Dreadgod (Cradle Book 11) (16)

[Transfer construct,] Dross whispered. [Fifteen feet above us. The time has come to unleash ourselves.]

Lindon sent Wavedancer blasting through a Forged crystal overhead, spun around, and raised both hands. He sent Blackflame pouring through his palms. The madra obeyed him with only a thought, erupting into dark liquid flame that blasted into empty air.

But it wasn’t empty for long.

An instant later, the sword-artist appeared in the path of his Striker technique. Just as predicted.

Her silver Remnant carapace was struck full-force, and she shot backwards, blasting through another tall building.

She flew like a shooting star trailing black fire, propelled by dragon’s breath to smash through several walls. When she was out of the city limits, Lindon could see through a hole in three buildings that stared up at the corrupted white sky.

[He has prepared his next technique,] Dross reported. The stones of the street surged upwards like a sudden, razor-sharp wave. Lindon had already leaped onto a Thousand-Mile Cloud, flying toward the earth artist with the crystalline techniques.

Real stones flew at him from below as Forged ones crashed down from above, but Dross showed him the shifting path he could follow to his opponent. The Archlord covered in angular blue crystal, like a variant of the Akura armor with a pyramid over his head, shifted to face Lindon.

Nine flying swords appeared behind the man, each radiating threatening pressure.

“Release,” Lindon commanded the Remnant covering the man’s body.

Reality twisted to enforce Lindon’s order, but the Archlord’s will clashed against his. He could oppose any working Lindon made.

But doing so would cost him attention.

Wavedancer, controlled by Dross, plunged down like a silver meteor into the man’s back. The blade emerged from his chest, and he stumbled forward in the air.

He would survive. Archlords were resilient. But more importantly, Lindon’s sword pierced the man’s spirit-tank.

The Remnant of blue crystal peeled away, partially dissolved to essence. It flailed its limbs in high-pitched agony.

The Everwood Archlord retreated just as his companion had, leaving Lindon floating in the air over a ruined city.

[Only one to go,] Dross noted.

The sword-artist had returned to the city in a flash, keeping her presence concealed so she could sneak up on Lindon. But she couldn’t hide from Dross.

Lindon drifted to the ground, and a razor-sharp silver claw erupted out of a wall for his back.

He spun and caught it in his white hand. The hand of Subject One.

Then he began to Consume.

He devoured the Archlord-level sword Remnant in an instant, sorting its powers with the Heart of Twin Stars. The portion of its madra he could purify went to his core, its soulfire went to his own stores, its blood essence went to his body, and its dream aura went to Dross.

Ordinarily, he would have vented the remaining sword-madra he couldn’t use, or potentially Forged it into scales or dead matter. But his new arm of pale flesh was hungry. And it ate anything.

The Remnant vanished into his arm, leaving a struggling Archlady with a white crown behind her head.

“Are you ready?” Lindon asked Dross.

[Ravenous.] Dross licked his lips.

Lindon began to Consume the Silent King’s crown.

The white halo, the mark of the Dreadgod’s control, was a technique that worked like a parasite. Not only did it keep the host vulnerable to the Silent King’s commands, but it siphoned off their excess dream aura and transmitted it directly back to the Dreadgod. A combination of dream and hunger madra.

It didn’t take enough from any one person to leave them mindless or dead, but the Silent King fed on millions at once.

The crown resisted at first, its embedded will fighting, but Lindon crushed it. Its power flowed into him, a feast for both his Dreadgod arm and for Dross.

An otherworldly connection snapped into place, and suddenly Lindon was staring up into the muzzle of a white tiger.

It wasn’t exactly a tiger, of course. Tigers were natural animals, and this one was not. It was like someone had molded pale flesh like clay to resemble a tiger, with blazing purple eyes and a radiant aura of hunger. Its teeth were gleaming white steel, its black stripes shifted and moved by the second, and a blazing halo hovered over its head.

The halo resembled Samara’s ring—or the other way around—but this one crawled with half-formed images.

Lindon looked into the Dreadgod’s eyes and steeled himself. This was only a vision, a manifestation of the Silent King projected through the connection.

But he still felt like a mouse staring down the jaws of a cat.

“Bold thief,” the Dreadgod addressed him, and Lindon’s mind and soul shook in the wake of its mental voice. “You stole a piece of my brother.”

When Lindon’s head stopped ringing, he bowed. “Apologies. I meant no disrespect, but I work toward his goals.”

“Dangerous, for one so small as you.” The King’s eyes blazed. “Work toward my goals instead. Then you will be safe.”

Even as set against it as he was, even with Dross to protect him, even though this was only a projection and not the full Dreadgod, Lindon still felt an urge to do as the Dreadgod wished.

“Regretfully, I don’t believe our goals are compatible.”

“Wei Shi Seisha,” the Silent King said, and Lindon froze at the name. “Your mother. She is in Serpent’s Grave, in the Blackflame Empire in Ashwind. Wei Shi Jaran. Wei Shi Kelsa. I know them. I know you. With my many eyes, I see you, who stole my brother’s flesh.”