With businesslike motions, Shen folded up the launcher again. If the weapon hadn’t remained in a scripted container for so long, it would have faded away already. It was only due to its faultless construction and some binding scripts that it worked at all.
He would have greatly preferred to store his weapons in a void space, but those were difficult to open in this place, so he preserved energy by strapping script-sealed devices all over him.
If everything went according to his plan, he would only have to open up his void space once a month. That would last him more than long enough to reach the bottom.
He would empty this place if it took him a decade. Because in the end, he would do what no one else had ever done, and seize control of the greatest weapons ever created.
The Dreadgods.
All five of them.
After the retreat of the Wandering Titan, the Bleeding Phoenix had retreated north.
Akura Malice had regrouped, gathered her power, and followed.
She met the Bleeding Phoenix as an equal, striking it with her bow like a staff. The blow landed on the Phoenix’s oozing red body, and the Dreadgod shrieked.
The sound carried enough hostility that Malice had to brace herself against it, even as a bloody red dragon burst through the Phoenix’s body. Northstrider’s attack. The Bleeding Phoenix responded with a simple Striker technique—a lance of light from its open beak wider than a river.
To others, the attack would appear large enough to swallow cities, but Malice threw herself in front and blocked it on her shoulder.
The pressure on her amethyst armor increased, straining her spirit, and causing her to push more madra to keep the gemstone structure stable. But she spared Northstrider from having to deal with it, and he had taken the opportunity to appear behind the Dreadgod and tear another chunk out of it with a blow that blasted out the air for miles.
The Phoenix’s eyes shone, and it screamed again. This time, Malice’s heart tightened.
They were playing this close. Not only would they run out of power faster than the Dreadgod would, but if they damaged it too much more, its brothers would show up. The Titan was nearby. And if they managed to kill it, the situation would get even worse.
She reserved a bit of her fury for Reigan Shen, who had forced her to fight a Dreadgod in her territory. Again. For the second—no, third!—time in five years.
If only there were another arrowhead around to deal with him too.
Northstrider had taken quite a beating from the Phoenix already, so he was only too happy to back up and let Malice trade blows with the Dreadgod in her towering armored form. She landed a few lighthouse-sized arrows of crystalline blue madra before the Phoenix’s simple brain got the message.
This prey could bite back. It wasn’t worth it.
This was how fights between Monarchs and Dreadgods normally proceeded. One of the great beasts would wander somewhere inconvenient, and then whoever owned that territory would fight until the Dreadgod decided the fight wasn’t worthwhile and wandered somewhere less valuable.
But it was such a delicate balance to strike.
The Dreadgods hit at least as hard as any Monarch, and they were sturdy enough that Malice could never kill one alone before having to flee herself. It was a bit like a Copper driving off a fully grown bear with a whip.
It was better than pushing them to the brink, though. If they pushed them too far, the Dreadgods would join forces…or worse. They could awaken.
Malice had not been a Monarch during the Dread War, but she had seen the memories of others.
So now, when the Phoenix gave another irritated cry and retreated north, she stopped and let it happen. The crimson sky rolled away, and she relaxed. Let the Tidewalker Herald deal with the Dreadgod for a change; he had supported Reigan Shen too much in the past, and now he would pay for it.
When the Bleeding Phoenix was no longer visible, even to her, she let her armor fade into great clouds of shining violet essence that rose into the clouds. She hovered in the air, stretching her arms and spirit at once. She got far too little exercise as a Monarch, and her armor was a serious burden. At least against a real opponent.
Northstrider appeared next to her, clothes rumpled and golden eyes scowling.
“Good thing I was here to help,” Malice said. “You look terrible.”
He looked the same as always, unshaven and unkempt, with scavenged clothing. Like a homeless king. But what she felt from him was another story.
His spirit was strained and weak, and she was sure his mind was on the verge of collapse. He had fought bitterly.
Northstrider ground his jaw, and she detected the heat of real anger. “Do you know what you were risking, letting those children face the Titan?”