Paragon of Destruction

His spirits rose further when he realized that his enemies’ advance was chaotic, lacking any sort of organization. Rather than progressing in tight ranks, as he imagined a real army would, they moved forward in a disorderly mass.

Their sloppy advance allowed Arran to continue attacking in much the same way as he had before, striking quickly and furiously, then disappearing into the woods again before they could respond.

Several of the soldiers had the presence of mind to bring torches, and Arran rewarded their good sense by killing them first. The darkness was his ally in this battle, and he would protect it as best he could, slaughtering all those who threatened it.

Between the darkness and Arran’s constant attacks, the soldiers advanced slowly, losing men with every few paces they progressed. Yet strangely, their morale seemed high — from their cries and calls, it was clear they believed they were winning the battle.

But then, they wore no uniforms, and they had no way to know that the bodies they stumbled over were all their own. They advanced as they fought, and that seemed enough to convince them they had the upper hand.

Several times, Arran witnessed groups of soldiers attack each other, unable to tell friend from foe in the dark. These fights further added to the enemies’ impression that they were facing an enemy force, and naturally, he did not interfere with them.

As the chaotic battle continued, Arran steadily lured his enemies further and further into the woods, slowly guiding them toward the hill where Stoneheart was hiding. The hill was barely a mile away from the camp, but the glacial pace at which the front line moved meant crossing the short distance took the better part of half an hour.

Far from being impatient, Arran welcomed the army’s slow advance.

Even if the real battle had yet to start, hundreds of enemy soldiers had already fallen, with every death feeding Arran’s Blood magic. And the more of them fell, the stronger Arran would be when he attacked in earnest.

Despite the darkness and chaos, occasionally a soldier near the front would get the right idea, calling for a retreat or screaming that there was only one enemy.

Each time this happened, Arran would rush over immediately, butchering the quick-witted soldier and all those around him, preventing the calls from taking hold among the other soldiers.

The same fate awaited those few soldiers who tried to bring some shred of order to their jumbled ranks. Arran wanted his enemies confused and disoriented, and he would not brook any interference with his plans.

The culling was successful, and with every pace the army advanced, their ranks grew more disorderly. None at the front knew what was happening in the darkness around them, and none in the back heard what was happening at the front.

With the soldiers in complete disarray, Arran easily led them to the hill. But he did not stop there. Instead, he guided them further, several hundreds of paces along the side of the hill.

He finally came to a stop some three hundred paces from the hill’s peak, where he knew Stoneheart would be hiding.

This was where he would make his stand, and this was where the army would meet its end.

Briefly, he stood still and closed his eyes, allowing the full strength of the Blood magic to fill him. Earlier, he had restrained it, careful not to reveal his power to the enemies. But now, the time had come to unleash all of it.

With a sudden movement, Arran rushed forward, two bounding leaps carrying him two dozen paces into the soldiers’ ranks. At once, he began to attack savagely, no longer restraining himself.

The slaughter had begun.

Arran’s starmetal sword was heavy and razor-sharp, and he swung it with the strength of a mad titan, cleaving his enemies’ bodies with terrifying ease. In seconds, dozens of enemy soldiers had already died, the blade cutting through them like a scythe through grass.

Every blow he struck was fatal, often cutting through several enemies at once. Most had no time to scream or flee — the moment they came within range of Arran’s blade, their bodies were torn asunder, the life ripped from them before they even hit the ground.

In the darkness, only those closest to the reaping had an inkling of what was happening. Yet there was no escape for them, as the mass of soldiers behind them mindlessly pressed forward, driving them to their deaths.

The sudden massacre filled Arran with a new avalanche of power, and as the Blood magic raged inside him, the bloodlust grew from an ember to a blaze.

Yet for all its strength, the bloodlust didn’t cause his control to waver. The Tempering had done its work, and now, Arran found himself able to command both the strength and the bloodlust he had gained from the Blood magic.

When he had defeated the raiding party, he had fought in a blind rage, his strength overwhelming but his senses dulled. Now, he was in full control of both his senses and his strength, and the combination proved frightfully effective.

