Paragon of Destruction

Kadun came at Rannoc in a furious rush, raising the Living Shadow sword as if he wanted to finish his opponent in a single blow.

Yet where Kadun seemed overtaken with anger, Rannoc showed not even the slightest sign of excitement. Instead, his movements were steady and deliberate as he took a defensive position and braced himself for the attack.

Then, Kadun was upon Rannoc. Or rather, upon his weapon — because while Kadun held a sword, Rannoc wielded an eight-foot glaive with a reach far greater than his opponent’s weapon.

Eager though Kadun might be to strike down his foe, to do so he would first need to get past the glaive’s long blade — and that put him in range of Rannoc’s attacks.

For well over a minute, the two Lords exchanged blows, with Kadun fighting ferociously to break through Rannoc’s guard. He attacked again and again, his sword clashing with the glaive as he struggled to create an opening.

Rannoc’s superior reach was no small advantage, however. The tall Lord met his opponent’s furious offensive with calm and precision, the blade of his weapon constantly moving and denying Kadun even the slightest opening.

Whenever Kadun attacked, it wasn’t long before he found himself in range of the massive glaive. And before Rannoc’s powerful strikes, he was inevitably forced to retreat.

It was obvious that the two were expert warriors. Both had a level of skill that could only be earned through a lifetime of practice and experience, and although their styles were wholly different, neither seemed the least bit weaker than the other.

Still, as Arran observed the two, he could not stop a frown from appearing on his face.

While the Lords fought with a level of skill that was far beyond his own, what he saw was somehow less than he’d expected.

They clearly were stronger than the Knight he’d faced with Kaleesh, but the difference only appeared to be a modest one. And while their movements held the power of insights, Arran saw no sign of anything resembling true insights.

They were a bit stronger and faster than the Knight had been, but that hardly seemed to justify their differences in status.

Yet as the fight continued, Arran gradually began to feel that something was off about it. There was something subtly unnatural about the Lords’ movements, a subtle shimmering in the air around them that was unlike anything Arran had ever seen before.

Suddenly, his eyes went wide, as he finally understood what he was witnessing.

"This isn’t possible," he said softly, shock written across his face.

"But it’s real," Kaleesh replied in a tense voice. "Watch closely."

Arran nodded silently, eyes fixed on the two fighting Lords before them as he tried to find an explanation for what he saw.

When the Lords moved, shimmering images of their weapons flickered in the air for a fraction of a second, briefly appearing in numerous places before disappearing again an instant later.

Each time they matched blades, it was as if, for a moment, a dozen different exchanges teetered on the edge of becoming real. And each time, only one of those became reality.

Yet in the two Lords movements, Arran saw that they reacted not just to the other’s actual actions, but also to all the blurry movements that never fully materialized. With each attack, they assaulted a dozen defenses, and with each defense, they blocked a dozen attacks.

The blurry flickers were so brief as to be all but invisible, but now that Arran knew they were there, he had no doubt that they were real.

The sight left him completely dumbfounded.

Even with magic, what he saw should be all but impossible. Yet somehow, the Lords accomplished it — and without magic, since there wasn’t the slightest trace of Essence to be Sensed.

He suspected that it was somehow related to their insights, but how, he could not say.

There was no time to give it more thought, either, because while he watched in astonishment, he saw that the tide of battle was shifting — and not in a good way.

At first, the change was a subtle one. While the reach on Rannoc’s weapon had given him a slight advantage at the start of the fight, it wasn’t long before that advantage disappeared.

While neither Kadun nor Rannoc scored any hits on the other, it seemed that each exchange eroded some of Rannoc’s previous advantage, leaving him in a worse position every time the two crossed blades.

Kadun, meanwhile, clearly sensed his shifting fortunes. And as he saw victory looming on the horizon, he attacked with even greater fury than before, increasing the pressure on his opponent with vicious glee.

Arran understood that Rannoc had intentionally provoked Kadun earlier, but now, he began to wonder if that had been a mistake.

Although Kadun was still red-faced with rage, it was becoming increasingly clear that his anger had not made him the least bit careless.

