a carved circle of letters. But they seemed to do the same things, so he wasn't entirely sure what advantages a binding had.

He pointed to the drawer containing the binding. "How did you know which end took madra in, and which end spat water out?"

"Experience," she replied, prying at the shell of what he guessed was another concealed binding.

"How did you know it would create water, instead of something else?"

"Drudge told me." She ran a hand down the smooth carapace of her large spider-construct, which rested on the desk next to her. "It tastes the aspects of madra for me, you see? It tells me which madra touches on water, which touches on ice, and which is simply blue."

"And now that you have the binding, you can use it in a construct? One that will automatically produce water? Is that all you can use it for, or can you do something else with it?"

She pointed at him with the pliers. "That is the question worthy of a Soulsmith." He tried to restrain his smile to polite levels, but he couldn't hold it back. She glowered at him.

"Don't smile. A smile doesn't go with those eyes. You look like you want to eat me for breakfast." She smacked herself in the forehead with the back of her hand. "Tsst. What am I doing? You are not my student. Sweep! Sweep the floors!"


As days went by, Lindon fell into a pattern of getting up early to get in as much martial arts training as he could before his 'sweeping duties' took over. To get more out of his chores, so-to-speak, he carved clutching golems out of small boulders near the barn that'd latch on to his limbs and torso, to add weight and resistance to his movements.

When Fisher Gesha first saw them, she barked at the stupidity of tying rock to his limbs. Until she took a closer look at the muscular rock golems. Then she wondered where he had stolen such works of art and how he could have ever conceived the idea of wearing statues as training. Lindon ended up telling her about a teacher of his that died -figuring that it was best not tell a Soulsmith about advanced artificially created Remnants that preserved ancient masters- had sculpted similar statues for his physical training. That upon realizing his own end was near, he taught Lindon how to carve his own statues to continue his training after his passing. Also, that was where he got the unique demonic design style from.

After agreeing to carve extras for her, she left him to it...so long as they didn't impede his chores. He hasn't seen her use them or display them, so he thinks that Gesha sold them. That, or stored them some place outside the barn. Though, the work order for quality stone he saw while organizing her paperwork, drove home the fact that she sold them. And that she plans on making him carve more...he's started sleeping with his current set just to be safe.

That didn't stop the old Soulsmith from taking a closer look at his stuff. She found his sword, kunai, and armor -more specifically the quality and composition. To protect the sylvan river-seed he volunteered the goldsteel and halfsilver ingots to steer her away from going too deep into his pack. He's been feeding the little spirit daily and has grown attached to the little lady, still not sure why he thinks of it as a girl.

More so, he didn't want Gesha to find his copper-plated ball construct, she'd most definitely take it from him for its value alone. That's not counting the knowledge held within, but most sacred artists wouldn't be able to use it, let alone appreciate it.

Lindon was able to keep both the river-seed and the training construct hidden by fully explaining his blacksmithing ability to forge goldsteel and half-silver by mixing steel through the Kosaka smithing process. He proceeded to forge her a new bladed hook made like his sword was, minus the half-silver -it's disruptive properties on madra would hinder her Soulsmithing. She was absolutely absorbed into watching his forging process, shocked by the speed of it. Well, the set-up and prep-work took nearly an entire day but melting down the metals and forging the Goldsteel bladed hook only took two hours.

He proceeds to forge several ordinary weapons with ordinary materials; like more bladed hooks, swords, knifes, spears, shields, armor and chainmail gauntlets and gloves. The chainmail took the longest and brought the most surprise from how cloth-like it looked and felt.

Lindon knew Fisher Gesha was trying to copy the Kosaka smithing style with her sect's own blacksmiths, but to no avail. He'd explained the process and even demonstrated several key steps, but he left out the most important part: infusing your Ki into the metal. It was why he always had a meditative look on his face while smithing. He can feel that Gold stage sacred artists do have Ki, but it's defused and weak. They'd never be able to infuse their Will into their crafts. He couldn't until he reached the "Release" of Ki stage, and it still took an enormous effort and the Mastered guidance of Shigure to learn.

Not that the Fisher sect smiths didn't gain anything from his technique. They all improved drastically, just never being able to match the quality of his work.

Gesha now has a side business going, using his forging abilities to make weapons and gear for the Five Factions Alliance -minus the Sandvipers.

That's how his 'sweeping duties' became a minor chore he rarely does now. Nothing like a profitable skill set to change someone's mind about your value. But he still hasn't been taught anymore about Soulsmithing. The old Fisher is always saying that he should just focus on making the sect more money and stop asking questions. She'll teach him at her pace, not his.

During those days, he watched customers come and go. They usually met Gesha or other Fishers elsewhere, passing along work orders for him to fill, and only the most determined tracked her to her foundry. That was when Lindon found the answer to his question about the binding.

More than once, Gesha would take a binding and encase it in dead matter, using her drudge to seal it up so that it looked like a sword, or a shield, a shovel, or whatever the customer ordered. Once, when she'd encased a crystalline binding into a hammer that looked like it was hacked from glacial ice, a burly man in thick furs came to pick it up only seconds after she'd finished.

He had no sandviper Remnant on his arm, and he was dressed in much thicker clothing. The dark furs of his outfit were even dusted with snow, though autumn was only beginning, and the days were still warm.

He took the hammer from her without a word, caressing it in gloved hands. Before Gesha could say a word, without warning, he turned and slammed the icy head into the planks of the barn.

Ice bloomed from the center of the impact, blasting away like waves that froze instantly. Lindon swirled at the sound, kunai in hand, but a moment later he stopped in awe. A flower of ice had bloomed in the barn.

It could have been the man's own sacred arts that created the ice, but he suspected that wasn't the case. The man could have tested his own technique anywhere, without the hammer. No, he was trying out this weapon...with the binding inside. He'd seen one produce water, so why not ice?

The sword Yerin had inherited from her master was white and unnaturally cold, and her techniques seemed more deadly with it than without it. Did it have a binding in it too?

Gesha beat the stranger around the shoulders for ruining her barn floor and made him pay extra scales to fix it. Lindon had heard of other transactions before, but this was the first time he'd seen one, and therefore the first time he'd actually seen a scale.

It was a little disappointing. It was nothing more than a coin, though one Forged of madra to be sure, translucent and threaded with blue. Fifty scales for the hammer, twenty more for her floor, and five because he'd made her get up early. He paid gladly, whistling as he carried his new weapon out over his shoulder.

When Gesha noticed Lindon's interest in the scales, she nodded to him. "You're curious? Hm? Good, because this will be your next job. Once you clean up that ice and finish up the Cloud Hammer order. They'll be here by noon."

Under Gesha's instruction and given the proper scripts, Lindon started adding scripts to the weapons he forged. Giving them added functionality; like the flying sword he saw at Heaven's Glory, and allowing for easier, controlled flow of the users madra into the weapon. Spears that's gather sword aura once the script activated, and Hammers like the ones he had to make, gathering Force aura for increased power of their swing.

Even though it is eating into his time for training and taking his attention away from Soulsmithing, Lindon is eager for the opportunity. He's hoping that not only will it increase his value but can eventually be used for adding bindings to his smithing -once he actually learns some Soulsmithing.


Sandviper Tern was a thin man, not tall, with a tendency to avoid Jai Long's gaze. He shifted his weight nervously with every word, and even the serpent Goldsign on his arm was smaller than usual. He gave the impression of a frightened child even when he was perfectly confident.

Which, today, he was not.

"The Copper is with one of the Fisher Soulsmiths," Tern said to Jai Long's boots. "We had him observed in shifts, but he didn't leave her foundry. She must have taken him in."

Jai Long looked over Tern's head to the cages full of captured miners. There were two rows of scripted cages, framing a strip of grass that led directly into the cavernous entrance of the Transcendent Ruins. He didn't open his spiritual senses, but the signs of gathered vital aura were everywhere: each blade of grass blew in different directions, a patch of frost clustered like mold onto the edge of one cage while the inhabitants of another sweated, and the clouds over the Ruins churned like they were being stirred by a giant hand.

The heavens and the earth overflowed with power. And here were his miners, shaking the bars of their cages in fear and anger.

Not mining.

"She likely wants him to sweep the foundry, clean up after botched constructs, sort boxes, that kind of thing," Tern continued, raising his voice to be heard over the racket behind him and shifting his gaze to Jai Long's shoulder. "If she throws him out in the next few days, we'll see it. No need to worry about that. His companion might be more of a problem, considering she-"

"What is happening here?"

Tern straightened and very nearly looked Jai Long in the eyes. "Just a bit of trouble, nothing to concern you, Highgold. A little dissent in the ranks, that's all."

One of the cages shook forward under the weight of its occupants, threatening to tip over.

"Where did this trouble come from, Sandviper Tern?"

Tern winced, shifting from foot to foot on the grass. "The dreadbeasts, they're...getting worse. We don't know where they're coming from, but there's no end to them. And the Remnants...at the start, they acted like Remnants. A good few of them attacked, but some of them just climbed back into the tunnels, or sat down, or started counting clouds, or what have you. Now, they all want blood."

Jai Long stared him down, waiting for further explanation. His masked face disturbed some people -it disturbed everyone, in reality- but it was nothing compared to how they'd react if he walked around with face bare. He was considering giving Tern a nice big grin.

"...the miners won't go back in," Tern said finally. "The Remnants cut into them last night, and we lost more than one team. Now they won't listen to us. We picked the one that was screaming the loudest, speared him up in front of them, made them watch as he died. Still didn't get them into the tunnel."

Jai Long hefted his spear, "I see."

"We could shove them in, but I don't know how we'd get them to work."

"No," Jai Long said, "you don't." He stalked forward, weapon in one hand, gathering Stellar Spear madra into the steel head as he walked. More eyes turned to him with every step, agitated miners and overwhelmed Sandviper guards alike.

By the time he reached the middle of the row, the noise had settled into what -in this crowded camp- passed for silence.

"Take whatever you can keep," Jai Long announced, and though his voice was even, it carried to every cage. "It's the law of the Wilds. The Sandvipers took you because you could not repay a debt, because you lost a duel, because you challenged us and failed. One and all, it was because you were too weak. Would any among you dispute that truth?"

A few angry voices shouted out in response.

"If you are dissatisfied, if you believe that bad fortune is to blame rather than your own weakness, I will give you a chance to prove it." Jai Long ground the butt of his spear into the earth and let his spearhead glow like a beacon next to his eyes. "Step forward, and I will have your collar removed. You will face me with honor, like a sacred artist, and show me your strength."

