The real Yerin was in trouble.

She was in a hallway, laying against the wall. She was right under a torch held in the skeleton jaws of a mounted dragon head.

Her sword-arms rested limply on the ground. The sand burned her skin, but she was unable to feel pain anymore, her body numb.

In front of her, the Blood Shadow fought with its back to her, protecting her, its Sword Icon still active. Its Goldsigns rippled with Striker techniques, making a wall of sword madra that demolished the rows of sand clone dragons.

Ever since Mercy had left, Sophara had been healed of her injuries by Xorrus’s Authority, reverted to normal.

No longer under the effect of Mercy’s Nightworm Venom, Sophara had set upon a weakened Yerin and her Blood Shadow.

Forged sand clones of golden dragons had joined the fight, streaming from the walls, breathing Flowing Flame. When Yerin had fought them, the sand clones never died, always reforming from the sand. But the Blood Shadow was more effective, its blood madra slowing their reformation long enough for their numbers to start dwindling.

Yerin was as at the end of her rope. Her Sword Icon was out, and her madra felt like it was cutting her channels.

Yerin’s Blood Shadow fought with two swords, one the black Archlord weapon, the other a red blood madra sword. It slashed them in complex shapes, dismantling the rows of dragons.

When Sophara reached her, the two swords and six sword-arms met her claws. Sophara rolled backwards with the force, landing on her feet as she sent a whip of Flowing Flame slashing out horizontally. Another jet of Rippling Swords sent Sophara falling back.

Yerin’s Blood Shadow ran after Sophara in the hallways, fighting in close corners. Sophara dodged the strikes, grabbing the Blood Shadow and dragging its face in the burning golden sand floor. She was forced to let go as the Endless Sword swallowed her claws

Dragons continued to form from the walls, Xorrus’s laughter booming and echoing through the halls.

One of the dragons behind the Blood Shadow raised a shield of sand, but Yerin’s sword aura pulled it away and let her Blood Shadow split it in half, spinning around and punching Sophara back. The dragon-girl blasted down the hallway, rolling through the sand.

Their fight passed by the creepy dragon heads, the torches reflecting off the white bony heads. Their jaws shivered as if they were laughing.

Yerin’s Blood Shadow used all six sword-arms to cut a dragon at the waist while beheading another dragon with both of its sword; as it did, it stepped on a switch, and the traps were activated.

Swinging blades slashed from the ceiling, swinging back and forth.

Sophara charged right through them, running on her legs and hands like a beast, covered in her orange Enforcer technique. As she ran, soulfire covered her body, and she began to transform.

Golden scales popped over her skin, her mouth stretching out, her hair merging with her scales. Gold flashed as her neck elongated, her body spreading out and gaining bulk. Reptilian jaws grew gnashing teeth.

She had turned into her dragon form, her robes and jewelry ripping away from her. Her wings flared out, the hallway big enough to accommodate them.

When she opened her mouth, a wall of Flowing Flame filled the hallway. It burned the sand clones away, some managing to burrow into the sand to avoid the Striker technique.

Behind her Blood Shadow, Yerin struggled to her feet. She raised her sword, her Diamond Veins screaming as she triggered the Archlord binding.

Her Blood Shadow leapt to the ceiling as the blast of ice Archlord madra crashed into the golden fire. Before it reached Sophara, she burned a hole into the sand, burrowing deep inside to avoid the icy hell above.

As Yerin dropped her sword, she closed her eyes, the dream aura making her sleepy….. her eyes shot open, looking up. Purple dream aura floated above the hallway, residue from Mercy’s Dream of Darkness.

Yerin slowed her breathing, a plan forming. She just had to attain the Sword Icon one more time.

The Blood Shadow dropped from the ceiling, looking back at Yerin. It smiled at her, causing Yerin to shiver.

But Yerin knew it had understood. The Blood Shadow would keep the dragons busy while Yerin touched the Sword Icon again.

Yerin closed her eyes, begging the heavens for a miracle to occur. She sank into the Sword Icon’s depth, calling on its blissful power one more time.

Sophara exploded out of the sand underneath Yerin, her claws grabbing for her ankles.

Yerin’s Blood Shadow was swiftly there, kicking down Sophara’s head. Its sword arms grabbed Yerin and lifted her away, the Blood Shadow stabbing down into Sophara’s body. Flowing Flame gushed out from Sophara, throwing the Blood Shadow and Yerin to the ceiling.

Sand clones of golden dragons emerged from the ceiling, Flowing Flame forming in their throats.

One of the dragons wrenched the blood sword away from the Blood Shadow, leaving the Blood Shadow with only its black Archlord weapon.

