Paragon of Destruction

Although Arran was in a hurry to leave the caverns, he still took a few hours to transfer half a hill of starmetal chunks to his void ring.

Not to do so would be a pointless waste — he already carried enough riches to cost him his life if anyone discovered them, and while starmetal could not compare to Living Shadow, it still ranked among the most valuable materials in the world.

If he was going to risk death for his possessions, he might as well make it count. And enough treasure to last him ten lifetimes would be a good start.

When he had gathered enough starmetal to equip a decently sized army with arms and armor, he made his way back up the giant spiral staircase that led to the city above.

Arran did not bother to search the city for more treasure — with the help of his sword, he’d already found anything worth taking. Whatever might be left wasn’t worth the time it would take to find.

Instead, he headed straight for the tunnels that led back to the surface.

This time, he had no trouble Sensing the traps within the tunnels well before he triggered them. And after a brief examination, he knew that disabling them would be a simple matter.

Yet there was no need to do so — as he studied the traps, he realized that they were only built to repel intruders. Anyone traveling from the depths to the surface would not set them off.

The design was a clever one, and Arran took some moments to memorize it before moving on. Even if he never needed it, anything that could help his knowledge was welcome.

After that, the journey back to the surface proved long but uneventful. For two weeks, Arran passed through empty tunnels, using the marks he’d left to find his way back to the small valley.

And it was a good thing that he’d left marks. Because although little time had passed in this world, Arran had spent centuries in the Shadow Realm. By now, he’d long since forgotten the route that had brought him to the underground city.

Then, finally, he reached the surface.

After years in darkness, Arran’s eyes were overwhelmed by the radiance of the sun, and it took a good hour before his vision began to adjust to the sudden brightness.

Yet the sun’s glow on his skin was a feeling he had dearly missed, and the smell of fresh mountain air almost made him go lightheaded with joy.

Despite the treasures he’d gained in the Shadow Realm, he never would have entered the portal had he known how long he would be there. And if he had any choice in the matter, he had no intention of ever returning to the place.

Once Arran’s eyes had adjusted to the bright light that filled the sky, he spent several hours removing every trace he had left in the small valley. Now that he knew it held a path to the underground city, he could not risk anyone finding it.

Then, he spread his Sense through the mountains around him, a look of concentration appearing on his face as he examined the area for several miles around. Yet after a few minutes, he gave a disappointed sigh, then drew his sword.

"It’s time for you to earn your keep," he said. "And right now, what I need is a good meal."

While the sword might not understand his words, it needed no language to understand his intentions. In just a few moments, the weapon found what Arran was looking for.

Barely an hour later, Arran sat in a small cave, the dead body of a massive bear on the ground a few paces away from him — at least, those parts of it he had not eaten yet.

His sword had performed admirably, both in finding his prey and in killing it. Arran had feared that the weapon might devour the bear’s Natural Essence when he struck it, but to his relief, his weapon had no taste for Natural Essence.

Instead, he rewarded it with a generous portion of magical Essence, while he himself feasted on the bear meat. And as he tasted the first real food he’d had in centuries, the Dragon’s Ruin hungrily devoured the Natural Essence within.

The effect was immediate. Finally, some of Arran’s lost strength was restored. The bear meat couldn’t match dragon meat, of course, but it was good enough for recovery — a few months of this should be enough for Arran to completely regain his lost might.

Only after that would he face the real consequence of losing his dragon meat. Because although lost strength was easily recovered, new strength would be hard to gain.

Yet right now, Arran could not bring himself to worry about that.

Instead, he sat in the cave contentedly, eating bear meat as he fed Essence to his sword. The only thing that could have made the night better was a mug of good ale.

He awoke the next day with his body feeling better than it had in ages, and after eating several pounds of bear meat for breakfast, he set off for Amydon.

The journey took a full month, though that was mostly because Arran hunted down every animal with even a shred of Natural Essence along the way.

His sword seemed nonplussed at his desire for Natural Essence — which the weapon evidently spurned as garbage — but it helped him find prey all the same, no doubt encouraged by the magical Essence that Arran sent into it.

He considered sending Essence into the Living Shadow armor as well, but he quickly rejected the idea. Controlling the armor would take years of effort, and his first priority was to solidify his bond to his weapon.

Until he achieved that, any effort spent on the armor would only be a distraction, and perhaps even a dangerous one.

Karanos had said shards of Living Shadow did not willingly share their territory, and while Arran suspected his sword would not object — it had brought him the armor, after all — the armor might not be as easy to handle.

Better to let the armor remain in its dormant state for the time being. When he could properly focus his attention on controlling it, he would awaken it. But not before that.

A month of travel and real food did Arran’s body much good, and by the time he arrived in Amydon, he no longer looked like he was on the verge of death. Some traces of age could still be seen in his face, but even those had already begun to fade.

Another few months of proper food, and his appearance should recover along with his body. At least, that’s what Arran hoped.

In Amydon, he immediately made his way to Kimon’s jewelry store. He had one last task to fulfill before he could leave, and unlike closing the portal, this was one that should pose little trouble.

The old man received Arran with an expression of barely veiled shock.

"You look like you’ve had a rough few years," he said as they sat down in the store’s back office, staring at his guest with wide eyes.

"So I did," Arran said. "I broke my leg out in the mountains. Nearly starved to death before it healed." He shrugged, then continued, "But I found something. Something that might interest you."

At this, the old man’s eyes immediately shone with interest. "Something related to Amydon’s past?"

Arran wordlessly took out Karanos’s history of Amydon, then handed it to Kimon.

Karanos had asked him to give the book to someone who would appreciate its contents, and he could think of no one better than the old man.

There was no risk in giving the book to Kimon — Karanos had carefully omitted anything related to the city beneath the mountains from the book. Instead, it dealt only with the history of Amydon itself.

Kimon thumbed through a few pages of the book, and soon, a look of astonishment appeared on his face.

"This is..." he began. "Where did you—" He stopped mid-sentence, and his expression turned fearful. "Don’t tell me. Don’t tell anyone. If this gets out—"

"No need to worry," Arran interrupted him. "I wouldn’t be able to find it again even if you put a knife to my throat. And besides, there’s nothing there. I searched the area for several months, and didn’t find a thing."

"Then you saw no sign of Karanos?" the old man asked, some disappointment in his voice despite his obvious relief.

"Nothing," Arran said, then shrugged. "And with how long he’s been gone, I can’t imagine he still walks this world."

Kimon sighed. "I suppose you’re right. I always hoped he might still be out there, waiting to return when the Shadowflame mages were defeated. But perhaps I’ve let myself be carried away by childish fantasies."

"About those mages..." Arran began. "When I entered the mountains, they looked to be on the verge of war with the Hunters. Any news on that? I’m planning to travel the borderlands, and I’d prefer to steer clear of any wars."

Kimon shook his head. "There’s been no news about any of that. From the look of it, the tensions have died down." He smiled wistfully, then added, "But those mages will be defeated sooner or later, mark my words. One day, they’ll pay for their crimes."

To this, Arran responded with a wordless nod, silently hoping that the old man was wrong.

He departed not long after, though not before receiving a sizable sum of gold from Kimon as a reward for the book. He had no interest in the gold, but refusing it would only have drawn the old man’s suspicion. And either way, Kimon was more than happy with the trade.

After Arran left the store, he did not linger in Amydon. As much as he would have liked to spend a night or two in a warm bed, he was unwilling to waste any time on mere luxuries.

He cast a final look at the town and its ruins, but then, he turned his eyes to the road ahead.

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