Paragon of Destruction

When Arran Sensed the large cavern ahead, he came to an immediate halt.

While the creatures in the cavern were diggers, many were far larger than any of the ones he had encountered so far.

Within the mines, even the largest diggers were no more than eight feet from head to tail. But in the cavern, some of the creatures he Sensed were easily five times that size, if not larger.

Arran did not need to guess why he'd seen none of the larger creatures within the mines. There was no way they'd possibly fit through the narrow tunnel that connected the cavern to the mines.

And it was equally easy to see why, centuries earlier, the Darian soldiers had struggled to find the source of their problem. Dark and filled with cracks and crevices as the mines were, Body Refiners without Arran's Sense would have taken the tunnel for a dark corner even if they'd walked right past it.

Yet while they fought and killed the diggers, more would enter the mines through the tunnel. And against those endless numbers, soldiers would not stand a chance.

That only left the question of what had happened to the Knight. But here, too, Arran thought he knew the answer.

Within the large cavern that lay a quarter mile ahead of him, he could Sense several pieces of starmetal, shaped like weapons and armor. If these had belonged to the Knight, as he expected, it meant his predecessor had fallen within the cavern.

That the creatures had the strength to defeat a Knight did not surprise him.

While he could not imagine even the larger diggers to be a threat individually, the sound of battle would immediately attract every single one of the creatures the cavern held.

Though the Knight had doubtless been powerful, that was a fight no ordinary fighter could have won. Each wound the Knight sustained would have slowed and weakened him, and with thousands of opponents, it would only have been a matter of time before he was overwhelmed.

Yet the thought of this did not deter Arran from continuing onward.

While he was unsure whether he could match a Knight in pure strength or skill, he had an advantage that gave him far greater chances — one that the dead Knight had lacked.

Arran's blood held the blood-imbued Dragon's Ruin. And while large numbers of weak enemies might be a threat to warriors far stronger than Arran, they posed no threat whatsoever to him. Rather, their deaths would fuel his strength and heal his wounds, and the more there were, the stronger the effect would be.

And with thousands of diggers in the cavern, there would be no lack of fuel for Arran's fury.

The only way his advantage could have been greater was if the diggers relied on sight rather than sound. Had that been the case, his Shadowcloak would have stopped them from even knowing what was killing them.

But the Dragon's Ruin alone was enough for Arran to be confident in his chances. Even if the larger creatures were stronger than he expected, killing the smaller ones would provide him with the strength to slay the others.

He briefly considered how he would approach the cavern — whether he would attempt to sneak in silently and remain hidden for as long as he could, or whether he would charge in with his sword drawn, unleashing a massacre from the moment he stepped inside.

The decision was a quick one. In the battle ahead, chaos and bloodshed would only help him. And besides — he'd spent far too long without being able to use all his power.

As Arran advanced through the final part of the tunnel, he could feel his sword's desire for battle.

Whether this was because it longed for bloodshed or because it could feel Arran's own eagerness, he did not know, nor did it matter — whatever the case, both the sword and its owner approached the cavern with an almost fiendish desire for battle.

Arran emerged from the tunnel without stealth or subterfuge, and almost immediately, his approach drew the attention of a dozen nearby diggers.

The first of these died in an instant, Arran's blade cleaving through its skull before it even had a chance to attack. And while the others had a moment before Arran fell upon them, it did not matter in the slightest.

Neither the creatures' steel-like skin nor the pale flesh beneath it so much as slowed his blade as he cut them down, for once using all the strength his body held.

A dozen diggers died in as many seconds, and as the life fled their writhing bodies, Arran could feel a trickle of strength entering him.

There was no time for him to savor the feeling, however, as the racket had drawn the attention of other nearby groups of diggers. And already, hundreds more were scrambling toward him, the muffled sound of their movement echoing through the cavern.

Arran met the creatures with a wicked smile and an eager blade. Too much time had passed since he'd last used his full strength. Now that he had the chance, he would not hold back in the slightest.

The creatures attacked him with a vicious hunger, their sharp jaws snapping at him as they tried to devour him. Yet instead of the prey they hoped for, they found only death, Arran's blade tearing through their bodies with a viciousness they could not hope to match.

The trickle of strength Arran had felt earlier soon swelled to a stream, and then a river. And as his strength grew, so did his joyous fury.

Wherever he went, he left only death in his wake. And if he'd been powerful even when he stepped into the cavern, now, he controlled an irresistible might, the power at his command far beyond anything he normally possessed.

It wasn't long before the larger monsters began to attack him, but they, too, had no chance of withstanding his power. While they might match Rangers in single battle, Arran's power had grown far beyond that level. And with each enemy he slew, his strength grew further.

The feeling was not unlike what he'd experienced years earlier, when uncontrolled Blood magic had coursed through his veins.

Yet now, even while his body was trembling with power, his mind did not falter. However much strength the blood-infused Dragon's Ruin gave him, it remained his to control.

Still, even without Blood magic clouding his mind, the feeling of power filled him with excitement. It was enough power to give him the confidence to face even dragons, and against the diggers, it felt as if he was a god facing mortals.

Arran did not know how long the battle continued, nor did he care. He felt no weariness or pain as he fought the monsters. Any wounds he received healed in moments, and as the hours passed, the creatures' deaths filled him with strength and energy.

Had there been enough enemies, he had no doubt he'd eventually have reached the strength to face even gods.

But although the creatures were many, their numbers weren't endless. And eventually, after hours and hours of battle, the creatures' numbers were beginning to grow thinner.

The cavern's floor had long filled with corpses, and the sounds of slaughter had drawn diggers from even the furthest corners of the cave. Now, all that remained were a few hundred of the creatures, and many of those were focused on devouring their companions' dead bodies instead of fighting Arran.

But suddenly, a thunderous sound came from the far end of the cavern, and Arran was briefly stunned when he realized part of the cavern's wall had collapsed.

Yet before he had a chance to even worry about the entire cavern collapsing, similar sounds came from two more places.

It took only a moment before Arran realized what had happened. It wasn't that the cavern was collapsing. Rather, three giant diggers had broken through the walls of the cavern, and all three of the creatures were now moving toward him.

In an instant, Arran knew that these creatures were nothing like the diggers he'd faced so far. Rather than being dozens of feet tall, these were hundreds of feet tall — the size of small dragons.

But that wasn't all. He realized at once that they were more intelligent than the ones that now lay dead on the cavern's rock floor. Rather than being distracted by the other creatures' corpses, they moved straight toward Arran, intent clear in their movements.

Under any other circumstance, Arran would have fled at once. These creatures were far beyond anything he could normally defeat.

Yet as the creatures advanced toward him, his body was still filled with the strength of the thousands of lives he'd taken. And now, it seemed, he'd finally found worthy opponents for that strength.

A small smile crossed Arran's lips as he looked at the towering beasts before him. And then, sword in hand, he rushed toward them.