This silenced most of the voices, but one bulky man stepped up. He was twice as wide across the shoulders as Jai Long, with his muscular neck straining against his restrictive collar. "I have confidence in facing any Lowgold," he rumbled. "Send one as your champion, and I will face him. There is no sense in fighting a Highgold."

Only duels between those of the same stage could possibly prove anything, otherwise Jai Long may as well be slaughtering sheep. He looked to Tern.

"Sandviper Tern, remove this man's collar."

The Sandviper did so, with a glare and unnecessary shove to the prisoner. For his part, the big man gave a deep breath and flexed his hands, no doubt feeling the madra passing through his body unobstructed for the first time since his capture.

"Now place it on me," Jai Long ordered, eyes on his opponent.

Every Sandviper stared at him, So did the bulky miner.

Sandviper Tern's mouth gaped. "Highgold, don't you think it would be better for me to face him?"

Jai Long did not move his gaze or adjust his inflection as he stated, "You are one mistake away from filling a cage yourself. Your safest path forward is to do what I tell you, precisely when I tell you to do it. Starting now."

Tern tripped over himself to snap the collar around Jai Long's neck.

The light of his spear dimmed dramatically, and the flow of madra within his core squeezed tight. The restriction of the collar wasn't anything so straightforward as reducing his power to the levels of Lowgold; it hobbled him in every way, leaving him with nothing more than the physical strength of his Iron body, his combat skills, and the most basic of techniques.

"If this man wins, he goes free of whatever debts he owes to the Sandviper sect," Jai Long said. "If he does not, his life is mine to do with as I will."

The big man nodded, signaling his own agreement, and a Sandviper handed him a spear of his own. He ran a hand down the shaft and took the weapon in both hands, feeling its balance, holding it ready.

When the opponent was prepared, Jai Long moved.

It was a simple thrust, honed from millions of repetitions and glowing with the last embers of a week Stellar Spear technique. The bulky man's dodge was a hair out of place, his counterstrike a beat too slow.

The glowing spearhead passed through his heart and emerged from the other side.

Jai Long withdrew his weapon even as a Remnant -creamy off-white, like fresh butter- peeled itself out of the man's body with a couple of shovel-shaped hands.

It cocked a head like a bucket, staring at the Ruins, and then lumbered away from Jai Long. It followed the flow of aura in the air until it disappeared into the darkness of the entrance.

In the cages, miners were quiet.

"Your lives belong to me," Jai Long stated, without raising his voice. "When the Five Factions Alliance disperses, I have no more use for them. You will be set free, safe, your debts clear, and encouraged to return home. At that time, you may consider your time in the Ruins little more than a dream."

He tapped his collar, and Tern removed it with shaking hands. "That is my will. To you, it is law. There is no alternative, There is no escape. If you die in the Ruins, it will be for the same flaw that brought you here in the first place: your own weakness."

Jai Long turned and walked away, gesturing for Tern to follow him.

Behind him, the cages began to murmur.

"They'll go into the Ruins with you now but watch for runaways. Have guards return any that escape, don't kill them."

Tern nodded frantically.

"And what did you learn today, Tern?"

The man stumbled, then hustled to catch up. "How impressive you are, Highgold. Your reputation does not do you justice."

"So when I tell you to capture a Copper..."

Tern swallowed loudly.

"You wait for an opportunity," Jai Long said, fixing Tern with his gaze, "If you die of old age, you will do so at your post. The second the Copper leaves, or the Fisher leaves him, you will be there with a sack ready to pull over his head. And Tern?"

The Sandviper quivered with the effort of looking him in the eye.

"This is not important to me. This is the least of my priorities. But it should be very, very important to you."

Sandviper Tern dropped to his knees and bowed until his head reached the ground.


After Lindon scraped every inch of the beautiful, wild ice sculpture away from the floor with a shovel he crated up the bulk order for the Cloud Hammers. When he finished, Gesha walked him over to a new corner of the foundry. Something that looked like a metal barrel with handles stood there, with script covering every inch and a few gleaming jewels studding an otherwise unremarkable lid. After close examination, he identified them as crystal flasks.

"This," she said, slapping the barrel, "is mining equipment. You've heard us talking about miners in the Ruins, have you? Well, there's nothing to it. All a 'miner' has to do is go where the aura is thick, funnel madra into the handles, and the script does the rest. A trained dog could do it. When it purifies enough aura, it comes out the other end..."

She flipped a scale into the pan at the bottom, where it landed with a hollow ping. "...as a scale. You see? Scales come out at the bottom."

He thought for a moment, looking over the process. "It seems like it's...cycling."

"Oh, so even a Copper has eyes. Bulky device and all, that's all it is. Just a way to cycle."

He was missing something important here, he was sure. "I'm sorry. Why? Doesn't everyone cycle on their own?"

The scale flew from the pail back into her hands, and she held it up between two fingers. "You don't think this looks familiar? Hm?"

He squinted at it. "I'm untrained, I know, but it only looks like madra to me."

"Close. It looks like your madra. It's clean, it's pure. You see? Anyone can use pure madra." She inhaled sharply, and the scale dissolved into what looked like liquid light and streamed straight into her core. She slapped her belly afterward. "For anybody on a Path, cycling pure madra is like adding water to wine. You add a little, and there's more wine, you see? Doesn't affect the flavor much. Add too much, and it's just watery."

She waved a hand. "Mostly you don't absorb them, it's a waste. You use them on your weapons, or on constructs, or give a handful to young children. Get them to Copper quicker," she explained, poking him in the ribs. "Everybody can use scales, and nobody can make them directly, so we use them as coins. Works for everyone that way."

"Nobody can make them..." he began, but she finished for him.

"But you can. You start to see, hm? Mining is dangerous work. When you run the equipment, you're helpless, and places with enough vital aura are very dangerous. The aura in the Ruins is so thick you can practically pinch scales from the air, so Remnants and dreadbeasts will be thick as grass down there. If three miners out of ten comes back alive, I'll shave my head."

"Then, if you'll forgive another question, why are you doing it?"

She gestured with her new curved sword, which Lindon had come to realize was called a Fisher's hook. "We are not. We're trading with those who are. When the Arelius family Underlord comes to visit, he'll take the Ruins and everything inside. Until he does, we're all scrambling to make as much money as we can."

"Which is why you're flooding my forge with business and making me carve more statues on the side..." Lindon muttered. "...on top of all the repair work on your constructs."

"What was that? Hm? Am I working you too hard? Want to leave?" She jabbed him with the dull back of her hook. "You want to be my disciple, right? Than earn me as many scales as you can. Start forging some too, my little mine. Once you've contributed enough to the sect, you'll get more from me."

She left him sitting at the bench, figuring out how to Forge madra.

He'd tried before, sneaking tips from his mother as he tried to move his madra in just the right way that meant he was secretly a Forger and not a reject. He'd never had any success, and his failures had always left his spirit exhausted.

This time, he was Copper and he'd finished processing the second lotus bud.

He started by slipping on his parasite ring and cycling for a while, running his madra through the burden of the ring until it was as strong and pure as he could make it without exhausting his spirit. Then he held his palms a few inches apart, focusing on the space between.

He gathered all his madra into that space, packing it thicker and thicker. At first, he could only visualize the flow of madra in the same half-imaginary way he saw when he was cycling. But after his third attempt, he was sure he saw something; a flash of blue against the rough wooden tabletop.

He kept seeing the flash getting bigger and brighter the more he focused, three more attempts, each one brighter than the next.

Then he stopped, catching his breath, wiping sweat from his forehead. He had to cycle again, pumping his spirit, generating every scrap of madra he could.

He didn't sleep for most of the night, trying again and again to condense madra into reality. When his spirit failed him, he cycled until he had enough madra to try again.

Just before dawn, his spirit was completely exhausted and frayed, having to call it a night.

Gesha was disappointed in his failure, but she took it in stride. She just sighed out that she couldn't expect much from a Copper. He proceeded to train his martial skills and physicality, though, he was plateauing in his body's growth. He's at the threshold of the Expert class and breaking through to Master class isn't about increasing ones physicality but Ki strength and saturation.

Lindon needs to strengthen his willpower and infuse it completely with every cell of his body. This final step into the Master realm can take years to complete, only rare instances of extreme stress and dire need can push through this slow step. He's already been strengthening and infusing his Ki into every cell in his body for nearly a year now, and is barely halfway done.

So he's also spent his time completing blacksmith orders and maintaining constructs during the day, finding sparce moments to cycle his madra and infuse his Ki. But then his spirit was too depleted to try Forging at night.

So he used less power.

Instead of spilling his madra into the whole construct and letting it repair itself, he began directing his power where it was needed. If there was a crack, he focused a line of madra and sealed the crack. If it was simply fading away, becoming weak, he fed power directly into it drop by drop until the part was whole again.

After two days, he finally got the knack of it. He used so much less energy on his chores that he could try Forging again, allowing him more attempts each day. He stayed up that night alternating between forcing his madra out and cycling to recover, over and over until he finally did it.

A single scale, round and crystalline blue, gleamed in the palm of his hand.

It had been almost two weeks since Lindon had begun working for Fisher Gesha, and in that time, he'd continued every night until his body and spirit refused to continue any longer. Even when he finished work early, he'd spend hours keeping notes on what he learned, keeping careful records for the Path of Twin Stars, until he eventually passed out on the page.

Even so, he always made sure to rise early -most of the time- to begin his training routine. Though, one of his usual methods -running with ever increasing amount of weight strapped to his back in the form of an oversized grab-kun statue- has been skipped due to all the extra work and Gesha wanting to keep him close. She doesn't want anyone in the Five Factions Alliance knowing that Lindon is the amazing smith that's been forging the top-grade weapons and armor of late. Only her Soulsmith weapons with bindings being considered better, and that mostly do to just the added functionality of the binding.

At least Yerin had come by several times to visit him at the barn. They'd talk about their day and the work they were doing for the Fishers. But it'd always turn towards training, most specifically the training Yerin wanted to unlock her Ki. She was glad to hear that she already had a weak and diffused Ki developed in her body, giving her an edge over his own beginnings of training his Ki.

She was less thrilled by the training routine he'd given her. A madra suppression collar like the ones the Five Factions Alliance use on their miners/slaves was put on her, and he'd ordered her to keep the rest inside her core. It's unpleasant to say the least, but it was the only way for her to develop her Ki in the manner that Lindon is familiar with. He'd agreed with Yerin that their was another way better suited for sacred artists, but silenced her by mentioning that unless a Sage was here and willing to teach her, this was the only option they had currently.

