Paragon of Destruction

Atop the village wall, with his eyes fixed on the Blightspawn in the distance, Arran spent several hours going over his plan, scrutinizing every last detail of it.

Simple though the strategy he'd concocted was, he could not afford even the slightest oversight — and neither could his allies. If the plan failed, it would mean not just Arran's death, but the death of the mercenaries as well.

And so, with the burden of responsibility weighing upon his mind, he made certain to prepare for every single one of the many things that could go wrong.

When dusk approached, he knew it was time. He'd prepared as best he could, and all that remained now was to inform the captain.

As expected, he found Kaleesh in the temple, kneeling at the side of one of the wounded mercenaries.

A single glance told him the young man would not live to see the morning. His face was deathly pale and covered in sweat, and the bandage that covered his torso was soaked with fresh blood.

Worse, with every labored breath the young man took, there was a deep rattling sound, as unnatural as it was unsettling.

Arran was no healer, but at a guess, he thought it meant the mercenary's lungs were filling with blood. And so, he waited patiently as the captain softly spoke to the mercenary.

Whatever small comfort Kaleesh's words might offer the dying young man, he would not take that away.

The wait was a short one. After only a few minutes, the rattling sound suddenly became heavier, jagged and unsteady as the young mercenary's body struggled to take in air.

Then, the sound came to an end.

Kaleesh stood up and faced Arran, his expression somber. "Come with me," he said. "I have decided what we must do."

They left the temple silently, and as they stepped outside, Arran gave the captain a sideways glance. "I see you didn't take my advice."

"I couldn't rest," Kaleesh replied. "Not at a time like this. That boy…" He looked back at the temple, and when he continued, his voice trembled with anger. "He was stabbed below the arm, just above his armor. An inch lower and he would've been unharmed. But instead, he'll never leave this damned place."

Arran nodded silently. On the battlefield, even the slightest moment of bad luck could be a death sentence. But there was no point in lingering on that — not with the threat that lay outside the walls.

"You said you had a plan?"

"I do," Kaleesh replied. "The Blightspawn — they are too many for us to hold off. Even we withstand the first charge, more will follow. There is no way for us to win this battle."

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Arran asked. Though he had a plan of his own, he'd listen to the captain's, first.

"When darkness falls," the captain began, "you lead the troops away. I will remain behind with those too wounded to travel. I can't hold off the Blightspawn for long, but it should be enough for the rest of you to escape."

"You mean to sacrifice yourself." Arran gave the captain a flat stare, then shook his head. "It won't work. We wouldn't be able to outrun the Blightspawn. And even if I were willing to leave you behind, the troops would not follow me."

Kaleesh sighed, a resigned determination in his eyes. "There is no other way. We can't defeat these Blightspawn — you know that as well as I do. If you run, at least you will have a chance of escape."

"There is another way," Arran said. He glanced around to make sure none of the mercenaries were nearby, then continued in a lower voice, "I think I know how to defeat them."

The captain gave Arran a puzzled look, but understanding dawned in his eyes only a moment later. "You plan to use magic?" he whispered. "If the Darians catch you—"

"They won't," Arran interrupted him. "If there were any of them nearby with the power to notice it, we wouldn't be in this mess. And whatever the risk, it's better than your plan."

Kaleesh remained quiet for some time. Finally, his brow furrowed in a deep frown, he asked, "Are you sure it will work?"

"I'm not," Arran replied truthfully. "I'm confident that I can defeat the Blightspawn, but if there's a Reaver among them, I don't know how good my chances are."

That, of course, was the weakness in his plan. He knew far too little about Reavers. He understood that they were stronger than Blightspawn and that they could use magic, but beyond that, he had little to go on.

But then, the reverse was true as well. If there was a Reaver among the Blightspawn, the creature would not expect to face a mage, much less a mage like Arran.

"Your chances?" Kaleesh gave Arran a concerned look. "You mean to go alone? Against a small army?"