He attacked furiously and viciously, but even so, his attacks were careful and deliberate. If Rannoc’s provocation had achieved anything, it was to give Kadun a burning rage to draw upon for energy.

And so far, that fuel showed no sign of running out.

It wasn’t long before the first attack struck true — a shallow gash across Rannoc’s forearm, struck too quickly for the Lord to parry.

The injury was small, barely worth mentioning under other circumstances. But now, it was undeniable proof that the battle was shifting in Kadun’s favor.

"The ground has tasted your blood," Kadun said in a menacing voice. "And soon, it shall feast."

"You think a drop of blood makes a difference?" Rannoc replied. He gave his opponent a mocking smile, then shook his head. "You’re still a fool, Kadun. And soon, you will be a dead fool."

Yet despite Rannoc’s tough words, Arran could not help but notice that the large man was slowly retreating. While he still met Kadun’s attacks with his glaive, each new barrage of blows caused him to take a step or two backward.

And that wasn’t the worst of it.

The blurry images that flickered in the air before each exchange had changed, too. They had been nearly impossible to see to begin with, and now, the forms Rannoc created grew even weaker, fading so much that Arran could no longer make out anything but small ripples in the air.

The shadowy images of Kadun’s weapon, on the other hand, grew sharper and clearer with each passing moment. No longer did it take Arran any effort to see them, and if they weren’t exactly tangible just yet, they weren’t far from it either.

Arran knew it was a bad sign for Rannoc’s chances, but finally, he could see what was actually happening.

Each time Kadun lunged forward to strike at Rannoc, hazy images of a dozen different attacks formed in the air. And each time, the blurry shadows collapsed at the very last moment, leaving only one real attack.

At a glance, it was nothing special — any skilled mage could easily create similar illusions.

But as Arran watched, he became increasingly certain that these weren’t mere illusions. Somehow, it was as if each of the attacks contained the potential to manifest and become real.

"We should leave," Kaleesh’s voice sounded.

Torn from his thoughts, Arran glanced over at the captain. "Leave?" he asked, his mind still focused on what he was witnessing.

"Rannoc is losing," Kaleesh said in a low voice. "If we flee now, we might still escape with our lives."

Arran looked uneasily at the two fighting Lords, realizing that Kaleesh was right. Already, Kadun had opened several more wounds on Rannoc’s body, and Rannoc’s retreat was growing ever more desperate.

And as Rannoc retreated, Kadun’s attacks grew even more frantic than before, his strikes ferocious as he drove the battle toward its end.

Yet just as Arran was about to join Kaleesh in fleeing the city, something caught his eye — something familiar.

"Wait," he said in a low voice.

In Rannoc’s movements, he recognized the hint of an insight he shared with the Lord — binding. It wasn’t as flawless as his own version, but it wasn’t far from it, either. And as soon as he saw it, he knew what Rannoc planned to do.

Again Kadun attacked, a maniacal grin on his face as he prepared to strike the final blow.

A dozen versions of the same brutal strike briefly shimmered in the air, only to be met with a dozen blurred images of blocking movements, each of which contained Rannoc’s insight into binding.

Both the sets of shadowy images collapsed a moment later, leaving only a single vicious sword strike — and the shaft of Rannoc’s glaive, blocking it perfectly.

When the sword hit the glaive, it came to a sudden stop, and panic flashed across Kadun’s face when he realized his weapon was completely immobilized.

It lasted only a second, but even as Kadun pulled his weapon free from Rannoc’s, a dozen shadowy images of the glaive shimmered in the air, each of them showing a devastating attack filled with the essence of severing.

Kadun reacted instantly, but it was too late — although he created a handful of defenses of his own, there weren’t enough to block all of Rannoc’s attacks.

Still, several of Rannoc’s ghostly strikes were blocked. Yet one slipped past Kadun’s defense — and instantly became real, hitting Kadun as the other strikes blinked out of existence.

There was no time for Kadun to even look surprised. Rannoc’s attack tore through his body, cleaving him from neck to waist in a fountain of blood.

As the dead Lord’s remains collapsed to the ground, a small smile crossed Rannoc’s face.

"You died the way you lived," he said. "An idiot to your last breath."

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