Lindon History's Strongest Unsouled

I don't own Will's masterpiece.

Chapter 8


Eithan watched, sipping from a bottle of what tasted like distilled poison, as the old Fisher departed. The drama had largely faded at that point, but he stayed to see the night shift of miners arrive. They dropped off their scales, headed to their cages, and switched for the day crew.

Lindon and Yerin were bundled among them. Yerin wore a collar, but not Lindon. Why waste a collar? If a Copper trundled off alone in the mines, he might as well slit his own wrists. At least by conventional standards, but Lindon breaks the mold of what a Copper can do. In that brief clash with Jai Long he'd fought with the strength of a Lowgold. But a collar only suppresses spiritual strength and Lindon's power comes from pure brute strength and raw willpower. It'd be wasted on a Copper spirit.

They had given Yerin the antidote to the Sandviper venom only minutes after her bite, but she still shambled along like an animated corpse. A natural sandviper would have been less painful; the Remnant madra attacked the soul as much as the body, and she would have a difficult time recovering with the scripted collar around her neck. He should know; he'd been in similar situations, once or twice.

Handled correctly, this excursion into the Ruins could end up being a valuable lesson for her. Even an adventure, if framed properly.

Eithan took another sip of poison. In his experience, practically anything became an adventure if framed properly.

Her spirit was still flawless, her foundation solid. The Sage of the Endless Sword had done a wonderful job with her, as was expected. There was the problematic matter of her past -as some of the Sandvipers had learned when they tried to unravel the 'rope' around her waist- but even that could be turned to her advantage. Like adventure, advantage was so often just a matter of perspective.

It was her character that he was interested in now. If she had the strength of will to go along with her powers, as he suspected she did, she would be perfect.

Which brought him to Lindon, who was simultaneously more puzzling and more intriguing.

Someone had meddled with Lindon, in a way that he couldn't quite put his finger on. Maybe it would occur to him later. Either way, the boy was still a masterful foundation of potential waiting to be built upon. Some master of martial combat had sculpted the boy's body to perfection and cultivated an unimaginable amount of willpower into him. A palpable amount of pure will not seen outside the higher end of the Lord realm.

And in that moment when Lindon's rage burned over, his body advanced in a way even he's never seen before. Though, there was an ancient record of such a thing, left by his family's first Patriarch. His body is completely saturated in pure will; every cell of his being strengthened, like having an Iron body not made by madra.

Would he work out for Eithan's purposes? Hopefully so. But the shaping process would be fun, and if nothing else, it would be something to occupy Eithan's attention for a few years. And if it did payoff, it'd be something truly magnificent. Possibly being exactly what he needs.

And if there was fun to be had, why not start immediately?

He downed the last of the bottle, which he suspected really was poison, and tossed the empty container aside. His expensive clothes, made of creamy sky blue and imported from the Ninecloud Court, would suffer in this next part. But those were the sacrifices one made to stave off boredom.

Just as the procession of miners was about to enter the gaping maw of the Ruins, Eithan hopped over to stand beside Jai Long.

"THEY'LL KILL US ALL!" Eithan shouted into Jai Long's ear.

The spearman's reaction was gratifying. He spun with a sweeping, glowing arc of his spear that would have taken Eithan's head off if he were anyone else. He ducked beneath it, then straightened again.

Jai Long leveled his spear again, though Eithan was just standing there. Sandvipers started to boil out of their surroundings, clutching weapons.

The man in the red mask studied him for a moment before speaking. "What are you doing here?"

Eithan raised his hands, "Surrendering myself into your custody, good sir."

Jai Long's spear wavered, remembering how Eithan had played around with him, Kral and a dozen other Sandvipers without getting so much as a scratch. "And why is that?"

"As punishment for my many sins and imperfections. I am a cursed man, wracked by guilt."

He smiled.

Slowly, Jai Long lifted his spear, then gestured for a Sandviper to come forward. A short man in furs scurried out, carrying a collar.

"I will be placing a restrictive collar on you," Jai Long explained warily, holding out the iron loop. "It is scripted to inhibit your madra."

"A wise and prudent decision," Eithan replied, bowing forward to present his neck.

As though fearing a trap, Jai Long crept forward step by deliberate step, collar in one hand and spear in the other. Eithan sighed, but waited with all the patience he could muster.

Finally, cold iron snapped around his throat. "Adroitly done," Eithan said, straightening up and clapping his hands together. "Now, the previous group is already in the Ruins. I'll go on and catch up -we're wasting valuable mining time."

Jai Long stood over him, spearhead glowing with madra. The young man had a decision to make. And Eithan smiled pleasantly at him until he made it.

Jai Long took one step to the side, the light in his spear fading.

Wise decision.


The square hallway was wide enough for all twenty miners and their five Sandviper escorts. Three of the guards moved in front, two in back, but most of the prisoners didn't seem to need guarding. They stumbled along with empty gazes, all of them with wounds both old and fresh.

Each of the prisoners, including Lindon, carried one of the scripted iron barrels that Fisher Gesha had called mining equipment. It was light enough for him, having carried heavier during his runs, but his broken right hand was aching. He had to set the bones himself and wrap it, along with all the cuts on his body, with torn pieces of his clothing. The deepest cut on his side from Jai Long's Fullbody Enforced thrust, is causing the most difficulty. He was able to stitch it closed, but he has to be careful not to tear them. Making for an odd, painful carry that has him sweating before they passed the first hallway.

The hall itself would have been worth a closer look, if it didn't take all his still blurry concentration to carry the barrel without tearing his stitches. Script ran along the walls, with runes etched deeper than his fingers and wider than his hand. It must have continued for miles, judging by how long they'd traveled. They were remarkably similar to the scripts that ran through Ryozanpaku's Tomb.

He could just barley comprehend the scale of the circle. It's on a small part of whatever mechanism drew in vital aura from all over the region, just like the Tomb he spent years inside. Though, this one is more ambitious than even the script that powered his masters' tomb. The tomb in Sacred Valley subtly took vital aura to power the scripts almost continuously, instead how the pyramid periodically takes massive amounts at once.

They finally came to a stop in a room shaped like a cylinder, where five other hallways identical to their own had ended. The room was smaller than he'd expected, and while they weren't crowded, he could see why the Sandvipers hadn't taken more miners.

His first question, when one of the guards raised a torch, was why this room had been made of a different type of stone. Unlike the blocks of the hallway, these were splashed with darker shades of color, as though the blocks had been spattered with...

He missed a step, agitating his wounds.

Fragments of bone were more common than pebbles on the floor. All clean, and none larger than his thumbnail. A distinct scent of copper and rot lingered in the air, and the stone was stained twice as high as his head. He'd smelt it earlier as they first entered the Ruins but he assumed that it was all from the prisoners' wounds. This was much more than he anticipated.

Whatever happened here, it hadn't left any bodies. The dead had been blasted into tiny pieces and reduced to blood stains.

The old miners had begun to huddle together, setting their barrels down in the center and gripping the handles. A handful, including Lindon and Yerin, glanced around as though waiting for instruction.

The same guard Lindon had seen before, the bored-looking Sandviper woman that fleeced him of nearly all his halfsilver, tapped her sword against the stone to gather their attention. "The activation script for your harvesters is on your handles," she explained, in the tone of someone who had repeated the same instructions for so long that the words came out on their own. "If you stop mining, we leave you here. If you run, we leave you here. If you harass or disobey a guard, we leave you here. Meal comes at midday. When battle starts, don't panic or run, just trust us to cover you. You panic, and we'll leave you here."

With that, she turned and took up a position covering two tunnel mouths. Three of the other guards did the same, though one continued to patrol among the miners.

Lindon set up next to Yerin, who was still pale and shaking from the venom. A feeling Lindon could relate to, having been dosed himself once before.

"We'll pay them back for this," Lindon said. "A hundred times over, we'll pay them back." It wasn't the sort of thing that would comfort him, but he suspected Yerin would appreciate revenge more than sympathy.

She smiled in one corner of her mouth even as she gripped the harvester's handles. "Master always said I should get captured once or twice. Shows spine when you break free."

The guard shouted at them to work before Lindon could respond, but his spirits lifted. If Yerin hadn't given up, there was still hope.

If nothing else, running the harvester would be good exercise for his madra. If he got his hands on a few scales, he might even be able to advance while he was down here.

Now that he'd settled on a goal, Lindon grabbed the handles and sunk his spirit into the script.

The harvester activated almost immediately, drawing Lindon's senses to the aura in the air around him...

He swallowed back a scream.

It was a silent storm, a chaotic gale of blinding color that flashed and blasted in every direction as though it would tear everything apart. He couldn't pick a single aspect out of the maelstrom -anything, maybe everything. It felt as though it would peel the flesh from bones with sheer force, though it passed through him harmlessly.

When the harvester began, it pulled the slightest breath of that aura from the air, running it in a corkscrew pattern through the center of the iron barrel. The energy circled between the crystal flasks at the bottom -purifying the aura and converting it to madra, no doubt- and Lindon's spirit was necessary to keep the script running so that the process continued. The crystals were steadily filling up, and when they were full, the final stretch of script activated and popped out a scale.

The process repeating itself as second scale popped out, but halfway through the third, his core ran dry. Taking a single breath, Lindon switched cores and then the third scale popped out. After scale five, his second core was nearly empty too, forcing him to stop and cycle.

The Sandviper guard that wore the hide of a bear-like dreadbeast and an axe in hand stalked closer and growled.

"Back to work," the man spat, jabbing him with the butt of his axe, getting Lindon to flinch back.

Lindon met the man's eyes, trying to look earnest. "I'm sorry, honored elder, but I'm only-"

The man hit him again, hard enough that Lindon had to reinforce his body with his Ki to prevent injury. "Don't give me that look. You think you're getting out of here? The dreadbeasts are coming, and they're going to...Where's your collar?"

He swung the axe harder, and if Lindon hadn't tucked in his shoulder and let the blow land on his tightened bicep, it would have broken his shoulder. Still, he stumbled a step back from the force of it.

"What have you done with it?" the man roared, lifting his axe again. Lindon sputtered out protests, holding up a hand to catch the next blow. He doesn't want this to escalate into a fight. He's certain he could best this one Lowgold with his newfound strength, but not three while unarmed and with Yerin hobbled so. Sure, he could tear off her collar easily enough, it was just made of iron, but that'd leave them open to attack and she wouldn't be able to respond in time without her madra aiding her. Besides, he wants to keep that fact hidden until a more opportune moment presents itself.

Something skittered across the floor like a stone across the surface of the pond, and the guard tripped.

His foot flew out behind him, and for an instant he fell but he caught himself with one palm against the ground, flipping upright. As expected, he's still a Gold whose speed and reflexes are on pair with a Low Class Master. He spun around, pulling a second axe from his belt.

"Which one of you?" he growled, choked with anger.

A man in the corner lifted his head and met Lindon's eye, winking.

Lindon stared. It was that same yellow-haired man. He'd been captured too? How? When? From the feel of his Ki alone, he should be at least a Truegold, if not in the lower level of the Lord realm. It's more compressed and powerful than any Gold he's sensed, even Jai Long's.

The leader of the guards raised a hand, "Be peaceful, Tash," she ordered. "You tripped."

Tash shouted a protest, but he didn't even get the first word out of his mouth before she spoke again. "And he's a Copper. Collar won't make him any weaker than he already is. Though, Jai Long did give standing orders to kill the Copper if even attempts to escape. Something about him being odd, or was it tricky?" The woman giving a shrug before ignoring the drama to return to her guard post.

