At my other side, there was a thud as Kegohr leapt from the stands. He swung his mace in huge arcs and scattered enemies like bowling pins while roaring at the top of his voice.
“Good of you to join us,” Vesma greeted him.
“You two can’t be having all the fun.” Kegohr started to glow a bright red as Spirit of the Wildfire ignited his veins. He grabbed a ninja’s head in a single hand, slammed him onto the ground, and used his mace to crush the enemy’s rib cage.
As we continued fighting, other initiates gathered around us. Some jumped down from the stands with the weapons they had brought for the tournament. Servants and guards emerged from the guildhouse with an assortment of tools, all ready to give their lives for Radiant Dragon.
Veltai grinned wildly as she punched, kicked, and swung her nunchucks. To the other side, Yo Hin stood on the front row of the stands as he flung fireballs into the rear ranks of attackers.
Not everyone took our side. Some initiates, mostly friends of Hamon, chose clan over guild when they lined up with the Wysaro. I didn’t blame them, but neither would I show them mercy if we met. They had made their choice.
All hell had broken loose in the arena. Everywhere I looked, people were fighting. Fire flared and blades flashed as the guild members fought for their lives. What we lacked in numbers, we made up for in skill and determination.
Pillars and walls of flame materialized throughout the arena as the masters showcased their abilities perfected through decades of practice. Disciples stood in ordered ranks or tackled enemies in deadly duels, using years of experience to their advantage.
I had lost track of Xilarion, but I saw Rutmonlir roaring with laughter as he attacked clan members with a torn up plank seat. Splinters flew from his improvised club as he dealt death to the guild’s enemies. On his shoulders perched old Master Kyu, her glasses smudged with soot as she sent out a flash of fire with each snap of her fingers.
War had come to the Radiant Dragon Guild, and it turned out that our ex-general had built himself a fine army.
I parried an attack from a fire-infused halberd, stepped inside the wielder’s reach, and punched him in the face with my Flame Shield. As he staggered back, I kicked his legs out from under him and drove my sword into his chest. I gave the blade a quick twist before I pulled it from his corpse.
Turning to face my next opponent, I looked up at the stands. Yo Hin frantically threw fire as he backed away along the front row. Hamon was advancing toward him, swords raised and a mad grin on his face. As Hamon grew close, Yo Hin closed his eyes. The fire flowed from him, and he started to rise before drifting into the air.
Hamon lunged, and his sword swept around. The blade sank into Yo Hin’s side, and he fell with a heart-rending scream. The fire died as blood streamed from his wound.
My opponent must have noticed I was distracted, because he chose that moment to strike. I parried his attack in time, then cracked him with a headbutt. At point-blank range, I planted my left palm against his chest and summoned an Untamed Torch. Fire burst through my skin and left a sizzling crater in his stomach. His eyes widened, and he gasped for breath before he toppled over.
I called a Plank Pillar beneath my feet, and the wooden platform shot me into the air. I soared over the edge of the arena and landed on the benches. Hamon raised his sword to finish off Yo Hin, but I advanced toward him and shouted his name.
Hamon looked up, and his mad grin widened. He stepped over the bleeding Yo Hin and stared at me like a feral beast watching its prey.
“Of course,” he said. “Here comes the fucking hero, ready to rescue the weak and the freaks.”
“And here comes the arrogant bastard.” I stared with as much hate as he had shown me. “Ready to fuck over everyone but himself.”
Hamon snarled. A wave of fire rippled across his mouth and eyes. He had unleashed his raw Vigor. He would be stronger, faster, more furious, all at the price of throwing judgment to the wind. Could any magic more perfectly suit Hamon’s dark temper?
“This is no tournament,” he said. “There are no judges, no teachers, no masters forcing us to play nice. Now, I finally don’t have to hold back. I’m going to roast you alive.”
I took a deep breath and opened the channels within me. All the powers I possessed twined around each other as the Vigor sought release. Wood. Fire. Ash. All ready to do my bidding.
“You’re right.” I grinned at him. “No more holding back.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
I raised the Sundered Heart Sword and used it as a focus to help me channel my Vigor. The power of ash flowed through me, granting powers unknown to anyone else in the arena.
“Oh yes, sweet man,” Nydarth whispered in my head. “That’s more like it. Let the power flow through you. Unleash the real Ethan.”
“The real Ethan lives in Hackney,” I said. “He doesn’t even believe in magic. And I still wouldn’t be surprised to wake up and find out that he’s right.”
“You know better than that,” Nydarth said. “That was the old you. This is the real you now.”
“Then, I’d better get on with this, before the real me winds up dead.”
Hamon strode toward me, fire flickering from his eyes. His short, curved swords were engulfed in flames, turning them into deadly lances of fire, and a Flame Shield glowed on his arm. He was throwing everything into this fight, and if I wanted to win, I would have to do the same.
I raised my left hand and shot