Though Lindon thinks that it had less to do with the uncomfortable feeling and slight pain of having her madra suppressed, and more to do with the boring pace. She wanted to spar with him in that condition to speed the process along, but he'd just had her go through all her sword stances and movements in that state. He wanted her to remaster her fighting abilities without the use of her madra -that had always aided her even on an unconscious level- first.

It took besting her several times in quick succession and repeatedly failing even the lower level training routines in Ryozanpaku's training construct. Yerin was only interested in Shigure's training and only the parts about sword play. She didn't care for the other weapons' training. She did surprisingly well at first, ploughing through all the beginner stuff of Shigure's training, but once it got to her actual techniques and advance conditioning, Yerin began failing spectacularly.

Having an Iron body and years of prior experience with a blade gave her a remarkable edge, and Yerin just took to the sword arts like a fish to water. But when it got tougher, where she needed her full strength and speed, madra would slip out of her core to empower her body, causing her to immediately fail. That's not even including the more advanced disciple class Ki methods and applications. It hurt her pride to know that she wasn't even qualified to even start certain basic training routines, mostly the ones involving Ki.

But quit wasn't apart of Yerin's vocabulary. She'd eventually got use to the training methods, spending more and more time focusing on Ryozanpaku's madraless training until it was equally split with her sacred arts training.

It's honestly a little scary how quickly Yerin is progressing, though, if you asked her, it was still taking too long. Her Ki is already stronger than most the Golds in the camp and is starting to compress in her body. It took Lindon over a year of extensive training to get to that stage, which only took her two weeks.

Lindon soothed his ego by reminding himself that Yerin was already a Lowgold with an Iron body and years of experience over him. She started off with a much stronger base than he did, that's all. But a small part of him also recognized that she is a genus in the martial arts and a full-on prodigy with the sword. Once Yerin adjusted to the madra suppression she started besting him in swordsmanship again. And don't even get him started on her skills in the sacred arts.

Lindon had finally earned the right to leave the barn and his work was far enough ahead that he could do several dozen laps around Fisher territory. He'd even carved out a gripping demon of bulging muscle twice his height and four times his girth. He had to promise Gesha that she could sell it once he outgrew it in a week or two.

The morning of his first run since leaving Sacred Valley there was a biting chill in the air, and light was only just touching the horizon.

Only a few others were even awake at this ungodly hour, cycling, training, or on guard duty. Leaving plenty of room for Lindon run at full tilt, mostly unmolested through the usually crowed streets.

It was around the seventh lap, when he was just starting to work up a good sweat that he was pounced upon. He had just barley sensed the danger in time to block the Forged poisonous spike with the oversized statue.

The force of the blow shattered grab-kun, sending shards flying off in every direction, and knocking Lindon forward. Using the momentum of the blow, he flipped forward onto a handstand, his offhand pulling a concealed kunai from his robe. By time he pivoted and landed on his feet, he saw a scrawny Sandviper moving towards him.

The man's hissing bright green lizard-spirit attached to his arm looked on the small side, at least in comparison the ones he's seen. Dressed in the same dirty furs every Sandviper wears and a pair of axes glowing with their toxic madra. Their insidious, venomous powers, which could dissolve flesh like an acid.

He'd dismantled a Sandviper Remnant under Gesha just two days before, and even its dead matter was enough to slowly burn through living flesh. She demonstrated on a dead rat.

Worse, she explained, the aura they gathered did not kill so quickly. Their Ruler techniques produced a sort of gas that causes seizures, paralysis, and other, less pleasant symptoms. She'd spoken with a shadow in her voice that suggested she'd seen that state entirely too many times.

Now Lindon was laser focused for any sign of glowing green madra, immediately entering his Ryusui Sekuken and taking in every aspect of his opponent. From muscle movements, body language, to his very breath. He's even opened his Copper sight to see the venomous aura surrounding the Sandviper's weapons.

He can't afford to receive even the tiniest of scratches, otherwise he'll lose.

Taking a page out of master Sakaki's teaching, Lindon rushed in to score the first hit. Throwing the kunai he had in his left to make an opening just as he sprang forward.


The lanky Sandviper was surprised by the sudden aggression by a Copper, of all things. Normally, a Copper would have fallen to their knees and bowed deeply to comply with a Lowgold's wishes. He was already thrown off his game by the Copper managing to stay on his feet after taking the hit from his Forged spike.

Tern had planned on just nicking the Copper and let his poison debilitate him, but the Copper managed to sense his attack and block it with the oversized statue on his back. He'd have given the broad shouldered and ridiculously well-built young man the antidote once he fell. But he'd never expected the oversized Copper to actually put up a fight.

The kunai zipped through the air at blinding speed, but nothing a Lowgold couldn't handle. It was easily deflected by one of the Sandviper's axes.

In that exact moment, Lindon had gotten right within Tern's personal space, and on instinct he reacted by swinging his second axe to cleave the Copper in two.

Yet, instead of killing the Copper -which would have meant that he failed to carry out Jai Long's orders- thankfully, and with immense surprise, his blade only hit empty air. His bladed axe narrowly missed the young man's skin, and every return swing, occasional kick and Forged striker technique missed as well.

No, it felt as if everyone of Tern's attacks were being sucked into vortex of empty space. As if the Copper knew where all of the Sandviper's attacks were headed and dodged with the least amount of effort and movement required before he even acted. All the while, the Copper's eyes never broke contact with his own. Like the young man's eyes were peering deep into his very soul, seeing absolutely everything about him. It unnerved Tern to his core.

"Stop struggling Copper! You're just making this worse than it has to be! Give up and you won't be harmed," Tern gritted out between his clenched teeth.


Lindon didn't respond, all of his focus was absorbed in reading his opponent, controlling the flow of the battle by matching the Lowgold's pace. It wasn't going to last for much longer. The man's enraged comment was the sign of the Lowgold's patience running out.

The Sandviper was becoming angry and concerned, increasing his speed and power to his max. Lindon knew that he'd never be able to match a Gold's speed and power, not until he broke through and reached the Low Class Master stage. He needed to finish this now, while his opponent was still confused, and Lindon's speed could keep up. The second level of Ryusei Seikuken allowed him near perfect clarity and let him read his opponents every move like it he could see them before they came. Becoming a stone in the river; the water's flow always going around it.

Lindon started the Holding of his Ki shifts into the third level of the Ryusei Seikuken. Using his Ki to alter the Sanviper's body moments, allowing him to flow perfectly into his step and overtake his rhythm. Moving instantly, sliding through a vicious slice that'd have taken his head off, to turn into his side, facing the same direction as the Sandviper.

With his right arm cocked forward, his stance rooted to the ground, Lindon moved smoothly to ram his elbow back into the Lowgold's abdomen in a reverse Ryusei Mubyoshi. Overtaking his step.

He has been working on this modified Mubyoshi for weeks; to infuse his Holding of Ki with his Ryusei Seikuken, though the reversal of letting it loose through an elbow strike was improvised.

The blow slammed through the Sandviper with devastating force. From the outside it looked like a swirling blow of force was driven from Lindon's elbow clean through the tall Lowgold. The man folding around the blow as he was blasted backwards, a crushing and cracking sound booming out.

The Sandviper went flying back several feet as blood trickled spittle spewed from his mouth.

Internally, the damage was much worse than what the physical blow would have indicated, because his Ki slammed into Tern's body. Lindon's will overpowered Tern's, temporarily shutting it down its natural defenses. It was like where the blow landed the flesh was no longer reinforced by madra, as if he never had an Iron body. Allowing the force of Lindon's blow managed to break Tern's ribs.

Technically, this was third level of Ki, 'Holding,' controlling the Ki of others, but not completely. His grasp of Holding is weak and can only done while in his Ryusei state.

In the meantime, though, Tern was powerlessly gasping on the ground, his axes laying forgotten on the ground a few feet away -having flown from his hands as he lost all strength in his body. Not wanting to risk fate, Lindon chose that moment to turn and run back to the barn deep in Fisher territory. Sandvipers rarely went out alone in the Five Factions Alliance camp.

Before he could make a single step, a poisonous aura surround Lindon. A Ruler technique on the Path of the Sandviper. He'd already breathed in a little of the toxic gas by time he realized what had happened. Unfortunately, that was all it took to send Lindon crashing to the ground in a paralyzing seizure.


Lindon had made the deadly mistake of putting all his focus on the enemy in front him, missing the ones around him. A fellow Sandviper Lowgold on patrol around Fisher territory, bordering their own, sensed one of her own locked in combat. Once checking in on who'd dare turn a hand against the Sandviper sect, she saw Tern struggling to hit a Copper.

She knew of the mission Jai Long had given Tern, so she knew that failure wasn't an option. Fearing for Tern's safety, not from the Copper, but Jai Long's reprisal, she decided to end things before the Fishers caught them attacking one of their Coppers in their territory. Thus, she created a basic Ruler technique to immobilize the Copper, the venomous gas wouldn't affect one of their own. Their Iron bodies were made to counteract the poison they use, so Tern would be fine.

Yet, to her surprise, the Copper laid out Tern with a powerful elbow strike to his torso. Obviously, a physical blow from a Copper couldn't have done any damage to an Iron body. Yet, Tern folded around the elbow strike, somehow making him powerless. An underhanded trick of some kind.

Seeing the Copper was about to run, she unleased her Ruler technique on him. Tern would be killed if he was bested by a Copper and allowed to escape.


Tern was just getting to his feet, coughing up more blood, as Lindon writhed on the ground. Seeing a fellow Sandviper standing on a nearby rooftop, giving him a disappointed look, Tern felt shame nearly consume him. He'd needed help in capturing a Copper! And he knew if he didn't want word getting around, he'd have to bribe her to keep quiet.

So, with a silent nod of acknowledgement that he owed her and that he'd pay her back, Tern moved to bind the shaking Copper. His eyes were rolled back into his head and foam was starting to pour out of his mouth. Once he was fully bound, not willing to underestimate this Copper again, did Tern give him the antidote. After all, he was ordered take the Copper alive. And last thing he wanted do was tell Jai Long he failed.

Tern shivered in fear at what the Highgold would do to him. That alone was enough to wipe away his shame and gladly give his fellow Sandviper whatever she wanted for helping him.

