Paragon of Destruction

As they approached the two figures in the distance, Arran looked at their targets with an increasing feeling of unease. Even if the two men looked no different from the ones they had faced, he had a bad feeling about these two.

Both were dressed as recruits, with cloth veils wrapped around their faces to obscure their identity. Yet while there was nothing outwardly unusual about the two, to Arran’s eyes, was something about them that didn’t seem right.

Or rather, about one of the two. Because while one was no different from the other recruits Arran had seen, the other moved in a way that caught his eye. There was something unusual about the man — something he didn’t like.

But then, he suddenly saw it.

"Stop!" he said, putting his hand on Negin’s shoulder to hold her back. "That’s no recruit!"

He now realized that the supposed recruit’s movements held a hidden strength no recruit should possess. And while that was enough to alarm him, he also saw something different.

Somehow, the way the man hid his strength reminded Arran of Shadow Essence, as if his very movements somehow concealed his body.

Yet neither Arran’s Sense nor his sword’s detected any hint of Shadow Essence within the man. Rather, it was like the man had somehow taken an aspect of Shadow, and used it without magic.

To others, the concealment would have been perfect. But Arran had spent numerous years in the Shadow Realm, and he recognized it almost immediately — though still not quick enough, it seemed.

Because even as he came to a halt, with Negin looking at him in confusion, the man disguised as a recruit glanced their way. And as he saw Arran and Negin stop in their tracks, the man halted as well.

Then, he turned and began to head toward them, with his companion following several paces behind.

"Stand back," Arran said to Negin, speaking in a low voice. "This one is dangerous."

She shot him a puzzled glance, and in an unconvinced tone, she began, "How can you—"

"Do it!" Arran sharply interrupted her. With a fight ahead, he could afford no distraction, least of all from a curious recruit.

And he was certain that the man intended to fight him. The sudden stop in his approach had raised the man’s interest, and Arran guessed that he would be wondering if his disguise had been seen through.

But there was no time for speculation. As the man approached him, Arran drew his sword, preparing himself for battle.

Against this enemy, he would not hold back or try to hide his strength — anyone whose very movements could hold an aspect of Shadow was a threat that could not be underestimated.

The disguised man drew his sword as well, and at a distance of about a hundred paces, he suddenly burst into a sprint, surging forward with inhuman speed.

There would be no words, then. Just battle.

The man’s first attack was a devastating one, a powerful overhead strike intended to end the fight in a single blow. And with his strength, it was a blow that few enemies could have withstood. Even if they managed to block it in time, it would do them little good.

But Arran was no ordinary fighter. The crushing blow caused him to stagger backward, but he was strong enough to withstand his enemy’s attack.

If his opponent was surprised, he showed no sign of it. Without pausing, the man unleashed a flurry of attacks at Arran, his sword moving with deadly precision as it flashed forward.

Arran only barely managed to block and parry the attacks, and he clenched his jaw as he was forced backward. In the man’s attacks, he recognized hints of insight — and more than one.

After a few moments, his opponent took a step back as well, some hesitation in his movements. It appeared the man hadn’t expected an enemy who could resist his attacks, and faced with someone as strong as Arran, he seemed to be having some doubts.

Yet for Arran, the man’s brief moment of hesitation was an opening, and one he would not let go to waste.

Unlike his opponent, he did not hesitate. He struck instantly, throwing all his power into a single blow and imbuing it with his true insight into severing. The result was a devastating attack — an unstoppable avalanche of deadly force.

His foe moved to block the attack, but it was no use. Arran’s sword could cut even starmetal, and it tore through his opponent’s blade as if it wasn’t even there. An instant later, the man’s body was cleaved in two with equal ease.

Arran sighed in relief as the man’s torn body collapsed to the ground. The fight had been brief but vicious, and his opponent’s skill had shocked him. He’d seen people whose styles held traces of insight before, but never this many.

But before he could give it any more thought, he heard Negin’s voice.

"I killed him," she said, her voice trembling with shock.

When Arran looked over, he saw that she was standing next to the real recruit’s body, a look of shock on her face and a blood-covered sword in her hands.

"Well done," Arran said. His attention had been fully focused on his own battle, and even if he’d wanted to, he couldn’t have protected Negin. But from the look of it, she’d done a good enough job of that herself.

"But..." Negin stared at the dead man in front of her, eyes wide in disbelief. "He’s dead."

"A severed head will do that," Arran said flatly. "Now take a look at this one."

He moved to his defeated opponent’s body — the part that held the head, at least — and removed the man’s veil, revealing his face.

He was a plain-looking man with dark hair who looked to be in his late twenties, thoug, even in death, his face held an agelessness that suggested his real age was well beyond that.

As soon as she saw Arran’s dead opponent, Negin’s shocked expression turned to pale-faced astonishment. "That’s..." she said, though she didn’t finish the sentence.

"Someone you know?" Arran asked.

"He’s one of the teachers at my college," she said in a stunned tone. "He’s a Ranger." She turned her eyes to Arran, then repeated, "You killed a Ranger."

Arran nodded thoughtfully. He’d wondered for some time how strong real Hunters were, and it seemed he now had an answer — though one that was less than encouraging.

Although he had defeated his opponent, the man had been a real threat. He’d been slightly weaker than Arran himself, perhaps, but not much. And against two such enemies — or more — Arran knew he’d face serious difficulty.

"Will anyone notice he’s gone?" he asked. He’d had a taste of the Hunters’ abilities, and he had no interest in meeting any more of them. Not while he was searching the battlefield.

Negin shook her head. "He’s not supposed to be here. He isn’t with any of the groups. I don’t know why he—"

She stopped mid-sentence, and her shocked expression turned to one of outrage. "That treacherous bastard!" she cried out, her voice now trembling with anger rather than shock.

Arran gave her a puzzled glance. "What is it?"

"That bastard!" she repeated. "He came here to help that one!" She glanced at the recruit she’d killed, both hate and disgust in her eyes.

At this, Arran couldn’t help but feel some amusement. "I take it that receiving outside help is frowned upon?"

She shot him an angry glare. "That’s different!" she said. "I didn’t plan on meeting you. And this bastard—" she kicked the recruit’s dead body "—didn’t need any help in the first place. He’s as pure-blooded as any Darian, with all the support he ever needed to grow strong."

"Not strong enough to defeat you," Arran said. "Seems to me that he needed help more than you did."

"That’s..." Negin’s voice trailed off as she looked at Arran in surprise. Then, a hint of joy flashed across her face. "I defeated him, didn’t I?"

"You’re the one who still has a head," Arran replied. "So I’d say that makes you the winner. But you can celebrate another time. Let’s search these two before we bury them."

As expected, the two dead Hunters had plenty of pills — easily twice as much as Arran and Negin had managed to gather. The dead Ranger had several other pills than the ones that granted resistance to magic, as well, which Negin excitedly explained should help with Body Refinement.

Arran let the girl take half the pills. While he took several to study later, he didn’t have much other use for them — he certainly wouldn’t take any of the Hunters’ pills until he was completely sure of how they worked and what they did.

After they had buried their enemies, Arran glanced at the wasteland ahead, then turned to Negin.

"We have all the pills we need now," he said. "So let’s waste no more time, and head straight for the battlefield."

Negin nodded, the excitement of defeating an enemy still clear in her eyes. "With this many pills," she said, "we will definitely find weapons for both of us."

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