The axe wielding guard looked back at Lindon in disbelief, and then something brushed gently against Lindon's spirit. If he hadn't been paying attention, he might not have noticed.

So that was what it felt like, having his soul tested by another. He would have to remember that. Though, thinking back on it now, he remembered a similar feeling when he met Yerin. Damn, he should have paid more attention to it and asked what that was. Then they wouldn't be in this mess.

Tash shoved him one more time with the butt of the axe, then left him alone. For the rest of the day, Lindon was allowed to stop and cycle whenever he needed, though the first time he was sure Tash would split his head for stopping the harvester. Instead, the guards treated him like he didn't exist. When Yerin so much as glanced up, they shouted her back down. He was an exception.

That had to be an advantage, somehow. Though, it'd appear that he ended up making Jai Long warry of him, so he'll only get one shot to use it.

He heard the slightest flutter of a robe moving closer to him and the sound of someone's breathing right next to him. In that single instant, Lindon snapped his head up to see the yellow-haired man grinning at him, and sure enough, right next to him. He was just leaning up against a wall a moment ago, yet he speed through everyone here unnoticed to reach him in just the blink of an eye. No way this guy was overpowered and forced to mine. He must be up to something.

"Isn't it ingenious, this thing?" he said, gesturing to the harvester. "In the Blackflame Empire, we don't have anything like it."

Tash turned around, his skin blooming red. "Quiet!"

"My name is Eithan," he announced with a bow. He made no attempt to quiet himself, and even several others turned around with looks of disbelief.

"And you are Wei Shi Lindon. The Copper. You're famous! Although infamous might be more accurate, really."

Tash had an axe in each hand and looked ready to use them. Lindon scraped his harvester across the ground to put a little distance between him and Eithan. He's trying to stay low and continued to be seen as not a threat. Eithan is trying to ruin his plans.

The yellow-haired man followed him. "You know, there's an opportunity for you here. The measure of a sacred artist isn't talent; it's how you respond to risk."

Lindon turned away, trying to make it clear that he wasn't speaking. Tash had arrived, an axe in each hand.

"It's kind of like this," Eithan said, and pivoted on the balls of his feet to deliver an overhead punch.

Straight at Lindon.

Lindon released his harvester, rotated his forearm in a spinning motion to redirect Eithan's punch away from him and to the side. But Eithan saw that coming and responded with a low kick to Lindon's legs.

Lindon sensed and responded without thought to the attack by meeting it with a low kick of his own. Eithan fluidly hooked his foot behind Lindon's and pulled back to trip him, only to meet resistance as Lindon did the exact same thing.

Eithan had already thrust his other arm forward in a palm strike to Lindon's chest, which, once again was meet by Lindon. He'd grabbed the yellow-haired man's wrist before it could make contact, but this time, the sheer force of the palm thrust broke Lindon's grip -the air rushing out of his lungs as the palm stuck his chest, hard.

That entire exchange only took a second.

Thus, Lindon was propelled into Tash's legs, and no matter how strong the Gold was, he'd been caught in mid-stride. He stumbled, halfway falling, and caught himself on the lip of a nearby harvester.

The guard looked up at Lindon with a face like a furnace.

"What do you do when you're met with danger?" Eithan asked conversationally. "Do you fight? Do you beg for forgiveness? Do you listen to me? Now, Yerin."

Yerin's hand shot out, stopping Tash from planting his axe in Lindon's skull, who was just regaining his breath and was focusing on the biggest threat in the room...Eithan. She looked back at Eithan, looking as stunned as Lindon felt.

"One step to your left," Eithan informed, and Lindon followed his instructions. In a blur of motion, Tash had already thrown one axe, and it whistled through the air to clatter against the wall.

Now everyone was staring at Eithan, Lindon included, but for different reasons. Lindon had long since got used to receiving blows from powerful masters and has been trained to gage a person's true strength when taking said hits. When Eithan's palm strike landed, Lindon knew how powerful this man was. The closest he could tell, was the upper end of the Mid Class Master level.

An Underlord, by sacred arts standards. If he wasn't, then Lindon would eat his shoes.

"Let him go," Eithan said, and Yerin released Tash just as he swiped at her arm with his remaining axe.

"Lindon, take two steps back and then sit down," Eithan said, but by now Lindon was catching on. The man was singling them out for some reason, pushing them into trouble, but why? No, that doesn't matter anymore. They've gone too far now. The guards will kill both him and Yerin for their disobedience, but there's still a chance they can make it out of this; this Lord before them, Eithan.

He'd activated his seikuken the moment Eithan threw his first punch and came to realize his seikuken's range had drastically increased. It now took up nearly a third of the room, encompassing the Lord, Tash, Yerin and several other miners. Thus, Lindon sensed the dreadbeast coming out of one of the openings halfway up the walls. They were half the size of the hallway that had admitted the miners but were plenty big enough for the dreadbeasts converging on their position.

Lindon could sense the twisted Ki of the dreadbeasts much easier than the weak Ki of the Golds in the Five Factions Alliance. The dreadbeasts' Ki was just as defuse, but it was naturally stronger with a twisted feeling of corruption. Most predatory animals have a natural feel for Ki, their intent to kill is palpable, more so with these Gold level predators. There's a reason his masters called the usage of willpower as 'Killing Intent,' the stronger one's intent to kill, the easier it is felt.

And these dreadbeasts' killing intent is off the charts. Like it's all they think about.

Lindon decided that the best chance he and Yerin had was to get Eithan's help, and he had an idea as to how to get it. They have his attention, now they just need to prove that it was warranted.

So, instead of following Eithan's orders, that would have allowed him to dodge the incoming dreadbeast, he turned in its direction. Then, with a short leap upward, Lindon brought up his knee while bringing down his elbow. They met the snarling skull of a monkey with skin mottled bruise-purple and meat-red, crushing it into a pulpy mass.

Lindon let its corpse fall just enough for him to quickly kick it away, right into an emerging dreadbeast. Causing it to slam back into the hole it just shot out of.

"Well done," Eithan complimented with a knowing grin on his face. Lindon had expected shock at seeing a Copper beat a dreadbeast so easily, but it seemed like this man somehow already knew what he could do, and actually expected his reaction. But how? This strange man has never seen him fight and spiritual senses would only show Lindon as a weak Copper. Can he sense Ki like Lindon can?

"Weapons up!" the woman in charge shouted, raising her own sword as more dreadbeasts poured out, but her command had come late. The guards already had their weapons in hand, and the miners crouched by their harvesters.

Tash had already been mid-swing with his axe aimed at Lindon, his anger overtaking his commonsense. Like paying attention to the ravenous dreadbeasts pouring into the room, looking to tear into whatever flesh they could get their jaws around. So, with the heightened reflexes installed him to automatically throw anything that comes up from behind him, Lindon grabbed Tash's wrist and hurled him away. Right into a wolf-like dreadbeast that was barreling towards a crouched miner.

There was an angered shout and snarl before the man screamed, and blood sprayed up onto the walls. Lindon had seen enough of the Sandvipers' cruelty to no longer care if they died, and if they did so while saving a miner, all the better.

Only three of the miners stood in the middle of the deluge: Eithan, Yerin and Lindon. Yerin had lifted the harvester with one hand -with much more strength than she should have been able to use while under collar's effect, but the Ki training she's been undergoing with Lindon had readied her for fighting with a suppressed spirit- and punched a rotting dog with the iron barrel on her fist.

Lindon was moving around in a blur intercepting dreadbeasts targeting miners. Usually kicking, punching or throwing them into other dreadbeasts, causing them to sometimes turn on each other in a gory battle of fang and claw. Occasionally, Lindon would bat one into a Sandviper guard's weapon or striker technique.

Eithan was wandering around seemingly at random, taking a casual stroll around the room, but none of the dreadbeasts ever latched onto him. His movements were like Lindon's were with his seikuken activated, but smoother and effortless. And with utter shock, Lindon could see why when he focused all his senses on Eithan's awareness. A seikuken so massive that it actually went outside the room they were in, stretching beyond Lindon's ability to sense. What's more, he could see faint strains of awareness weaved throughout the massive seikuken.

But the part that really shook Lindon to his core was that their was no Ki or madra involved in the usage of Eithan's seikuken. That shouldn't be possible. Whether one's increased spatial awareness comes from their willpower or spirit it should have some sign of their efforts attached to it. He's doing all this with no conscious effort on his part. As if he was born with this extraordinary sense as if it was a natural sense, like sight or hearing.

Eithan grabbed the stunned Lindon by the shoulder as he passed, pulling him out of the way of a snarling attack by a foxlike beast. Eithan threw his arm across Lindon's shoulder in a fatherly gesture.

"There's a linage of sacred beasts, you may have heard of them, known as the Heavenly Sky Tigers. It's a bit much for a name, I know, but they're quite famous." One of the miners was being dragged down a tunnel with his arm in the muzzle of a rotting wolf. Lindon tried move to save him, but Eithan's grip was too strong to break. Fortunately, a casual blow from a nearby guard sent the dreadbeast tumbling. Guess they were good for something after all.

"These tigers breed every year or two," Eithan went on, ignoring the carnage around him and Lindon's struggle to break free and help -as if he was a helpless butterfly trapped in a spider's web. "Each litter has two, and exactly two, cubs...but only one ever survives to adulthood. Can you guess why that is?"

Yerin had taken a slash across the shoulder, and she was beating a monkey-creature to death with her bare hands. Lindon strained forward to help once more, but he couldn't escape from beneath Eithan's arm. Well, not without attacking him, but Lindon could feel that would be a fatal mistake.

"I'd be happy to hear this story later," Lindon replied through gritted teeth, forcing calm into his voice. He wanted to get to Yerin and remove her collar, now.

"It's because the cubs fight each other to the death," Eithan answered, unperturbed by Lindon's worry. "As a child, I found it tragic. My family kept a breeding pair of these Heavenly Sky Tigers, and when they gave birth to a brother and sister, I was determined to save them both. I kept them in separate enclosures, fed them separately, raised them as I would a pair of children."

Blood spattered onto Lindon's forehead, and it took all his concentration not to attack Eithan and break free of his grip. He wanted to help the miners, remove their collars and escape the Ruins with Yerin. He hasn't felt this overpowered since he last trained under his masters. Eithan's not as powerful as they were, but he was damn close and too much Lindon.

"In the end, they wasted away and died. Both of them. I tried everything I knew to save them, but it was useless. Later, I found out the truth: for a Heavenly Sky Tiger, the body of their sibling is like an elixir. If one does not consume the other, their madra isn't enough to support their bodies, and they will inevitably die."

Eithan clasped Lindon with one hand on each shoulder, looking into his eyes with an earnest gaze. The head of a dreadbeast flew behind him, trailing blood. "Do you understand the story, Lindon?"

"It's a parable about overly protective parents," Lindon answered hastily, straining his senses to keep an eye on the creatures prowling around them and the miners -more importantly Yerin. Normally he'd not be concerned about her safety, she can more than take care of herself, but she's still collared.

"Not just parents," Eithan explained. "Sacred artists. Without risk, without battle, without willingness to fight, you will stay weak. And weakness means death. Do you agree?"

Even if he hadn't, he would have wholeheartedly agreed to get Eithan's help. "Elder brother is so wise!" he exclaimed, his words tripping over each other. "This one agrees and will gladly discuss it with elder brother at length."

Eithan clapped him on the back, smiling proudly. He took one long glance around the room, where the room had fallen into temporary silence. A few miners lay in bloody pools on the ground, as did Tash, but most of them had survived.

The leader raised her sword. "Run!" she shouted and started down the hallway entrance.

