He stood straight, straining for every inch of height, and he glared at Lindon as he emerged.
Mercy brightened at the sight of him. “Pride!” She scurried forward, stopping as the short Underlord held out a firm hand.
“Control yourself,” he said angrily. “This is not the place.”
Mercy's shoulders slumped, and she shuffled back to Lindon.
“Who is that?” Lindon whispered.
“My little brother.” She let out a long, heavy breath.
It was always awkward to step into another family's affair, and this time Lindon was all the more aware that he was the only outsider in the room. Some of the faces he saw had eye colors other than purple, but they still had the look of the Akura clan.
A feeling in his spirit drew his attention back to Pride.
The short Underlord stared at Lindon with murderous hatred. Lindon could sense it like a stench on the air.
Dross gave a whistle. [He doesn't like you, does he? Do you think he knows you left his cousin to die?]
Lindon hurriedly averted his eyes as violet light rose up from beneath his feet.
“The stranger is Wei Shi Lindon Arelius,” Charity announced. “He rose up from nothing in the Blackflame territory, developing a pure madra Path with the guidance of an Arelius clan Underlord, and inheriting a fire and destruction Path from the former Imperial family. He now practices them both. He distinguished himself during the local selections, and he owes our clan a debt. I have called him here in order to repay that debt with service.”
There were the hungry looks Lindon had expected earlier. Every Lord and Lady in the room eyed Lindon like they couldn't wait for Charity to leave so that they could tear him to pieces. His spirit shivered more than once as they scanned him.
Pride had never looked away from Lindon. “You have chosen him over us, Aunt Charity? ...and Mercy?” His voice smoldered with barely-contained anger.
Mercy seemed surprised that he had included her.
“I have,” the Sage said smoothly. “I believe he can bring glory to the Akura clan, and if two-thirds of our team consists of family members, that will be enough.”
“Then Mother’s nomination goes to Mercy, and yours to the outsider. Only Uncle Fury's nomination remains for us. What if there are two of us more qualified than this Blackflame?”
Charity leaned forward as though about to take a step. The first row of Underlords shifted back.
“Have you advanced to Archlord while I went north, Pride?” she asked.
Pride shivered. “I apologize, Aunt Charity,” he said, the boldness in his voice fading. “My concern is for the honor of our family. I will treat him as an adopted member of the clan.”
Lindon didn't know exactly what that meant, but several of the wolf-eyed Lords suppressed sudden smiles. He felt like he had been threatened.
“An adopted clan member and a protected guest,” Charity added. “That will be acceptable.”
Mercy gave him a consoling pat on the shoulder, and Pride bared his teeth as though he almost couldn't keep from throwing himself at Lindon.
The Sage let a whisper of her spirit move over the room, which quieted all speech. “I trust none of you will waste too much of Lindon's time. Or Mercy's. Over the next nine months, we will be training them even harder than we train the rest of you. At the end of that time, my father will hold a competition to select the final competitor of the Uncrowned King tournament. I suggest that you all try your hardest to distinguish yourselves.”
With that, Charity turned to Lindon and Mercy, speaking in a lower voice. “I will now leave you to get to know your peers. I believe it could benefit everyone. Mercy, can you handle it?”
Mercy, still looking at her brother, nodded.
“Good. Father will be along to train you any moment. I hope. In the meantime, please keep Lindon safe.”
“What?” Lindon said. “I mean, ah, forgiveness, but...couldn't I come with you?”
“Think of this as an opportunity for training,” Charity said. Then, a breath later, she faded into the shadows.
Leaving Lindon standing on the dais next to Mercy.
Half of the Akura Underlords surged forward at once, but Mercy stepped in front of Lindon. “I'm back, everyone!” she called. “I've missed you! Hey, I’ve got an idea: why don't we have a little competition to celebrate my return?”
The crowd wilted back.
“Are they afraid of you?” Lindon whispered to her.
“In a way they're afraid,” Mercy said, but she didn't keep her voice down at all. “We compete for standing and favor a lot, and I’ve beaten…yeah, I think everyone here at least once.” Some faces flushed, or fists tightened in embarrassment, but no one said anything to dispute her.
“I hoped they would be glad to have me back,” Mercy said sadly, her gaze drifting back to her brother.
Pride pushed his way through the others. He looked from his sister to Lindon, standing right behind her, and his face twisted with the hate that Lindon had sensed earlier. Was he so offended that Charity had chosen Lindon?
“We've all seen what Mercy can do. Now that she's an Underlady, I'm sure she's even more...impressive.”
Mercy walked toward him. “Come on, Pride, let’s go home first. I missed you.”
He held up his hand again, just as he had before, but he didn't look at her. He was fixed on Lindon.
“None of us have seen what you can do, Arelius,” he said. “How about you show us?”
[I can think of many ways this could go wrong,] Dross said. [So many ways. In fact, I'm having trouble imagining a way in which this goes right.]
Lindon was in perfect agreement. “I apologize, brother Pride, but I must save my strength for training.”
Pride's spirit exploded out of its restraint. Benches pushed back, the shadows darkened, and black tattoos crawled on his skin.
“Brother?” the Akura Underlord choked out, his skin red with rage.
[Is that an insult here?] Dross asked, but Lindon was just as baffled.
Pride disappeared in a puff of shadow.
He reappeared in front of Lindon in the same instant. Black lines coiled over his skin, spiraling up each of his fingers and his arms, even across his face. He struck with thunderous force, punching at Lindon's chest.
Thanks to Dross' enhancement of Lindon's mind, he reacted in time. The Soul Cloak sprung up around him, a blue-white haze of energy, and pure madra carried power through Lindon’s body. The back of Lindon's fist knocked Pride's away, but rather than following up with another attack, Lindon hesitated.
This was his chance.
Pride’s left hand took Lindon in the chest, and a burst of black madra exploded from it. An ice-cold detonation launched Lindon backward, into the purple stained glass.
His back smacked into it, but the glass didn't crack even a hair. Instead, Lindon slammed against it as though into stone.
But the pain in his body was nothing to the pain in his soul.
Whatever technique that punch had contained, it had struck at the madra channels in his chest, searing his spirit. The shock blanked Lindon's mind for an instant.
He came back to himself as he lay crumpled at the bottom of the wall, but Pride had not given up. Mercy had barred his path with her staff of slick, twisted black madra, and was trying to talk to her brother.