"It's the only way my plan will work," Arran said. "But if things go as I intend, they'll barely have a chance to fight back."

The captain seemed unconvinced. He looked at Arran uncomfortably, and said, "Over the years, I've witnessed many mages do battle, but I've never seen one who could take on a group like that."

Arran knew Kaleesh had good reason to be skeptical. While he himself knew several mages who were easily strong enough to defeat the group of Blightspawn singlehandedly, his own skill in magic was no match for theirs.

But he did not intend for the fight to be a fair one. What he intended was murder, not battle.

"You'll have to trust me," he said. "And even if I fail, their numbers will be thinned enough that you'll have a chance at escaping."

After a moment of silence, Kaleesh gave a reluctant nod. "I suppose you know your powers better than I do. But be careful. Should your plan fail, flee at once. Don't sacrifice your life for the rest of us."

Arran did not point out that Kaleesh had intended to make such a sacrifice himself only moments earlier. By now, he understood how much the man valued his allies, and he knew it was one of the reasons the captain inspired such loyalty in his troops.

Instead, he gave Kaleesh a reassuring smile. "I won't take any needless risks," he said. "But you should head back to the gate. After today's battle, the troops need you at their side."

The captain looked as if he was about to object, but after a moment's hesitation, he sighed, then gave a small nod. "If you think you can do this," he said, "then I will trust you. Be safe out there."

As Kaleesh made his way back to the gate, Arran sought out one of the empty buildings within the village, where he stored his giant starmetal within his void ring. Useful though the oversized weapon might be for massed battles, tonight, he needed something different.

Then, he raised a Shadowcloak.

Casting the spell was instant and effortless. Months of practicing the Forms with Shadow Essence had strengthened his mastery to the point that using it came as natural as raising his hand, and now, even a complex spell like Shadowcloak barely even required a thought.

The dense pool of Shadow Essence within his body made him a Master in name, but he was finally beginning to feel as if he'd become one in truth. A good thing, because he'd need every shred of that skill tonight.

Veiled in Shadow, crossing the wall and leaving the village was a simple matter. Within minutes, he was already halfway to the Blightspawn camp, unseen by allies and enemies alike.

Yet instead of moving onward and attacking immediately, he hid in a nearby thicket on the hillside that overlooked the assembled Blightspawn. And there, with his eyes fixed on his enemies, he waited for twilight to turn into night.

Atop the wall, his initial thought had been to attack the Blightspawn with only the protection of his Shadowcloak. Against human enemies, it should be enough — to attack unseen, striking from the shadows at enemies who had no way to defend themselves.

Yet he had not forgotten how Remnants could Sense even Shadow Essence, and as different as Blightspawn were from those creatures, he could not help but see a hint of similarity between the two.

Remnants were natural creatures that had absorbed Essence over the course of countless years, their bodies slowly transformed until nothing remained of their original forms.

Blightspawn, on the other hand, were humans who'd been forcefully infused with Essence, twisted into creatures that were no longer fully human.

Different though the two were, they had both had been shaped and changed by magic. And if the Blightspawn were magical creatures, then Arran feared they might be able to Sense Essence.

It was a small risk, but one he could not take. And so, he'd needed another plan.

He'd considered attacking the creatures' amulets rather than their bodies, as well. The seals within the amulets were strong, but not so strong that Arran could not break them. And if Lady Raina was right, breaking the seals would kill the Blightspawn.

But he'd quickly rejected that idea. While he could break the seals on the Blightspawn's amulets, doing so would be slow — far slower than striking the creatures down with his sword.

Likewise, he'd rejected the idea of using magical attacks. If the Blightspawn had been wrought through magic, then he could expect them to have at least some resistance to it.

Not to mention that his sword was a far deadlier tool than even his strongest magical attacks.

But as he considered his trouble in detecting the Blightspawn with his Sense, another thought had come to him — a plan that should render the Blightspawn completely helpless.