Lindon focused on the tunnels, expecting more dreadbeasts, but none came.

Instead, a rainbow of light slowly bloomed on the floor, and Remnants started to climb up from corpses.

Something seized Lindon from behind, but before it could get a grip, he threw it automatically. Eithan had anticipated his reaction and grabbed Lindon's wrist in response, flowed into the throw and hurled Lindon up instead, sliding perfectly into one of the tunnels into the wall.

Lindon had been thrown over fifty thousand times in his life, so he easily, and without thought, spun in midair; landing on his feet, sliding back along the stone floor of the tunnel.

He moved back to the entrance, looking down, where he saw Eithan smiling up at him. The yellow-haired man gave a cheery wave, and then reached to one side without looking.

Yerin swiped at his hand, but he was ready for her.

A second later, she slid into the tunnel beside Lindon. She growled as she stood, not landing as gracefully has he had, one hand groping for a sword, the other held in a fist at her side.

"Who is he?" Lindon asked.

"A dead man, if he doesn't explain himself true and proper."

"I wouldn't recommend that, Yerin. He's-"

Eithan interrupted by landing neatly on the lip of the tunnel as though he'd moved ten feet vertically in one step, fine white-and-blue robes billowing behind him as he walked. "Follow me. Most of those Remnants can climb, and some of them can fly."

A blue wing spread across the entrance to the tunnel, accompanied by a cry that sounded like the song of a zither. Eithan doubled his pace. "Whoops, faster. We should go faster."

Yerin matched his stride, gesturing back the way they'd come. "You don't have the spine for a fight?"

Eithan hooked a finger underneath his collar. "We could find a way to get these off, if that's what you prefer. But you should know that I...well, you might say there's only one string to my bow."

"Superior awareness of your surroundings with an extremely large range. One at least as good as, if not outright better, than my Ryusei seikuken, but spread out even further than my seikuken." Lindon gave a shrug before wrenching Yerin's collar off with both hands, the iron locking mechanism snapping. "That's what I could make of it, at least. I just don't understand how you do it so effortlessly and with no intentional will behind it."

Acting as if seeing a Copper tear off an iron collar with his bare hands was nothing, Eithan responded, "Close! But not quite right. I'm not sure how your...what do call it? Seikuken works, but it does share a similarity with my ability to see, well, everything around me. Just much, much better."

A Remnant cried behind them, like a low horn, accompanied by a human scream.

Before Lindon could express his skepticism, Eithan continued, "I have a thousand eyes and ten thousand ears. I know everything that happens within the range of my spirit, so as soon as an enemy starts to move, I simply step aside. It's like fighting the blind."

"Can't hit too hard with just that," Yerin observed.

Eithan bowed to her. "Just so! Superior awareness is perhaps the greatest power of all, but as far as weapons go, knowledge lacks a certain heft. Though it does make me frustrating to kill -no one's managed it so far. You know what I mean Lindon, right? Your awareness is magnificent, though nowhere as magnificent as my own, but still, it's leagues ahead of even Truegolds."

"Yes, being able to defend oneself is even more important than overwhelming offensive power." Yerin gave him an unbelieving look, so he quickly added. "At least that's what my karate master, Shio Sakaki told me. 'Anyone can dish out damage, but what's the point if you get shredded up in the process. If you can't fight without getting beaten bloody every time, then you're not a real martial artist.'" Lindon even deepened his voice to try and sound like the gruff man.

"My point exactly! Just look at my skin, flawless. Not a blemish to be found." Eithan exuded happily.

Yerin on the other hand, looked like she'd cut him to ribbons with her teeth. Her razor-thin scars standing out as a representative to her belief about combat differing from theirs.

Wanting to change the subject before Yerin exploded, Lindon asked, "If you don't mind telling me, how did they capture you?" He kept his tone casual, but he was listening for a lie. If Eithan's awareness was really as extensive as he claimed, it would have been easier than lifting a hand to avoid the Sandvipers. And Lindon felt his real strength, maybe just a glimpse of it, but enough to know that there isn't a sacred artist in the entire Five Factions Alliance that could match him. He'd entered the mines on his own.

But why?

Eithan smiled broadly and reached out a hand to Lindon's head. Lindon tried to step aside, but the older man's palm landed regardless. He ruffled Lindon's hair. "Oh, I remember when I was your age. Young, spirited, distrusting of strangers. They say the years wear your innocence away, but it took me better than a decade on my own to learn the freedom of trust."

"That's not looking much like an answer," Yerin pointed out, which nicely mirrored Lindon's own thought.

"Very well! As a reward for your observational skills, I'll tell you the truth." Eithan spun around, speaking as he walked backwards. "I came from the Blackflame Empire, located far to the east. Not long ago, I happened to sense a great power coming from the west. I brought it to the attention of my clan, who instructed me to investigate. When I arrived here, I found this incredible pyramid had drawn up all the aura for miles. Of course, I wasn't the only one -every sacred artist in the Desolate Wilds had beaten me to it."

"Is there something in the Ruins you want to take back to your clan?" Lindon asked. The spear Jai Sen had mentioned loomed in his imagination.

Eithan waved a hand. "The Ruins are loud and well worth investigating, but a treasure to a wilderness sect is not necessarily worthy of attention from a major Blackflame clan." He glanced up at the ceiling. "There's quite a nice spear in here, but it looks like it would be most suitable for the Jai clan. It's not useful for me, so I gave up on it a long time ago."

"You can sense the spear?" Lindon asked, suddenly hungry. If Eithan could lead him straight to the weapon everyone wanted...

But he said something more surprising. "You don't want it?"

"We have Soulsmiths of our own," Eithan said dismissively. "A spear isn't interesting. Far more than a mere weapon, we value talent."

He was recruiting for a major imperial clan, and here he'd singled out the two of them. Lindon found himself forgetting the spear too. With Eithan's resources behind him, he wouldn't have to scrape for every scale. If he understood correctly, with a powerful family supporting him, he could reach Gold tomorrow.

"Forgiveness, I was blind," Lindon responded. "I should have known that treasures in our eyes are just trash in yours. If I may ask, which-"

Eithan cut him off. "I know this is like asking an amputee what happened to his legs, but I'm dying of curiosity. What happened to your core?"

Lindon glanced down at his midsection as though his core had just become visible. "My core?"

"You have two of them. Were you born that way? Is that why you're so spiritually weak? Or did someone damage your soul?"

Eithan asked with a tone of open curiosity, but Lindon had never felt that feather-light shiver of someone reaching out to sense his soul. Either he'd missed it, or Eithan was aware of everything that happened close to him. Including the strength and nature of souls.

Lindon swelled with questions. How far did his sense extend? Was it some kind of sacred art that he had to use, or was he just aware of everything? Did he have to focus to avoid being overwhelmed?

But those were questions he could ask later, after he's earned his way into the protection of Eithan's clan. For now, his job was to make himself valuable to Eithan.

"Pardon my rudeness. I was surprised that you noticed. I was born..." He had planned to say 'Unsouled,' but that had no meaning outside Sacred Valley, so he corrected himself midsentence. "...with a weak soul. Instead of wasting resources developing me, my clan chose not to teach me sacred arts. I split my core myself, to have a second Path and to help refine my Ryozanpaku Path."

Eithan nodded along to every word, as though he'd expected exactly that story. When Lindon had finished, the man stopped walking -they'd put quite a distance between themselves and the Remnants by this point, though the occasional haunting echo did drift down the hall- and put his palm against Lindon's chest.

"Breathe in to here," Eithan instructed.

Lindon glanced over to Yerin, but she looked just as confused as he did, so he followed instructions. He filled his lungs until his ribs pressed against Eithan's hand.

"Now breathe out halfway."

Lindon did, until Eithan told him to hold his breath there.

"Your breathing technique helped you split your core?"

He nodded, still holding his breath.

"That explains why it's all focused inward." Eithan waved a hand vaguely in front of Lindon's middle. "Your madra flow is all knotted. It's not a bad breathing technique for pure madra, and you haven't damaged your channels yet, but it's better to correct now. You have a Path manual?"

He glanced at Lindon as though expecting Lindon to produce the book on command, and Lindon finally let his breath out to respond. "It's inside my pack, but unless you know a way out..."

Eithan tapped his chin with one finger, thinking. "Do you have a madra filter? Some condensation elixirs? You must have something to improve madra quality, if you made it to Copper without harvesting aura."

"I have a parasite ring," Lindon offered.

Eithan beamed. "Perfect! Now, where did you leave this pack?"

Yerin cutting in, pushing her way between them and holding up a hand as though she held an invisible sword to Eithan's throat. "Let's not throw our doors wide just yet. You say you're from the Blackflame Empire. Who are you?"

He drew himself up as though proud to be asked the question. "Young lady, I am the greatest janitor in all existence. I am the son of a janitor, last in a long line of janitors that stretch all the way back to the Sage of Brooms...and beyond!"

"Janitors?" Yerin asked blankly.

"Lest you think I'm speaking figuratively, let me clarify. My clan organizes the street sweeper in Blackflame City, we supervise sewer maintenance, we dig ditches and light lamps and sweep chimneys. 'Dirty hands are a mark of pride,' those are the words by which we live."

This from a man who looked as though he'd never held a shovel in his life. His fingers were long, his skin pale -and as he previously boasted, unblemished- his hands soft, his clothes far more expensive than anything else Lindon had seen in the Five Factions Alliance. In short, he looked more like the spoiled young master of a noble clan rather than any janitor.

"Please excuse me if I still seem...untrusting..." Lindon said, "but surely such a role does not fit your esteemed station. Do you perhaps mean that you keep the streets clean of crime, or you're a clan of assassins ridding the empire of the unworthy..."

Eithan was sliding his hands over the wall now, as though feeling the stone for weakness. "I grew up in the sewers of Blackflame City, ankle-deep in what you might call 'sludge.' They used similar scripts to control intake and outflow, so if this works on similar principles...ah, there we have it."

A single rune sparked to life, sending a ripple of light flaring down the line of script in either direction.

With a grating sound, a stone slab slid upwards, revealing an open doorway onto a flight of stairs leading up.

"Maybe this was some kind of ancient sewer," Eithan speculated. "Anyway, I have a task for you, Wei Shi Lindon."

Now that he thought about it, Lindon realized that Eithan had known his full name the first time they'd met. There are still a lot of unexplained things about this man; his power, his awareness, and why he wants them.

"Forgiveness, but I still don't get why an Underlord is here and wants the two of us. Yerin I can understand, but I'm just a Copper and-"

"Whoa there. Hold on a minute. He's an Underlord," Yerin cut in, her tone in disbelief. "Claiming to be a janitor to boot. And he's out here in the backend of nowhere. And just so happened to get himself captured by a bunch of Golds. That doesn't sound like any Underlord I've ever heard of."

Eithan never lost his grin as he replies, "So you picked up on that, Lindon? I'm fairly confident in my vail. Color me impressed. But, how'd you peer through it?" Sounding like he's enthused at being found out.

"Vail? What's that?" Lindon asked in confusion.

Yerin just sighed as Eithan said, "Okay, you didn't see through my vail. So, what was it that gave me away?"

"Uh...When your palm strike hit me, I just...well, I got a glimpse of your real power." Lindon explained oddly. "Elder Furinji taught me how to gage an opponent's power when taking a hit. It can't reveal everything, but through that blow I felt the depth of your Ki...um...willpower. I figured you had to be either a peak Truegold or an Underlord off of that."

Eithan's eyebrows rose and his grin grew wider. "As interested as I am in that, I still have task you need to complete. We can get to the details later, but yes, I am an Underlord. Most major families of the Blackflame Empire have an Underlord so, it's not that surprising. Now, that task."