The antidote worked fast, stopping the Copper's writhing and foaming at the mouth, but he was still twitching. It'd take a day or two for the poison to fully work its way out his system, but his life was no longer in any danger.

Tern proceeded to throw the unconscious, twitching, Copper over his shoulder, wincing in pain. This meager Copper actually broke several of his ribs, that were already healing due to the healing properties of his sect's Iron body. A Copper! He'll never live this down, but he can't do anything to the Copper.

Jai Long's orders are not to be ignored, ever.


Lindon came to the sounds of laughter and chatter cutting through the fog of his idled mind. His body was twitching involuntarily from the residual poison in his body. The possible damage it caused to his body is more concerning to him at the moment than the fact that he's been captured. Hopefully, the twitching is temporary and once the poison is fully out of his system, there will be no long-lasting damage to his body.

Hearing the noise better now, he realized it must be the Sandviper camp, though even craning his stiff neck, Lindon couldn't see much more of it than a few temporary buildings and some torch-smoke fading out with the rising sun.

The man carrying him over his shoulder walked past the laughing crowd, taking him to one of the only buildings Lindon had seen in the enter Five Factions Alliance that wasn't made of rough, freshly cut wood. Instead, it was entirely constructed from iron bars, with rings of script spiraling up the length of the bars like creepers on tree trunks.

Hinges squealed as the door opened, and Lindon hit the ground hard and rolled before he came to a stop on his back. Still giving the occasional twitch and spasm as he stayed laid out on his back.

Even the ceiling was made from bars, which must get unpleasant when it rained. If Lindon were left here, where Fisher Gesha and Yerin couldn't find him, he'd have to endure those rainstorms huddling in the corner and bunched up against the cold. An unpleasant experience, so say the least, but one he could and has survived before. Minus the guards of Lowgolds waiting to kill him if he tries escaping.

Lindon was able to get enough control of himself to rise to a sitting position as the Sandviper Gold shut the door. He'd have attempted bolting out, seeing as the Gold didn't seem rushed, but he could barely stand if he had to right now. Let alone escape a camp filled with hostile Golds.

None of the other prisoners made a break for it.

There were only five others inside this cage, though there were other cages on the left and right. He couldn't begin to guess how many totals, which he imagined might be useful information if he ever got out of here.

As he rose to shaky feet, fighting the paralyzing effect of the residual poison to get a better look at his surroundings, one of his cellmates raised her head to look at him. She was filthy, shrouded in a ragged blanket, and she stared with one eye. The other was a half-healed mess, shredded by what seemed to be claw marks.

Lindon couldn't meet her good eye. He was too busy staring at her missing one as though it had shown him his own future.

The next one in the cage was a man that revealed a missing arm and, when he turned in his sleep, several missing toes.

The third, a boy about Lindon's age. Half his hair had been seared off, and he stared into the distance with a glassy look.

The fourth and fifth clung to one another so that he couldn't make out the details of one against another, but blood clung to the bars behind them and the floor beneath him.

Wounds surrounded him, a tale of misery and pain etched in flesh. All of these were Golds, he was sure -a weak cloud drifted over the one-eyed woman's head, and one of the couples in the corner seemed to have a tail- and they had suffered like this. What had wounded them would crush a Copper to paste. Though, he was far stronger than a Copper, but at most, his strength was comparable to a Jades. So, he'd probably survive for a while before being torn apart or turned into the walking wounded like these Golds, at best.

He took a breath, calming his disordered thoughts, the fog on his brain from the poison fading ever more by the second. Though, he still switched uncontrollably, until he used his Ki to force his body to still. It wasn't perfect, only the core muscles of his body complied with his will, leaving most of the micro muscle groups to continue their twitching. He'd have complete and utter control of his body through Ki usage once he mastered the "Holding" of Ki stage -which wouldn't happen until he hit Master class. So, he could, right now, move his body as he wished, even fight at a diminished capacity, but he looked...odd. His facial features twitched in every direction and his muscles looked like they wiggled and writhed under his skin.

With most of his body back under his control, Lindon knelt and examined the door, studying the latch and the script together, but so many of the symbols were unfamiliar to him. He recognized something similar to the circle he'd used to ward off Remnants, but with ten times the complexity.

That was it. There wasn't much else to examine. No other tools to use, no threads to pull, just idle time to pass before whatever had shredded the other prisoners' bodies was used on him.

Though when he spent some time thinking about it, he thought he might know what had happened. These must be miners.

When he looked up, the blocky silhouette of the Transcendent Ruins blocked out the rising sun and half the clouds. They were camped right at the base of it, so maybe this wasn't Sandviper territory at all, because all of the five allied factions would want to share access to the ruins.

The Sandvipers he'd met before had mentioned miners, and Fisher Gesha had told him the story of how dangerous it was to go inside the Ruins to draw scales from the air. She'd suggested a survival rate of less than thirty percent.

Lindon took another look around him as he imagined what had happened to the rest.

Laughter echoed around the camp until is sounded almost like screams...no, those were screams, along with some shouts and the ringing of metal.

He craned his neck, trying to stick his head between the bars -though they were too closely set for that- in order to see down the row of cages and storage buildings.

Another cage, just like the one he is in, was rattling back and forth as its inhabitants threw themselves against the sides. It looked as though it would actually tip over, but a couple of Sandvipers appeared out of nowhere at the final instant. One of them sent two bright green lights flickering into the cage -he couldn't see the details, but it was obviously a technique of some kind- and the other grabbed the cage in both hands.

He heaved, lifting the entire cage off the ground, and then slammed it back down.

The screams had redoubled in intensity, but now other cages were rattling, and more guards were pouring out of nearby shelters.

When the commotion spread closer to him, with Sandviper guards running past him to help, Lindon stepped back. He was getting too detailed of a look at what the Sandviper techniques were doing to prisoner flesh.

And his cage seemed least likely to join in. Not one of his fellow inmates even looked up. Meaning this was a common occurrence. Which set his blood to boil. All his life he has been taught about the honor of the sacred arts. The honorable duels and deaths met in battle between scared artists, but not this. These people, Gold level sacred artists that knew the dangers of seeking the prizes within the Ruins, willing to risk their lives in the pursuit of advancement of their Paths, are being held as slaves.

Where is the honor in that?

Sure, he's heard of sacred artists losing to another clan or school and being imprisoned for their failure. Even hostages being held by the Schools to force the clans of the Valley to stay compliant. He can even understand out right killing a rival scared artist you've bested; it comes with the territory of the arts; sacred and martial.

But working warriors to death in a mining operation. Maybe he could see a scared artist agreeing to work for the ones that beat them instead of death, but not like this. Caged, cold, wounded and treated like dogs. It'd have been kinder to have just killed them.

Is this how the powerful rule over those weaker than themselves in the outer world. Even as an Unsouled, he was never treated like this back in Sacred Valley. Most wouldn't even conceive of such a thing. It'd wound their pride and dishonor the scared arts too much to treat even defeated enemies like these prisoners are being treated.

Lindon now saw the true face of the Sandvipers and possibly all the factions of the alliance. They're willing to do whatever it takes to get what they want. Honorless dogs, as Yerin would have called them.

He sat himself with his back against the bars, letting his anger cool down. He knows the truth of it all, the way the world works: The strong rule and the weak have no say in anything, not in even how they die. But that's all the reason more that Lindon wants to get stronger. Not just so that he isn't caged and at the mercy of the more powerful -like he is right now- but to make a place where people don't have to be worried about being preyed upon by the strong. Where the strong use their power to protect the weak and let them live full, happy lives.

But he's not even strong enough to keep himself safe, let alone others. Only once he becomes strong like the Monarchs he saw, or a Heavenly Messenger like Suriel, can he actually create such a world. To have powers like there's.

He's getting ahead of himself. He needs to think about his current problem of imprisonment. What did he have on him? He didn't have his pack, of course, but even his pockets had been emptied. His hidden knives and throwing stars, gone. Except...

A smooth, round ball slightly bigger than his thumbnail sat at the bottom of his pocket, forgotten. He reached in, pulling out the glass marble from Suriel. A single blue candle-flame flickered in the center, pointing straight up no matter how he turned the outside.

The marble had no use, unless he could throw it like a pebble to distract a guard, or aim to take out an eye, but these are all Gold sacred artists, they'd be able to deflect it in time. But it was a comfort. A concrete reminder that the heavens hadn't given up on him.

He rolled it between his fingers as he took further stock.

He was in reasonably good physical condition -the twitching lessening and manageable- and he'd recovered most of the energy in his cores that he'd spent earlier that night. Not that either of those things would help him escape this many Sandvipers...openly.

From what he can tell, the cage is only made of iron, and he can bend and break it with his physical strength alone. The problem is the script spiraling up the bars. He might not know all of what it does, but he can tell it would at least signal the Sandvipers that someone is escaping, possibly using madra to keep it sealed tight.

His best chance was to wait until they take him out to the Ruins to mine. There he can escape during the chaos of a dreadbeast attack. He's just a Copper so they will just assume he'd die at the hands of a random dreadbeast or Remnant. Which isn't to say that won't happen, but he'll at least have a fighting chance.

Then, if he escapes the Ruins alive, if being the big issue, he can make his way back to Fisher Gesha's barn.

Looking out in the distance, he saw an enormous block sink back into the wall of the Ruins. A small army filed out, the Sandvipers in the front carrying weapons, and the collection of people in the middle carrying iron barrels speckled on the bottom with crystal flasks.

They passed close enough for Lindon to make out the wounds on the prisoners, missing limbs, finger, chunks of flesh. The procession turned to a building that looked like a big, painted wagon...

And Lindon gained his first truly interesting piece of information. The back of the wagon lifted open, and the first prisoner -prodded by a knife- dumped his barrel into the back.

Scales clattered out into a box specially prepared for the purpose, and then the second miner stepped up, also emptying her barrel. It took twenty or thirty people before the box was filled up and pushed to the back.

To join dozens of boxes just like it.

Lindon's eyes were glued to the stack of boxes, the blue-lit marble spinning in his fingers. Fisher Gesha had said that scales could be used for advancement but doing so was like watering down your madra. Well, his madra was essentially all water.

How many scales would it take to break through to Iron? Twenty? A hundred? However, many he needed; they were right there.

He pushed himself against the bars, eyes stuck on the boxes.

When the prisoners had finished their delivery, the door on the wagon slammed shut. Something like an angry trumpet blast sounded, and the wagon actually rumbled forward, sliding out from between a pair of cages.

