“It would have made it simpler,” I muttered.
A pregnant silence reigned as we read each other’s body language. I could feel the Vigor of the hall crackling just outside my pathways. If I moved fast, I could do my damn best to obliterate him in one strike. But Tymo's position in the monastery hadn’t come from group consensus. The relaxed posture, the scars, and the knowing look in his eyes were evidence enough that he’d been here a thousand times before, and he’d triumphed against his enemies again and again.
I slowed my breathing, and Tymo spoke for the first time.
“Why have you returned, Swordslinger?” he asked softly. His voice carried effortlessly through the hall. “I told you that if you left the monastery, you would not be welcomed back.”
“Ultin wanted to be buried here,” I replied coldly. “I gave him my word.”
Tymo bowed his head respectfully to his fallen brother. “Then you have done us a service. What do you seek here, Swordslinger? You’ve evidently made up your mind about your Path.”
“I came for information,” I said calmly. “Jiven Wysaro was in Flametongue Valley, and he planned to unleash a tide of demons from the castle to ravage the countryside. And he used your people to do it. The only way he could have managed it was if he had a man on the inside.”
Tymo nodded. “You speak truly.”
“Every sign points to you. Ultin said you possessed an Orb, and you used it to bring the monastery back into Flametongue Valley. Then you gave it to a megalomaniac, corrupting some of your brothers along the way, and then kept us here to let him escape.”
The Archpriest nodded again. “Again, this is the truth.”
“Why?” I demanded. “You’re an ascetic devoted to the Wandering Path. A guardian of knowledge. Why the fuck would you take the side of someone like Jiven?”
“I owed a debt. Jiven and I swore an oath upon our Paths in a time of great need, a long time ago. He held up his end of the bargain. And I have held up mine.”
“Jiven used you,” I said. “And you let him do it.”
“Things are rarely as simple as they seem.”
“Where is he? What’s he planning?”
Tymo shook his head sadly. “I am bound upon my word not to speak of it, Swordslinger. Which brings us to an impasse. Because you will not rest until you have the truth. I see it written plainly on your face.”
“Where’s the Hierophant?” I asked.
“He meditates, and I will not allow you to disturb him.”
I shifted my grip on the Demure Rebirth. “Then we have a problem.”
“That we do, Swordslinger.” Tymo sighed. “That we do.”
My feet echoed hollowly through the hall as I moved forward. “If you’ve truly fulfilled your end of the bargain with Jiven, then we don’t need to fight. Tell me where he is.”
“Take another step, Swordslinger,” Tymo warned, “and you will force my hand.”
I paused mid-step and measured the distance between us with a glance.
“It’s like that?” I asked.
“Regretfully so,” Tymo said. “Please, Swordslinger. Turn and leave. If you have truly halted Jiven’s designs upon Flametongue Valley, then the day is won. Enjoy the triumph of victory. Continue to follow where the Wandering Path will take you.”
“It led me here. Jiven has to be stopped. He’s left the valley, and I’ve seen what he can do with the Orb. He could sow chaos throughout the entire Seven Realms. And I’m not about to let that happen.”
I took another step forward, and Tymo unclasped his hands from behind his back with another regretful sigh. Subtle haze drifted off his bare skin as he mirrored my stride and stepped away from the dais.
“I see your pursuit of justice means more to you than your life,” Tymo murmured. “And you do indeed stand alone on the precipice, Swordslinger, without your allies by your side. Just as I said you would.”
“I’m not alone,” I said, thinking of my Immense Blades. “I never am.”
Chapter Thirty
Tymo moved so fast, I barely had time to force an extra burst of strength into my Physical channels. He crossed the space between us in a single blurring step and slammed his palm into my chest. Stars swam behind my eyes, my feet left the ground, and my gut lurched as I soared backward through the air like a cannonball. The hall vanished as I shot outside. Flight curled around my feet, but I caught myself too late and crashed into the mountainside of the Vigorous Zone outside. Stone shattered around me, and a rumbling tremor shook the face of the peak.
“Ow,” I managed.
I shoved off the stone formation, dropped 10 feet through empty space, and slowed my descent with another burst of Flight. My feet found a rocky plateau, and I shook my head to clear away the probable concussion for a minute. A silver blaze of light barreled through the rain at me, and I lifted myself into the air to avoid it.
Tymo redirected his momentum and rose into the air to meet me. Silver threads of flame spun around his sandals as he hovered above the ground. I’d assumed he wasn’t capable of regular Augmenting, so the ability to fly was something he was doing by enhancing his body via Physical Augmenting.
He was a true master. And this fight might mean his death, because it certainly wouldn’t mean mine.
Tymo’s eyes narrowed as I lifted the Demure Rebirth and unleashed a Sandstorm at him. I added to the power of the technique with the wild Vigor of the Zone. A howling torrent of sand burst from the warhammer and crystallized into glass around his aura. Tymo shattered it with a simple punch and shook his head.
“You never finished your training,” he said. “Simple tricks like that won’t save you.”
He swooped through the air, almost faster than the eye could see, but I anticipated the move and swung the Demure Rebirth in a vicious uppercut. The hammer connected with him mid-flight and sent the Archpriest