"You wouldn't happen to be the Arelius Underlord that's got everybody in fuss, would you?" Yerin chimed in, her tone being just a notch more respectful. Even she's not willing draw the ire of an Underlord.

Eithan just waves her off, "Yes, yes. Now let's stop wasting vital training time."

An Underlord of a great empire was infinitely more powerful than the four Schools of Sacred Valley and the sects of Five Factions Alliance, so Lindon bowed deeply over a salute. "I will do my best to serve." After all, he'd have to mad to refuse training from an Underlord.

"Your current breathing technique is sufficient if you're planning to split your core again, but it's building a wall between you and Iron. To reach Iron, you have to push madra out of your madra channels, forcing it into every scrap of your flesh -just like you did with your willpower in your fight with Jai Long. A remarkable feat by the way, even by Lord standards."

"Sorry to interrupt, but you saw that? Where you there?" Lindon asked.

"I see much and at very far distances. You two both caught my eye. So, I've been keeping watch of your adventures since arriving at the Five Factions Alliance."

Yerin looked like she swallowed a lemon, clearly not happy about being observed all this time, and was struggling not to lash out at the grinning, yellow-haired Underlord. Lindon could relate. It's disconcerting to know that someone could be watching you at any time.

Eithan clapped his hands together and continued, "We're losing focus. Reaching Iron by forcing madra into your flesh. It's very difficult without elixirs, and your madra is currently focused into your core...and nowhere else. You need a new breathing technique."

Eithan stood straight, facing Lindon. 'Inhale as I do, and as you do so, cycle your madra in wide loops to every extremity of your body. As you exhale, gather it together again, all at once. I'll show you how."

Lindon had practiced a simple breathing technique since the day he first got his wooden badge, until it eventually became his natural breathing rhythm. He'd changed it according to the instruction in the Heart of Twin Stars manual, but it wasn't any more complex than his original technique, only different. Then there are all the different breathing techniques he'd learned for certain martial art techniques of great complexity, but they only need to be used when using the technique.

The technique Eithan taught him wasn't complicated. It didn't use any principles Lindon didn't already know, and none from his more complex Ryozanpaku breathing techniques. Making it a relatively simple breathing technique.

But it was hard.

He could easily hold the cycling pattern standing straight and watching Eithan, but it felt like breathing through a wet rag. That'd make fighting while using it difficult, but that was common practice for Lindon. He's been forced to fight while actually holding his breath under water for a dozen odd minutes at time. Holding difficult stances that stretched his muscles painfully and many other hard held techniques, but he eventually mastered them all. With Eithan giving him pointers, it shouldn't take long to adjust to this cycling pattern.

Once he saw that Lindon had a solid grasp of the cycling pattern, Eithan pointed up the stairs. "Now, as your first challenge, hold that pattern as you run up to the next floor."

Lindon peered into the shadows at the top. "Do you have a light?" He'd been trained to fight in absolute darkness, filled with swinging iron balls and traps, but he'd like to avoid it whenever possible.

"You do," Eithan replied.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out Suriel's marble. He was somewhat self-conscious holding it, as though he'd been caught in a lie, but there was no way Eithan would know what it was. Even if he sensed it, it was just a light in a glass.

Sure enough, Eithan gave the marble a curious glance, but that was all. Lindon held it up, took a deep breath, and began to cycle as he ran.

The blue light of the marble was faint, but it was enough to show Lindon when he reached the end of the stairs and found himself in a large room. He couldn't see anything beyond the patch of floor at his feet.

The jog hadn't been long and compared to his usually morning runs it was a breeze, but was a bit of a challenge while holding the breathing technique. Then his sense's picked up two agitated Ki signatures in the room. When they started hissing in the shadows, he knew hungry beasts were up here, and there was no way Eithan hadn't known. If he can sense the spear at the top, he sensed them before he even opened the door.

Lindon let out a resigned sigh. This was an all too familiar situation he's been tossed into. His masters always did crazy things like this to help him fully grasp a technique, gain experience or grow stronger. Still, Eithan could have just told him to go up and fight the creatures up there while holding his cycling pattern. He's a little too much like his masters in that regard.

They were only about as big as his arm. Tan centipedes with a carapace the color of a sandy dune. They had a head like a snake and two rows of insect claws, and their tails arched up into a scorpion's stinger.

He'd never seen one in the flesh, but their Remnants had left him with an impression all too clear. The first sandviper hissed at him, baring fangs as the second scuttled up, keeping a wary distance from its twin, angling toward Lindon.

Eithan's voice came from the stairs beneath him. "Make sure to keep hold of your cycling pattern the whole time."

Then came the grinding of stone as the door slid shut.


Lindon's shouts and struggles came muffled through the stone door as he fought, and Yerin gathered all the madra she could onto her fingernails. Sword madra gathered onto sharp edges, so her nails were not the best container.

She would have used her Goldsign instead, but she was still shaky from the Sandviper venom. Her muscles squirmed like snakes in a bag, and she barely had enough focus to hold the technique together. If she tried to control the steel arm on her back, she might end up cutting her own head off.

But she'd die and rot away before she gave up without a fight. Even against an Underlord.

She held her fingers up like claws to Eithan's eye. "Pop it back open."

He didn't flinch, looking at her like a wronged child. "But he's not finished yet."

She slashed at him, but he'd already started walking to the side, as though he'd picked exactly that second to take a stroll. Her technique rippled through the air, almost invisible without her spiritual sight, and madra craved slash marks into the stone.

"I came here to find some promising recruits," Eithan continued, pacing around her. She turned so he didn't have a shot at her back. "I was also bored, but the recruits are important too. You see, the families of the empire compete largely on the strength of the younger generation, because disciples are the indication of a clan's future power. Since we're looking fairly sparse in the disciple department, I'm keeping an eye or two open for outside talent."

Crashes and screams of pain with hissing thrown in were filling the hall now.

"I'll go with you," Yerin said quickly. Eithan wouldn't have been the first to try and forcibly recruit the Sword Sage's apprentice -even while her master had been alive, every sect and school they'd crossed had tried to make her a better offer. But none of them had taken a hostage.

Not that Lindon's entirely helpless, he should be able to hand a few dreadbeasts on his own. But the sounds coming from the other side of the door weren't painting a good picture. How many were there? Are there Remnants up there? Without his weapons she doubts he can handle them with just his physical strength, and his sacred arts aren't worth anything yet. He needs her help.

If she went with Eithan now, she could break out later. Her master would have loved it.

Eithan paid no more attention to Lindon's struggles than he would to a chirping bird, brushing some dirt from his shoulder. "It would be irresponsible of me to turn you down. As I said, we've been backed into something of a corner. But there's a saying where I come from: 'a bad student is a weight around his teacher's neck.' I'd rather go back empty-handed than take someone who isn't ready."

Yerin still couldn't control her Goldsign well; the bladed silver arm silver arm wobbled as it rose into the air, but she could at least keep it straight. It was ten times easier to funnel sword madra through the blade on the end than through her fingernails. Not that'd it help against an Underlord, but she was not one to just give up.

She gathered her power into it and fixed Eithan with her gaze. "He dies, and I'm not going anywhere."

Eithan's eyebrows lifted. "Oh, you're more than good enough on your own. A Sage is a Sage after all; he had the good fortune to pick you up early, and your foundation is flawless. It would be an honor to pick up where your master left off." He swept his arm toward the stone door. "But I find myself intrigued by your Copper friend."

Yerin's focus wavered, and some of the madra in her Goldsign dissipated. "What is it you want from him?"

"To teach him." Eithan patted the door like a favored pet, even as Lindon shouted on the other side. "It's so rare to find a truly blank canvas. Let alone one so masterfully prepared as Lindon."

"You're looking for pure madra? Raise your own kid."

"No no, that's easy enough. The quality I'm looking for, indeed the most important quality for any sacred artist, is drive. He needs the resolve to push through any obstacle in his Path, and that kind of focus is very difficult to teach. But here we have someone who split his own core, a Copper working side-by-side with Golds. Through sheer will he found a way to create a body on par with even your perfect Iron body. And acquired martial skills to stand on the same level as Lowgolds as a Copper. Something's driving him, and it might be enough to take him to the top."

She found herself speaking through clenched teeth. "He's blind, you hear me? The world's all jade beds and silk sheets for him. He's never seen how ugly it gets. He doesn't know."

He'd been mistreated by his clan, that was true. He'd even been given top quality martial training that'd even empress her master. But there's a world of difference between being taught to fight and having to fight for your life. He'd never clawed his way out of a pile of bodies until he was elbow-deep in blood. He'd never woken to find his only family was dead...and pushed through that crushing weight to draw his sword anyway.

Eithan leaned one shoulder against the wall, considering her. "What do you think I'm trying to teach him?"

Suddenly, he sounded just like her master. It brought up memories she'd just as soon have left buried.

A white forest, long ago. A ring of swords in the snow.

Yerin ran a thumb across one paper-thin scar on the back of her hand, remembering. Her madra dissipated, her Goldsign retreating.

Eithan was smart enough not to crow about his victory. If he had given her so much as a smug look, she'd have peeled his face away. Well, she would have tried to. Instead, he spoke as though nothing had happened. "Lindon has a remarkable physical body powered by willpower with keen senses and martial ability to match. But he's made a crucial mistake on building a scared arts' Path around them."

"Mistake? He's just a Copper. Not a lot he's even done to really make his Path."

"So you didn't notice it either. Well, let me enlighten you. He assumes that he can just learn a Path and create techniques for his pure madra path. That once he has a Forger, Striker, Enforcer, and Ruler technique he can just add them into his fighting style. Like putting two pieces of a puzzle together and poof, he has created his Path." Eithan even made a poofing gesture with hands.

"And that wouldn't work?" Yerin said, not getting the issue. She knew it'd be harder than Lindon thought it'd be to create techniques and add them into his fighting style, but that wasn't anything new. Sacred artists always have to fit a Path towards their own styles and skills. Not everyone on the same Path will fight the same way.

Eithan wagged his finger and made a tisking sound, "For most people it'd be possible, but Lindon doesn't cycle any madra as he fights. I noticed back when we were being attacked by dreadbeasts. He subconsciously tucks it all away in his core and uses will to power his body. Even his breathing patterns change constantly as he goes from one move to the next."

Yerin understood immediately. When fighting as a sacred artist you're always cycling madra through your body, not just to strengthen yourself, but to ready techniques. If Lindon can only fight while suppressing his madra, he'll never be able to fight the way he does while also using the sacred arts. Which makes sense considering his masters created his style because they were spiritual cripples and couldn't use the sacred arts.

That'd also explain why he's struggling with a few beasts. He's having to keep up a cycling technique while fighting. The breathing pattern alone would mess up his fighting rhythm and slow down his reaction time. He has to learn how to change his entire fighting method to incorporate cycling madra and its required breathing technique.

And just as her master would have done, Eithan decided to do it by throwing Lindon to the wolfs. Nothing helps you grow faster as a Sacred artist than dancing along the razor's edge of death.

"This method, though it may seem harsh, will allow him to fix that fundamental problem, give him a taste of the harsher nature of the world as a sacred artist, and prepare him to reach Iron. All rolled into one convenient, if somewhat deadly, exercise." Eithan had counted down on his fingers as he went and beamed happily at the end.

Yerin just reluctantly nodded her head in agreement.

