Then, Targin got lucky. A section of fallen tapestry slipped away beneath my foot, and I slid down to one knee. Thrown off balance, I wasn’t able to block his next attack. His club hit me in the shoulder, and my armor shattered, sending chunks of ice flying.
I knocked his club aside and pushed back up to my feet. He had a way through my armor. I needed a way through his, and I thought I had one.
With a deep breath, I called forth all the Vigor I could and channeled it into the Sundered Heart Sword. Fire flared from the blade, brighter than I’d ever seen it before. Just the flash of the flame was enough to distract Targin, and I lunged with the Depthless Dream. He moved to counter it a little too slowly, while I swung in with the Sundered Heart from the other side.
The blazing hot blade hit the armor on Targin’s left arm. There was an angry hiss as the heat melted through the steel. Chunks of armor fell away, revealing his bare arm.
Targin roared in fury and brought his club around in a wild arc. I stepped nimbly around it and brought the Sundered Heart in again. This time, I cut away a chunk of leg armor. The next stroke left his belly exposed as pieces of red-hot metal fell to the ground, followed by molten drops.
At last, my opponent was exposed—the man who had ruined this land, who had threatened my friends, who had killed Choshi. I was going to make the fucker pay.
I parried a low swing from his club, knocked it aside, and stabbed with the Depthless Dream.
But the trident hit Targin’s belly with a clang. Instead of driving deep into his flesh, it had met resistance.
I drew the weapon back and saw that Targin’s skin had turned black as night. It was the same on the exposed flesh of his arm and leg, though his face remained flesh.
“Stoneskin technique,” Targin said, grinning smugly. “A special variation the cult has developed. But I doubt you even have the basic technique yet.”
I slammed the trident in again, and then the sword. Vigor poured down both as I used their magic to try to break through Targin’s technique. But my weapons bounced off the Stoneskin without leaving so much as a scratch.
Targin took a step back, laughing maniacally. I flung myself forward, determined to tear him in half. But Targin raised his hands, and a Sandstorm grabbed hold of me and lifted me up. I had just enough time to press an arm across my face before it flung me against the ceiling. The floorboards gave way, and I burst through, then crashed down in a rain of sand on the next floor up.
This dusty room had once been used for storage. There were shelves all around the walls, with the dried-up husks of old food on them. Boxes were piled in one corner and amphorae in another. I had landed on a heap of disintegrating sheets, blankets, and furs.
Targin appeared up a set of stairs in the far corner of the room. He had let his obsidian Stoneskin lapse, again revealing bare flesh between his ruined armor and torn clothes. Given that I was still fighting, that had to mean that the technique used up a lot of Vigor to maintain, and Targin was saving it for later. That was something, at least, an opportunity I might find a chance to exploit.
“I always knew I could do more with this land than Ganyir,” Targin said as he stalked toward me. “He simply wanted to maintain the status quo, to keep us what we have become: second-rate servants to a distant emperor, the forgotten remnants of a clan whose legions once made the world tremble. But I was sure that we could be something more. We could be the province that the world revolves around, the powerhouse at the heart of an empire. And now, thanks to you, that’s going to happen.”
I dragged myself to my feet and raised my weapons. Targin kept advancing, slowly but certainly, betraying his complete confidence in the outcome of our fight.
“I’m going to destroy the pathetic Swordslinger and take your spirit weapons. With their power, and with the Granite Legions revived, I will stride forth across this empire, the all-powerful head of a mighty army. I will conquer every province on the continent and make the world remember why they once feared and respected the mighty Gonki.”
I rolled my eyes at the all-too-familiar speech. “You’re insane. Puffed up with delusions of grandeur.”
“You call this a delusion?” Targin flung out his hand, and another Sandstorm raged momentarily around us, then vanished as suddenly as it had arrived. “I am already the Lord of the Gonki. The power of the Earth Core flows through me and my followers. This is true grandeur, such as the world can only imagine.”
“Do you really think that Saruqin is going to let you have your way? That after going to all this effort to make a safe space for his cult, he’s going to let you blow it on dreams of conquest? He’s already made one false clan lord, he can easily make another. The moment you step out of line, he’ll cast you aside, just like you cast aside your brother.”
“You know nothing!” Targin bellowed furiously. “This world will be mine!”
He charged at me, swinging wildly with his club. I whirled aside, and it shattered a set of shelves.
I backed off across the room, weapons raised. Targin whirled around, snarled, and rushed at me once more. I sent an Ash Cloud around his head, followed by an acrid-smelling Acidic Cloud. He dispelled both with a roaring Sandstorm, the flecks of sand carrying away my techniques as if they were nothing.
I launched a
