Sixty medical tents had been erected in rows and columns inside the remaining meagre territory that the Blackflame Empire controlled in Nightwheel Valley, close to the portal back to their empire. Their most severely injured had been rushed back through the portal and into Blackflame City. Even then, the medical attendants inside Nightwheel Valley were overwhelmed by the number of those who needed treatment.

  Through the portal, outside of Blackflame City, there were reports that several hundred medical tents had also been raised to house the severely injured. Injured Lowgolds were housed in tents with a dozen others, while Highgolds and children of important families shared tents with only a few others. The Truegolds and those from important families were the lucky ones and were permitted to be treated in the hospitals.

  The ones with wounds that would allow them to return to the fight when needed were packed tightly inside the medical tents in Nightwheel Valley. Here, neither advancement nor status played a role in how they were treated. Even injured Underlords were packed together with Lowgolds.

  Yerin had been immediately rushed through the portal. Lindon wanted to follow, and when Naru Gwei tried to stop him and ordered him to remain, Lindon had stared the man down with black eyes. Sadi had never seen such fierceness from Lindon , his gaze was a warning , either let him through or there would be blood.

  In the end, Eithan stepped in and subtly reminded the Skysworn leader that he owed a great deal to Lindon for botching the match between him and a man named Jai Long. Naru Gwei eventually reluctantly relented, allowing Lindon to pass through the portal with Yerin.

  The Seishen Kingdom had continued to push on, and if it had not been for a problem with their supplies, they would have reached the very edge of the portal. Sadi knew Whitehall had no desire to kill people en masse, but she wished that he had used a more lethal poison. Instead, the Seishen Kingdom ranks had found themselves infected with dysentery.

  It had weakened the Seishen Kingdom's fighting force, and once the Skysworn had regrouped, they mounted a counterattack. Even then, they only managed to regain control of a minority of their lost territory before being forced into an uneasy stalemate.

  Sadi immediately suggested they continue sending small forces into Seishen Kingdom territory. It was a tactic Whitehall had told her his people regularly used in his previous life when dealing with more powerful enemies.

  The higher-ups of the Skysworn had scoffed at her idea, preferring to give their sacred artist more time to rest and recuperate. To her surprise, Eithan supported her plan. So, beneath the ignorance of Skysworn, she, Mercy, and Eithan harrassed the Seishen Kingdom forces every night.

  Do not let them sleep peacefully.

  And so she never did. At night, she would release Blindingwrath onto the Seishen camps, raising alarms and keeping the artists on their toes. Out of spite and desire to strike back, more and more Skysworns had also begun to follow what she did, harassing the Seishen camps with loud and bright techniques and then disappearing into the night.

  When not harrasing the Seishen forces, Sadi spent most of her time here, beneath a palisade Eithan had ordered to be erected, near the edges of the territory they controlled.

  The rain fell onto the fabric above her as she sat on a wooden stool, her gaze locked onto Whitehall's form. A perimeter had been created around him as poison madra burst out of his body at random intervals. Even the Brightcrown medics were not allowed to come close to him.

  He hadn't woken in four days ever since his advancement had begun.

  Hadn't moved.

  Hadn't spoken.

  Only his skin shifted, changing hues in slow, unnatural waves. Advancement or death—no one could say which.

  But there were no remnants. No shattered core.

  He was still fighting.

  Sadi folded her hands in her lap.

  And she waited.

  Next to her, Eithan broke the silence. "Fascinating, isn't it?"

  "Is his advancement completing?" she asked, rubbing her sleepy eyes.

  Eithan did not answer her question when he replied. "Never had I ever seen a poison path pushed to such lengths this early. Advancement to Truegold that takes more than an hour. Not to say slow advancement is better, it is just...different," he shrugged.

  "I thought you know his path?" she asked. She had been worried during the first day when his advancement had not been completed, but Eithan had repeatedly reassured her that this was completely normal for a Truegold advancement in Whitehall's path.

  Eithan shrugged with a smile. "I have an understanding of his path, but it doesn't mean I've seen it nor read about it." His gaze left Whitehall and turned to Sadi. "Usually, paths aren't designed to take too long during advancement. Sacred artists are most vulnerable during advancement, so normally, one would want to avoid that. But Whitehall here has a path that defies that rule, requiring someone more powerful to protect him as he advances to Truegold. Truly fascinating."

  Sadi sighed, looking to the side. So much for her trying to protect Whitehall, she thought bitterly.

  "How goes the Seishen Kingdom?" she asked, changing the subject.