Even as he fought, Arran felt some surprise at his own power. He had expected that the Blood magic would be more effective with his mind intact, but he had underestimated just how big the difference would be.

He waded through the battlefield like a god of death, ending the lives of all who came within reach, ruthlessly efficient in commanding his power. He fought with a controlled fury, and every attack he made was chosen for maximum damage.

For several minutes, the slaughter continued, and in those minutes, hundreds of soldiers fell to Arran’s blade.

Soon, however, the army began to falter. Even if the soldiers further back did not know exactly what was happening, the screams of terror and pain from the vanguard made it clear that it was nothing good.

Then, abruptly, the army’s push forward ended entirely.

Driven mad with panic, some of the soldiers closest to Arran had turned their weapons against their allies, desperate to cut a path to safety. Others followed, and soon dozens of small fights had broken out along the front lines.

Even if the army hadn’t been routed just yet, Arran knew that it was now only a matter of minutes before the charge was broken completely.

He redoubled his attacks at once, eager to drive off his enemies. If he managed to rout the army before its leader had a chance to intervene, Arran could join forces with Stoneheart to defeat the mage, and their victory would be certain.

But just then, as the enemy forces teetered on the brink of collapse, Arran Sensed it. A sudden, massive swell of Essence atop the hill.

He dashed off without hesitation, barreling through a group of fighting soldiers.

A moment later, a white fireball soared toward the center of the battle, where Arran had stood just moments before. It impacted with a thunderous crash, then quickly expanded into a large cluster of fire so hot Arran could feel it burn him even from several dozens of paces away.

While the Blood magic healed the burns almost as quickly as they appeared, Arran wondered whether he could withstand a direct hit, and quickly decided he had no interest in finding out.

Stoneheart had better hurry, he thought, or the entire battle might yet turn into a disaster.

At the same time, some cheers sounded from the army. Although the attack had killed dozens of their own, the soldiers clearly knew that help had arrived, and the army that had been on the verge of being routed now seemed to rediscover its resolve.

Arran continued to fight, his sword tearing through the newly inspired soldiers. Enemy mage or not, his task was to break the army, and he would not allow himself to fail.

Another fireball came, and this time it struck even closer to Arran. At this rate, he knew, it wouldn’t be long before he would be forced to test the limits of the Blood magic’s healing ability.

But then, he felt a massive surge of Essence, and a second later a deafening thunderclap sounded from the hilltop, so loud it seemed the skies themselves were being split apart.

The soldiers came to an immediate stop, while Arran had to force himself to continue fighting. He understood that Stoneheart had finally confronted the mage, and from the force he had just Sensed, it seemed the battle had been decided in a single attack.

For several moments, nothing happened. Then, there was another surge of Essence, and a massive fireball came flying from the hilltop. Yet unlike the previous ones, this one was aimed squarely at the army, and it struck with devastating effect. Then, another came, again aimed at the army.

It was too much. Their last hope shattered, the soldiers’ courage failed, and the army broke.

Within moments, the thousands of soldiers who still lived were running, panic sending them fleeing in all directions.

But before Arran had the chance to feel any relief, he suddenly Sensed two mages gathering vast amounts of Essence. One of these would be Stoneheart, but the other could only be an enemy.

Arran immediately rushed toward the hilltop, but he already knew he would be too late to make a difference.

As Arran ran, the hilltop was briefly engulfed in a tempest of fire and lightning. Moments later, it died down, the battle already over.

Arran increased his pace, approaching the hilltop in a mad dash. With the Blood magic strengthening his body, he crossed the distance in seconds, and soon, he saw Stoneheart appear in the distance.

The tall novice was surrounded by the burning wreckage of trees and brush, and when he saw Arran approach, he raised his hand in greeting.

"No need to worry! I got them both!" Stoneheart called out, some pride in his voice.

Arran did not stop. He raised his sword as he shot forward, and when he launched a devastating Battering Force attack straight at Stoneheart, the novice’s eyes went wide with shock.