Paragon of Destruction

Snowcloud rushed over to Arran the moment he turned around.

"You’re so thin!" she exclaimed, concern in her eyes. She reached out and squeezed his arm, and when she felt his emaciated arm, her expression turned to shock. "Are you all right?" she asked in a doubtful voice.

"I’m fine," he responded. "I was a bit hungry when I woke up, that’s all." He forced a grin, then added, "A few weeks of proper eating, and I’ll be back to my old self."

It was a lie, of course. He had lost much of his strength, and just regaining it would be a matter of months, not weeks. But Snowcloud looked worried enough already — she didn’t need to know the extent of the damage.

Still, she gave him a skeptical look, clearly unconvinced by his words. But before she could say anything, Brightblade spoke up.

"I take it you succeeded in unsealing your Destruction Realm?"

Thankful for the distraction, Arran quickly answered her question. "The seal is gone," he said. "Though I don’t know how to use the Realm yet."

Brightblade nodded thoughtfully. "Good. You met my deadline, and with two months to spare."

Arran’s eyes went wide with shock. "Two months? Then I’ve been...?"

"You’ve slumbered for ten months," Brightblade confirmed.

To this, he had no response. He had thought it had taken weeks, a few months at most. But nearly a year? That was far beyond anything he had expected.

Seeing his stunned expression, she chuckled, then continued, "You certainly fouled up my plans for your training. It’s a good thing I had another student to look after — and one who is far less troublesome than you."

Arran cast a glance at Snowcloud. "How did your training go?"

"I’ve made some progress," she replied humbly, though her eyes betrayed a glint of pride that suggested she had made more than just some progress.

"No need for false modesty," Brightblade said flatly. "Her achievements have been nothing short of astonishing. Her sword skills now equal the best of the adepts, and only a handful of novices in the entire Valley can match her in magic." With a grin, she added, "But of course, she had an exceptional teacher."

Snowcloud blushed at the praise, but there was delight in her expression as well.

"And not just that," Brightblade continued. "I know little of alchemy, but her teachers in the House of Creation won’t stop singing her praises. They’ve already approached the House of Swords to demand that she be transferred to them."

Arran looked at Snowcloud, impressed that she had achieved so much in so little time. "It sounds like you’ve worked hard."

Although she seemed pleased with the attention, there was still a hint of worry in her eyes as she faced him. "But what about you? You were gone so long I feared that..."

"As I told you before," Brightblade interrupted her, "he was merely gaining some insights. Now, if you want to help him recover, your alchemical skills will certainly do more good than your worries."

Snowcloud went wide-eyed at the suggestion. "Of course!" she exclaimed excitedly. "If I use a mixture of windflower and snowroot — or maybe red milkwort? Bearweed will certainly help..."

It was as if she had instantly forgotten all about Arran and Brightblade, and she hurried off to the mansion while muttering about various herbs and potions. Without looking back even once, she disappeared into the large stone building.

"That should keep her busy for the next few hours," Brightblade said. "And whatever she concocts will certainly help your recovery — although the taste might make you wish you had died." The ugly face she made suggested that she had already tasted Snowcloud’s potions.

Arran frowned, then asked, "So how bad was it really?"

"You were a few weeks away from dying, if that." Brightblade’s expression grew serious. "I tried to awaken you several times, but without any luck. That you survived at all is a small miracle. From what I gather, you gained a true insight, correct?"

"A true insight?" Arran frowned. "I don’t know. I gained an insight, but..."

"You saw the true nature of a small part of reality, and right now, that knowledge is like a bright spark within your mind?" Brightblade spoke with a familiarity that could only come from experience.

When Arran nodded in confirmation, she continued, "That spark is a true insight. It’s rare for even Grandmasters to gain them, and when they do, they spend months if not years in preparation."

Arran sighed. "I didn’t know about any of that."

"Of course you didn’t," she replied. "Only a fool would knowingly pursue true insights so lightly. But no matter — you survived. Now show me what you learned."

"Show you?"

Even as Arran asked the question, Brightblade drew her sword, and understanding her intention, he quickly drew his own.

She gestured for him to move, and a moment later he struck forward, executing several tentative attacks from the style he had developed over the previous days.

Brightblade effortlessly parried the attacks, then shook her head. "Don’t hold back. Pour your insight into the attacks, and fight as if it’s a real battle."

Despite her encouragement, Arran hesitated in attacking. He did not yet know the limits of his new style, but he suspected it was far more dangerous than anything he’d previously used.

Seeing his troubled expression, Brightblade chuckled. "Don’t worry about me. I have my own insights, along with several centuries of experience."

Arran nodded, then attacked once more — this time without restraining himself.

It only took a few moments for him to discover that he had vastly underestimated his newfound power. Even with much of his strength gone, the insight allowed him to strike with a destructive power far beyond anything he had previously possessed. It was as if each blow shaped reality around it, the force of his will making the world bend to his blade.

Yet if his own power startled him, Brightblade’s ability shook him to his core.

She avoided his attacks with a speed that seemed impossible, dodging and deflecting even his fastest strikes so quickly his blade might as well be standing still. At times, it seemed like her sword was in several places at once, parrying and striking simultaneously as if to mock the laws of reality.

She easily could have defeated him instantly, but instead, she merely observed his sword techniques, studying his attacks and testing his defenses as they sparred.

After half an hour, when Arran’s forehead was covered in sweat and his muscles felt like they were burning, they finally came to a halt.

Brightblade looked at him approvingly, not showing the least bit of weariness. "That style of yours has great potential. Once you complete it, few will be able to stand against it. And the insight you gained... I think it combines two opposite principles?"

"Binding and severing," Arran confirmed. "My old teacher... he hid the binding part within the seal, and the severing part within the sword style he taught me. I was only able to comprehend it when I found both parts."

There was a look of approval on Brightblade’s face as she replied. "A great gift, shrewdly given. You’ve unknowingly studied the principles for years — which explains how you were able to gain the insight so quickly."

"But what about you?" Arran asked. "That style you used... it contains a true insight as well, doesn’t it?" He refused to believe that her ability came from skill alone. No amount of practice would let someone move with such speed.

"Very perceptive," she said. "My first insight was into the nature of change, and I created a sword style based on that. Once you finish creating your own style, I’ll teach it to you."

This was something Arran had not expected, and he looked at Brightblade with wide eyes. "If you teach me the style, does that mean I’ll gain the insight as well?"

She shook her head. "If only it were that simple. Gaining insights is a matter of study, talent, and a great deal of luck. Whether you will learn anything from my style remains to be seen."

Arran nodded silently. That gaining insights was difficult made sense — such power would not be easily won.

"But that’s a matter of future concern," Brightblade said. "For now, focus on restoring your body and completing this new style of yours. I’ll have you remain in this valley for another two months. That will allow you to return just in time to see off Snowcloud."

"She’s leaving?" At once, Arran’s thoughts about styles and insights were all but forgotten.

"The world didn’t stop moving just because you were unconscious," Brightblade responded. "Snowcloud became a novice a month ago. Two months from now, she’ll leave to spend a year in the borderlands."

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