Weapons and suits of armor gilded the walls around a stone floor covered in scorched carpet. Arrow slits let in the last of the afternoon sun as I gave my surroundings a once-over and found Hamon against the opposite wall. The smell of ashes and burned human flesh assailed my senses as I hefted my warhammer.
Hamon pulled himself gingerly to his feet. Flames curled away from his skin, revealing something almost human underneath. He wore a suit of steel armor, elaborately gilded. His cold eyes studied me with that same detached expression that I’d seen seconds before.
I drew upon my Vigor again, and the Demure Rebirth shone with raw power as I prepared to encase the bastard in glass.
“Yes,” Nydarth moaned. “End him, Master. See justice done.”
“He’s not attacking us,” Choshi pointed out nervously. “Do we have to kill him?”
I slowed my step. Choshi was right. Hamon’s power had grown since we’d last fought, but it had been more than a year since then, and the Wysaro heir hadn’t even lifted his hand against me. His eyes fixed on mine, and he tilted his head again.
“Ethan Murphy Lo Pashat,” he said. “Have you come to kill me?”
“I’m still making up my mind,” I told him coldly. “Where’s Jiven?”
“If I knew, I wouldn’t be here talking to you,” Hamon replied. “Why have you come?”
“Flametongue Valley is under attack,” I said. “Your cousin, Cinder, called for me. She said Wysaro Castle was overrun by demons. I’m guessing you were part of it.”
“This is my home,” Hamon said slowly. “I would never bring ruin to my family’s ancestral fortress, or consort with twisted creatures.” He inclined his head and clasped his hands in the traditional sign of surrender. “You may hate me, Swordslinger, and you have every reason to. But I mean you no harm.”
I lowered the Demure Rebirth. My history with Hamon had taught me that he was prideful, arrogant, and believed in the supremacy of his clan above all else. But his father had overloaded his pathways, changed him into a fire elemental, and Xilarion had imprisoned him in an elemental cell to stop his body from disintegrating. Obviously, he’d broken free of that cell, as to how or why, I didn’t know.
“I’ll hear you out,” I said. “You’ve got 30 seconds.”
“Then I shall make it brief. The rumors you’ve heard were correct. Guildmaster Xilarion imprisoned me to halt the fire burning away my body. I spent months in seclusion, curing myself of my rage, until Cinder asked that I be moved here for safety.”
“The last time we fought, you were trying to kill me and my friends. And you were right alongside your father in trying to take over the guild. So, don’t take it personally when I say that I think you’re full of shit.”
“Look at me, Swordslinger,” Hamon said.
He lifted a flaming hand. Every inch of him burned with orange flame, and tiny cinders danced away from his skin as he closed his fingers into a fist and lowered it to his side. The steel armor glowed a deep cherry-red at the sheer heat of his body, but it didn’t buckle or melt. His body, however, was completely changed. His pathways had consumed him, and whatever was left of Hamon’s old body was gone now.
“Do you think I wanted this?” Hamon asked quietly.
“You sure as hell didn’t complain when it happened to you at first.”
“It gave me power, yes, but it wasn’t enough to defeat you. I was simply a tool to my father. A weapon to be used and thrown away. Guildmaster Xilarion preserved my life, and in my meditations, I learned to control my passion. And I found a new purpose.”
“I’m gonna guess it doesn’t have anything to do with cooking marshmallows.”
Hamon shook his head. “Revenge, Ethan. My father will die for what he did to Clan Wysaro. He stained us with his own dishonor, then fled rather than face true justice.”
“Whatever your past may be,” Yono whispered, “your goals align. You only see an enemy, Master, but the tides of fate may very well have pushed you toward an alliance.”
“He must die,” Nydarth insisted. “His very existence is a threat to you, Master.”
“Not with Master’s new power,” Choshi said. “Not anymore.”
I pushed the voices of the Immense Blades into the back of my mind. Hamon’s sheer destructive potential wasn’t to be sneezed at. He’d just vaporized an entire contingent of guards. Another Augmenter by my side meant more power at my disposal. Even if I hated Hamon’s guts, I couldn’t deny his potential as an ally.
The clash of weapons and shouted orders echoed off the castle walls and seeped in through one of the arrow slits of the tower.
“Suppose I believe you,” I said. “How did you escape from Xilarion’s cage?”
“One with wisdom released me from it, not a few minutes ago,” Hamon said.
A thought clicked together in my head. “Bald, beard? Red robes?”
Hamon nodded. “Do you know him?”
“I know their type,” I said.
So, the monk in Danibo Forest wasn’t just an outlier, as Tymo had wanted me to believe. At least one of the missing monks was right here in the castle. And unless I missed my guess, he was responsible for the demons that Cinder had spoken of. But why had this monk freed Hamon? Was it to reign destruction upon the castle? Or was this some elaborate ploy for my own destruction?
Hamon caught my attention with his soft, steely tone.
“Traitors now seek my end,” he said. “If Cinder did indeed send for you, then I will not allow bad blood to stand between us. The past is but a handful of ashes. Will you put it aside and stand with me?”
“I never thought I’d see the day when you ask me for help,” I said. “I don’t like you, Wysaro, and the second you look like you’re about to turn on me, I’ll make you wish that Xilarion never saved your life.”
Hamon inclined
