Dreadgod (Cradle Book 11) (91)

“Weaken,” the Sage commanded.

Commanding another’s body directly was his specialty, but when dealing with an opponent of this much power, it was easier to interfere with the aura and madra of techniques.

His attack was a perfectly coordinated combination that should have caused even a Monarch trouble.

As one, the dozens of controlled Redmoon Hall members turned to him and pushed against his command. His willpower should have shattered theirs, even combined, but the influence of the Silent King bolstered them.

His command broke. Even some of his birds in the air lost their animation, blasting off into the distance as raw packets of energy. His daggers dipped and lost force.

It was still a deadly barrage, but not enough. When the Herald released a sphere of madra, power drawn from both the Silent King and the Bleeding Phoenix, it was enough to tear the Sage’s attacks to pieces.

But Red Faith had cards left to play.

First, he summoned another dream construct from his void key. It detonated, sending waves of dream aura across the entire ship.

Several devices malfunctioned and some dream tablets might have been wiped, but most importantly the Ruler technique interfered with the Silent King’s control. The thralls had their concentration interrupted, and a few even shook off the crowns entirely.

Red Faith could continue to clash against Redmoon in their specialty, but no one was more aware of the strengths and weaknesses of blood madra than he was. Therefore, he had planned ahead.

A cauldron leaped out of his void key and hovered next to him. It was large enough that he could have curled up inside, and it was carved with disturbing images of spiders, centipedes, snakes, and other crawling creatures. It had been carved from ancient natural treasures soaked in the aura of death and venom.

And he had turned it into a launcher construct.

The cauldron tipped onto its side and opened its lid, releasing a blast of green-edged darkness that had gathered inside it for years.

There was a sound theoretical reason why most sacred artists used weapons instead of relying on constructs for everything: a construct’s output was largely static, while one could add their own power to the binding in a weapon. Such permanent sacred instruments were also better conductors for willpower, though most were ignorant of that principle.

The Blood Sage likewise understood that it was better to lean on one’s own power in battle…but this cauldron had its advantages. He had fed it power until it was a weapon beyond what even he could conjure himself.

The stream of green and black madra, the lethal aspects of venom and death braided together, struck like a Monarch.

It washed over Redmoon and blasted for miles in the distance. Forests died where the technique passed. The red light suffusing the air was briefly supplanted by an otherworldly green.

Yes, it was a strike worthy of him. And sufficient to defeat even his longtime rival, backed by the will of two Dreadgods.

But he’d paid a price for it.

Red Faith coughed up a mouthful of blood and looked down at the hole in his stomach.

Rather than preserve itself, Redmoon’s Remnant had launched a technique against him. His loyal Archlady, Kahn Mala, ran up and caught Red Faith as he staggered.

“No…matter,” he spluttered out. “Will…heal.”

He couldn’t regenerate immediately as a Herald might, but he still had unparalleled control over his own body. Without superior blood authority to his own, the enemy would have to annihilate him to destroy him.

Even the Silent King-possessed Emissaries hadn’t recovered yet. The Sage’s bloody lips quirked up in a smile. This was a victory long in the making.

Without the awakening of the Phoenix, Redmoon would never have grown bold enough to challenge him. Then Red Faith wouldn’t have been granted this opportunity, this satisfaction…

The satisfaction immediately faded as he realized what he was sensing.

He and the Archlady looked up at almost the same time as the Phoenix’s cry echoed out again, and the moon flickered red.

The Blood Shadows of the fallen Emissaries gathered together in a swirling tide. Even the pieces Redmoon had left behind and some of Red Faith’s own power were added to the mix.

Kahn Mala unleashed her full power on the mass immediately, as did several of the other artists aboard. Red Faith was dedicating most of his concentration and spirit to keep his guts from spilling onto the deck, but he still wrestled with the aura around it.

It was no use. This was the level of blood authority that he had feared.

A moment later, a tiny phoenix—barely the size of a man—rose from the mass of blood on the deck.

The Dreadgod’s miniature avatar looked at Red Faith, and its liquid beak stretched into a cruel smile. The creature he had studied, whose development he had encouraged, was now biting the hand that fed it.

It was going to undo his life’s work. Just like that.

He could feel Yerin close by, pushing for advancement, and he spared a moment of irritation for her. She should have fled to preserve his greatest success.

Now, the Phoenix would surely destroy everyone here.

With his final breath, he would fight it.

The Sage of Red Faith pushed out with blood aura, shoving away all the humans around him. Then he stopped preserving his own body and gathered his nine daggers into formation, focusing his will and pushing his spirit onto the avatar of the Phoenix.

“Die,” he spat.