So the fortune didn't stick around. That was a disappointment, but it was a good policy not to leave their treasure sitting among a group of disgruntled prisoners.

A Sandviper woman walked up, and Lindon backed away from the bars just in time to avoid her slapping her sword against the cage. It rang like a hideous bell, hurting his ears, but not as much as her voice. She propelled her words with the full force of her Gold spirit and Iron body, causing him to reinforce his eardrums with his Ki and his cellmates to scramble to their feet.

"Wake up, wake up. Feed time, and then it's day shift."

So there was a day shift. Meaning the wagon would show up at sunrise and sunset, for the two mining shifts to deliver their haul.

She pulled the squealing door open, stepping back, and Lindon eyed the gap uncertainly. Was she really trying to fight six people on her own? He's still a little bit twitchy but more than combat capable, not that he'd be able to beat her alone, but the others were Gold. Even wounded, they should be on her like a pack of wolves.

That was when he noticed the collars, iron and scripted just like the bars. It was the same collar he has Yerin using for her Ki training. So, none of these Golds have access to their madra, and like his masters had told him, sacred artists are mostly harmless without their madra.

They hadn't collared him. He wondered if they'd put one on him later, but he found it unlikely. He's Copper. Not worth wasting one on someone with so little madra. Not that'd make him any less dangerous, he doesn't have a Path.

Four of the five prisoners shuffled forward at the Sandviper's prodding, but the woman with the missing eye had curled back against the bars. She shook as though weeping but made no sound.

The Sandviper woman looked bored as she stepped past the other inmates and into the cage, holding her sword in one hand.

Before she could reach the crouching woman, Lindon bent over and grabbed the prisoner by the shoulder. "Come on, stand up. You don't want to be beaten on top of being forced into the Ruins. They're not going to let us go until they've mined the place clean."

She wasn't responding to his firm shaking, and seeing the impatience of the Sandviper woman, Lindon grabbed her by the other shoulder and hauled her up. "Listen to me," making sure to look the woman in her one good eye, "I know that death is most likely waiting for us in the Ruins. But I give you my word that I'll look out for you down there."

The Sandviper woman snorted at that remark, getting the one-eyed prisoner to look at his neck and fall back into her despair. Coming to the conclusion that he's too weak to need being collar, and thus can't help her.

Just as it looked like the Sandviper was going to shove him aside, a familiar voice came from behind them, sharp and venomous. "There are no pieces of him missing? Hm? This is good for you."

Lindon spun to see Fisher Gesha, goldsteel hook on her back, standing on top of her mechanical spider legs. She looked the same as always -bun tight on her head, expression disapproving- but there was something about her that made him shiver.

The Sandviper guard turned to Gesha, leaning her sword on her shoulder. "What do you think our sect is, that you can come in and order us around? Do you think everyone works for you?"

A gentle, invisible force tugged Lindon out the open door so that he stumbled forward until he was standing next to Gesha.

"You need Copper miners that badly, do you?" the Fisher asked dryly. "Tell your young chief his message was received, but I am taking back my property. Can you remember that, hm?"

Green light crawled up the edge of the Sandviper's blade like veins in a leaf. She glared at Gesha and raised her voice. "Fisher-"

Whatever she was going to say next was cut off when Gesha moved like a flickering snake. She suddenly stood next to the Sandviper woman, one arm behind her back, the other holding her new goldsteel hook extended. The sharp inside of the blade's crescent was pressed against the younger woman's throat.

"Silly girl. When I was as weak as you, did I disrespect my betters? No, I kept my head on my work. And you have a miner to catch."

She nodded down the row, where the one-eyed woman was hobbling away, casting a fearful glance behind her.

As Gesha removed the hook, the Sandviper guard tore her gaze between the escaping prisoner and her enemy, muttered a curse under her breath, and bolted off after the miner. To most Coppers and below scared artists -like Lindon- her jog would have been nothing but a blur, but Lindon can move just as fast and has trained his eyes to see much faster movements. Thus, he saw in perfect clarity as the Sandviper easily gained on the fleeing woman. His heart pounding as he remembered his just given promise.

He turned back to Gesha as the guard seized the miner by the hair and started dragging her back.

"Can we take them with us?" he asked in a firm voice.

She gave him a look of almost comical surprise. "There are worse things than this in the world, Wei Shi Lindon. These are enemies, captured in battle."

"Not honorably, or even fairly," fired back louder than he should have. "They ganged up on me, a Copper, with two Golds during my morning run. After I...got past the first a second had ensnared me in their Ruler technique while in hiding. How is that a battle between sacred artists? It's...it's an attack by rabid dogs! Cowards!"

She darkened, "And so I have taken you back from these cowardly dogs," a grin spread on her wrinkled face as she took pleasure from demeaning the Sandvipers. "This time. But you are not my grandson, you hear me? Hm? I cannot come to save you every morning. If you cannot protect yourself, I cannot protect you either. Then again..." She narrowed her eyes at the Sandviper guard, who still had the one-eyed woman held by her hair and green glowing blade raised with gritted teeth.

Several other guards with their own groups of prisoners had come closer, having heard the insult thrown at their sect. Angry faces held in tight sneers and weapons glowing with poisonous madra.

She continued unconcerned, "A Copper shouldn't be expected to defend himself from a bunch of Golds. Hm?" Gesha's look turning accusatory.

"You better watch what you say Fisher!" the Sandviper woman spat out. "We won't standby and let you disrespect our sect!" her blade glowing brighter.

"Hm?" Gesha's expression turned to confusion, unconcerned by the threat. "Are you suggesting that swarming a Copper with Golds is an acceptable act? If so, perhaps I should start sending my sect's Golds after your Coppers? Hm?"

The Sandviper guards all had to bite down their angered responses because they got her point. They acted in a way that could allow the Fishers to target their children as fair play, having struck at one their Coppers first.

"Hm, I thought so," she gave them one last sneer. "Follow me, Shi Lindon." She gestured, and his red Thousand-Mile Cloud floated up from behind her. He hadn't noticed it, having kept his eyes on the defeated woman trapped in the Sandviper's grip.

Lindon knew that Gesha wasn't going to do anything to help the rest, and why would she? They aren't her concern. They're not a part of her sect. Even knowing that some of them might have been taken like him, not through combat befitting sacred artists.

When he turned along with Gesh, he didn't follow as she instructed. Instead he went straight to his pack and dug out his bag of halfsilver chips. He can't beat all these guards, nor will Gesha help him, but he can buy their freedom. This whole mining operation is all about profit, making as much as they can. So trading is an option here.

He knows from prior experience that one halfsilver chip is worth about four scales. He has exactly one hundred and eighty seven chips, that's at least seven hundred and forty eight scales worth.

After pulling out his pouch of chips, he turned and face the Sandviper guard that was still stabbing daggers at them with her eyes. Not an ideal starting point for a negotiation, but he gave his word and he'll be damned if he doesn't keep it. Though, he does hesitate for a moment, thinking about how he could spend his halfsilver chips on scales instead. With that many, he could easily advance to Iron, possibly to Jade. It only takes seeing the dead, hopeless look in the one-eyed woman's eye to solidify his resolve.

Lindon opened his stuffed shadesilk pouch and pulled out a handful of chips, rattling them around in his fist before slowly pouring them back into the bag. The shining halfsilver reflects brightly even in this dark camp, catching the guards' eyes. Halfsilver is rare and valuable, something they'd spend their scales on to purchase.

"I have a proposal for you," Lindon spoke out to the Sandviper woman, hefting his pouch in his right hand.

The Sandviper woman sneered as she spat out, "What? You want to buy your safety from us, little Copper?" several of her fellow guards chuckling at his expense.

"No. That's already been secured by the honored Elder Fisher. What I want is to buy my fellow miners from your sect. I'm not so dumb as to assume to buy all you have, just the five that shared my cage." His voice was as firm as steel.

The Sandviper smirked in amusement as Gesha snapped out, "Boy, what do think you are doing? It's foolishness and-"

Lindon interrupted the Fisher, "I'm doing what I want with my halfsilver chips. I've given more than this to the sect and more than earned the right to spend it. The sect has been making a lot off me and I've asked for very little in return." Then remembering his place and who he's talking to, adds, "If that's okay with you, honored elder."

She lets out an annoyed breath as she replies, "Hmmp. Foolish boy. Wasting so much on a pointless act. Fine! Do what you want. You've earned the right to make a mistake. Hm. But don't think I'll be taking care of your new servants. Ha! A servant having servants, ridiculous." She proceed to mutter to herself in irritation. He could have sworn he heard her say something about dimwitted Coppers and wasting her time.

The Sandviper dashed his hopes by raging, "Why would the Sandvipers lower themselves by doing business with the likes of the Fishers!?"

Fisher Gesha just gave Lindon a look like this what exactly what she expected to happen, while he clenched his jaw. "Forgiveness elder sister, but this one is not making this offer as a Fisher, but as an individual looking to buy your sects property." It took a considerable amount of effort on Lindon's part not to spite out that last word with distaste.

The guard's look didn't lose any of her hatred, but she wasn't striking down his proposal out-of-hand. So, he continued, "I have about seven hundred and fifty scales worth of halfsilver here," giving his pouch a little waggle. "Let's say those five prisoners could mine seventy scales a day and could probably go another week before dying."

Gesha snorts out at that, "If they're very lucky."

Lindon just keeps going, acting like she didn't say anything, but was secretly glad as most around them acknowledged that as true. "That'd be at best, four hundred and ninety scales the five of them could make your sect. I'm offer two hundred and fifty-eight more than their value. It's more than a fair trade."

For a moment, it looked like the Sandviper woman might agree to his offer, it was more profitable. Especially, considering that most of them wouldn't make past five days, let alone a full week. But the guard's eyes moved in Gesha's direction and turned fiery hot. Her anger and their sect's rivalry overrode her greed.

But not entirely, "That does seem like a fair trade, even from a Fisher...for this one miner here." She lifted the one-eyed woman by her hair up a bit. Her fellow Sandviper guards laughed and commented on how generous such a deal was for a Fisher. Some even going as far to say that it was too good for them.

Gesha narrowed her eyes with anger, but just spoke to Lindon, "See, it was waste of time."

The Sandviper woman roughly shook the prisoner in her hand, "My generosity is starting thin Fisher. You want this one or not. I've got work to do and they got mining to do, so if you're not satisfied with my offer-"

Lindon cut her off, "No, elder sister. This one thanks you for your generous offer and accepts. Gratitude," he bowed over his fists before tossing the guard his pouch of halfsilver chips.