  Eithan raised his arms in an exaggerated celebration. "I almost forgot to tell you! Your plan was ingenious! If it was not for your idea, then the Seishen Kingdom would have surely mounted a second attack on us by now."

  "What?" Sadi exclaimed. "Surely their supply lines would not be able to recover that quickly."

  Eithan's smile grew sympathetic. "Unfortunately, the Sage had decreed it too far when using lethal poison that could harm the younger generation, forbidding its future uses, and provided the Seishen Kingdom with means to disinfect their supplies."

  "Lethal?" Sadi asked questioningly. "It was dysentery!"

  Eithan raised his hands in surrender. "Alas, who are we to question the wisdom of the Sage."

  Sadi sighed, turning her gaze back to Whitehall's still form. "Why are you telling me this?"

  Eithan clapped his hands softly. "So you can appreciate the fruit of your efforts. The constant night harassments had caused the Seishen Kingdom to grow wary of us and delay any plans for an assault. Thanks to the time that we bought, our numbers in Truegolds and Underlords have increased to the point any assault the Seishen Kingdom mounts against us will put themselves at great risk."

  "Cheers and celebrations," Sadi mimicked how she thought Yerin would have replied. Speaking of Yerin, "How is Yerin holding up, by the way?"

  "Mercy is on her way to check on her, but as of the most recent information, she is still unconscious."

  "Shouldn't you be checking on her?"

  Eithan smiled. "She is in good hands. Besides, there is something I must do here."

  "Which is?"

  Eithan raised a finger, "Right about," he paused. "Now," his voice trailed as he disappeared in a blur and went straight to Whitehall.

  Sadi wanted to warn him with a yell, but then she remembered he was Eithan, and he would probably be fine with the poison aura in the air.

  Eithan knelt next to Whitehall, raising a hand above Whitehall's core. Looking closely, Sadi saw that the poison aura dispersed when it came close to Eithan. Her eyes widened when she saw the blonde man's body was covered from head to toe in ... pure madra.

  Eithan winked at Sadi. "Do keep it between us. I wanted it to be a surprise for my disciples."

  Sadi rolled her eyes but nodded anyway.

  Then, Eithan smiled at Whitehall's writhing form. "What a wonderful coincidence that you were put under my team," he said as more pure madra began to gather in his raised hand. "I don't know if you can hear me. But this is going to sting." Then, he plunged the pure madra straight into Whitehall's core.

  Whitehall woke up with a jolt, his body feeling more refreshed more than ever. The first thing he saw was Sadi's face, her expression filled with worry and relief. He was lying in her arms, he realised. The rain patted on him lightly, drenching them both.

  Before he could say anything, movement caught his eye. Standing above them, Eithan grinned from ear to ear, holding a paper umbrella as if this were the most natural scene in the world.

  Conscious of himself, Whitehall reached up, fingers brushing over the marred side of his face. He exhaled in relief when he felt the familiar rough texture of his wooden mask. He had lost in the battle.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  "How do you feel?" Eithan asked, his voice light and expectant.

  Whitehall opened his mouth, but his throat was dry. When he finally spoke, his voice came out as a rasp. "Thirsty."

  Eithan gestured grandly toward the rainy sky. "Then have a drink."

  Whitehall blinked at him. He might have stared longer, but Sadi wordlessly handed him a bottle before he could protest. He took it with a nod of thanks, gulping down the cold water.

  As he wiped his mouth, he looked down on himself. He was still wearing his broken Skysworn armour, and looking at his surroundings, he realised he was still in the same place. Yet the blood had disappeared from the grass, and the bodies were no longer there.

  "How long was I out?" he asked, shifting to stand. He offered Sadi a hand, which she accepted, pulling herself to her feet beside him.

  "Your arm!" Sadi exclaimed, spotting the wound on his right arm.

  Whitehall raised it. The prince's sword had cut deep, but the wound had healed—leaving a unique scar. The skin above was translucent, revealing venom madra beneath as if his flesh had been carved away and replaced. The madra pulsed in shades of purple, green, and silver.

  "Could be worse," Whitehall remarked, shrugging the new Goldsign. "So. how long was I out?"

  "Four days," she answered.

  "Four days?" he repeated, incredulous.

  Eithan sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "Indeed, my temporary disciple. A great mystery , is it not? One might wonder how you avoided certain … bodily inconveniences during such a long slumber."

  That was not what Whitehall had been wondering.

  Eithan continued before he could respond. "Well, let me tell you—no poison is poison to the poison artist."

  Whitehall narrowed his eyes, running his perception through his body. He had grown used to the occasional surprises his path threw at him, but the moment his senses landed on his lifeline, he barely stopped himself from groaning aloud.