“Score! Oh yeah!”

The dragon ran away with glee with the stolen treasure. Dragons all around stared greedily as the dragon clone laughed at them, raising the sword over his head.

“See ya later suckers!”

Then the clone started to scream as the blood madra ate away at its sand.

The dragon clones around shook their heads and left the foolish dragon to die.

Yerin’s Blood Shadow ignored the situation, instead grasping the sword aura coming from the swinging blade traps in the hallway. It formed a hurricane of Endless Sword aura that blew apart the blade traps, the dragons, and sank Sophara down to her neck in the sand.

As the Blood Shadow landed back on the floor, a circle of dragons emerged from the sand, surrounding the blood clone. The Blood Shadow threw Yerin back down the hallway over the dragons, its eyes glancing between them all like a pendulum, always moving.

Its long red hair suddenly flew to the side as it kicked out, knocking a dragon back. At the same time, its sword-arms cutting another dragon in half. It grabbed another dragon’s face, and its head exploded in sword aura.

One of the dragons stabbed out with a knife of sand, aiming for the Blood Shadow’s back.

“Rule number one, always watch your back!”

The bloody clone caught the knife without looking, spinning around, and pushing the dragon against the wall, stabbing into his chest.

As it did, it fought against the other dragons all around. The Blood Shadow never stopped moving as its Goldsigns held back everyone. She alternated between fighting them and stabbing into the dragon, flipping the knife in between.

The dragon she was cutting into screamed, his body sinking down to the ground.

“Wait! Wait! I was just pretending to stab you!”

The knife tore into its limbs, opening lines of sand reaching from its legs up to its neck as the Blood Shadow brutally cut into it.

The Blood Shadow punched the talking dragon, causing him to groan and slam into the wall; it gave the Blood Shadow time to turn around and kick another dragon, its body crashing into another dragon that was releasing Flowing Flame, causing them both to go up in flames.

The talking dragon tried to get away, but the Blood Shadow stabbed its stomach, ripping the sandy blade up all the way to its throat.

It ended when all the dragons around the Blood Shadow were blown away by the Endless Sword.

The Blood Shadow turned back and clasped the mouth of the talking dragon, stopping his screams. The dragon stared in fear as the Blood Shadow’s wide eyes stared into his soul. It smiled as the dragon’s eyes closed, the sand clone dispersing away.

Six crimson sword-arms swung back to block Sopahra’s tail, the Blood Shadow snarling as it brought its black sword up, Forging another blood sword. It crossed both of its swords in a X, pushing Sopahra’s claws down.

Its Sword Icon ran out at that moment, and that was when Sophara gained the upper hand.

Sophara slammed the blood clone to the ground and grabbed its sword-arms, forcing them back to stab the Blood Shadow in the neck. Then she grabbed its blood sword, stabbing it into its chest. Finally, she grabbed the black sword and stabbed it into the Blood Shadow’s mouth.

The Blood Shadow silently glowered as Sophara grabbed its sword-arms, pulling. She snapped them off, flinging the burning madra away as her claws bled. Picking up the Blood Shadow, she ripped it apart, both ends hitting the wall and disappearing into essence.

The dragon Underlady turned her attention to Yerin. The girl was raising her sword, in the trance of the Sword Icon. She stood with her eyes closed, her sword high.

The next second, Yerin was in front of Sophara, the sword tip stabbing into Sophara’s eye. The dragon-girl bent backwards before Yerin fully penetrated, only to find six Goldsigns closing on her like a bear trap.

Sophara jumped back, stabbing with her tail. Yerin caught her tail one-handed. Her hair blew back, and her eyes remained closed.

She smiled.

Sophara shouted out as Yerin slashed her wings off, her punches knocking her teeth out of her mouth. She cried out, trying to hold Yerin back.

This couldn’t be happening again. The Sword Sage disciple should have not been able to touch the Sword Icon anymore, at least not at this level. She was too weakened by now. It wasn’t possible.

Sophara growled as she called ghostwater, her eyes glowing with the pale light. She saw through the illusion of dream aura.

Sophara walked through the illusion, noting that her teeth were not in fact on the floor but still in her mouth. And her wings were still attached to her body. She walked over to the real body of Yerin, who was limping away, her sword-arms dragging on the floor like tails.

Yerin stopped as she realized her ruse was up. She turned around, raising her sword. But the weight was too much, and she dropped to her knees. She tried to stand up, but her limbs were shaking.