At the same time, the Sandviper woman released the one-eyed woman and grabbed the pouch, tying it to her belt. Then, quickly pulled a key from a pocket and unlocked the woman's collar, and with a not-so-gentle shove, pushed her towards Lindon and Fisher Gesha. "Nice doing business with you. Now leave our sect's territory if you know what's best for you, little Copper."

Gesha glared pointedly at the Sandviper women before shifting towards Lindon, "Foolish waste of halfsilver. Bah! Come on, let's go. That means you to girl! Don't keep me waiting or you'll wish the fool-boy had left you here."

Lindon followed after her, his neck tight from the effort of not looking back to see the others he'd left behind. He'd taken solace in saving at least one of them, and even with a limp, the one-eyed woman speed ahead to keep pace with Fisher Gesha, more than happy to be away from the Sandvipers.

Gesha spent most of their journey back cursing the Sandvipers for their cowardice and Lindon's stupidity, but Lindon remained lost in thought. When he asked her how she'd found him, she simply said, "I looked," in the tone of voice that suggested he was an idiot.

When they returned to Fisher territory with an additional person, Gesha asked, "Now, tell me boy. What are you going to do with her, hm? She's not much of a looker, obviously can't fight well and is practically crippled." One of her drudge's legs pointed at the one-eyed woman with a cloud over her head, her goldsign.

"Well, I'll treat her wounds and start getting her to help around my forge. She can sweep up and organize my finished works and tools. Ready them for sell to the client. It'll give more time for my training, maintenance on the constructs and actual work."

"Hm, so pushing off all your servant work onto your servant. Fine, but it'll come out of your earnings to feed her. The sect will house her for you, at a cost of course."

"Of course, honored elder."

"You can start by getting today's work orders done. Hm? We've gotten a larger demand for your steel weapons. A whole bunch of spears, swords and hammers waiting for you to forge them. So, I'll take the one-eyed girl here and get her squared away as you get back to earning more for the sect." She jabbed at him with her finger, "And try not getting yourself kidnapped again. Hm?"

While she was on that note, Lindon decided to ask a question he wanted to ask for nearly two weeks. "Pardon, Fisher Gesha, but I'd be better able to defend myself with a Path."

Her drudge's spider-legs did not falter in their smooth, rolling gait, as Gesha moved to lead Lindon's recent purchase to the women's housing. Nor, did she so much as glance at him. "You think you've earned it? Hm? You think you've given so much to the sect that we must give you something back? I've already rescued you. Let you throw away good halfsilver for a one-eyed cripple. And I'm housing her for you. Don't you think you're being too greedy for a Copper? Hm?"

"I have nothing but gratitude to you and to the Fisher sect," he assured her, though his only contact with the Fishers thus far had been limited to when they came to pick up the weapons and armor, he forged for either themselves or customers. And a few glimpses in the Soulsmith foundry. "I will never repay my debt for your kindness in this lifetime. I'm only impatient to contribute more."

Which wasn't really true. On top of his maintenance work, blacksmithing, and Forging scales, she also has him carve statues. She's gotten marble stone slabs recently and has made him make more artistic renditions of his training statues.

He had to carve a five-tailed snowfox with fiery foxfire dancing around its whirling tails just to get her to supply him with the scripts he wanted to improve his training statues. They'll allow him to add her Paths attractive madra properties to them, making them pull down against him. Allowing him to have smaller statues with the effect of larger ones, this way he won't one day have to run around with a barn-sized statue on his back.

But, judging by her pleased smile, flattery had been the right choice. "Why so impatient? If you have not walked a Path so far, waiting until Iron is not so late. Focus on Forging two scales a day. When you can do that, you will keep one."

He's already been Forging one scale a day every day, and he's not too far off from two, so that'll help. "If I could, then how long might it take me to reach Iron?"

She was silent for a moment, contemplating the question. "If you work hard, one year is not too short. Not so bad, is it? A year is nothing when you're my age, I can tell you."

"Of course not," Lindon lied, thoughts cast back to the wagon full of boxes. "Not too short at all."

He fully planned on going back and robbing them blind. After all, he had paid for much more than he was given, and the Sandvipers would soon understand that he does not like to be cheated. Besides he wanted to free the other miners and in doing so, he'd get back at them for kidnapping him.

A win all around.


Four days after his release from the Sandvipers, Lindon went to see Yerin. She'd spent most of her time with the Fishers helping them hunt down Remnants and sacred beasts, which was one of the primary businesses of their sect. There were many Soulsmiths in the Five Factions Alliance, and most of them got their primary supply of bindings and Remnant parts from the Fishers. Refiners paid for rare medicinal ingredients or scared beasts as components for elixirs, and the Fishers prided themselves on diving into the wilderness and emerging with whatever their customers requested.

It wasn't until word spread about the weapons Lindon was forging -often as just steel weapons with enhancing scripts, but some used in Fisher Gesha's Soulsmithing, like axes with a binding in the shaft made of dead matter with various affects- that a lot more business came from Gesha's foundry.
But still, most came from supplying others.

Yerin provided something that the sect had previously found in short supply: overwhelming offensive power. They still saw each other for training and now the occasional spar as she adjusted to the madra restraints. Of course, that wasn't all they did...just mostly. They'd talk to, mostly in between breaks.

According to her, the Fishers were experts at tracking, navigating the wilderness, and extracting natural treasures for later sale. But they were forced to give up on some prizes simply because their madra wasn't as suited for combat.

As such, they treated Yerin like some kind of long-lost younger sister who had returned to usher in a golden age of economic prosperity. Which Lindon felt was a little unfair. He's been forging weapons and carving statues for sell by the dozens, and they haven't treated him like anything other than a servant. Now, when Lindon showed up at the Fisher housing to see Yerin, she had a room of her own. Previously, she had to share one long log cabin with twelve other women. Now, she had her own, smaller log cabin, complete with baked clay tiles for the roof and a hearth and chimney. He still slept in the rafters with spider constructs.

She opened the door blearily as Lindon knocked, swiping at her eyes with one hand. The silver sword extended out from her back, touching the invisible traps she'd Forged around the doorframe and dissolved them.

He was glad to see that all the traps were on the inside of the door this time. He's spent long enough looking for any lethal traps lurking in the air around her cabin as he approached.

"I'm sorry for waking you," he said. "Should I come back later?" He kept moving inside as he asked; the question was a formality anyway.

She shifted that red rope she wore as a belt and stretched, yawning. "Cycling. The snoring doesn't start until about the third hour."

He'd come at sunset, so she may well have been preparing to sleep, but she still looked better-rested than she had when they'd arrived. The Fishers had replaced her old, tattered sacred artist's robe with a new one, and the fine black fabric looked unmarred despite her days in the wilderness. Her scabs had peeled away to reveal new scars, though her hair had grown out, longer and less even than before.

In short, she looked like she'd had two weeks rest and regular food to get her back into fighting shape. While Lindon himself had changed into his spare Ryozanpaku clothing, his full armor -his goldsteel chainmail underneath his top, arm and shin guards- and sword strapped to his back. After being kidnapped by the Sandvipers, Lindon has made sure to always be fully armed and armored when outside Gesha's barn.

She looked him up and down, an approving look on her face. "Good. Seems you've learned your lesson right and true. You can't take more than two steps in this world without something trying to kill you. Best to be prepared to draw swords at any moment."

Lindon acknowledged Yerin's point, "Yeah. Not an experience I want to repeat. If I can help it."

"True. So, come here for more of that Ki training?" she asked expectantly. "I'm finally starting to feel something, but only when we're drawing steel against one another. I need the razor's edge to really push my willpower out enough to actually feel it."

Lindon had already noticed that when they sparred last. She just barley pulled together enough of her Ki to be noticeably felt in her attacks. It honestly frightens him a bit on how quickly she's catching on and brings up feelings of envy. She's a prodigy in the sacred arts, trained by a Sage, and it looks like she might be just as exceptional at the advanced martial arts of Ryozanpaku. He's still oceans distance ahead of her in Ki usage and martial ability -not counting her skill with the blade, she's just outright better in that field- but he's made very little progress in the sacred arts.

In comparison to her growth in awakening her Ki to his growth in the sacred arts, Yerin is beating him. He knows that she has years of real combat experience and pure, natural talent that aids her progress, but still. He hasn't even started learning a Path yet. Which won't happen until he reaches Iron, if Gesha keeps her word.

Which is why he has been working on a plan the past four days to help bridge the gap. "Forgiveness, but I didn't come here today for training. I've got something else in mind."

Lindon slung his pack off, then pulled out a sheet of a paper and slapped it down on her one table.

She leaned over for a closer look. "They've been making you take a lot of notes, have they?"

"These are the shift changes of every Sandviper guard working regular duty with the mining teams. I've been following them most of the last week. I made up some of the names, but this isn't all; I know their habits, their replacements, what they like to drink, which teams they're responsible for, when they deposit their scales, everything I could think of." She lifted the paper as though wondering how he got so much information on there, and he hurried to add, "That's not the only sheet."

"Why?" she asked simply.

"I know where they keep the scales," he said passionately. "It pulls in twice a day, they load up the haul for the day, and then they take it away to a secure location back in their main camp stronghold. Their guards are tired, their miners are angry, and everyone's rushing so that they can squeeze the Ruins dry before the Arelius family gets here." His words were tripping all over one another in excitement, but he plowed on anyway. "They're too strong when all the Sandvipers are together, but that's almost never true."

He waited until he had her full attention before hitting her with the selling point. "We can free the miners. All I have to do is activate one of Fisher Gesha's spider constructs, take it to camp, have it disrupt the script-"

"That sounds like a tall cliff to climb," she interrupted. "You think you can keep it powered that long? And you know how to disable the script?"

Lindon had to take a deep breath to pull back on his excitement before responding, "It's easy, if you know how and where, which I do because they gave me a personal look. It's like breaking a lock."

"Breaking a lock isn't usually easy," she said.

"It is if you have specialized equipment, which we do. We'll have a construct. Anyway, we release enough prisoners, and we can take the wagon. So long as we strike at dawn or dusk, of course, when it's there. If I fill my pack, I expect I can walk away with one thousand scales, and I'm sure you can too."

"And then we fade away like the mist in the sun, do we?" She was still eyeing the paper, so at least she hadn't dismissed him completely, but he'd been hoping for a more enthusiastic reaction.

"Fly away on the Thousand-Mile Cloud," Lindon replied.

