Chapter 286 (2/2)

A huge collision, every bit as powerful as the strikes between Aethon and Aegiant. Then a bellow of anger. “BOY YOU WILL-”

Randidly blinked, then his eyes rolled up into the back of his head. After swaying for a moment, he began to fall backwards.

“A Shrike Cries over a Barren Land.”

A wave of force hit Helen, sending her sprawling, missing Randidly by several meters.

“When Feathers Flash, a Shrike Hunts.”

This time there was no wave of force, but Helen was still groggy from the first, and managed to calm her swimming vision. What she saw when she looked up made her pale.

Randidly and Aethon were gone, even while Aethon’s arm remained on the street. And it seemed that Aethon could direct his skill somewhat, for while Helen had simply been knocked to the ground, concussed, the area where Aegiant had been standing was just rubble, for 100 meters. That area had been warehouses and part of the wall, but they were still strong buildings.

Howling, Aegiant climbed out of the rubble. “I’m going to kill everyone in this entire shit town. You hear me!?”

****

Aethon looked down at the boy, frowning. It was doubly difficult now, with only one arm, to carry the boy, but he was managing. To be sure, it was a great distraction, and well worth the cost of his arm, which could be regrown by paying a Village Spirit enough contribution points from the front lines, but…

“That was foolish,” Aethon said simply.

The boy’s body was limp, and although he was clearly trying to communicate, he couldn’t get his mouth to work. At the very least, his continued consciousness was a good sign, although…

“Your skill is strong… almost too strong. And you used it to the point that your mind couldn’t handle it. Which was necessary, otherwise it wouldn’t have even slowed him. But… the first impact surprised him, but the second impact he used to break the image. Your overstrained mind had something shatter inside of it. That’s why not even I dared use images against him, his will is that strong.”

The boy waved a hand feebly. Aethon snorted.

“Well, just lay there. Now that we have some space, I can get you out of the city, and-”

To Aethon’s surprise, the boy stretched his hand, and touched him lightly on the shoulder. Aether, pure and clean, the most robust and responsive he had ever felt, began to flow into him. Just a little, just a handful, but…

Then the boy slumped, seemingly finished with his task.

Which left Aethon very torn. This Aether… lent credence to the thought that the boy was a Devourer, just as the rumors about his Style had hinted. Was it part of their techniques…?

But Drak Wyrd had even more obviously been using Aether that wasn’t his. The reason for that boys dominance was the years he spent pushing his skills upwards, while avoiding gaining any levels. To use all of the skills and images he had… he should have triggered a pretty bad case of Aether Starvation in himself. And yet…

Plus, this Aether… was not at all what Aethon would have thought Aether from a Devourer would be like. It was… so perfect. Like he had been drinking bottled water his whole life, and only now had he found a pure, fresh stream.

More than anything though, was that the boy had been grievously injured in his gambit to buy them time. Aethon would have assumed the boy would be dead weight in such a situation, like his daughter, or even Drak Wyrd would be. But that was the strength of the Ghosthound. Adaptability, tenacity.

Direct injuries to images and the mind were notoriously difficult to recover from. Some never did. But if those images were recreated, coming back together… it was a refining process. The reforged version would be even stronger.

And somehow, Aethon didn’t think that Randidly was the type to never heal. It filled him with a strange pride. It filled him with an even more concrete dread. To give the boy time… he needed to send him back home. And he needed Divveltian to tell him where to send him.

Switching directions, Aethon rushed forward.