He waited patiently as the light of dusk faded and gave way to the darkness of night, all the while keeping his eyes fixed on the camp that held the Blightspawn.

Then, when the last light of the sun had disappeared completely and only dim stars remained in the sky, he stepped out of the thicket. And as he did, he used his Shadowsight.

After he emerged from the Shadow Realm, his sharpened Sense had meant there had been little reason to use it, and he'd almost forgotten about it. Yet when he realized the Blightspawn were hidden from his Sense, he'd considered using it again — and promptly realized it might have another use.

Where his Shadowsight normally used only a thin mist of Shadow Essence, this time he produced a massive cloud of thick fog, hundreds of paces across and dense enough that not even the brightest light could pierce it.

More than just the absence of light, it was an almost tangible blackness, nearly as thick as the oppressive darkness that had left him insensible when he first entered the Shadow Realm.

Even with the dense pool of Shadow Essence his body held, it was an effort he could not maintain for long — perhaps half an hour, if that.

But then, that should be all he needed.

He moved toward the Blightspawn camp at a jog, the cloud of darkness that surrounded him moving along across the ground and blacking out everything around him. Thick as it was, it almost seemed like it stifled even sound, its darkness so complete that even darkest night seemed like a bright summer day by comparison.

As Arran approached the camp, several cries of alarm sounded from the Blightspawn. His intuition had been correct, then — they could indeed Sense Essence.

But it was already too late. The darkness was upon them before they could respond. And with it came Arran's blade.

The cloud of darkness was formed from Essence that Arran controlled, and while it left others completely blind, he could Sense even the smallest objects within it. And so, while the Blightspawn stumbled around blindly, every blow he struck took a life.

A dozen Blightspawn died in as many seconds, their throats cut so perfectly that not even a sigh escaped their lips as their bodies collapsed to the ground.

Yet rather than being pleased with the result, Arran creased his brow in thought. And when he struck again, his target wasn't as fortunate as the Blightspawn that already lay dead.

The attack was vicious, a single thrust deep into the creature's chest. But although it was a mortal blow, it gave the creature some moments to suffer before bleeding out — enough time to alert the other Blightspawn with its cries of rage.

The effect was exactly as Arran intended. Within moments, the creature's howls drew its allies. And although Arran had already moved away, the Blightspawn attacked furiously, striking ahead with vicious blows — and hitting each other.

The Blightspawn's single-minded viciousness had helped them in the battle against the mercenaries, but now, it was their downfall. For each of them Arran that killed, they tore apart half a dozen of their own, blindly striking at everything within reach.

Yet even as Arran kept striking the Blightspawn down while deftly avoiding any that came to close, his focus was on a single figure at the center of the camp — the creature he knew to be a Reaver.

Unlike the other Blightspawn, it stood perfectly still, its body tense with concentration. Only twice did it move, each time to kill an enraged Blightspawn that had wandered too close. And when it struck, it did so with a ruthless efficiency that left even Arran in awe.

Still, he did not worry. While the creature might be strong, the initiative was still his, and he did not intend to waste that advantage.

He circled the Reaver silently, striking and wounding Blightspawn where he went. And as their cries pierced the darkness, others came running, drawn on a path that led them to the Reaver.

As the Reaver killed more of its allies, its calm began to fade. Soon, Arran thought he saw traces of anger and frustration in its movements, as the creature was forced to kill its own troops again and again.

Then, suddenly, the creature launched an attack — a dense ball of fire, its heat so intense that Arran could feel it as it soared half a dozen paces past him and burned through a handful of Blightspawn.

Without the dense fog of Shadow, the fire would have lit up the sky for miles around. But now, its light was stifled instantly, penetrating the thick mist for no more than a single pace.

More attacks followed the first, and each carried enough power that Arran knew the Reaver could easily match a Grandmaster's strength in magic. Yet for all its strength, the Reaver attacked blindly, and the massacre it unleashed fell wholly upon its allies.

