Paragon of Destruction

Arran approached the camp cautiously, following a good hundred paces behind the short man who had unknowingly guided him there.

There were about a dozen people present, with most of them gathered around a cooking fire at the center of the camp. Several of the others were sleeping in tents, despite it only being late afternoon — a sign that they’d been out on patrol through the night, Arran thought.

He was convinced that these were all Hunters, but he wasn’t too worried about being discovered. Even if they somehow managed to detect him despite his improved Shadowcloak, he was certain they couldn’t simply see through it. And in a fight, that meant he would be at an advantage, with his opponents facing an enemy they could not see.

Still, he did not abandon caution altogether. Even if he was confident in his chances if battle broke out, killing Hunters so close to their own lands would draw far too much attention.

As Arran was still sneaking toward the camp, the short man arrived at the group gathered around the campfire, where a barrel-chested Hunter with wide shoulders stood up to greet him.

It seemed like the two men were speaking, but Arran’s Sense didn’t pick up sound, and he moved forward a bit faster — as fast as he could without risking the Hunters hearing him.

He came to a halt a few dozen paces away from the fire, stopping just within earshot of the group.

"...just some treasure hunter," the short man said. "But something was off about him. He moved like a Body Refiner, and not a weak one, either."

Although Arran had missed the first few moments of their conversation, he knew at once that they were talking about him.

He felt some frustration when he heard the man had recognized him as a Body Refiner. He’d tried his best to hide his power in Redhill, but it seemed his best wasn’t yet good enough. That was something he’d have to work on.

"A Body Refiner?" The burly man spoke in a gruff voice, and he had an accent that was unfamiliar to Arran. "Don’t see many of those in these lands. I’m surprised you let him slip away."

"You think I should have killed him?" the short man asked, his tone uncomfortable. "He wasn’t a mage, and I didn’t think he posed a threat. But if you disagree, I can still track him down."

"Kill him?" The large man let out a thunderous laugh. "You should’ve recruited him, you fool. With the shoddy techniques in these lands, anyone who becomes a Body Refiner must have a decent bit of talent."

"Surely we haven’t fallen so low that we must now sway outsiders to our cause," a voice sounded. It came from one of the women sitting around the fire, and there was a hint of disgust in her tone.

"There’s a war coming," the burly man replied. "And when it arrives, even the smallest bit of strength may yet prove useful."

The woman snorted in derision. "If a war comes, then we will win it. We soundly defeated the mages once already, and a second time will be no different. They’re too weak to be a threat to us — none of the ones I killed was even the slightest challenge."

"The ones you killed were novices," the man replied, some annoyance in his voice now. "Barely as strong as our recruits. Do not think you can wrestle dragons just because you bested a lizard. It’s not a mistake you’d get to repeat."

The woman hesitated in answering, and when she finally replied, her tone held a hint of defiance. "Maybe some of them are strong, but that doesn’t make them a threat. Not so much that we have to rely on the unpure to—"

"Quiet!" the burly man snarled.

As the word left his mouth, he drew his sword in a single fluid motion so fast Arran’s eyes went wide with surprise. The blade came to a stop just a hair’s breadth from the woman’s neck, and briefly, Arran thought he was about to witness one Hunter slay another.

Yet he sheathed his sword a moment later, then said in an icy tone, "One more mention of purity, and it will be your head. A new group of recruits arrives less than a week from now, and more than a few of them were once outsiders. Dividing our ranks at a time like this is as good as treason."

The woman said no more, though she gave the large man a fearful nod. It seemed she knew the threat was not an idle one.

Unexpected though the man’s outburst had been, Arran was more concerned with the way he’d handled his blade. Though the attack had been a mere warning, just that short glimpse was enough for Arran to know that this man might well be his match in swordsmanship.

And if that was the case, then he wasn’t as safe as he had thought. While invisibility would be no small advantage, if the other Hunters were all as skilled as the large man, then they could still pose a threat to him.

After a moment’s thought, he began to retreat, moving as quietly as he could. Before he took even the slightest risk of facing Hunters in combat, he would have to learn more about them. And the longer he remained in the camp, the higher the risk would be.

He left the camp without issue, and when he was clear of it, he spent several hours moving away at a hurried but careful pace. Before he ventured into the old battlefield, he needed a final night of rest to replenish the Shadow Essence he’d used up while traveling to the camp.

His reserve of Shadow Essence had grown dramatically, but it still wasn’t unlimited, and his improved Shadowcloak used up more of it than the old version had. At most, he could maintain it for a week, but he’d need at least a full night’s rest for it to recover.

As he silently moved through the shadowy woods, he thought about what he’d heard in the camp.

That the Hunters used the battlefield as a training ground wasn’t much of a surprise. Arran had guessed as much already — he knew the Hunters were resistant to magic, and he’d discovered in Uvar how a battlefield filled with unbound Essence could be used in training.

The arrival of a group of recruits could be a problem, however. The unbound Essence would make it harder to maintain spells, which meant he might not be able to rely on his Shadowcloak to keep himself hidden. If there were dozens or hundreds of Hunters roaming the battlefield, going unseen could prove difficult.

And there was also the purity the woman had mentioned.

From her words and the man’s reaction to them, Arran surmised that not all Hunters were equally accepting and trusting of outsiders. Which meant the task of infiltrating them might be a difficult one.

But that was a matter of later concern — first, he would have to search the battlefield for Elder Nikias’s writings on the Forms. And with Hunters around, that would be no easy task.

Several hours of travel from the Hunters’ camp, Arran found a dense copse of trees that provided a good amount of shelter. He quickly put up a series of wards to offer further concealment, then dropped his Shadowcloak and tried to make himself comfortable on the cold ground, intent on getting a good night’s sleep.

He would begin his search of the battlefield the next day, and with the new obstacles that had arisen, being well-rested would be no luxury.

Moreover, if a new group of recruits was expected to arrive in less than a week, he would have to make the search a quick one.

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