She had attained the Sword Icon for a short moment, giving her improved soulfire control, enough to control Mercy’s dream aura and craft an illusion of her. Obviously, it had been too weak to fool Sophara.

The dragon Underlady smiled, its wings scraping the walls. This stupid girl was playing make believe. Ever since she had been rescued by the Sword Sage, Yerin must have looked up to Adama like a god. She must have thought her life would have been peaches and strawberry after. That nothing could go wrong.

The idea of Yerin realizing how wrong she was made Sophara fill with laughter. She was going to enjoy ripping Yerin apart with her own hands.

Yerin raised herself on one knee, using it as a crutch as she lifted herself up. More dragons began to appear from the sands, surrounding Yerin. They made room for Sophara to walk in, standing over Yerin.

Yerin looked up, her whimpering Blood Shadow curling in her core.

She was barely standing, cuts running down her arms. The strength of her Steelborn Iron body forced her muscles to contract, allowing her to barely move. Her sword-arms were useless, hanging like lifeless rags.

Yet she still glared up at Sophara, looking in defiance as she stood up despite the pain. Her lips and teeth were bloody, her expression threatening. But it took too much from Yerin, and she began to lose the muscle strength to make facial expressions.

Her eyes were drooping as she lifted her sword up slowly, its tip shaking as it touched Sophara’s chest. Sophara grabbed Yerin’s throat, lifting her face up. Yerin’s eyes were fluttering.

“Where is your god now?” Sophara snarled.

The Sword Sage’s disciple snapped her eyes open, a bloody triumphant grin on her face. Silver light flashing and crackled over her sword-arms and sword.

“You’ll meet him soon.”

Yerin stabbed forward.

The Final Sword emerged, a heavenly sword replica that lit the hallway in blinding light. Sword aura exploded outwards, shattering the mounted skeletal dragon heads on the walls. Their torches went out, plunging the hallway into darkness. Only the silvery sword aura around Yerin lit up the dark.

Sophara screamed as the Final Sword pierced her heart. It vanished as soon as it had appeared, and Yerin’s body finally fell backwards, fainting.

Thank you, Mercy, she thought as she faded into black.

Sophara grasped her wounded chest, reverting to her human form. She closed her eyes, feeling her body dying.

It was time to trigger her Overlady advancement. While she did, she would be unable to move. But it should only take a couple seconds, and besides, Yerin was already unconscious.

As Sophara began her advancement, she heard a spine-chilling ghostly giggle above her. Sophara looked up shakily.

The Blood Shadow hung above her, its hair falling as it smiled, its gleeful eyes wide and scary. Its black sword pointing down at her face.

Sophara screamed, throwing up Flowing Flame.

The second Final Sword flickered out and pierced her straight through the head.

Her mouth was still open, her screams turning into a high-pitched shriek. Under the guise of dream aura, one of the coffins in the walls opened, and Ekeri’s corpse walked out, laughing. Tears fell from Sophara’s eyes, and she let out a rattling breath.

In a final wail, Sopharanatoth’s body split apart in a gush of blood. Her Flowing Flame died out, the ghostwater fading from her eyes. No Remnant came out, her spirit devastated.

Yerin’s Blood Shadow dropped to the ground, whistling as it walked over to Yerin. It tried to slap her awake to no avail. Shrugging, the Blood Shadow began to drag Yerin back into the main room they had been in.

Yerin’s plan had been a good one, the Blood Shadow noted. Yerin had regained the Sword Icon to use Mercy’s dream aura, its power giving her improved soulfire control, allowing her to craft realistic illusions.

When Sophara had thought she had defeated the Blood Shadow, Yerin had used her Sword Icon to create a believable illusion. Sophara had thought she had been using ghostwater, but that had been part of the illusions.

The real Blood Shadow had hidden itself in the ceiling, waiting for its part to play. The whole time after that, Sophara had seen Yerin as weak and unable to fight. Sophara had broken through the first illusion of Yerin, intended for Sophara to discover it was a fake and to drop her guard. She had even thought she was sensing the Blood Shadow in Yerin’s core under the illusion.

When Sophara had been about to kill Yerin, she had dropped the illusion, revealing she was still under the Sword Icon and Forging a Final Sword.

They were lucky Sophara had not developed an Icon of her own, and that she hadn’t activated her ghostwater earlier or the illusions would have never worked even with the Sword Icon helping.

The Blood Shadow walked back into the main room, glaring up at the ceiling. She waited with Yerin, her sword-arms twitching in irritation.

Behind them, Sophara’s corpse was being pulled into the sand. No doubt to be revived by Xorrus’s Authority and to be ready for her round in the tournament.