  "Not again," he muttered, with far less anger than he ought to have felt. This was getting irritating. He had a solution, though, safely stored in his void key.

  Reaching into his trousers, he let out a breath of relief when he felt the object strapped securely to his left inner thigh. At least that hadn't been tampered with.

  "So," he began. "Update me on what happened while I'm gone."

  Eithan twirled his umbrella with one hand, tilting his head as if considering. Then he clapped his hands together. "We can discuss all that on our way back. Because, right about … now—"

  Right on queue, Mercy's form flew through the trees on her staff and landed near them.

  "Hi, everyone!" Mercy beamed, though her flushed cheeks and the sweat trickling down her forehead suggested she had been moving fast. Her gaze landed on Whitehall, and her smile widened. "Oh, you're awake! Perfect! Congrats, by the way."

  "Mercy," Sadi cut in. "What is it?"

  Mercy's smile faltered. "Oh. Right." She hesitated, shifting her weight slightly. "Yerin's awake."

  Sadi stiffened. "How is she?"

  Mercy bit her lip. "She's… not good," she admitted with a sigh.

  Silence stretched between them, tense with unspoken worry.

  Then, Eithan turned on his heel and strolled in the opposite direction. "One moment, everyone!" he called cheerfully. "There happens to be a kind Seishen Underlady nearby preparing a feast far too large for one person. I am going to kindly request that she make a donation ."

  Before anyone could ask what that meant, he disappeared into the forest.

  A few bursts of techniques, startled shouts, and the sound of trees crashing to the ground later, Eithan reappeared.

  Behind him, a long line of Lowgold servants trailed in single file, each of them balancing trays of steaming dishes, their faces pale with fear.

  Eithan spread his arms grandly. "Now, we're ready!" he declared.

  On his way back through the portal to Blackflame City, Whitehall finished a vial of the life well water. He tried to cycle the water, but his body had absorbed it readily. Within a few seconds, his body had fully absorbed the life-well water and strengthened his lifeline and spirit. Surprisingly, his lifeline had not returned to how it was previously; most of the water had gone to his spirit, but it was good enough for him.

  He felt Meatball would have started snorting and telling him he should've expected his body to be able to cycle the life-well water without needing much concentration now that he was Truegold, considering life and poison were the same for their path. He missed the garuda.

  They reached Yerin's tent within an hour, Whitehall, Yerin, and Mercy flying ahead on a thousand-mile cloud while Eithan walked with the servants. Lindon must have sensed they were near as he was already waiting for them outside when they arrived.

  Lindon's gaze was fixed on Whitehall the whole time.

  [Scary gaze, isn't it?] Dross's voice echoed in Whitehall's mind. [Imagine his surprise to see you here. Imagine mine!]

  "Elder Whitehall," Lindon regarded him immediately.

  [How do you veil like that, by the way?] Dross echoed.

  Lindon's expression was easy to read this time. Whitehall already knew what Lindon wanted, what Yerin needed .

  "Already hers," Whitehall nodded, tossing two vials of life-well water towards Lindon. "She saved my life."

  Lindon vanished in a blur, Soulcloak flaring as he snatched the vials from the air like they were the most precious things in existence . He cradled them against his chest, holding them carefully.

  Whitehall raised an eyebrow. Was that necessary?

  He shook his head and turned away. "I doubt I'm a face Yerin wants to see right now. You give it to her, yeah." He waved lazily and started walking.

  [Wow, that was easier than we thought] Dross's voice chimed in Whitehall's head. [Lindon was ready to trade it with you for his axe or even more].

  Lindon bowed at the waist. "Thank you, Elder Whitehall."

  Whitehall did not look back and replied with another wave.

  "Where are you going?" Sadi jogged up to him and asked. The instant she saw his face, she knew something was wrong.

  He froze at her gaze.

  She placed a gentle hand on his unmasked cheek. "What is it?" she asked gently.

  Whitehall swallowed hard. His vision blurred. He blinked the moisture away, but his voice cracked anyway.

  "Is it okay if I tell you later?" His words came out raw, barely above a whisper. "I think I need to be alone. I need to smoke."

  Lindon entered Yerin's tent immediately after Whitehall waved at him. His heart thumped rapidly despite his relief that he now had the life-well water to help Yerin. He had asked Sadi if she had any life-well water, but she had told him that the Beast King did not give her any. He almost gave up on the idea until Sadi told him Whitehall should have some left.

  Feeling the smooth surface of the vials in his hands, Lindon felt like he had just gotten away with daylight robbery.

