Pure Talent

As he walked deeper into the corridor, a voice stopped him.

“Stop right there.”

Harshal let out a calm breath and turned, wearing a cheerful face. “Hey, buddy. How are you?”

A man stood before him in the same black suit, a hammer bigger than himself resting in his grip. The head was pitted with rust, the handle wrapped in strips of cloth gone dark with old sweat.

“So you’re still using that same old rusty hammer,” Harshal said.

“Yeah, I am. And I see you’ve changed the color pattern a bit.”

“Had to. Can’t be identified. Same as you, right?”

“Sure. And the boss missed you.”

“She did? Aah, so she still hasn’t moved on.”

“No. She didn’t.”

“So what are you waiting for? You know I killed every member of this branch. You have to stop me.”

“I know. But I don’t want to attack you. I was thinking I could join you. But if the superiors found out and killed you, they’d put a bounty on me.”

“Then just fight. I’ll let you live.”

“Okay. If you’re asking for it, I won’t hold back.”

“Neither will I.”

The man’s boots scraped the floor as he charged, dragging the hammer low behind him before heaving it up in a wide, horizontal arc. Harshal bent his knees, jumped, and tucked into a flip. The hammer tore through the air beneath him, and he landed lightly on its head, the force of the swing carrying them both forward a step.

“Still the same old tricks,” the man said.

Harshal drew his sword in one smooth pull and slashed as he leapt off, the blade opening the man’s side from ribs to hip. He landed a few steps past him and flicked the blood from the steel. The man staggered and dropped to one knee, one hand pressed against the wound, the other still locked around the hammer.

“So, are you finished?” Harshal asked.

“Not that easily.”

He pushed himself up, blood running down his leg. Then he blurred across the floor and was behind Harshal in an instant, the hammer coming down overhead. Harshal threw himself onto his back and caught it on the flat of his sword, both hands gripping the hilt, arms shaking as the hammer head hung inches from his face and rust flakes fell onto his cheek.

“Not so rusty after all,” he said.

He drove his boot into the man’s stomach. The man folded around it and stumbled back, wheezing. Harshal planted the sword’s point against the floor and hauled himself up, one knee still trembling.

“I’m a little dizzy.”

They turned to face each other.

“Like I care,” the man said.

Both ran at once. Sword and hammer met in the middle of the corridor with a crack that shook dust from the ceiling. Dark sparks burst from the impact and curled off the metal like black embers, each man leaning his full weight into his weapon, boots sliding back across the floor.

“So you’ve mastered the dark energy,” the man said.

“I have. But I still need something to channel it.”

“And what are those earth and lightning symbols on your hand?”

“Ooh, nothing. I can just control them.”

The symbols on Harshal’s free hand flared. A chunk of broken floor tore loose and shot forward, slamming into the man’s chest. He grunted, then caught the next fragment in his palm and crushed it to dust, which trickled between his fingers. Harshal lowered his sword. Behind him, stone ripped free from the walls and floor, rising until a dozen huge rocks hung in the air.

“So you have some new powers,” the man said.

Without so much as a gesture, Harshal hurled them all. The man raised the hammer and met them head-on, swinging low and high, shattering one rock after another. Fragments sprayed against the walls. A rock caught his shoulder, another his ribs, but he kept advancing until the last stone burst apart against the hammer’s face.

He stood there, chest heaving, blood dripping from his chin onto the broken stone.

“You know, I can never understand it,” Harshal said. “Even with my weapons and powers, I can’t put you down easily.”

“Pure talent, buddy. Just pure talent.”

“And that hammer?”

“This hammer? I’ve just practiced with it for eternity. You know my strength and skill match yours, and my potential surpasses yours.”

“I agree.”

Harshal crossed the distance in three strides and thrust his sword forward, lightning crawling along the blade with a hiss. The man braced the hammer’s handle across his body and stopped the point against it, the two of them locked, white arcs snapping across the rusted iron.

“See? Told you.”

The lightning exploded outward, and the hammer flew from his hands, spinning end over end down the corridor.

“Told you what?” Harshal said, the sword raised high above his head.

The man lunged inside his guard, caught him by the collar and belt, and heaved him across the corridor. Harshal hit the floor and slid into a heap of dead bodies, their swords scattering around him.

“Throwing me into a pile of corpses and swords,” he said. “Was this your great plan?”

“No. Actually, I know you won’t be able to use your powers with those mortal swords. Even if they’re legendary.”

“Got me.” Harshal pushed himself to his feet.

The man was already running toward his hammer.