Eithan continued, "Now, as for you, Yerin. Your foundation is excellent, as I'd expect from a master like yours. But I'm sure you know your advancement is lacking"

She didn't even need to nod. Within Lowgold, she could call herself strong. But the gap to Highgold was a chasm. She could barely control her Goldsign, much less the powerful madra that had come with her master's Remnant. She'd left it mostly alone so far; when she touched that reserve of inherited power, she felt like an infant strapped to the back of a war-trained stallion. She didn't even like to think of it.

"I'm sure the Sage of the Endless Sword would have had greater insight in regard to sword Paths, but I can offer a few observations of my own."

She looked from his pristine hair to his expensive, unstained clothes. "You think you're a sword artist, do you?"

If he said he was, she wasn't listening to another word from this lair's mouth. Underlord, or not.

"I prefer not to use a weapon at all. None of them seem to suit me. But sword Paths are common because they're very simple."

She was still trying to figure out if he needed his teeth punched out for that insult when he continued. "You need to push yourself."

She gave that some measured thought. True, she'd felt something when she fought off three Sandviper soldiers on the slopes of Mount Samara. Not comfortable, exactly, but like she was moving along a familiar road. And it hadn't been long ago when she'd honed herself to the peak of Jade by engaging in endless battle with the Heaven's Glory School.

Eithan continued, still leaning against the door that held a battling Lindon. "Advancement along sword Paths is very straightforward at this stage. Immerse yourself in the sword, cycle on the battlefield, and find opponents who will push you to the very edge of life and death. There's a reason why it's one of the most common aspects."

Yerin nodded once. Her teacher had said similar things, but every stage of advancement was different. He'd actually stopped her from fighting when she was Iron, for fear that she'd ruin her foundation for Jade. "You know where I can find any of that in here?"

He grinned and pushed off from the wall. "You'll need your sword to really practice, so just sit and cycle until I return. We have to make sure you're in your best condition, don't we?"

Eithan paused for a moment, then added, "If he dies before I get back, you should know that I am sorry. But some Paths are shorter than others."

Before she could respond, he hooked a finger under his collar and tugged. With a wrenching shriek, the iron split and tore.

He tossed the ruined metal behind him and left, whistling a cheery tune.

Yerin looked at the ruined collar, wondering how Lindon had done similar to hers, though, not as easily as Eithan. Which isn't surprising, seeing as he's an Underlord; meaning his body had been reforged in Soulfire, making it far superior to anyone below his advancement level. She could just barely scrape together enough madra to Enforce herself while collared, but not enough to tear metal with her bare hands.

She knows that Lindon uses Ki, his willpower to strengthen his body like most others due with madra, but he doesn't have an Iron body. It still boggles her mind when thinking about how strong Lindon's body is just through physical training and pure will. Her Iron body is built for brute strength and yet, without madra she couldn't break herself free of the iron collar. She can accept being weaker than Eithan, he's an Underlord, it's to be expected, but Lindon...he's just Copper.

How strong will he become once he has an Iron body and learns how to Enforce it with his madra. If it wasn't for her experience, larger madra pools and sacred arts Lindon would be stronger than her. When they trained while her madra was suppressed, not allowed to Enforce her body nor use any of her scared arts' techniques, he beat her every time.

Yerin sat, leaning her back against the door, thinking as sounds of Lindon's fight continues on from the other side.

Sure, her skill with the blade was better than his, but mixed with his other martial skills and his pure physical ability, he was better, straight and true. Without Enforcing her body, she couldn't keep up with him. Though, she did enjoy the challenge and she was starting to feel her own Ki.

And that training construct had sword skills and techniques that'd capture her master's interest. Whoever that Shigure woman was in life, she must have been an unparalleled sword master. And if that's just one of the masters Lindon has been trained by over the years, then she can understand his skill level.

Though, she can't understand how he can learn so many different styles and techniques at once. Then add in his blacksmithing, desire to learn Soulsmithing, learning a second Path and creating his own Path, it's obvious he's stretching himself too thin. He'll break soon enough if he doesn't just stick to at least two of those things. He'd progress faster if wasn't trying to pull himself in so many different directions at once.

Even her master only split his focus on training her, his own Path and his passion as a Refiner. He would even have them take an easy day every now and again. Yet, Lindon is always working or training whenever he isn't eating or sleeping. And even then, she has noticed him taking notes or working out while taking one of his meals.

So, Yerin knows that his problem isn't putting the hard work that the sacred arts demand. He lacks real combat experience. Those masters of his trained him well, even gave him some practical lessons and sparing. But he needs the real pressures of life and death battles with no one but himself to rely on. It's painful, it's bloody, and it's hard. But that's how you advance.

There are shortcuts if you've got a fortune to burn on elixirs and treasures, but if you don't, that's the only way up. The sacred arts are a game, and your life is the only thing you've got to bet. That's what up looks like.

The sounds of fighting went silent.

She sat against the door, remembering all the times she'd stared death in the eyes. It had started when she was a young girl, before she met her master, and she was sure the heavens would strike her dead for her sins. That had lasted for...longer than she cared to recall.

Lindon didn't deserve anything like that, but here he was anyway. The longer the silence stretched, the more certain she became that he was dead. She couldn't say she hadn't seen it coming; he was skilled and strong for his level of advancement, but this place ate experienced and hardened Golds. Lindon still had the softness that came from an easy life not filled with the deadly struggles real sacred artists face constantly.

But she waited in the endless dark of the Ruins, only the flickering light of the script on the wall for company, straining her ears as time slid by.

When she finally caught a sound, it sounded like scrapes and grunts from the other side, like a man dragging something heavy across the ground. After an age, footsteps.

"Forgive me," Lindon said, his voice strained and tight. "It was harder than I thought it would be, and I took more hits than I should have. I am ashamed in not realizing my error before now."

"Everything steady in there, Lindon?" she asked, straining her ears as though she could hear an injury. "All your pieces still on?"

She could hear Lindon lean against the other side of the door and slide down to take a seat. "Yeah, I'm in one piece. The sandvipers were just hard to hit while maintaining my new cycling pattern. I just had to make sure to avoid their venomous stingers and fangs. One hit from those and I'd have died for sure. The worst part was when their Remnants rose. Without any of my halfsilver-goldsteel weapons it was harder to take them down."

Lindon let out a sigh before continuing, "But that's just a reason to be better prepared to fight Remnants without them. Never know when I'll have to fight one again unarmed."

"That's true. Fights are rarely fair or arrive when you're ready for them," Yerin commented.

Lindon chuckled a bit. "Yeah, that's for sure. I just got a nasty reminder of that. My masters had always attacked me at random sometimes just to make sure I learned to never let down my guard. And the traps master Shigure would leave...well, let's just say I'm still weary when going to the bathroom."

Yerin just made an agreeable noise.

Lindon continued on. "I found out an interesting thing about my Empty Palm; it blasts away chunks of Remnants when used on them. That's actually how I beat them. Blasted off one their stingers and stabbed them to death with it, making sure to stay out for their reach. But that's nothing to a sacred artist, right?"

"Just one more day," Yerin said, letting out a deep breath and relaxing against the door. "Don't know why you're crowing about it. Any day where I haven't beaten a Remnant to death with its own limb is a holiday."

He gave a weak laugh. "Forgiveness, I let my head get too big."

Lindon went silent for a bit, getting Yerin to worry, "You sure you're steady?"

"Uh? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. It's just...I'm used to being thrown into danger and forced to adapt and grow, but this time it felt different. I didn't have the safety of knowing my masters would safe me or the constructed scenario would end, and I'd find myself whole and alive. I could feel death pressing me as I couldn't fight as fluidly as before, my techniques not moving right as I kept up the breathing pattern and cycled my madra. More than once I wanted to just give it up and fight normally, but then I'd fail the task and wouldn't have learned the important lesson."

"And did you learn it?"

"Yes. I'm going to have to rework my martial arts and even the breathing techniques I know. I've already got a good idea on how to do that now, thanks to simply not wanting to die or fail. But I'm also altering the cycling pattern Eithan taught me, it still works mostly the same, but it works better with my basic fighting style now. I honestly get why he threw me into this, but would it have killed him to just tell me what I was doing wrong first? I could have thought of a solution first, then tried fighting while holding the cycling pattern. I wouldn't have had nearly as hard a time at it."

"Hm? I think it was best you learned it this way instead. The best way forward is by dancing on the razor's edge of death."

Lindon muttered back, "I don't think so. I nearly died a dozen times. What's so wrong about planning things out first?"

"Let me ask you this, Lindon. If you were given time to think it over, would you have progressed as quickly? Or would you have tried finding a way to just switch back and forth from cycling and fighting like you normally do?"

Lindon was too embarrassed to reply because that's exactly what he would have done. Trying to find a work around instead of properly adjusting his martial arts with the breathing pattern necessary for cycling his madra while fighting. It'd have taken longer for him to learn the lesson as he'd keep trying to find a loophole, a cheat.

Yerin took his silence as confirmation and continued. "You've spent too long having the safety of a master to guide you -and there's nothing wrong with that, I've done the same under my master- but you need to learn how to fight on your own. To develop and grow unguided, because you're forging a Path they couldn't, and no one else has tried before. And the sooner you get use to facing death, the sooner you can call yourself a real sacred artist."

"Gratitude. You're right and I'm sure my masters would have agreed with you. The best training is the kind that risks your life and is impossible to forget." He hesitated, and then added, "If you could find a way to open the door, I would still be grateful."

For a second, she thought it was a heaven-sent miracle: at his words, the door actually started to grind open.

"I had every faith in you!" Eithan called from only a few feet down the hall, and Yerin rose to her feet. She hadn't felt him approach at all. She knew it was expected from an Underlord, but it was still unnerving, as though he'd popped out of nowhere.

Eithan removed his hand from the script, smiling broadly. The Thousand-Mile Cloud floated behind him, sullen and red, with Lindon's pack seated comfortably on top of it. Two packs, in fact: his big one, bulging with all the knickknacks he carried around, and the smaller one he'd planned on filling with scales stolen from the Sandvipers.

And beneath it, peeking out from the edge of the cloud, both her and Lindon's sheathed swords.

"If you can get out anytime you want," Yerin said, "Let's leave. This place is like a graveyard stuffed into a cave."

"Why leave?" Eithan asked. "Everything we need is right here."

The door had opened completely by then, revealing Lindon standing stunned at the bottom of the stairs. He was hugging the side of his torso that was stuck by Jai Long's spear, displaying a collection of scrapes and bruises, but the corpse of a Sandviper Remnant lay sprawled on the stairs behind him. He held a bright green stinger as long as his arm in one hand, hilt wrapped in cloth, so he didn't have to touch the toxic madra directly. He'd torn off the shredded remains of his top to provide the fabric, leaving his upper body bare.

Truth was, he actually looked like a real sacred artist. With his sharp eyes, broad shoulders, defined muscular body, and severed Remnant arm bleeding sparks of essence, he looked like a Jade ready to advance to Lowgold. It was a much better look on him than how she'd found him, all clean and cringing and soft.

And surprisingly, he was still holding the breathing technique and cycling his madra. Had he never stopped, even after the battle was over.

Eithan tossed the two packs and his sheathed sword to Lindon, who had to drop his improvised weapon to catch them. It also revealed that his wound from before had opened back up and was bleeding. He stumbled back a few steps, almost falling onto the stairs.

"Make sure to take notes," Eithan said, pointing to the pack. "Wear your parasite ring and keep your breathing straight. I put some scales in there for you, but I'm keeping the cloud." He patted the construct with one hand. "I need a bed."

Then he slapped the wall, and the door started sliding shut again.

Lindon shouted out, "Wait!" digging through his pack to pull out the training construct he got from Ryozanpaku. Before the stone door full closed, Lindon tossed it to Yerin, "You'll get more out of than I will right now."