"A Thousand-Mile Cloud isn't made of dragon scales. The Fishers have three, and I've seen at least two people zipping around on Remnants. One of the Sandvipers will run us down."

He'd been waiting for that objection, "I've thought of that!" He dug another paper out of his pack, this one a crudely drawn map, and slapped it onto the table as well. "You remember the bathhouse? It's halfway between Gesha's barn and the Ruins. We only have to fly a short distance to the bathhouses, hide there, and head back to the foundry when we're clear."

Lindon had prepared for other objections. For one thing, if they would be caught upon entry to the camp. But if they did, then the prisoners would attack them when set free. If they weren't being chased, there was no need to hide at the bathhouse, and if they were then the bathhouse wouldn't help.

He had counters to these, nuances to his plans that he'd worked very hard on. He hadn't entirely counted on Yerin handing the paper back to him, smile sharper than the blade over her shoulder. "Let's burn 'em."

He took the plan from her, a little taken aback. "You'll do it?"

She rested a hand on the hilt of her sword, "We're working for the Fishers now, and they get along with the Sandvipers like two tigers in one cage. And they kidnapped you." Her hand tightened on the hilt. "You let an enemy take one of yours without response, and you're giving them signed permission to do it again. The Sandvipers haven't slipped out of my memory, any more than Heaven's Glory has."

Her expression darkened further. "They think I'm not coming back to clean their whole rotten house and burn it down, then they're getting a surprise."

She'd agreed to his plan, and even his own family had never fought for him. But some of his warm feelings cooled in the face of her vengeful oath.

He wasn't sure why he felt that way -revenge had always been part of the sacred arts, as widely celebrated in stories as honored duels. Even his masters at Ryozanpaku told him stories of their own revenge filled attacks on rival sects and schools- but her whole demeanor changes when she talked about revenge. Something in the air felt dark, and heavy, and wrong.

It was his own weakness. That was what his father would have told him, and Lindon knew he was right. Yerin was wiser, stronger, more knowledgeable and more experienced. He was seeing the world as a child.

Suddenly ashamed of his own cowardice, he bowed to her. "You won't go back alone."

She gave him a look of such gratitude that he forgot all his misgivings a moment before. It also solidified his own resolve to help save her from that darkness. As much as he knows that her revenge is justified and fair, he is equally sure that if Yerin went back and killed all of Heaven's Glory without mercy, giving into those dark feelings, she'd never be the same.

Elder Furinji had talked extensively with Lindon about killing and revenge in depth. As a warrior, killing is an inevitable act he'd be forced to perform. Two warriors, sacred artists and martial artists alike will fight to the death for one reason or another. Killing, even going after an enemy that has spilled you or yours blood is all a part of their lives and is fair, even honorable. But it's the context that surrounds these acts that matter most.

Killing someone else that's trying to kill you, someone you care about, or an innocent is just fine. But hunting down and killing the weak to make a point, for pleasure, or test out your abilities is where a man becomes a monster. Giving into hatred and killing to satisfy your own darker urges, killing blindly and without mercy is not getting revenge. It's just base murder and that is a path that leads to becoming an inhuman monster.

Lindon will go back to Heaven's Glory to help Yerin get her revenge, but to also make sure she doesn't do something she regrets. Killing the school's elders and all the sacred artist that try to kill them along the way are just fine. But he'll make sure her blade never turns on the disciples that are not a threat and had nothing to do with her master's death.

Lindon refocused on the task at hand. They needed to hit the Sandviper mining operation soon. His information was less valuable by the day, as the guard habits changed, and the Arelius family could arrive any time to put an end to it all.

"I'd suggest you get ready," Lindon said. "We need to go as soon as we can."

Yerin tapped her fingers on her sword, and Lindon felt as though a blade had passed through the air just in front of his nose. His eyes widened, sure that she'd just used a technique.

Then strands of her hair drifted down. It was razor-straight again, hanging down as though it had been measured to end exactly at her eyes in the front and exactly at her shoulders in the back.

"Straight and clean again," she said in a satisfied tone. "Now I'm ready." She eyed his head. "I can have a try at yours too, now that it's getting a little overgrown."

He held up his hands, hoping she wouldn't start blasting invisible sword madra at his head. "I could use some more time." For one thing, he needs to finish up their disguises and it's not quite the right time to move yet. Dawn is still a ways off.

She shrugged and walked back to the corner of her cabin, where she knelt on a cushion for cycling. "Pop in when you're ready. If I'm not here, I'm out hunting."

He left her to it, sneaking back through the dark, avoiding as much attention as possible. He finished off all his daily orders and didn't have to worry about clean up thanks to his new "servant" taking over his chores.

He spent some alone time feeding his Sylvan Riverseed, its color deepening even more. He still wasn't sure what it was going to become or what purpose it'll serve, but he likes feeding her. Still not sure why he sees the little spirit as a she, maybe because of the dress like bottom? Then he switches back to finishing up the final preparations of his plan.


At first, the plan worked flawlessly.

They crept in just before dawn, in Sandviper sect outfits that Lindon had made himself. The furs came cheap from the Fishers, who would never deign to wear the same clothing as their rivals, and their Goldsigns were faked through pieces of green dead matter he'd scavenged from Gesha's supply.

He was proud of himself for that, actually. The little Remnant-creatures attached to every real Sandviper's arm couldn't be duplicated, but he had buckets full of pieces from Sandviper Remnants. Four green legs and a serpentine tube sewn onto a sleeve, and he had something that -from a distance- would pass as a Sandviper's Goldsign.

Yerin's was harder to hide. She couldn't control the bladed arm on her back as well as he thought she should, so it had taken them almost an hour of bending and folding to get it stuck between her furs and her pack. But with the bear-like head of a dreadbeast over her hair, hide concealing the red rope around her waist, and her sword-arm hidden, even Lindon had trouble recognizing her.

He had to admit, it was satisfying when these Golds scurried away at a single sight of his Sandviper uniform and an angry scowl. That satisfaction fled as quick as a lightning bolt when he also noticed a few children hide fearfully from him. Power should only strike fear in your enemies, not children -at least as far as Lindon was concerned.

They'd positioned the Thousand-Mile Cloud behind a tent, close enough to be summoned but not so close that it would give them away. His usual pack was waiting with the cloud, in case he needed anything from within, and the one he was carrying now contained only the spider-construct.

Everything slid smoothly along, even up to the point where they reached the cages.

He'd worried that he might not be able to find his old cage, but he did so almost instantly. This would be his test case, and ideally a way to survive the prisoner uprising.

Glancing around assured him that everything was in place. Yerin was loitering across the lane, close enough to help if needed. The wagon backed into place almost exactly as he arrived, giving him the fleeting joy of seeing elements of a plan slide neatly into place.

Reaching into his pack, he slowly -and with many a glance around- extracted one of Gesha's spider constructs. The spider was inert, curled up into a ball, and though it stored enough energy for independent action, the crystal flask would be swiftly depleted, and its actions would be limited. It would be best to control this one directly, before guiding it to cages down the line.

The cage was mostly empty space, with only two dirty figures huddled inside. He ducked to get a glimpse at each one, but the young man his age wasn't there.

He'd known that was a possibility. Gesha put the miners' survival rate frighteningly low, and the last he'd seen there were four left behind, and they were all in bad shape. The one-eyed woman -whose name he hasn't taken the time to learn- would most likely have died with the other two.

Too easily, the image came to mind of himself, tucked in a filthy blanket just like the rest and sent day after day into the waiting horrors of the Ruins. The pyramid overhead seemed ominous now, like a monster looming over the corpse of its prey.

With a flicker of his madra, the spider surged to life, slicing across two points in the script according to his instruction. The scrape of spider's leg against iron was surprisingly soft and quick, leading him to wonder what the construct was made of. If it cut iron so easily, he could think of a number of other uses for it.

Finally, he directed the spider up the bars and to the roof, where the final loop of the script-circle was located. This had taken him three days of observation to realize; though he was only an amateur scriptor, he could tell that cutting two of the loops wouldn't be enough. Leaving the final link on the roof made sense from the Sandvipers' perspective, given the risk that one of the prisoners knew some sacred art that could cut iron even with their spirits suppressed by collars. Like he could have, though, not using sacred arts, just pure strength.

A scripted key would have simplified this process, but he'd never found one unguarded, and stealing it could have risked everything.

Seconds later, a soft whisk came from overhead as the spider sliced through the last of the protective script. Lindon pushed the door open, wincing at the squeal of the hinges, and directed the spider back into his pack.

Even that paltry few seconds of action had drained one of his cores almost by half, and he would need to cycle whenever he got the chance if he wants to open all the cages. In the meantime, he'll focus on opening up as many cages as he can first.

Two figures in the cage moaned and backed away from him, but as the spider clambered into the pack behind him, Lindon sank to his knees. "Look at me," he whispered. "We don't have much time."

Even less than he'd imagined, as he found out immediately when Jai Long stepped out from besides the scale wagon.

The sight of the tall spearman in the mask of red cloth scrambled Lindon's thoughts for a second. He'd already cast his mind forward, to the next steps of the plan, to things that could go wrong. Jai Long stayed in his tent in the mornings, Lindon had observed that for five mornings in a row, and idle comments from some of the other Sandvipers suggested he'd done the same thing for as long as he'd known them.

But there was still the possibility that he wouldn't notice anything. If he'd just decided to stretch his legs and get a lungful of morning air, he would just brush past two "Sandvipers" going about their ordinary chores with hardly a glance.

That hope died when Jai Long turned his head to look straight at Lindon.

"To save face for the Fishers, I will keep you as miners instead of killing you as intruders. You have my word."

Lindon's head was still spinning. They hadn't even done anything yet. Where had he gone wrong? Was there an alarm attached to the script-circle on the cage?

No, he was certain there wasn't. The script connected to nothing; it was all self-contained around the cage. It couldn't have activated an alarm, or he would have found it. What, then?

Yerin, meanwhile, had immediately drawn her white sword against young chief Kral. He wore black furs, finer than those of his subordinates, and he still gave off the air of unimpeachable dignity even while holding an awl in each hand.

Jai Long didn't even look to the side, where his young chief faced Yerin. He remained focused on Lindon; spear propped against his shoulder.

"You want to know why? he asked.

Lindon didn't dare to nod. In his experience, questions like that didn't require a response.

"Do you know how many Coppers there are in the Five Factions Alliance above the age of six?" Jai Long went on. "There's one. One of men happened to notice a Copper days ago, when you were sneaking around the camp, and reported you. I knew you could only be the newly adopted Fisher."

