Paragon of Destruction

This was something he could not allow — away from Brightblade, the creatures could overwhelm him in moments.

He immediately dashed forward, killing four of the Demons with as many strikes of his sword. But although this took him only a single breath’s time, one of them still managed to get off an attack, and Arran groaned in pain as the streak of Essence slammed into his shoulder.

There was no time to pay the injury any mind, however, as a fifth Demon stepped forward to face him only a moment later.

This one was larger than the others, the Essence from which it was made somehow denser — almost as if it was more real. And in its hands, it held a sword that looked as if it was made from condensed fire.

The Demon raised its blade as it faced Arran, its stance that of a seasoned swordsman expecting a challenge.

But Arran had no time for a duel.

He struck a single blow containing both his full strength and his true insight into severing, and although the Demon moved to block it, the attack cleaved through the fiery blade as easily as it cleaved through the creature wielding it.

Yet even as the Demon’s body fell, another attack hit Arran in the back. He stumbled forward, and as he regained his balance, he spun around to face the enemies behind him — just in time to see a second Essence Remnant appear at the other end of the pass.

Thirty feet tall and shaped like a wolf, it resembled the Remnant Arran had seen two days earlier — the one that had haunted his dreams for several nights. And now, a monster like that stood barely a hundred paces away from him.

Arran’s heart nearly froze at the sight, but he quickly tore his eyes away from the giant Remnant.

Terrifying though the creature might be, hundreds of Demons stood between him and the monster. And even if they were less dangerous than the Remnant, they were just as capable of killing him if he let himself be distracted.

With Brightblade at his back, he cut down more of the Demons coming up behind them, his starmetal blade ripping through the red-eyed creatures’ bodies with vicious ease. They did not bleed, exactly. Rather, when he struck them a mist of Essence poured from their wounds. But blood or not, they died all the same.

In a few breaths’ time, he killed another dozen Demons, and although another two flashes of dense Essence struck his body, he felt a surge of hope when he saw that the creatures red eyes held something familiar — fear.

Alien though they might be, it seemed they shared at least this emotion with humans. And if they could feel fear, then Arran would turn their fear into terror.

He attacked with renewed vigor, ignoring his injuries as he drove the Demons back. Each strike of his sword took a life — if it could be called that — and soon, the creatures back to inch backward, terrified of being the next to fall.

Yet while Arran cut down Demons with the fury of a rabid tiger, the Essence Remnant came closer, approaching the battle with giant steps. It reached the Demons’ lines in just a few moments, and when it did, its giant jaws shot forward in a violent movement, snapping shut around one of the Demons.

The Demon was torn apart and consumed by the Remnant in an instant, and even as it died, the giant monster attacked another. Within a moment, half a dozen Demons were devoured, and the Remnant showed no signs of stopping. If anything, its attacks grew more vicious, as if the first taste had awakened its hunger.

The sight filled Arran with shock and delight in equal measure. He had briefly feared the Essence Remnants were somehow controlled by the Demons, but now, he realized the truth.

The Remnants were there not to aid the Demons, but to feast on them.

The changed situation did not escape the Demons’ notice, either. Within moments, panic began to spread among their ranks, as they realized they were facing a slaughter on all sides.

Brightblade and Arran had already massacred many of them, and now, an even greater threat had appeared, with Essence Remnants tearing through their numbers from both sides of the pass.

It was too much for the creatures. Their ranks broke almost instantly, and a moment later, hundreds of Demons were fleeing. Or trying to flee, at least, because with Remnants on both sides of the pass, they had no safe path of escape.

Some fled toward the center of the pass, away from the Remnants. Others, perhaps better aware of the situation, hurried the opposite way, desperately trying to get past the monsters in the chaos.

But either way, the attacks on Arran came to a halt. With Essence Remnants slaughtering their way through the pass, it seemed he was no longer worth their attention.

Knowing that the reprieve couldn’t last, he hurried over to Brightblade, who had come to a halt at the center of the pass. There were no Demons for a dozen paces around her — doubtless, she had already cut down those not wise enough to stay clear of her.

She spared him only a brief glance before her eyes turned back to the bear-shaped Remnant. "Follow me," she said in a tense voice. "And don’t stop for anything."

Without waiting for a reply, she set off at a run, charging straight into the mass of Demons ahead of her, cutting down those who stood in her way and ignoring all others.

Arran followed behind her, struggling to keep up even with Brightblade clearing a path for him. It was clear that she had no intention of wasting even a moment — and for good reason, because with every second, the Remnant behind them was drawing closer.

Yet there was a Remnant ahead as well, and each step they took brought them toward it.

Arran clenched his teeth as Brightblade approached the monster at a sprint, hurrying behind her despite his fears for the battle ahead.

But no battle came. Brightblade did not slow in the slightest as she passed the Remnant, and the monster ignored her entirely, its focus solely on the Demons ahead of it. A second later, Arran had passed it as well, and a surge of relief ran through his body.

"Don’t stop!" Brightblade shouted, her pace increasing now that no more Demons were blocking her way.

Running with every shred of strength his body held, Arran just barely managed to keep up with her. But although the pace tested his limits, he did not complain — it wouldn’t be long before the Remnants finished their feast, and he had no intention of finding out whether it would be enough to sate their appetite.

They continued on for several hours at a full sprint, navigating the narrow mountain paths with reckless haste. Arran ran until it felt like every muscle in his body was burning, and even then, he merely clenched his teeth and kept going.

Then, suddenly, he felt something — the sudden absence of the blanket of Essence that had filled the mountains behind them. And although there were still plenty of mountains around them, he knew that they had passed the formation.

This was further confirmed a moment later, as Brightblade slowed down to a jog. Then, finally, she came to a halt.

"We made it," she said, in a voice that held relief but no exhaustion.

Arran did not answer. Instead, he collapsed to the ground, now suddenly feeling the full weight of both his injuries and his exhaustion. And for several minutes he remained there, unmoving as he caught his breath.

When he finally sat up, he looked at Brightblade with weary eyes. She did not look the least bit tired, but Arran could see some concern in her expression — concern about him, he guessed.

Yet Arran didn’t worry about his injuries. While they might be enough to kill a commoner, he would recover from them in a matter of days if not hours.

Instead, he gave Brightblade a questioning look, then asked, "What the hell were those things?"