  [Considering how hard you've fought to keep your resources to yourself, I think you're right to feel ashamed,] Dross chimed in.

  Yerin arched an eyebrow at him from where she sat on her bed. "What is Dross talking about? And why do you look like a puppy that just killed a child?"

  Then her cheeks flushed. She averted her gaze. "Is this about what we said earlier?"

  Lindon felt his cheeks heat up as he remembered their conversation when Yerin first awokened. "No!" he blurted. He raised a hand. "I mean, yes. I meant what I said. I don't want a life without you. And I want you to meet my family," he corrected, his words a jumble of mess.

  Yerin turned back to face him, her cheeks still red, yet her eyes gazed at her hands on her lap. "Good," she replied.

  [Aww] Dross said to Yerin, popping out of Lindon. [That is sweet and all, but you should wipe that look off your face. We brought gifts!] he gestured with tentacle arms to the two small vials Lindon cradled.

  "Bleed and bury me, is that what I think it is?" Yerin asked, stretching a hand at him.

  Lindon handed her both vials and nodded. "Life water from Elder Whitehall."

  She ran her thumb along the glass, staring at it for a long moment, almost ... disappointed.

  "Thank you, Lindon," she murmured. "I really appreciate it. You must've traded a fortune for it." Her fingers clenched around the vial. "But it just feels... too easy." She exhaled, shaking her head. "I've been pushing myself, thinking I'd have to claw my way to Underlord. And now…"

  She trailed off when she saw the look on Lindon's face.

  She raised a hand fast. "No, that's not what I meant!" Her mouth twisted like she was trying to force an Eithan-like grin onto her face. "Actually, I appreciate it so much that I'll take one right now."

  She uncorked a vial and tilted it back in one exaggerated gulp, making sure Lindon saw her swallow every drop.

  Dross's voice echoed as she swallowed the life-well water. [Yes, drink up and finish Whitehall's remaining Life-well water. It's not like he needs it as much as you do].

  Yerin's eyes widened at what Dross said, but her body began convulsing before she could reply.

  Lindon tensed, but he didn't panic. He remembered Orthos's reaction—this was normal.

  Dross's words, however, were not.

  "Dross," Lindon said. "What do you mean?"

  Dross's big, floating eye blinked innocently. [I mean, you were there when Whitehall opened his void key for the Heaven's Drops, right? Pretty sure you were.] He scratched his head.

  Lindon's voice dropped into something harder . "Dross."

  Dross waved a tentacle dismissively. [Fine, fine. Remember how I told you Whitehall's advancement ate his lifeline?]

  Lindon did.

  [Yeah, well, considering he's alive and kicking, that means he at least drank one vial of life-well water.]

  Lindon nodded , and he did not feel good about what Dross might say next.

  [Considering he had three vials when he opened his void key, and he gave you two of them. And I'm pretty sure three minus one equals two, and that means he has none left!]

  "Dross!" Lindon raised his voice. "What do you mean by he might need it as much as Yerin did?"

  [I said he didn't need it as much as Yerin did], Dross corrected.

  Lindon glared at the purple spirit.

  Dross took a step back in the air. [Hey, I know you won't eat me based on your thoughts. But that look is giving me second guesses].

  Before Lindon could respond, Yerin gasped.

  "Wow," she breathed. "That's something else."

  Lindon turned back to her—

  And nearly staggered.

  Her sword arms stood straighter, their metal glowing with fresh light. Colour had returned to her cheeks. And when Lindon stretched his perception toward her lifeline, his chest clenched—he nearly wept.

  Before he realised it, he had pulled her into an embrace.

  "I'm glad," he whispered.

  The weight of these past days—of nearly losing her—settled on him all at once. It had been crushing him, and he hadn't even realised it.

  Yerin's arms wrapped around his back. He felt her strength again.

  "Me too," she whispered in his ear.

  They held each other for a long time, neither speaking, letting the moment settle.

  Until—

  [Yerin, you might want to loosen your grip.]

  "Huh?" Yerin pulled back.

  Lindon's face was turning blue.

  "Oh," she muttered sheepishly, releasing him.

  Lindon sagged to the floor, gulping in air.

  Dross bobbed beside her. [Don't forget the other vial.]

  Yerin rolled her shoulders, testing her limbs. "What for? I feel as strong as an ox."

  Lindon added, "We only needed a spoonful, right? We can give it to Whitehall if he needs it."

  Dross wobbled. [A spoonful would've been enough to restore her lifeline to normal , sure .] He slapped Lindon's shoulder. [But now her lifeline is as strong as yours.]

