Dreadgod (Cradle Book 11) (14)

She wasn’t fast enough.

One red tendril pierced through her shoulder like a harpoon, but instead of feeling the pain in her shoulder, she felt it in her head.

Her headache magnified a hundredfold in an instant as the Phoenix’s song filled her, grating on her soul. She screamed as she was dragged back, hurled into the depths.

Into the open mouth of the waiting serpent.

Even distracted by the pain, she plunged her sword into the side of the Shadow’s mouth. The entire leviathan’s shape deformed as it started to collapse its own body, ready to crush her and dissolve her at once. It didn’t react to the pain—in fact, she thought it might not feel anything from her sword.

See if it feels this, Yerin thought.

She’d absorbed the Diamond Veins that she’d won in the Uncrowned King tournament, and after that, her merge with Ruby had improved her madra channels even further. Her body and spirit were no longer separate, and her will infused them both.

In other words, she could use a lot of techniques at once without her spirit exploding.

Now seemed like a good time to see how far she could push it.

Yerin activated the Netherclaw binding, and another clawed hand appeared over her head, braced against the walls of the leviathan’s mouth. As the Endless Sword echoed around her, Yerin swept her sword in every direction, launching Striker techniques with every motion.

The Blood Shadow of the leviathan exploded.

She emerged from the center of a wet detonation, and she found herself glad that this wasn’t the physical leviathan, or she would have been soaked in gore.

The gold-armored man with the cleaver hovered over her, a Forged green-and-gray blade over his head. He blinked as he looked down at her, then let his Forger technique dissipate.

Yerin gave him a quick wave before she realized she was below sea level.

Her battle with the Blood Shadow had pushed the water away for hundreds of yards, but now the sea came crashing back. She sloshed around like a crab in a pot, idly wishing the pain in her head would go away.

When she could tell which way was up, she controlled water aura to throw her body into the air. Her Thousand-Mile Cloud caught her.

Now the two members of the Eight-Man Empire had only one enemy left—the monstrous blob-like Blood Shadow in the sky—and they made short work of it. In the first few instants, one blasted the clouds away while the other hauled the bulbous spirit out of hiding and split it into a thousand hideous pieces.

It shrieked as it died, which did nothing to help Yerin’s headache.

She drifted over to the two of them while she held wet hair out of her eyes. Eventually she could pull the moisture out with aura, but that still took time.

The closest Herald of the Eight-Man Empire saw her and put his fists on his hips. He threw his head back and laughed loudly. “A fine showing, young Herald! I see your grudge against the Phoenix has lent you power!”

Yerin controlled aura to pull water out of her ear. “Seems to me the two of you walked the longest stretch of the way without me.”

“The people of Sirifel will be grateful, I assure you,” the second Herald said. He seemed calmer than his partner.

“We have long sought an opportunity to fight at your side, young Herald,” the first pronounced. “Your spirit and your values are a fine fit with ours.”

The second man looked off into the distance. “We’re not being observed by the Monarchs. You can speak freely.”

“Feeling free as a fox in spring,” Yerin said. “There’s something you want me to say, true?”

“We saw your master reveal himself and ascend to the heavens. You do not have to share his wisdom with us, but as his disciples, you understand how this world works.” He saw her blank look and raised a hand. “If you wish to ascend, we would understand. But if not…I say that the two of you would fit our armor well.”

“One Sage, one Herald.” The other laced his fingers together. “A perfect match. I don’t even think our squires would object, would they?”

“If they did, a duel or two with the Uncrowned Queen and the Master of the Labyrinth would quiet them down.”

The two seemed like they were in a good mood, but her headache was distracting.

She pointed in the direction of the largest spiritual disturbance. “Call me a liar if I’m wrong, but don’t we have more work to do?”

“Ah, I almost forgot! Your Moonlight Bridge has a restoration period, doesn’t it? What luck for us! We can fight at your side for another…what was it, three days?”

Yerin had traveled most of the way through the labyrinth, so she wouldn’t need to wait quite so long for the Bridge to come back, but there was no reason to share that knowledge.

“You want to use it up just floating here?” Yerin asked.

He gave a savage grin and hefted a cleaver. “The Ghost-Blades seek nothing more than battle! Onward!”

Yerin was looking forward to fighting at the side of the Eight-Man Empire—she could learn a lot from their sacred arts, even if she wasn’t much interested in their armor.

But she’d feel better when she could return at a moment’s notice. Lindon would be in Everwood by now with his own battle to fight. He wasn’t supposed to come anywhere near the Dreadgod itself, but she had heard horror stories about the Silent King.

Then again, she’d heard horror stories about the Bleeding Phoenix too. She’d lived some of them.