I slashed at his armor with the flaming Sundered Heart Sword and sliced away still more of the protective plates. Wherever the flesh was exposed, I stabbed with the freezing prongs of the Depthless Dream. But his flesh became obsidian again, and my weapons slid off. I was leaving scratches and nicks, starting to wear away at him, but none of it was working as a killing tool.
Targin roared and released a Sandstorm burst that tore at what remained of my Frozen Armor. He charged at me, club swinging. His attacks were becoming ever heavier and crazier as he tried to smash me to a pulp. I kept dodging and weaving out of the way, but despite his chaotic approach, some of them came perilously close to leaving me as a red smear across the walls.
Each time he missed me, he instead hit a shelf, a wall, or a pile of crates. Splinters flew as the upstart lord turned the abandoned home into a ruin. He became red-faced and sweaty with exertion as he destroyed what should have been part of his realm.
If I couldn’t slice or stab him, perhaps there was another way. I channeled the power of acid, but instead of making a cloud, I focused the energy until it was no larger than a tennis ball. I shot the glowing green sphere toward Targin, and it splattered over his face before he could use a Sandstorm to dispel it. His skin blistered and peeled as the acidic substance broiled his face.
Targin gritted his teeth and let out an anguished growl. His face went black as he channeled Stoneskin once more, turning his head into a strange sculpture of corrupted obsidian. It was only there for a second before it withdrew, but his technique had rid his face of my concentrated acid.
He charged at me again, swinging his club with wild abandon. Just as I’d done before, I ducked and weaved out of the way of the blows, concentrating on keeping myself alive while my opponent wore himself out. Whenever I had the chance, I darted in to hit a weak point in his armor and cut a bit more of it away, or lunged at a section of exposed flesh, forcing him to use up Vigor on a section of Stoneskin. He battered away relentlessly, destroying the room around us, and nothing I did seemed to cause him the least pain or distraction. He had become berserk, his whole being consumed with the desire to destroy.
There was only so much space in the room to work with. I found myself backed into a corner with Targin’s club still swinging wildly in front of me. As he brought it up for another blow, I jabbed with the Depthless Dream and caught the hilt of his weapon between the trident’s prongs. Before Targin could pull free, I sliced with the Sundered Heart. Metal melted, and wood burned as the flaming sword flashed through, and Targin was left holding two halves of a broken club.
Cursing, Targin flung the pieces aside. He raised his hands and channeled the power of Stoneskin once more, turning his fists into obsidian weapons.
He punched me, double-fisted, in the chest. It was like being hit by a MAC truck. The force of the blow shattered my Frozen Armor and flung me back, not just into the wooden wall of the pagoda but through it, finishing off planks already weakened by Targin’s furious attacks. The world rushed past in a mass of splinters, and I hit the ground, landing on something softer than expected.
I groaned, rolled over, and looked at where I’d landed. A fat Hyng’ohr soldier lay on the ground, knocked flat by my arrival. He seemed to be out cold.
I shook my head as I tried to rid myself of a wave of dizziness and nausea. When I looked up, Targin was standing in the gap he’d created with my body, staring down. A mad gleam flashed in his eyes as he raised his obsidian fists and jumped into the air.
The upstart Lord of the Gonki hurtled toward me. I flung myself clear, and he hit the ground, fists down. A massive Ground Strike ran out from him in every direction, flinging all the combatants in the area from their feet. The pagoda trembled as the shock wave hit, then creaked alarmingly. The upright post at one corner splintered, and the building came crashing down.
Targin bared his teeth and stared at me, spittle flecking his lips. He raised his fists again.
Short on Vigor, I called upon the element that was strongest around me, hoping that would give me enough of a boost to be effective. The air became a whirling fury as I flung a Sandstorm at Targin. It knocked him from his feet, and he fell flat in the sand.
This was it, the chance I so desperately needed. My whole body trembled, and my nerves tingled with pain as I squeezed the last of the Vigor from me. As Targin started to rise, the sand beneath him became a pool of Mud Entrapment. His legs sank into it, first ankle deep, then knee deep, as I pulled the effect of the technique into a single, focused point beneath him.
Targin cursed and tried to pull his right leg free. All that did was put more pressure on his left leg, which sank deeper into the ooze.
I got to my feet and walked unsteadily over to him, sword in hand. The fire had died from the blade, and now, it was just cold, sharp steel. Sometimes, cold, sharp steel was all you needed.
I thought about all the people Targin had hurt, about those who had died at his hands or his orders. I thought about Choshi, lying sprawled on the sand,
