Lindon could feel a scowl burning into the back of his head. Naturally it was Pride, surrounded by unconscious dreadgod cultists, glaring at him. Sometimes it felt like the Akura boy hated him more than his actual enemies did.

"Is there something you need?" Lindon sighed as he addressed Pride.

"What are you doing?" His voice was harsh and accusatory. Lindon blinked and glanced around, wondering what Pride was referring to. [Ahem, I'm almost certain that he's referring to what you've got in your hand. 99.9%. No wait make that 95%-maybe he really just doesn't like the fact that you exist.]

"Oh." Lindon said and turned to look at the writhing dreadgod cultist whose throat was locked in a vice grip by his remnant arm. The hunger binding was active and he was consuming the cultist's madra and memories in a steady stream, using Dross and Little Blue to sort and refine it all into something usable. "I'm just getting some help in developing a technique." Fully drained, Lindon let the man crumple to the ground. He brought his fists together and gave a small bow to the twitching, barely conscious body. "Gratitude."

"That's what I mean! It's disturbing! And why are you thanking him?" Pride exclaimed, stepping closer to Lindon.

"There's no reason not to be polite." He replied innocently, trying hard to keep a smile off his face.

Pride's scowl deepened. "What would Mercy think if she saw you doing this, treating defeated opponents like… like…" He trailed off, trying to find the word for it.

"Food?" Lindon said. [Batteries?] Dross added. "Elixirs? [Cattle?] Advancement aids? [Walking piles of free madra?]"

Pride's looked torn between being horrified and outraged.

"Besides," Lindon continued, "Mercy would probably just give me a thumbs up and cheer me on." He thought it a bit strange that Pride had brought her up, but he figured it was just because she was a close friend.

"It's undignified." Pride shook his head. "You can get away with it now, but in a few years you'll be bringing dishonor to Mercy and the Akura clan if you do this with every opponent you beat."

Lindon had no idea what Pride was talking about so he made a vague sound of agreement.

"I can see you're not listening. Fine, whatever, let's just go-" Pride's words were interrupted as a man slammed into the ground where they had been standing with all the force of a crashing meteor.

Lindon, covered in the pale blue nimbus of the Soul Cloak, slipped out of the way of the impact but still felt the force of it buffet against him on both a physical and spiritual level. Pride had his forearms crossed in front of him and dark lines crept up across his skin as he faced the attacker.

The man in front of them was tall and broad, built like a boulder, and wore the gray mask of an Abyssal Palace High Priest. His right hand was clenched into a fist and covered in bits of rock and dirt from where it had hit the ground-the air around him a blurry haze of force and stone madra. Held in the cultist's left hand was a long silver-plated warhammer that should have been carried in both hands, but was instead easily carried in just one. Lindon recognized the material; it was half-silver. The mountain of a man rose to his full height, towering over even Lindon, and he stretched and cracked his neck idly. "Akura." The man spoke in a low, gravelly voice that nonetheless carried like a crashing stone. "Prepare yourselves."

[You might wanna dodge that.] In a burst of speed that belied his size, the man was in front of Lindon, swinging his half-silver warhammer down on his head. It was only thanks to Dross' warning and the power of the Soul Cloak that enabled him to sidestep the blow. His dark hair, longer than usual after weeks in Sky's Edge, fluttered across his eyes from the gust of wind the hammer strike kicked up. Yerin has the right idea, Lindon thought as he brushed his hair out of his eyes, I need a haircut. [You should put your attention on more immediate matters. Although I suppose you won't need a haircut if you're missing a head.] Where the cultist's hammer struck the earth was a ten foot wide crater. The ground seemed to shudder as if the blow had come from the Wandering Titan itself. It was then that the High Priest unveiled his full power and Lindon immediately began to cycle blackflame. Overlord.

"We should fall back! This isn't part of the mission." Pride yelled at him, a weave of multiple enforcer techniques raging across his muscular body.

"You're not going anywhere, Akura." The Overlord shot towards Pride, intent on crushing the teen under the weight of his hammer. Lindon fired a bar of blackflame as thick as his fist and the Overlord diverted his weapon, instead bringing the silver-plated head of the hammer to block Lindon's attack. The blackflame splashed against the half-silver like water against a boulder. A fist covered in stone and force madra slammed into Pride's chest and rocketed him back across the open field. Pride crashed into the remnant of a dreadbeast and dissolved it with the impact of his flying body.

How long for a plan Dross? [Almost there. We've seen enough Abyssal Cultists that I can model them in a flash. This one is Overlord though, so just draw out a few more of his techniques and I'll be all set.] Dross then added as an afterthought, [Oh and try not to die. Imagine how horrible it would be to take a hit from that hammer! It'd crush your madra channels but you would be more worried about your bones being reduced to powder and your flesh to jelly.] I'll try to keep that in mind, Lindon thought dryly.

He dashed towards the man with the force of the Burning Cloak. A single arm blocked his enforced blow and the Overlord hardly budged. Lindon looked into the man's eyes-they were dark brown and completely devoid of emotion. He sensed more than saw the blur of the warhammer and leapt up into the air, avoiding the force that created a crater around the impact area.

