Paragon of Destruction

"Our town is called Riverbend," the woman said, her voice anxious. "I am the mayor."

Arran spent some moments in thought. While the village — it was far too small to be called a town — shared a name with his old hometown, the two places were thousands of miles apart, and other than being next to a river, they seemed to have little in common.

Still, the name reminded him of the life he had left behind. Even if he did not regret his decision to become a mage, he wondered what things would have been like had he stayed in the real Riverbend. Calmer, probably, and certainly less bloody.

Arran shook himself from his thoughts. He had more important matters to handle.

"What about them," he said, gesturing at the soldiers. "What are they doing here?"

Before the woman could respond, one of the soldiers stepped forward, a stocky, middle-aged man with dark skin and several old scars on his face.

"You gonna kill us?" Although the man’s expression was cautious, there was no fear in his eyes. It seemed he had already resigned himself to the fact that he might die.

A panicked look appeared on the mayor’s face when she realized that the battle might not be over yet, but Arran silenced her with a gesture.

"Maybe," he replied. "Why did you defend the villagers?"

"They took us in when we came here, gave us food and shelter. Didn’t seem right to just let the others kill ’em." The man shrugged. "A few of our group joined the attack, but you took care of those."

Arran gave the matter some thought. "If I let you live," he finally said, "you have to vow to defend the village for at least the next year."

He had no real desire to kill these soldiers. They had risked their lives to defend the villagers, and, more importantly, the village would still need their protection.

Although Arran had already killed thousands of soldiers, many hundreds still remained in the region. And while they posed little threat to Arran, they were all Body Refiners, each of them strong enough to face half a dozen commoners with ease.

Even if the Blood God’s cult did not spread any further, plenty of them would still turn to banditry. And if it did, the entire region might be plunged into chaos. Either way, it would be years before the area was safe again, perhaps even decades.

"Fair enough," the soldier said with a relieved nod. "Got nowhere else to go, anyway."

"Wait," the mayor cut in. "You want them to defend us? But the attackers are dead — it’s safe now, isn’t it?"

"There are others," Arran said. "Many of them. It’ll be a long time before this region is safe again."

The mayor’s expression became pained, but she did not object any further. After Arran’s earlier display, it seemed she knew to take his words seriously.

They spent the next few hours disposing of the bodies that littered the ground.

Despite Arran’s help, over a dozen villagers had fallen in the battle — a heavy blow, even for a large village. The fallen villagers were buried in the graveyard next to the village, their bodies lowered into the ground amid the cries and sobs of their families.

After the villagers were buried, they gathered the fallen attackers in a large heap, which Arran burned using Fire Essence. He used quite a bit more power than needed for the sake of the defending soldiers, as a reminder of the consequences that breaking their oath would have.

Yet as Arran disposed of the bodies, he began to worry that the soldiers’ protection would not be enough to keep the village safe.

Quickly, he came to a decision. Snowcloud would have to wait a little longer.

After the bodies were burned, Arran approached the soldiers, then told them about the lies their former leader had told them. He explained that their power came from Natural Essence, not the Blood God, and that the so-called prayers they had been practicing were actually Body Refinement techniques.

The soldiers took it in stride, none seeming particularly surprised that the mage had been a fraud. Clearly, Arran thought, these were smarter than most of the others had been.

"I figured as much," the dark-skinned man said after Arran finished his explanation. "No way a god would choose that bald bastard as his messenger."

Arran nodded in agreement, then said, "Now that you know the truth, I have an offer for you. I can teach all of you a better Body Refinement technique. It will allow all of you to grow stronger than before, but once you master it, you will have to teach it to the villagers."

Most of the soldiers seemed eager to accept the offer, but the scarred man merely frowned. "If you have a better technique, why not teach them yourself?"

"I don’t have the time," Arran replied. "With what you already know, I can teach you in a few days. Teaching the villagers, however, will take weeks."

The soldier hesitated, but then, he nodded. "All right."

It soon turned out that Arran’s estimate had been overly optimistic. Rather than a few days, it took him a full week to teach the soldiers better Body Refinement techniques. And even then, he only taught them enough to figure out the rest through practice.

Part of the reason for this was that his own experience made it hard to see the difficulty, but another part was that the techniques he taught them were new — he had combined elements of Lord Jiang’s teachings, Darkfire’s technique, and the soldiers’ own techniques, forging them together into an entirely new set of techniques.

While it was somewhat weaker than the Shadowflame technique he had learned from Darkfire, this one was easier to learn, and sharing it would not break his promise to Darkfire.

"You sure you know what you’re doing?" the scarred soldier asked Arran near the end of the week.

"I’m certain the technique will work," Arran replied. "And much better than anything you and your men have been using so far."

"I’m not talking about that," the man said, shaking his head. "I know you’re strong and all. But the way the villagers look at you, some of them already think you’re half a god, if not a whole one. Even some of my own men..." He sighed. "Once they learn these techniques of yours, I don’t see it stopping here."

Arran frowned. In truth, he had tried to stay away from the villagers as much as possible. Their reverent stares made him uncomfortable, and their gifts even more so. They had tried to lavish him with all sorts of offerings, some offering gold, weapons, and herbs, while others went so far as to offer their daughters’ hands in marriage.

The only things he had accepted were the herbs, and only because Snowcloud might want them. Still, after he accepted the first offering, many like it soon followed, and by now Arran had an apothecary’s worth of herbs in his void bags.

All considered, he knew the soldier was right. He was dangerously close to forming a cult of the sort the dead mage had started, and the villagers hadn’t even begun to learn Body Refinement yet.

"I’ll be gone in a few days," he finally said. "And unless you have a better way to keep the village safe, I don’t see any other choices."

The soldier’s expression became thoughtful. "Don’t suppose I do," he finally admitted. "Whole thing makes me uncomfortable, though."

"You and me both," Arran replied truthfully.

By the end of the week, most of the soldiers understood enough of his Body Refinement technique to learn the rest through practice, and Arran knew it was time for him to leave.

Before he left, he paid the mayor a visit. The woman looked on in awe as he filled her cellar with food from his void bags, all rich in Natural Essence, and listened attentively when he instructed her to have the villagers use it once they learned the basics of Body Refinement.

He also shared some basic knowledge about Body Refinement and Natural Essence, explaining that it gathered in plants and animals, and that it would be possible to find more strengthening foods in the forest.

Even as he spoke, he knew his actions would have consequences. In the span of a week, he had shared enough knowledge for the village to grow in both size and strength, perhaps eventually becoming a regional power.

Still, there was no other way to ensure the safety of the village, and Arran knew that in a way, he bore responsibility for the danger it faced. Without him, the mage’s followers would not have been scattered through the region.

While he could not protect the village from these threats himself, perhaps his help would be enough to give it a chance to survive.

When Arran finally left the village, he did so silently, slipping away in the dead of night. Anything else would have the villagers pleading for him to stay, or offering even more gifts in gratitude. And while Arran would gladly face armies, reverent villagers were another matter.

He set off toward the castle in a hurry.

Snowcloud would have expected him to return at least a week earlier, and he still had a long way to go. Though he did not look forward to her response when he returned, the longer he waited, the worse it would be.

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