  Yerin narrowed her eyes. "Then why do I need the other vial?" Her voice sharpened. " And don't think I forgot what you said about Whitehall needing it too."

  Dross wiggled in the air. [For your Bloodshadow.]

  Yerin recoiled.

  [The Meira woman struck her down with her scythe. Your Bloodshadow needs it as much as you did.]

  Yerin's expression darkened. "She's the reason I was like that in the first place." Her teeth clenched. "She fed on my lifeline, in case you forgot."

  Dross's tone didn't change. [She also saved the both of you.]

  "Dross," Lindon cut in. "Please explain to us about Whitehall."

  Dross sighed. [Not much to say. Whitehall's advancement consumed his lifeline. It's one thing when someone cuts it off, like Yerin here—] he gestured toward her [—but it's another thing entirely when your own spirit devours it.]

  Lindon had suspected it, but it was now another matter when Dross confirmed his thoughts.

  Lindon's fingers curled into fists. "Will the life-well water help?"

  [It'll strengthen his spirit, sure. But it won't fix his lifeline.]

  Lindon felt his chest tighten.

  "There must be a way," Yerin said.

  Dross shrugged. [Of course. He just has to do what you two planned if there was no life-well water—advance. Soulfire will reinforce his lifeline and body permanently.]

  Lindon exhaled slowly. "How much time does he have?"

  [A few years,] Dross answered. [And that's on the lower bound.] He drifted close to Lindon. [He'll be fine. He'd been through this before based on how he was in Ghostwater, remember? Nothing to worry about.]

  Yerin gritted her teeth before finally relenting and summoning her bloodshadow. "Fine! But bleed and bury me if I'm going to allow him to sacrifice himself for me. We're dragging him to Underlord whether he likes it or not. Do you hear me?"

  Lindon nodded at her words.

  "Take it," she uncorked and handed the vial of life-well water at her bloodshadow.

  The bloodshadow's form was not as solid as previously. Her face was blank, and her robes were attached to her body, similar to Little Blue's. She took the vial with a hand with attached fingers and stuffed it into her face where her mouth was supposed to be.

  The vial emptied, and the bloodshadow began convulsing on the floor, a faint blue glow was visible through her translucent form.

  "At least Whitehall probably got some valuable treasures out of it," Yerin muttered, slowly shifting her gaze from the bloodshadow to Lindon.

  Lindon suddenly found the fabric ceiling above very interesting.

  "Lindon?" Yerin demanded.

  House of Blades

  Iteration requested. Amalgam.

  Date. Denied

  Report Complete.

  Dayang sat across from the enchanted doll that Valiar had always brought with him during his early visits. The doll, Cornelia, was perched on a chair, her porcelain face as serene as ever, though her silence felt heavy and deliberate. Valiar had been sent on a foraging trip, leaving the two of them alone in the quiet of Dayang's home. The air was thick with tension, the kind that made the room feel smaller, the walls closer.

  "How did he get that scar?" Dayang asked for the third time, her voice trembling with a mix of desperation and frustration. She leaned forward, her hands gripping the edge of the table until her knuckles turned white.

  Cornelia remained silent, her glassy eyes staring blankly ahead.

  "Answer me," Dayang demanded, her voice rising. "I know that scar isn't from some training accident. It was made by a Traveller."

  Still, the doll said nothing.

  "Cornelia," Dayang pleaded, her voice breaking. "I need to know."

  For the first time, the doll stirred, her voice soft but firm. "Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to."

  "I need to know," Dayang insisted, her fists clenching the fabric of her skirt. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing the dread that had been building inside her. "Did he kill the Hound of Latari?"

  "The Hound was a monster," Cornelia replied impassively. "Both figuratively and literally."

  So, the doll did know who Mang was. Dayang's eyes narrowed, her glare piercing. "Did he do it? Did Valiar kill my husband?"

  "No," Cornelia answered simply , and Dayang exhaled sharply, the breath she'd been holding escaping in a rush. But the doll wasn't finished. "His Master did. Valiar was far too young when we found him."

  Dayang's face paled, her hands trembling as they gripped her skirt tighter. "Found him?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

  "Yes," Cornelia confirmed, her tone matter-of-fact. "A boy around eight years old with a fresh head wound. He would have died if we hadn't found him. He lost all of his memories. Even then, I had to convince his Master that Valiar was innocent—that the sins of the father should not be passed onto the son."

  Dayang's breath caught in her throat, the weight of the revelation pressing down on her chest. She felt as though the room was spinning, the walls closing in. Her lips parted, but only one word escaped, a name she had carried in her heart for years, a name she thought she'd never speak again.

  "Sangkuriang."