When the door slammed closed, Lindon could be heard muttering curses from the other side. Most about his luck with getting masters that liked deadly training methods and needing to stitch himself up.

Eithan brushed his sleeves, smiling at Yerin as though he'd heard nothing. "That should keep him occupied for a few weeks. Now, I believe I mentioned something about you needing an opponent."

He tossed her sheathed sword to her and drew a weapon of his own: a pair of wrought iron fabric scissors.

"Best weapon I could find," he said apologetically, snipping them open and closed. "Now, if you're ready, let's begin."

Yerin didn't believe that scissors were the best he could find, but that wouldn't really matter considering the difference in their advancement. She pocketed Lindon's copper-plated ball construct and readied herself. She felt like between her and Lindon, she was the one with the ruffer patch to follow. After all, she's having to fight an Underlord.


Lindon levered himself up to a seated position, the flare of pain reminding him of his cracked rib. He set the pain aside. It was nothing compared to the damage to his left leg, which lay bound in a cobbled together stint, swollen and useless on the ground in front of him. It happened when the scripts grew extra bright one day and he ended up swarmed by two dozen dreadbeasts and Remnants. He hadn't been able to put any weight on it for days. It made fighting all the more difficult, having to fight on just his right one.

He reached over and slid the glass case closer, using the three unbroken fingers on his left hand. It'd been a while since he last used his sword with his left. The right is in a full cast, hung in a sling. It'd taken a horrible break and a deep gash when his already broken hand had lost his grip on his Elucidator while fighting a half dozen dreadbeasts and three Remnants. One of his eyes was swollen shut -a different fight but similar numbers, but through the other he watched the Sylvan.

She spun in place, arms swaying as though dancing to some music he couldn't hear. He'd been thinking of it as female almost since he first feed her on the sloops of Mount Samara, though he had no reason to think she had a gender at all. Sure, the dress like lower half suggested it, but do pure spirits like the Sylvan have genders?

Regardless, the Sylvan had been his only companion these two weeks besides Yerin's voice through the door. He'd feed her what dribbles if his spare madra he could afford to Forge, and she'd grow almost a full inch. Her translucent blue form looked more solid, though that could have been his imagination, and she expressed a greater range of actions. A week ago, she had swum a full lap of her tank inside the ever-flowing river. She's up two now.

Lindon looked up from the case to regard his fortress.

It was a slipshod attempt at defense; he'd cut dead matter away from the Remnants that regularly attacked him. With those pieces, those bright blue shells and shimmering green limbs, he'd boxed an area around the door. That way, he'd have some protection while he slept and/or rested with his fortress piled up against the stairs. If something snuck down the stairs while he slept, it'd give him enough time to wake and respond to the attack. That, and if the door ever opened, he wanted to be able to run through in an instant.

He even had the defensive constructs he stole from Heaven's Glory setup on top of the fortress. They weren't worth anything, as Gesha had called them poor excuses of Soulsmithing and not even worth the materials they were made from. But they had held a few dreadbeasts back long enough to wake to the threat. They're nothing but essence now, having long since outlived their use.

When he was well rested, he'd leave his pack and the Sylvan inside the fortress while he went up top. Either to retrain his martial art skills and techniques while maintaining the breathing pattern, or fought off the creatures as they swarmed in. He's found that twice in every twenty-four-hour period the scripts would glow brighter and dreadbeasts and Remnants would come swarming in. He was certain it was worse in the areas the prisoners mined, but he still got more than he'd like.

The first time had cracked his ribs and reopened the gash on his side, nearly killing him that day. After that he's timed out the attacks and planed accordingly. But, over the weeks his supply of medical equipment, slaves and low-grade elixirs he made are tapped out. The stint on his leg is made from dreadbeast bones and the cloth from his pants leg. At least the gash on his side has fully healed and his arm will recover, in time.

The other cheery note to his dread filled time in the Ruins is that he's completely gotten use to his breathing pattern and can now cycle madra through is body effortlessly while using his martial arts. Just a few of the more advanced and complex ones still need some work, but that can wait for when he has both his legs and arms available to him. So yay for him, he made progress.

While watching the Sylvan, he reached over to a binding shaped like a twisted blue seashell. He had to replace the dead matter in his walls every day or two, as it bled away regularly, but he used his own madra to supplement his few useful bindings. He'd been fortunate to find this one, which Gesha had demonstrated for him a few weeks before: it produced water.

He drank only a few mouthfuls; reserving as much madra as he can. Most of his madra went to refreshing the essential bindings and forging scales for his advancement. He cycled the rest of it, pushing madra through every square inch if his body.

Despite the injures and pain -and the series of sudden, vicious attacks that've kept him on edge this whole time- he was pleased with the weeks of work. The razor-edged tension had done wonders for his advancement, since there was nothing to do here but cycle, train, and prepare to be attacked. And the slightest moment of inattention could result in his death, as it has nearly done several times already.

Both his cores are now at the peak of Copper, almost ready to overflow and pour through his body in the transition to Iron. He'd focus most of his efforts on one core until it peeked, then got the other one up afterwards. That had been Yerin's advice.

Eithan's breathing technique -modified to work with his martial arts- had almost gotten him killed in the first few days, when he lost his breath in the middle of a fight and his madra fell out of control, disrupting his techniques and flow. Now, he rarely lost the rhythm, and he started to see the advantages: his madra recovered much more quickly, and he was sure he could advance to Iron any day he wanted.

That wasn't entirely true. He wanted to advance right now, because breaking through the barrier to Iron completely reforged the body. Advancing to Copper had cleansed him of scrapes, cuts, and bruises, and Iron was supposed to be a more thorough transformation. When Yerin told him that it would heal his broken limbs, he'd almost cried from the effort not to force an advancement now.

But if he advanced before he was ready, he would damage his own foundation. That was the only thing that held him back. If his Iron body wasn't perfect, he wouldn't be guaranteed Highgold, much less the heights Suriel had challenged him to reach.

The blue marble sat in a corner, its flame straight and steady inside the glass barrier. He stared at it every day as he cycled, meditating on it. Suriel had believed he could do this. She'd known he would meet suffering even worse than this -and he's gone through more painful things under Ryozanpaku's training- and he would come out on the other side stronger.

He seized on that like a mantra, clutching it like the edge of a cliff.

Only one problem remained: his progress was too slow.

Sure, he fixed his martial arts to now work in conjunction with the sacred arts, but he'd only pushed madra through half of his body at most. He could execute a basic Enforcer technique now, making himself stronger for short periods of time, which he had hastily scrawled into the Path of Twin Stars in excitement. But he needed to suffuse his body with madra, soaking it completely, and he was at least another two weeks away from that. Probably three.

And it was starting to grind away at his body and spirit.

With a broken leg, one broken arm, one eye swollen shut, two broken fingers on his useable hand, cracked ribs, and more wounds and complaints than he could even remember, it was only a matter of time before it all became too much. He misses master Akisame's medical treatments. The man was a genus healer and added with Ma's elixirs, Lindon would be almost at one hundred percent already. His skills aren't nearly as good as theirs and he ran out of supplies to make any more healing elixirs.

Then there was the issue with food. Sandvipers tasted like chicken livers soaked in acid, but they were the best thing he'd found to eat in here. Fortunately, he still had the construct from Heaven's Glory that produced fire and there was more than enough aura here to fuel it instead of direct sunlight. But it I also starting to fail and fade into essence.

They've become wary of this area and in his current condition he's not confident in exploring deeper in the Ruins to find them. He'd burned through Eithan's supply of scales in a week, using them to push the barrier of his cores further and further, and then he'd started Forging his own.

At first, he'd wondered how a scale he'd Forged would help further his own advancement. It felt a bit like eating your own arm for sustenance. But it was quite simple, in practice: he Forged the madra, condensing it into a scale and setting it aside. The he cycled to restore his madra to its peak condition and swallow the scale again. Pushed beyond its capacity, his core stretched a little.

Gradually, by repeating that process over and over, he'd stretched his cores to the limit of Copper. When his body was ready, he'd push them just a little further, and then it would spill over and run through all the channels he was patiently preparing.

But that brought him back to the original problem.

He'd poured out his concerns to Yerin, who listened until the end. She'd kept him sane during these two weeks, though she was never as impressed with his accomplishments as she ought to be. To her, any scared artist should be able to survive for a few weeks under constant attack. It's exactly what his masters would have said about martial artists.

Yerin's progress with Shigure's techniques were going even better. She's already learned the sonic slash, even though she has to Enforce her arms to make it work. Even getting a grasp of Shigure's double edge technique: a single diagonal slash that has a second pressurized air current followed up right on top of the first. A two in one type move. Yerin was already going into how she's planning on incorporating it with her Flowing Sword technique.

She sat in silence for a moment, then said, "Have my eye gone soft, or is it getting bright in there?"

At first he assumed that was one of her expressions, and 'bright' meant his situation was getting more hopeful. Then he looked at the walls.

Between the glow of Suriel's marble and the soft luminescence of the Remnant bodies piled around, it was actually quite bright in his little nook. So, it took him a moment to realize that there were faint sparks playing inside the script that wrapped the chamber.

It wasn't the usual increase in light as the scripts blazed light shortly before dreadbeasts and Remnants went crazy. This was much subtler and slowly building. Besides, it wasn't the right time for that yet. "Have you asked Eithan? Is he there, by chance?"

Eithan had said nothing to Lindon directly over the past two weeks. Not a word. Yerin had consulted with him a few times on an answer to one of Lindon's sacred arts questions, but otherwise he might as well have left. He spent his days with Yerin, locked in combat that Lindon could hear crashing through the door, and more than once Lindon had shed actual tears of envy.

Now, the light in the script meant the possibility of hearing from Eithan. And that conversation could be the key that opened the door.

Yerin left, and only minutes later, a new voice came through. Lindon closed his eyes, for a moment just savoring the sound of someone else's voice. It had been so long.

"I'm sorry to cut this phase of your training short, Lindon, but it looks as though someone has lit a fuse for us. They're fooling with the script, so power is flowing into empty chambers. Bad news is this door's going to open soon."

Lindon's spirits soared.

"But don't worry. The power is being drawn to the top of the pyramid, so every dreadbeast and Remnant in the Ruins will follow us."

His spirits crashed back down to earth, but at least he won't be alone anymore. The loneliness of the past two weeks was the hardest part.

The wait for the door to slide open felt longer than the previous two weeks. Lindon stared at the blank stone slab, every twitch of his body sending notes of pain through him like a symphony of agony.

Finally, the lines of script running along the wall flared brighter. Light grew along the bottom, and the door lifted away from the floor.

Tears welled in Lindon's one good eye, and he swiped them away. Better if they saw him as a grizzled survivor of suffering, rather than a boy waiting to be rescued. He didn't need rescuing...yet. He could go another week or two, maybe.

When the door opened, Eithan was holding an arm over his nose. "I didn't expect you to smell of rosewater and lavender, but it would have been considerate of you to bathe."

Lindon stared at him over the crude splint binding his broken leg.

Yerin advanced without comment. Her hair had grown slightly uneven again, and the new sacred artist's robe that she'd received from the Fishers was little more than a collection of black tatters. She smiled at him out of one corner of her mouth and then stepped past him, gripping her sheathed sword.

With a grunt, she hauled one of the half-ruined Remnant corpses away from his wall and peered out. "Still scarce for now," she stated. "But we should scurry."

Eithan looked Lindon up and down. "It's been hard on you."