Lindon could put the rest together for himself. Jai Long had assumed he'd come here because this was where he'd been held captive. Then all he had to do was set a watch with Lindon's description...

That didn't hold up. Even though Lindon had run into the Sandvipers more than once, it wasn't as though he'd been in camp long. He wasn't famous. Jai Long had seen him before, but there was no reason he should remember. He'd even gone so far as to disguise himself while checking out Sandviper territory, blending in as best he could.

"How did you recognize me?" Lindon asked, trying desperately to understand how he was found out.

The spearman studied him from behind the red wrappings as though unsure how to answer. "I had them sense your spirit," he answered, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Lindon had been blind. In Sacred Valley, once a person reached Jade, they could use their spirit to sense things they couldn't possibly see or hear. They couldn't sense a person's level of advancement without personally witnessing their sacred arts. Somehow, it hadn't occurred to him that sacred artists on the outside could.

It was an idiot's mistake. He'd let his own ignorance lead both him and Yerin into an ambush.

Yerin knew what was possible, of course, but he couldn't fault her for not pointing it out -to her, it was common knowledge. She'd have assumed that he would take steps to disguise himself as a Copper, or prevent himself from being sensed.

He didn't even know those were possibilities.

Something tugged at his spirit, and he opened his Copper sight. The aura around Yerin bloomed into a razor-edged dome, like a thicket of swords surrounding her, and the pale blade in her hand gathered sword aura along the edges. She hadn't said a word, but her body was turned half to the side, her weapon held high and her eyes fixed on Kral.

For his part, the Sandviper heir held his awls to his sides, completely relaxed. He didn't seem to be drawing up aura at all. "You're not even a Fisher, are you? Are you sure you want to be buried for them?"

The colorless blades around her sharpened, but she didn't respond.

"Your choice," he said, lazily lifting a spike to point at her. Green light gathering on the tip, like a poison about to drip off. "I am Kral, young chief of the Sandviper sect, and I will instruct you."

As soon as he finished speaking, a line of venomous green light blasted toward her. She ducked, drawing aura behind her sword like a wave as she swung it upward.

Kral had already reached her, the sword almost at his ribs, but he drove his awl down and pushed Yerin's blade into the ground.

The air roared as her technique sheared a hole through the grass, sending dirt and roots blasting skyward. Reading her flow perfectly, Kral moved forward and drove his second awl at her neck in the same moment of his counter. Sword aura tore at his hand, but they didn't stop him, and Yerin had to throw herself back.

The young chief laughed, saking off his wounded hand. He wasn't even bleeding. There were red lines, but nothing worse than Lindon might get if he brushed against a briar bush if he didn't protect himself with Ki.

Kral gestured, and aura around Yerin surged. She moved out of the way just s a cloud of toxic gas manifested behind her.

But he was toying with her, moving her like a puppet where he wanted. The awl flashed forward again, this time with four green echoes of itself moving along with it -a Forger trick to duplicate the weapon. She smashed them all but took a scrape along the shoulder for it.

Her Goldsign burst out then, a flashing arm of steel, blurring as it shot straight for Kral's eye.

Before Lindon could register joy that Yerin might have turned the fight around, Kral's own Goldsign scurried into action. The legged serpent ran down the man's forearm, running onto Yerin's shoulder, and opening its jaws to bite down on her neck.

It froze that way, its tail wrapped around Kral's arm and its teeth on Yerin, as her blade arm came to a quivering stop a foot from the Sandviper's nose.

"If you draw a blade on a Highgold, you should be prepared for the consequences," Kral informed, in a tone haughty enough for a king. His expression, on the other hand, said he was enjoying himself.

Lindon had already moved out the cage door and towards Kral with kunai flying and one hand on his sheathed sword, ready to draw. He knows he can't win, but maybe he can create an opening for Yerin to break free from his Goldsign.

His kunai were intercepted by Jai Long with a single sweep of his spear, and in that same fluid movement sent his spear's tip towards Lindon's head. Only his own senses screaming at him just as he moved forward allowed him just enough time to deflect Jai Long's attack with his Elucidator.

That one strike sent pain flaring through Lindon's arm and knocked him back several steps, and that wasn't even his full strength. He just barely kept his footing and activated his Seikuken as he went into his ready stance.

Kral raised his voice without turning from Yerin, as if nothing had happened. "Are the Fishers coming?"

"At least one of them is," Jai Long responded, just as unconcerned as Kral, though, he made sure not to turn from Lindon. There was evident surprise in Jai Long's eyes, but no real concern. Lindon was inhumanly strong for a Copper, but still nothing to a Highgold -he couldn't even beat that Lowgold that captured him before. That's why hope trickled back into Lindon's heart, Gesha must be coming for them.

"Good," Kral responded, and the tiny Remnant on his arm bit down.

Blood oozed from Yerin's neck, but that didn't even cause her to make a sound. She simply glared at the Sandviper, even as the tiny green spirit ran back up to nest on his arm.

A second later, her jaw visibly tightened as she gritted her teeth.

Another second, and she'd fallen to her knees, chest heaving.

Then she dropped her sword and screamed.

With Yerin's screams washing over him, Lindon roared in rage as his Ki exploded outward with it. It took considerable effort to pull it back in, as a Sei type his power needed to be internalized and controlled. But Yerin's screams were becoming deafening to him.

His Ki kept exploding, expanding ever deeper as Lindon internalized it, kept his head about him and not give into the anger. Yerin saved him at Heaven's Glory. She saved him from the Sandviper attack in the Wilds. She's the sacred artist he's always wanted to be. And here she is, screaming in agony, in the dirt because of his foolish mistake.

Jai Long felt the primal power come out of Lindon in a wave and then pour right back into him, becoming stronger. If he hadn't known better, he'd have sworn that the Copper was advancing, but his madra was unchanged.

Krall just raised his eyebrows in confusion as Jai Long readied his spear.

In that moment, Lindon shattered the shell of an Expert and entered the Low Class Master rank. The last recesses of his body becoming fully saturated in his Ki. It felt exhilarating as newfound strength poured throughout Lindon's entire body.

With greater ease than ever before he slipped right into the second level of the Ryusei Seikuken. Allowing him to practically ghost through Jai Long's spear thrusts and strikes, anticipating his every move, That, and the sudden increase from Jade speed to Lowgold.

Once inside his spear range, Lindon goes straight into a palm strike to his chin, blocking the butt of Jai Long's spear with his sword. Then flowing into a sideways elbow strike, an inside axe kick to break his stance, taking a shallow cut over his shoulder from Jai long's return slash -Lindon's chainmail stopping his glowing spearhead from penetrating his flesh- and moving for a spinning blade trust into Jai long's skull.

Jai Long's Iron body shook off the strikes easily enough, and with lines of writhing light traveling through his body -his fullbody Enforcer technique- he quickly dodges Lindon's trust. Coming up from behind him in a blur, spearing into Lindon's back with a full force thrust of his own, glowing light trailing the strike.

Only with superior senses of his Ryusei Seikuken, master class speed and having seen moves to fast to actually see does Lindon just barely turn in time to take a glancing blow to his side. His Sandviper disguise is shredded apart alongside his left torso, his chain mail breaking up, but stopping the spearhead from cutting him open...deeply.

Lindon grits his teeth as his blood splashes out from his side, just barely keeping up his Ryusei Seikukuen.

But, before Lindon could blink, Jai Long has moved in and knocked his sword from his hand, his tekko saving his hand from amputation, but breaking the bones instead.

The fight is over by that point. In the span of a second, a half dozen more spear strikes and thrusts bombard Lindon. He was able to avoid the worst and narrow the damage to superficial cuts and bruises.

But Jai Long ends it with a brutal smack to Lindon's forehead with the butt of his spear, knocking Lindon back head over end before he lands face down in dirt. His head aching, his mind numbing as his world blurs and darkness tickles at the edges of his awareness.

Lindon should have known better. Remembered his place. He got so lost in the elation of his sudden growth to Low Class Master and the new strength it brought, that he forgot that it only made him as strong as a Lowgold. Maybe after reaching the threshold of Lowmaster he could handle a Highgold, but not after just reaching that level. Especially not one of Jai Long's skill.

Stupid.

Lindon struggles to lift his head up enough to see Kral chuckling, "He's tough for a Copper, but still Jai Long, it's embarrassing to struggle against a mere Copper." Being just loud enough to be heard over Yerin's screams.

Jai Long make a noncommittal scoff, "He's an abnormal Copper. It just took me by surprise, that's all, Kral."

"Sure, old friend. Just caught off guard...by a Copper!" laughing over the screams.

Jai Long didn't respond, too focused on the nick in his spearhead, before turning his attention to the new arrival.

"You like it noisy in your camps, do you? Hm?" Fisher Gesha said, and Lindon's eyes cleared of his unshed tears. She looked the same as ever, her bun tightly in place, spider legs jutting out from where her feet should be. Her hands were clasped behind her in the small of her back, her absurdly wrinkled face disapproving. Lindon had never seen anyone more beautiful; he could breathe again.

If only she could help Yerin.

"You don't enjoy the screams of your enemies?" Kral asked, sliding over to stand by Jai Long. "I'm sure you do."

Gesha was giving nothing away. "Enemies? I see none of your enemies here."

It was Jai Long's turn to speak. "Do you not? Two new Fishers sneaking into our camp, dutifully assignd to us according to the Alliance. If they were working for you, then that's an unprovoked act of aggression on your part."

Gesha's gaze flickered to Yerin, then to Lindon -thinking about all the business he's brought to the Fishers lately.

"Are children supposed to be placid and well-behaved now? I made mistakes when I was young."

"If they're not yours," Jai Long continued, "I'll work them in the mines. If they are, then I've captured them as the result of honorable combat, and they will still work the mines. But in that case, you were the ones who worked to undermine us. Only days before the Arelius arrive."

Fisher Gesha didn't respond, and he let out a heavy breath from behind his mask. "We cannot allow this, elder Gesha. You know that."

When the old Soulsmith spoke again, it looked as though her lips had been pried apart with an iron bar. "There has been a misunderstanding between us, hasn't there?"

"It seems there has," Jai Long replied.

"I don't see any Fishers here," she said, and Lindon let his eyes fall shut again.

"Only you, honored elder," Kral stated, with his respectable expression back on.

"Then I will return." Without the slightest glance in Lindon's direction, she drifted off on a spider's legs.

Yerin's screams continued.