There was no response from the ceiling, and the Blood Shadow lost its patient, throwing a Rippling Sword at the wall.

Xorrus began to laugh. Her laughs grew louder and louder, echoing through the room. When the laughs reached their crescendo, the wall behind the Blood Shadow exploded.

The noise awoke Yerin, sitting up immediately. She lifted her sword weakly, squinting against the smoke.

Her eyes widened and her Blood Shadow stepped back when they saw who it was.

***

Ten Minutes Earlier

Mercy walked back to Yerin.

She rested against the wall of the hallway she was ambling in, holding her bleeding sides. She had left her robes back in the room, only wearing her purple pants and chain vest. As she walked, Mercy looked down on the floor, her hair falling in her eyes.

Her fight with Yerin had drained her too much. Soon, the Night Icon would restrict her madra, her body sealing up for a week as her body recovered.

Her blood left a line in the wall, smearing the golden coffins lining the walls.

Tears continued to fall down her face, making her cheeks wet. She brushed them aside, trying to forget the sand clone’s expression, the horror in Yerin’s face as she was killed by her friend.

“Sorry,” moaned Mercy. She knew it wasn’t real, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t grieve. As soon as she saw Yerin, she was going to give her the biggest hug she had ever had.

The wall shifted behind her, and the Sophara sand clone crawled out.

Sophara crept out slowly, snarling, still in her dragon form. This was her chance. She had gone away when Xorrus hard ordered her earlier, and she had been waiting for her time to attack. Now that Mercy was alone, she could get revenge for being humiliated. Mercy was still walking forward, not taking notice.

Sophara jumped, her claws outstretched for Mercy’s neck. She had a reptilian smile, her jaws opening wide and revealing sharp teeth. She closed her eyes as she crashed into Mercy’s hand. She looked down in surprise, staring into the back of Mercy’s head.

The Akura princess had caught her jaws, her hair blowing forward. Mercy turned around, her eyes wide enough to swallow Sophara in their grief. Slowly, they went from sad to something colder, something that made her watery eyes harden. It was something foreign to Mercy. Something darker.

Rage and fury burned in her eyes as she glared at Sophara, her nose crinkled, and her eyebrows drawn in. She was, Mercy would realize later, in what Akura Charity would call a mood.

Sophara roared as she let out a river of Flowing Flame.

Mercy didn’t seem to move, but she still shot a black arrow that shut Sophara’s jaws shut, quenching the Striker technique. The air cracked, sand falling away from the speed of Mercy’s arrow.

The dragon’s claws raked down on the girl’s shoulders. Violet crystal armor grew on her, the claws bouncing off harmlessly in sparks. Sophara clawed at Mercy in desperation, but the amethyst armor kept appearing wherever Mercy needed it, raining sparks everywhere. Strings of Shadow kept Mercy anchored to the floor, letting her withstand the dragon’s strength.

Sophara finished with a slash across the neck, blocked by another crystal piece. The sparks flew up, reflecting off Mercy’s furious eyes, her hair swirling around her in the air.

The sand clone roared in frustration, her wings slamming down on Mercy.

The Akura’s black-tar arms moved, and crystal armor grew from her arms, increasing their size to each be bigger than the wings. The giant violet hands caught the wings, holding them back.

Mercy spoke dangerously through gritted teeth, her voice trembling with anger.

“I said no.”

She let go of one wing, pulling back the giant crystal fist and punching Sophara in the face. Sophara flew down the hall, slamming into the wall. She shook her head, her dragon body barely fazed. Landing on her haunches, Sophara opened her mouth wide, glowing orange.

Mercy continued to walk forward, raising her bow. She had removed her crystal armor from her arms.

Thousands of arrows flowed out. They hit each other, bouncing off each other, the hallway filling with arrows ricocheting everywhere. Sophara Forged shields of madra, blocking all the Striker techniques.

Her glowing mouth finally released her technique, breathing Flowing Flame above her head. She Forged a dragon of Flowing Flame that filled the entire hallway. Its face roared out as it shot forward, its nose reaching Mercy’s nose.

Mercy walked through the fire, summoning her armor to cover her completely. She reached the end, banishing her armor, but Sophara was gone.

She turned to see Sophara burst from the wall, her claws outstretched, her tail slashing out, and her eyes glowing. Sophara roared as she hit Mercy.

Mercy’s arms glowed violet. Her armored hands clasped Sophara’s claws tightly, holding the dragon back. Sophara’s clone began to trash, but crystal violet flowed from Mercy’s hands, locking the clone’s joints in place. The crystal spread over the dragon’s body, encasing it solid. Sophara found herself covered from her tail to her neck in stiff armor, unable to move.