Lindon held a glare as he growled softly in irritation. He could have opened the door three days ago, after he'd fixed his martial arts with cycling.

Lowering his sleeve, Eithan revealed a curious expression. "Was it worth it?"

With his less injured arm, Lindon pushed himself up straighter to slowly execute a seated bow. Sweat beaded on his forehead from the pain in his ribs, but he easily pushed through it. "Gratitude, elder. This one cannot repay the favor."

These two weeks had been the worst in Lindon's life, but half a month of agony was nothing compared to the years of agony he went through under Ryozanpaku's masters. This training routine was only worse because at times it felt like his body wasn't under his control and death was a real concern. Plus, the isolation was unbearable.

Now, he was on the verge of Iron. Iron might not be nothing but a child's accomplishment out here, but his parents were only Iron. He hadn't even turned sixteen yet, so he'd surpass his sister.

If he returned to Sacred Valley, the Wei clan wouldn't just welcome him back. They'd reward him. He would be their new idol, the one they paraded in front of the other clans to show their superiority.

The idea was so sweet that it almost choked him.

Far more important was that he'd taken his first steps on the Path Suriel had shown him. He might really surpass Gold, and Eithan had helped him.

For that alone, he really did owe the yellow-haired man a debt he couldn't repay. And as an Underlord Eithan can possibly take him to the Lord realm.

Eithan smiled broadly, pleased with his answer. "That's good," he replied. "Because it isn't over yet."

Yerin glanced back over her shoulder, giving him a look of pity.

"You're only halfway through pushing madra channels through your entire body, so if you advance to Iron now, you'd be crippling your own future. Lowgold would be difficult, and you may reach Highgold in your old age."

Never would Lindon have thought that reaching Gold would be the lowest he would aim for.

"Even if you had finished, you will have reached only the most ordinary sort of Iron. If you were very gifted or lucky, perhaps you could reach the peak of Truegold. Underlord would be a distant dream."

"Pardon my rudeness but does that mean there's another option."

Eithan's smile widened further. "You need a perfect Iron body."

Lindon liked the sound of that. "Yerin mentioned that sacred artists prepared for each stage, but I'm afraid my family didn't have such a custom. To us, Iron was Iron."

"Well, contrary to what your family may have taught you, Iron comes in several flavors. Every serious sacred artist trains their body before advancing."

Once again, Lindon felt like he'd missed something that everyone else considered common sense, but he also felt that something was wrong. "Trains their body before advancing... I've been training my body for years, transforming all my muscles to pink tissue, making it the perfect balance between speed and stamina with strength and durability. It's still not as conditioned as master Akisame's, but it's still around the peak of human physical potential. How is that not enough for a perfect Iron body?"

Eithan put a finger to his cheek in thought for a moment before explaining, "By most standards, that would be ideal preparation for a perfect Iron body, but like I said before, you're only halfway through pushing madra channels through your entire body. It'd perform like a perfect Iron body, but that flaw would keep you at Truegold. Your body never be spiritually capable enough to make the transition into Underlord."

"Then was all my physical training pointless?" dreaded shock at wasting so much time and effort clear in his voice.

Eithan quickly waved him off. "No, not all, Lindon. If anything, it'll add the extra physical strength of your...what'd you call it? Oh, right! Pink muscles to your perfect Iron body. It'll almost be like having two Iron bodies stuffed into one. Not really, that's impossible, but it'll give you one very special and unique Iron body. That much I can assure. No effort ever truly goes to waste, Lindon"

Lindon lets out a relieved breath and is actually becoming excited at the prospect. "I'll do whatever I have to," he said. And then, a bit late, "...what do I have to do?"

"How did your master prepare you, Yerin?"

"I was probably seven, maybe eight," Yerin answered conversationally. "Master dropped me in a black pool, and it stung like fire. Water drilled right down into me until I thought I was dead for sure. Three days and three nights I squirmed like a worm on a frying pan, breathing through a reed. Then he let me out."

She slapped one arm. "Steelborn body, he called it. You don't see much out of it until you're past Gold, but once you hit Underlord, it's supposed to be the best Iron body in the world for pure brute strength. Same one my master had."

"And a wise man he was," Eithan replied. "A fine choice for you, and for your Path. Me, I was born with eyes faster than my hands, so to speak. I needed the reaction speed to keep up with my detection, so my family put me through the training for the Raindrop body. Poetic name: you're supposed to be able to thread through drops in a rainstorm without getting wet, though I've never found that to be true."

"What did you have to do for that?" Lindon asked.

"I played games. Catching birds as they ran off, running as fast as I could, hitting balls back with sticks, that sort of thing."

Yerin and Lindon both remained silent for several breaths.

"What can I say? Not everyone grows up suffering in the wilderness." He leaned closer to Lindon, though he did pinch his nose as he did so. "We could give you your choice, if we had a month or two. But we don't, we need to move you very soon. Today would be ideal, since tomorrow I'd give you even odds of being devoured alive with the massive army of dreadbeasts and Remnants headed our way."

"Ideal, Lindon said. "Yes, I agree, that does sound ideal."

"I thought your schedule would open up. Ordinarily I would give you options, as I said, but now we have to forcibly create more madra channels to finish preparing you for Iron in a single day. That narrows our conditions somewhat, so I would suggest the Bloodforged Iron body."

Lindon perked up at the name. This one sounded like a legendary technique, something worthy of a powerful sacred artist. "We can do it here?"

"It's the same one the Sandviper sect uses for its initiates," Eithan explained, "though of course they call it the Sandviper body. They've really run themselves a rut when it comes to naming their techniques, I can tell you that. They used it to avoid killing themselves with their own venom."

"If it makes you immune to poison, I can see how that might be helpful," Lindon replied. It wasn't as exciting as he'd imagined something called the 'Bloodforged body' would be, but he guessed it was practical. Especially if he had to go through more Sandviper Remnants on the way out. It'd also keep him from being dropped by the Sandvipers' Ruler technique again.

Eithan considered the statement for a moment. "Immunity to poisons is really an impossible concept. Any compound that harms the body is a poison, and there's no one solution for them all. What this will do is naturally draw on your spirit to accelerate your body's ability to restore and protect itself. It should help you against poison, parasites, diseases, infection, and so forth, as well as small wounds."

That actually sounded pretty good to Lindon, he already has a fast and strong body sculpted by his masters; Akisame's physical conditioning and accelerated by Ma's elixirs. Being able to naturally fight off illness and poison would help cover for some deadly weaknesses that training can't counter. "If that's what you recommend, then I humbly accept your advice."

Eithan held up a finger. "Before you agree, you should know that there are two ways to create this body, but we're going to have to do it the fast way. And the fast way is terrible."

Steel rang as Yerin's sword left its sheath. An instant later, a Remnant cry followed like a high note from a flute.

"Back to work for me," she stated. "But you want to speed things up, that would be golden."

She dashed out of view, and the Remnant screamed again.

"I think it's time for the fast way," Lindon said to Eithan, who nodded.

"That's what I thought too." Then he pulled a squirming Sandviper out from behind his back.

Lindon flinched back instinctively, Sandviper venom is potent and very painful. Its centipede legs kicked at the air, its serpentine head baring fangs as it hissed. Its carapace was tan and bright, exactly the color of a desert in the sun.

Eitan held it calmly, regarding the monster with something like fascination. "This isn't one of the corrupted dreadbeasts of this region, you know. It's a perfectly natural sacred beast, it just happens to be hideous. For the first step, you must allow it to bite you. Once the venom is in your blood, you can use madra to guide it, and it will actually burn channels into your body that madra will be able to follow later. Its unbelievably painful, but it's quick, and you will heal once you advance to Iron. But you have to guide it yourself to keep it from running wild, which means you have to stay conscious."

Lindon's mouth was hanging open in horror, but he didn't close it.

"It gets more disgusting," Eithan continued. "As the Sandviper sect found out so many years ago, you also must drink the blood of the sandviper itself. It helps slow the venom's progress into your organs, making it easier to control. And slightly less likely that you will die."

Fumbling for his pack, Lindon pulled out the sheaf of yellow papers that was originally the Heart of Twin stars and was now his personal Path manual. A small brush and portable inkwell followed. He flipped to one of the later pages, filling in the details that Eithan had shared. The motion gave him time to think, with each stroke solidifying his resolve. Even the pain of his broken bones faded as he worked.

Eithan waited patiently even as Yerin fought in the distance.

Finally, Lindon had finished recording, and his own heart had settled. If this was the path forward, he was going to walk it. He'd come too far to turn back now. Though, he was still worried about ruining the body his masters poured so much effort in crating with poison. He'll heal when he advances to Iron, he knows that, but it's still hard to do. He's risking all his hard work for the possibility to go even further, but he has to. Suriel's vison still loomed over him and his home. He must reach the greatest of heights, go even further than his masters, and this was the way up.

After releasing a calming breath, he replied, "I'm ready." With eyes squeezed shut, he extended his wrist.

"Breathe carefully," Eithna instructed. "Cycle."

As Lindon did so, mixing his Ki with his madra -having learned that by doing so he could send the madra deeper into his body with near perfect control, and making it possible to hold the breathing pattern, cycling his madra while fighting with his Ryozanpaku style- pain flashed like someone had stabbed him through his arm. Then the venom came, and his blood burned.

If anything, Eithan understated the pain, but he's been trained to push aside all pain, never ignoring it -that can cause more harm than good, pain tells you where you are injured, what weakness you have, and not to expose them while fighting- allowing him to keep his focus sharp.

Venom cycled in his veins along with ever pulse of madra, strengthened and guided by his Ki, and Eithan than poured coppery blood into his open mouth. His muscles tensed as he fought off the pain and drank the sandviper blood.

With his will enforced focus, Lindon pushed the venom everywhere he hadn't already worked his madra, forcing it into his muscles, his skin, the center of his bones, and even branching down to the very center of his every cell. It was an endless moment, but still over sooner than he needed. The venom hadn't permeated his body thoroughly enough. Not deep enough.

He panted, losing control of his cycling technique just to fill his lungs with oxygen.

He tried to open his good eye, but the lid wasn't cooperating. Now that he noticed, his limbs were moving out of his control; his fingertips twitched and his back arched as though someone else had tied strings to him and started to pull.

With a concentrated effort, his Ki reigned his body back under his control, his eye opened and was distracted by his own flesh. Black veins stood out along his skin, tracing lines like a map over every inch of himself he could see.

"It's not enough," he croaked out, "I need more." Eithan stared at him for a moment.

Then he gave a pure, rich laugh, pleased by Lindon's reaction. "I'm no Sandviper. I've only read about the Bloodforged Iron body. But if you don't think this is enough..."

He tossed the mangled corpse of the sandviper aside and reached into his outer robe, producing a second live specimen.

Lindon flinched again, just as he had the first time. "Would you mind telling me where you're getting those?"

With his free hand, Eithan lifted Lindon's arm up before bringing the sandviper down. "Once more," he said.

Again, Lindon braced himself to set aside the pain and focus on controlling the venom.


Ten of the little sacred beasts had been all that Eithan could scrounge from the Ruins -it seemed that once they knew he was hunting them, they started to run away. He actually had to go nearly all around the Ruins, slipping through the Five Factions Alliance's people still going about their business to get what he could. And that's with his bloodline ability aiding him.

The tenth was still alive, squirming in his hand and sending out its madra to try and burn away his hand, but he kept it suppressed with his own spirit. The other nine were dead, having been drained of both venom and blood. The husks rested on the ground at his feet, twisted and broken.

In that respect, they looked much like Lindon.

