Paragon of Destruction

For several hours, Arran sat in silence, impatiently waiting for the dragon to appear.

Although Crassus had said it would only return from its hunt when evening fell, Arran still kept an anxious eye on the skies, both eager and anxious to finally see the creature he would have to kill.

He studied the valley while he waited, already searching for ways in which the terrain could be exploited for an advantage in the fight to come.

Yet to his disappointment, the surroundings were almost completely bare, lacking anything that might help him face the creature he awaited. The valley was large and wide, its rocky floor mostly flat, with the slopes at its sides nowhere near steep enough to create the kind of landslide he hoped to use in killing the dragon.

Worse, while the edges of the valley held several rock outcrops and loose boulders the size of houses, the center of the valley offered no cover whatsoever. It looked almost as if it had been purposely cleared of rocks and rubble, leaving only a wide open space that completely lacked places to hide.

The only thing that gave Arran some hope was a sheer cliff at the far end of the valley, several thousands of feet tall, with the mountains behind it stretching even further up into the sky.

Yet although Arran was certain that large rocks dropped from such a height would be enough to kill anything, using the cliff to kill the dragon would require somehow luring it there. And that, he suspected, would be easier said than done.

But, of course, for any of that to matter, the dragon would first have to make an appearance. And despite the hours passing, there was still no sign of the beast.

When dusk neared and the sun had long disappeared behind the mountains, Arran began to worry that Crassus had lied to him after all — or, if the man hadn’t lied, that he had simply been mistaken.

Just then, however, Arran suddenly heard it. A sound like a rising storm, already shockingly loud despite being far in the distance.

His eyes shot up at once, and he hurriedly scanned the skies for any sign of the dragon he knew must be approaching.

For several moments, he saw nothing, although the sound steadily grew louder. But then, he saw it — above the mountains on the other side of the valley, a giant, rust-colored creature slowly rose in the skies, thunderous sounds echoing through the area with every flap of its vast wings.

Arran could not help but gasp in astonishment at the sight.

To say that the creature was everything he had hoped — and feared — was an understatement. Even from a mile away, he could see the dragon was astonishingly large, its body the size of a small fortress and each of its wings hundreds of paces across.

The creature briefly hovered in the air, its large yellow eyes staring at the empty valley before it. Then, suddenly, it soared forward, with a speed beyond anything a creature so large should be capable of, heading like a spear toward the valley’s rocky floor.

A moment later, it landed with a crash so loud it seemed to shake the mountains, after which it immediately folded its wings and wrapped them around its massive body. Seemingly unconcerned with its surroundings, it then closed its eyes and lay down, forming a large, rust-red hill at the center of the valley.

As the dragon landed, Arran instinctively pulled his Duskcloak closer around him. Even though there was no way the creature could see him, the mere sight of it filled him with an awe that bordered on panic, like a mouse seeing a tiger.

Arran silently watched the dragon for the better part of an hour, not daring to make even the slightest sound as evening fell and the light slowly faded. Yet it seemed that the gargantuan beast had fallen asleep only moments after it landed, and finally, he relaxed, if only slightly.

He did not sleep that night, instead observing the dragon as best as he could in the dim moonlight, anxious to see if there was anything more he could glean from looking at it.

But the creature did not move at all during the night, its body completely motionless until finally, dawn came.

Then, as the first sunlight touched the mountain peaks that surrounded the valley, it got up and stretched out its wings. It took off again a moment later, once more causing a brief storm in the confines of the valley as it rose from the ground.

Arran remained seated after the dragon left. While he knew it would likely only return in the evening, he wouldn’t risk exposing himself during the day until he was certain the creature wouldn’t suddenly return.

As he waited, he finally tried some of the dragon meat he had gathered earlier, roasting it with Fire Essence before eating it.

The meat tasted much like he had expected — tough, chewy, and gamy, with a hint of tangy earthiness. It wasn’t completely unpleasant, but it wasn’t far from it, either. Part of that might be due to his complete lack of skill in cooking, but even so, as food, it was disappointing at best.

Yet while the taste was hardly encouraging, the Natural Essence within the meat was another matter. Despite his Sense already hinting at its potency, Arran found himself shocked at the sheer amount of Natural Essence it contained when he ate it.

Compared to this, even the strongest foods he’d had so far seemed ordinary, and in just a few hours, he thought he could already feel his body grow stronger.

Finally, when dusk began to fall, the dragon returned once more. Again, Arran could hear its approach well before he could see the enormous creature, and again, it fell asleep only moments after it landed.

This time, Arran tried to catch some sleep before morning came. He already knew he would have to wait weeks before Crassus returned with Snowcloud, and nervous though the dragon’s presence made him, he could not stay awake the entire time.

Arran spent the first week after his arrival like this, patiently observing the dragon as it came and went, while absorbing Natural Essence during the day and trying to sleep after sundown despite the dragon’s presence.

With this, it didn’t take him long to understand that things were exactly as Crassus had said.

Every morning, the dragon would leave shortly after dawn, its vast wings briefly causing a fierce storm in the valley as it took off. After that, it would be gone during the day, presumably hunting for enough prey to feed its enormous body.

Then, in the evening, it would return only when the sun had already disappeared behind the mountains, with the sound of its approach marking its return well before it could be seen.

During the nights, meanwhile, it merely slept, its wings wrapped around it while its vast bulk covered a good portion of the valley.

Overall, Arran soon realized that the creature was as predictable as the sunrise, and had it not been for its vast size, he knew it would’ve been easy enough to trap.

But predictable and dumb though it might be, its size and strength were astonishing — enough that it had no need to worry about being attacked or ambushed. Like the sunrise, it seemed more like a force of nature than an animal, too large to be stopped by any man.

Still, Arran did not despair. If there was a way to kill the creature, he would find it.

After the first week, he felt confident enough to start exploring the valley and its surroundings for several hours every day, while the dragon was out hunting.

By now, he was reasonably certain that it would not suddenly return before evening, and even if it did, he knew the sound of its approach would give him enough time to hide.

Two weeks passed like this, with Arran steadily mapping out every inch of the valley and the cliffs and mountains that surrounded it. It was slow work, but steadily, the beginning of a plan formed in his mind.

By the end of his third week in the valley, on a sunny afternoon, Arran spotted two figures at the edge of the valley, both of them covered in gray blankets. Snowcloud and Crassus had finally arrived.

Arran approached them eagerly, and as he did, there was a confidence in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. After weeks of careful study and observation, he finally had a plan.

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