They looked at each other for a moment, Mercy’s lips tight and breathing heavily through her nose. Her Archlord lens had fallen to the ground in the fight, her eyes glowing and her black hair loose and whipping around her.

She was in a bad mood after killing Yerin’s clone. She was angry at Sophara, angry at Xorrus, angry at the Dragon Monarch. For once in her life, Mercy was deadly serious.

Mercy tightened the crystal armor around one of Sophara’s arms. The dragon screamed as the armor crunched down, tearing one arm off. Mercy broke Sopahra’s other wrist, controlling the armor to slam Sophara back into the wall.

The dragon still had her head free, and she began to curse Mercy.

“Do you know who you’re messing with? We are the golden dragons, masters of this continent. We will destroy your pitiful clan, take your lands, and kill your Monarch. The Dragon King does not forgive, and he does not forget. I will remember your face, girl. You should do well to remember mine when I—"

An arrow pierced through her open mouth, pining the golden dragon’s upper jaw to the wall. Crystal openings appeared in the armor, and Mercy shot her arrows through each, hitting each bullseye.

It resulted in arrows punctured Sophara’s limbs and wings, nailing her body to the wall. Sand fell over her body, the wall cracking.

Mercy walked right up to Sophara, dream madra whispering behind her in smoke.

Mercy looked cold, for once no smile. Her eyes were fuming, shining brightly. A gust of air current came in, her hair flying across her face, her purple eyes shining through the dark hair.

Mercy pulled back the arrow.

Page Two: Shadow’s Edge. Page Three: Nightworm Venom. Page Four: Dream of Darkness.

Mercy directed her words to the Dragon King.

“Don’t you dare take my friends away from me.”

She released the arrow. Sophara screamed as the arrow shot into her heart, an opening in the crystal armor appearing in that spot.

Her body began to melt as shadowy blades erupted out of her body. Nightworm Venom shot out her face, blowing a hole in it, releasing sand and smoke. Dream madra covered her body, creating the illusion of tiny golden dragons burrowing into Sophara’s body like worms.

But she was healing, the sand falling all around her. She never got the chance to heal her face as the crystal armor around her neck began to rise, enclosing Sophara’s face. In seconds, a Sophara crystal statue hung nailed to the wall.

Her misery ended as inside the armor, black webs sprang out of her body, tearing her apart.

Akura Mercy glared up at the ceiling.

“If you want to hurt someone, hurt me. But leave them out of this.”

Xorrus growled from the ceiling.

Mercy walked back in the direction of Yerin, leaving a gleaming violet statue behind her.

All her life she had never had true friends. Everyone she had known had scrambled for her mother’s attention, willing to sell even their child for an audience with the Akura Monarch. Mercy wanted to be better than that. She wanted to be kind, to be helpful.

Now, after finding Lindon and Yerin, they were the most precious things in her life. She would do anything she could to keep them close.

So, when she felt Yerin’s spirit near, Mercy’s face broke out into a grin.

Mercy started to run through the hallway. She did not sense the real Sophara with Yerin, which could only mean one thing. Yerin had won. Mercy wanted to jump up and cheer, but it wasn’t the time for that. She had to get to Yerin and escape. Maybe her mother would send someone to rescue them.

The coffin next to Mercy opened with a hiss, releasing smoke.

Mercy turned as she ran, seeing that the coffin was in the shape of a man holding two scythes crossed in front of him.

She let out a shout as she ducked, the coffin lid shooting open; smoke billowed in the hallway as the coffin lid stabbed into the wall.

Out of the coffin, a sand clone stepped out, his Underlord power making the sand vibrate.

Mercy looked up, her eyes wide in horror.

“Oh no.”

The clone had long hair made of golden sand that reached his waist. His sandy robes shed trickles of sand as he walked forward.

Mercy jumped up, and started to run. This wasn’t fair. She wasn’t at her full strength.

Mercy looked up to the sky, begging to her mother.

Mother, mother Please! You have to help me! I’m not at full strength! MOM!

Her mother took notice.

She gasped for air, her lungs finally working properly now. Her bones healed and she didn’t have to limp anymore. The wounds on her bare arms closed. The effects of the Night Icon vanished as she was back to her full power, soulfire restored and her shadow core burning strongly.

Despite being at her full strength, the Underlady felt dread.

The sand clone looked over at her as he stretched. The clone called on his pure madra core, Forging stars behind him.

Mercy turned around, taking a deep breath as she faced Eithan Arelius.

END OF PART 3