His body wasn't moving much anymore, as he'd run out of energy sometime this morning. When he twitched, it was like lightning moving through dead flesh more than any conscious attempt at motion, and his skin was all but invisible beneath swollen black veins. Sandviper blood ran down his teeth as his own blood ran from his ears, the corners of his eyes, and even sweated through his pours.

He'd lasted more than two days, which had left even Eithan astonished. His standards were high -too high, really- but this Copper had still surprised him. He'd figured that five sandvipers would be enough for Lindon, if not a little too much, but the Copper kept asking for more. He'd almost stated that he couldn't fine anymore before administering the fifth, but he saw what Lindon was doing.

With his family's bloodline trait, he could see how deep Lindon had been pushing his madra, and the venom. Lindon kept branching it down further and further until every last cell had a microscopic channel reaching it. Deep through the muscles, cartilage, all of the tissue groups, even down into his bone marrow and organs -only excluding his heart and brain, that'd kill him with certainty. And without advancing to Iron he will die due to the damage; he's already showing signs of jaundice -not that most could see the yellowing skin under the black veins and blood.

He'd never seen such a thorough madra channel network in human being before. It was beautiful, like a tree's roots reaching every millimeter of his being.

Eithan honestly didn't think anyone could have the necessary willpower and absolute control of their body to create such a thing at Copper. Certain powerful Lords could, but they were too advanced to prepare their Iron body in such a way -having long since forged theirs.

Even he can't be completely sure what will happen as Lindon finally advances to Iron. Though, he does have a few very interesting ideas and theories, and if it doesn't cripple or outright kill Lindon, it'll be magnificent. A truly surprising boy this Wei Shi Lindon has turned out to be.

And that's fun.

Yerin had done well for herself too. She'd fought almost without rest for nearly two days straight and was even now finishing off a pack of twisted dreadbeasts. He kept his eyes on Lindon, but it almost didn't matter; he could still see Yerin, shoulders slumped in weakness, dragging her sword behind her as she limped back to their barricade on the stairs, eyes moving to check Lindon's condition...

...and Eithan stepped aside to avoid the sword plunging into his back.

"You buried him," she snarled, heat in her eyes and aura gathering around the edge of her sword.

He held up both hands to show his innocence, forgetting for a moment that he had a live sandviper in one. That didn't paint the best picture.

"He asked me to!" Eithan protested.

The sword-arm on Yerin's back stabbed in Lindon's direction. She really was getting better with her Goldsign, thanks to his guidance. "He asked for this?"

Under other circumstances, Eithan would have had trouble believing it too. "I'm performing as instructed. If it helps, I'm as horrified as you are."

Her eyes filled with disgust, and she drew her sword, flooding it with madra for a strike that would be...at best, inconvenient to avoid.

Instead of dodging, he seized Lindon's wrist, holding up the boy's blackened hand. It was curled into a fist so tight that blood leaked out of the palm. Eithan scrubbed away dried blood and grit from a line of metal on Lindon's finger: a halfsilver ring.

"Do you happen to know what this is?" he asked, and before she could respond, he answered for her. "This acts as a filter for madra, refining madra quality during the cycling process. But it makes cycling twice as hard, and it takes twice as long. Like running with weights strapped to your legs."

Yerin's narrowed eyes moved from him to the ring. "He put that on himself?"

Eithan released Lindon's arm, wiping his hand with a cloth he happened to carry in his pocket. It was difficult to do with only one free hand, the other still clutching a sandviper, but he managed. "I'll admit, I shut Lindon in this room without concern for his will. But he has kept that ring on every day since the door first shut. And now..."

Lindon spoke precisely on cue. "One more..." he grunted, his voice scraping through a ruined throat. "Last one...both...cores...p-push...Iron."

Eithan shrugged at Yerin's look of astonishment. "As soon as he asks me to, I'll stop."

Then, before the girl could react, he turned and thrust the sandviper's fangs into Lindon's arm.

He tore the creature's head off with one hand and dripped the blood into Lindon's mouth as he had done nine times before. This time was different. Eithan had knew what Lindon was going to do with this last dose of venom. It was why he'd croaked out about pushing both his cores to Iron, knowing he most likely couldn't do it himself.

And Eithan agreed. Normally, just one Iron core would be enough, but the extent of the madra channels he burned through his body is too much for just one. The Copper would need both to hit Iron if he wanted even a chance at this working. And even then, that might not be enough.

Lindon was directing, no, willing the venom in a weaving pattern through his heart and lungs. The poison burning channels deep down like throughout the rest of his body. This Copper was risking death to completely build one of the most extensive madra network's to ever exist in a mortal entity. It was awe inspiring, and even though it will more than likely kill Lindon, Eithan wanted to see if he succeeds.

It'd be a true loss if the boy died, but he still has the Sword Sage's disciple. And that was still a victory in of itself. But, if Lindon survives, Eithan may have just placed a winning bet this time.

Lindon just barely finished this last round before his back seized up. His eyes -well, the one eye not hidden by swelling- rolled up into its socket and foam bubbled up quickly at the mouth.

"Ah," Eithan said, tossing the twisted husk aside. "That was too much."

Yerin dropped her sword and fell to her knees, pressing fingers against Lindon's throat. "What's the cure?"

Eithan wiped his bloody hand off on Lindon's clothes, then fished around his pocket until he grabbed a pair of scales waiting at the very bottom. "He channeled the venom into his heart, so he's dead." He withdrew the blue crystal coins, holding them up for her consideration. "Unless we trigger the transformation to Iron."

He hesitated a moment, considering the accuracy of his own words. Honesty was very important.

"There's always the possibility that it will take too long, and then he'll be brain dead," he clarified. "He can't breathe like this, you see. And his channels are very extensive. The odds are not good."

Yerin reached to snatch the scales from his hand, but Eithan moved them out of her reach.

Before she could explode on him, "This will require a more experienced touch and deft application of madra flow than you can handle. Leave this to me, Yerin."

Yerin looked like she wanted to argue, but time wasn't on their side. So, she just nodded her head in understanding.

Clutching the scales in his fist, he broke the structure and reverted it to madra, using his spirit to force a flow of blue-white energy into Lindon's mouth.

That wouldn't be enough. His madra wasn't cycling at the moment, so Eithan placed his palms against Lindon's cores and guided the scales' madra within. They flexed, resisting for a second before cracking like a broken dam.

The madra flooded all through Lindon's body, expelling all physical impurities and transforming him with the power of the soul. His cores would condense and restore themselves into smaller, denser forms, transmuted from Copper to Iron.

At least they tried to.

It was as Eithan feared; even with both his shallow Iron cores, which at best make up one weak Iron core, they don't have enough madra to fully complete the transformation. The channels Lindon made are too extensive and at best, his madra will only reach a fourth of his body before running dry. Plus, with how deep they go, the process is slow going. Even if Eithan gave him the madra he needed to complete the advancement, Lindon would be brain dead by time it finished.

Eithan let out a sign.

"What is it? Is it not working?" Yerin asked fearfully.

"At this rate, no, it won't work. He doesn't have enough madra to finish the transformation of his body. His advancement will fail and even if I aided the process along with the needed madra, he'd be brain dead by the end."

Yerin rushed out, "Then what? He's just dead and buried before we even try anything! There has to be something-"

Eithan interrupted her, "I never said there was nothing that could save him." he proceeded to pour his own pure madra into Lindon's cores. "Because, after all, he had the fortunate opportunity to have me here as his master."

Yerin could feel the massive amount of madra coming from Eithan, going directly into Lindon's cores. It was contained and pure -which made no sense to her. How could anyone become an Underlord without taking in vital aura?- giving off the strength of an Underlord, but it was being so perfectly controlled that no one outside this room would feel it.

"What are you doing?" Yerin asked in astonishment.

"When I had sensed how deep the channels Lindon had created gone, I guessed this might happen." Eithan's usual grin was gone, replaced by an expression of pure concentration. "So in my spare time I conceived of a method to counter act this very problem. I'm going to use my pure madra to keep his cores maxed out and forcefully speed the flow of his madra along to complete his advancement to Iron in time. Lindon's rather lucky I'm here. Almost nobody uses pure madra for their Path."

That helps answer why Eithan wanted Lindon; he's making his own pure madra Path and that makes him a perfect student for Eithan, who has a pure Path himself. But that's not as important right now. What Eithan is attempting to do is much more concerning.

"If you do that, it'll damage his spirit. Possibly crippling his future as a sacred artist!"

"You're right about that. This method will his damage his cores and madra channels, but it's the only way to save his life." Eithan responded simply. "But, when you advance to Jade, your spirit will be remade, just like Iron does for the body. That will fix the damage caused by his advancement to Iron."

Yerin fires back, "He won't be able to reach Jade with a spirit that badly damaged! And even if you forced it, his spirit would be so unstable and weak that he would never make it to Lowgold!"

Eithan grimaced, not because of what Yerin said, but from the mess.

The Iron transformation was never neat or pretty, as the body expelled impurities through any medium, but this was particularly gruesome. Black blood oozed through Lindon's skin, his muscles convulsing beneath as though they were liquefying and pouring out. Black tears ran from his bloodshot eye, and all of it was getting on him.

The black substance oozing from Lindon's body carried a stench like bodies rotting in a cesspool, ruining Eithan's clothing and gaging him at the same time.

Looking on the positive side of things, he has spare clothing he can change into. Also, Lindon wasn't screaming. The boy's tolerance for pain is monstrous.

Noticing that Yerin was seething, he explained, "What you are leaving out is that I'm the one doing it. An Underlord with superior senses, pure madra and Soulfire at his disposal."

That actual stoppered her anger at Eithan. Soulfire could do things no Gold could hope to do. It was the trademark of an Underlord. But could it help Lindon?

Answering her unspoken question, Eithan continued, "With all those aiding this process along, I can minimize the damage done to his spirit. Though, the damage would start to worsen as he cycled and pushed for Jade. So, I'll just push straight to Jade right after he reaches Iron, fixing the damage as soon as it was made."

Yerin looked like she was going to say something, but Eithan just kept going. "Using my Soulfire I can temporarily reinforce his channels long enough for him to advance to Jade. And that advancement will take care of the rest."

There's a lot more to it than that, but Eithan needs to focus for the next step and doesn't have any to spare for explaining it to Yerin. To ensure Lindon's Path from Jade to Lowgold is solid, Eithan has to force the 'Heaven and Earth Purification Wheel' cycling technique on Lindon's cores. This Iron body of Lindon's is just too madra intensive for a single Jade core to support. Let alone the two weak ones he'd have if left as they were. He had to make them deep enough that they function as two full Jade cores and give them the spiral they'll need to reach Lowgold. And they will still be hard pressed to fully supply the madra Lindon's body will demand.

Most of the damage to Lindon's core will come from this part alone. Without lacing and reinforcing his cores with Eithan's own Soulfire the entire time, it'd be impossible. That's not even going into the difficulty of all Eithan is having to concentrate on at the same time, fueling both cores, working the cycling technique, and speeding along the madra flowing through Lindon's channels.

It's almost too much even for Eithan's enormous well of madra and concentration. He's going to need a rejuvenating elixir and refill his Soulfire reserves later.

And there's still the possibility that this all fails, and the boy dies anyway. It is harder on Lindon than Eithan, after all. Before, the Copper could bite down the screams and endure the pain, but now he starts to scream as his cores are grinded into deeper depths. Spiritual pain is always harder to ignore than physical pain.

Yerin returned to guard duty, leaving Lindon in Eithan's hands. Not that she wants to, but she has no other choice. If the boy died, that would be a shame, though it wouldn't set Eithan back much.

But he expected a better result.