Eithan’s spear grew as it flashed across the room, and Lindon saw that he had projected the Hollow Spear technique from his scissors. It was a perfect blend of sacred instrument and Striker technique, carrying the power of both.
But it was only enough to match the orange energy that Shen projected from his own sword. The entire room shook, spiritually and physically, and Lindon was painfully aware of how little madra he had remaining.
Compared to his normal state, at least. Compared to the others, he was in great shape.
Ziel moved weakly against the wall, half his body burned. His clothes had been singed away. Lindon hadn’t seen what had happened to him, but obviously Eithan hadn’t been able to save him completely.
Lindon carried the still-healing Mercy away. She mumbled at him that she would be fine—and she would, thanks to the healing construct on her neck—but he needed to move her away from the battle.
Eithan called a rain of stars down on Reigan Shen, and Shen responded by swallowing them all into a portal he opened over his own head.
This time, Lindon noticed that the portals were actually sticking just like the void keys had been. Shen had to spare the willpower to force open his own void space. That had to be a weakness they could exploit.
But another worry overcame him first: Yerin.
She was still inside the water technique.
Every clash between Eithan and Shen shook the surging mass of water that imprisoned Yerin, and every now and again her madra speared out, but her spirit was still flashing inside. She was battling against the spirits inside the technique, and she was weakening.
Lindon sprinted around the wall of the chamber. His pure core had less than a third remaining, and his soulfire was a dim candle, but he had to help.
Dross, what do you have left?
[Not what I should, and that disturbs me. Northstrider once used me to develop a combat report against Reigan Shen.]
Lindon’s hopes soared.
[But I am too fractured,] Dross continued. [I can piece together so little of it. Too little.]
Lindon’s heart crashed back down. Let me know if you remember anything. In the meantime, tell Yerin I’m on my way.
As Reigan Shen hurled Eithan across the chamber and Eithan retaliated with a slash of suddenly-huge scissors, Lindon dove into the side of a raging river like a waterfall suspended in midair.
Suddenly he could feel the pressure of the technique firsthand. He’d been able to sense it from across the chamber, but this was like the weight of the ocean crushing him from every direction. It was a churning maelstrom of water madra on at least the Herald-level, and every drop bore the will to destroy him.
A ghost of soft white light drifted up to him, extending hands out to him as though in peace. The spirit’s smile was a black crescent in its face.
Lindon met it with the Empty Palm.
On a human being, the Empty Palm washed their madra channels clean, temporarily robbing them of control over their own spirit. On a spirit, it blasted away the very material of their body.
The spirit dissolved, but its smile only widened.
From the darkness of the chaotic water, two more spirits came for him. They darted in when he wasn’t looking, then flitted away when he turned toward them. They were afraid of his pure madra, and Lindon couldn’t tell if it was an instinctive aversion or if they’d learned from what happened to the first.
Lindon extended his perception, searching for Yerin, but he found his senses choked off. He felt as though he were adrift in the center of an endless ocean with no surface, and it was only him and these eerie, malicious spirits.
He began cycling for the Hollow Domain, but Dross stopped him.
[This environment is already filled with madra denser than your own. The most you could do is weaken it for a moment, and then your Domain would collapse.]
Then I’ll have to try something else.
Surrounded by water, Lindon switched to his Blackflame core.
It wasn’t ideal, of course, but the Path of Black Flame was destruction as much as it was heat. And he had more Blackflame madra left than pure.
Lindon controlled finger-thin beams of dragon’s breath, fully aware that Yerin might be nearby. He sliced both spirits in half.
They re-formed instantly, still grinning. Four hands extended to embrace his head, and he felt an overwhelming sense of peace. Foreign will pressed in against him, urging him to relax and allow them in. Strangely enough, the technique reminded him about Bai Rou, although the Skysworn’s techniques had always felt repulsive.
But such a vague temptation had no sway over Lindon. The spirits were close, now; closer than they would have gotten if he had kept cycling pure madra.