And as the Reaver slaughtered its allies, Arran continued to circle the creature in silence, quietly hunting down the Blightspawn that still remained alive within the mist.

Between Arran's blade and the Reaver's devastating magical attacks, it took only minutes before all the Blightspawn lay dead or dying, the howls of their wounded still filling the air.

But the battle wasn't won yet. The Reaver remained alive, and Arran had seen enough of the creature to know it was more dangerous than all the other Blightspawn put together.

At a distance, its attacks were easy enough to avoid. But if he neared the creature, one of its blind attacks might hit him. And once the Reaver knew where he was, he had no doubt it would attack with devastating fury.

He briefly considered taking the risk. With the Reaver blinded, it should be easy enough to land a single blow, and that was all he needed to kill the creature.

But then, there was no need to take unnecessary chances. And more importantly, simply killing the creature would rob him of a valuable chance to learn.

He took several steps backward, easily avoiding another of the Reaver's magical attacks. And then, he concentrated his will, clenching his jaw in concentration as he forced the dense mist of Shadow Essence to condense.

The effect was small at first, with the cloud of fog shrinking only the tiniest bit under the pressure of Arran's will. But he did not let up, and little by little, the cloud of mist grew smaller and thicker.

Rather than condensing it around himself, Arran forced it toward the Reaver, flooding the creature with Shadow Essence as if he was trying to drown it in a sea of darkness.

Soon, the mist that had earlier stretched three hundred paces across spanned a mere hundred paces, and still, Arran did not relent. More minutes passed, and the cloud grew smaller still, the Shadow Essence thickening to the point where it was almost a liquid.

Arran could tell that he was stretching the limits of his ability. To command Shadow Essence like this required not just perfect control, but also took every shred of willpower he had. And even so, he knew he could not maintain the effort for long.

Yet as he struggled, he saw the effort was having an effect. Where the Reaver had earlier showed a perfect coordination, it now stumbled under the pressure, the Shadow Essence that was pushed into its body cutting off its senses and making it lose control of its limbs.

This was something Arran himself had experienced when he first entered the Shadow Realm — the pressure of Shadow Essence invading his body and robbing him of his control.

But where Karanos had stood watch over Arran until he regained his senses, the Reaver had no such protector. Instead, it had an enemy, and one who was in no mood to show even the slightest bit of mercy.

When the dense darkness had shrunk so far it was only three paces across, the Reaver's body suddenly went slack, collapsing to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. And as the creature fell and Shadow Essence poured into its body, Arran could finally Sense what lay inside.

The Reaver possessed a Fire Realm, of a sort. Yet where Arran's own Realms were stable gateways, the creature's Fire Realm more resembled a jagged tear, a forcible rip from which Essence poured forth.

The only thing keeping it from consuming the creature was a seal that stretched through its body — the seal carried by its amulet, Arran realized.

And as he observed the Fire Realm, a distant memory came to his mind. Long ago, when he had escaped the Academy prison, one of the people he'd freed had told him that using more Realm Opening Pills would risk making his Realms unstable.

Although he hadn't quite understood the man's words back then, he'd avoided using Realm Opening Pills all the same. And now, he was glad to have done so. Because from what he could tell, it seemed that the tear within the Reaver's body was a Realm that had been forcibly ripped open too far for the creature to control.

He abandoned the thought almost immediately, however. The effort of concentrating the Shadow Essence around the creature's body was too great to maintain for more than a few moments. Already, he could feel that his control was on the verge of slipping.

And while the Reaver still lay senseless, there was one last thing he had to do.

He approached the creature's body in a hurry, then quickly cut away the straps that held its armor in place. And as he took the armor away, he found what he was looking for — a silver amulet, hanging from a thin cord around the creature's neck.

Arran reached out without hesitation, taking the amulet firmly in his hand as he cast a last look at the motionless Reaver.

Then, he ripped the amulet away.