Pride ran up behind the cultist. He looked a little battered, but the purple bloodline armor of the Akura clan flared around him and allowed him to shake off the hit he had taken. Pride ducked under a hammer swing and punched at the man's chest. A wall of stone rose up from the ground and shattered under the power of Pride's enforcer techniques but did their job in sapping the strength of the blow.

Lindon fell back down, firing a stream of Dragon's Breath into the Overlord's back. The Abyssal Cultist roared as the blackflame seared through a sliver of his right shoulder and he slammed his fist into the ground along with an overwhelming wave of madra and soulfire. Immediately Pride and him were knocked back by a wall of pure force. Even through the power of the Burning Cloak, Lindon could feel his ribs aching with hairline fractures.

Lindon switched to his pure core and the clarity of the Soul Cloak enabled him to land on his feet, ready to intercept any follow-up attack. [And we're done! Good job Lindon, you managed to not end up as a bloody stain on the ground. Grab Pride, it'll be easier with him around.] That was easier said than done as an Overlord was standing in between him and the Akura. Scratch that, the Overlord was rushing at him. Lindon wisped his own soulfire into the cloak and with the aid of Dross managed to acrobatically dodge past the man's strike and end up next to a kneeling Pride.

Akura Pride quickly got back on his feet and frowned at Lindon. "We should retreat. There's no reason to stick around and the longer we wait the more Dreadgod Cultists might show up." Pride was often the type to rush into enemies headfirst, so he had to be truly concerned if he was advocating retreat. Lindon, however, disagreed. There were bigger priorities than their mere health and safety.

"We can take him. I have a plan, just follow my lead." He said confidently, cycling blackflame. The burning cloak settled around Lindon in a black and dark-red haze and his eyes gained a similar color.

Pride's mouth fell open slightly and he looked at Lindon like he was crazy. "He's an overlord!"

Lindon gave Pride a wide, feral grin. "Exactly. Think of the points." Lindon left a crater on the ground where he kicked off, moving towards the Overlord like a surging dragon.

The High Priest raised his hammer to meet Lindon, madra swirling around the hammerhead in a Striker technique that was sure to turn Lindon into a fine, bloody mist.

It didn't matter. Dross' plan settled into Lindon's mind and suddenly everything was so simple. An overlay of the Overlord moved to throw the warhammer at him and Lindon knew that the earth would rumble and tear itself up around the flying weapon, leaving a path of total devastation. He dodged out of the way before the technique was even fully formed, reacting faster than any Underlord had a right to. The ground tore up in a six-foot wide trench behind the hammer and thankfully Pride hadn't been stupid enough to follow directly after Lindon, instead coming around from the side.

Lindon kept his momentum up, leaping away from the ground and charging at the weapon-less Overlord. The man met him with a punch that would surely shatter his arms like glass but then Dross fed him a vision of Lindon existing just slightly to the right of where he actually was and the blow flew harmlessly past Lindon's head. The Overlord received an enforced strike right to the chest that made him gasp and stumble. Lindon had physical strength beyond any ordinary Underlord, courtesy of Ghostwater.

A leg swung in a roar of earth madra to knock Lindon over but then Pride was there. Pride's hit knocked the off-balance Overlord down to the ground and shadows erupted around him as he rained blow after blow down on the man. The cultist's spirit exploded outwards, dispersing Dross' disorienting visions and preparing to knock Lindon and Pride away once more. An empty palm slammed into the Overlord's chest. The building madra vanished like dust in the breeze. Then Lindon's remnant arm was closed around the man's neck and he consumed.

Pride shot him an exasperated look. "Really?"

He just kept feasting.

A few moments later the Overlord was unconscious and Lindon was feeling pretty good, happily twirling the defeated cultist's mask in his hand, when Pride looked at him reproachfully.

"You need to learn when not to fight." The Akura teen reprimanded him as if he wasn't Lindon's junior in both age and height-significantly so for the latter.

"You're the one to tell me this?" He responded. Pride shook his head, like a disappointed parent whose child just didn't understand.

"It's not always about you or your ego. There are people counting on you-people who would mourn your loss."

Lindon gaped, open-mouthed, at the boy. [Who is this and what has he done with Pride?] Dross commented in his head.

Pride stared up at him, his fists clenched, a determined set to his jaw, and a resolute look in his eyes. "How could I face Mercy if I let you die out here?"

[There he goes again]. Lindon was lost for words, he didn't think Pride cared this much-in fact he was under the impression that Pride still hated him. To think that he was this important to the boy. What had he done to earn it? Finally he brought an awkward hand down on Pride's shoulder, clapping him in what was supposed to be a friendly gesture. He didn't think he succeeded, judging by the growing scowl on Pride's face, but he gave his thanks anyway.

"Gratitude, Pride. I'm honored to have you fighting by my side." He smiled at Pride and tried to lighten the mood. "And don't worry, we're kind of in the same boat right? The way Mercy feels about me is just the way your Aunt Charity feels about you-I'll keep you safe."

Pride gave him a horrified, disgusted look and recoiled away. Streams of shadow madra trailed behind him as he moved away from Lindon as quickly as he could.

Did I say something wrong? Lindon wondered, genuinely confused.