Paragon of Destruction

But if Arran had slept little, Brightblade appeared not to have slept at all. She was still in the exact same place as the previous night, watching both paths to the plateau with focused eyes.

"Any sign of Remnants tonight?" Arran asked.

"None," she replied. "But then, they usually stay down in the valleys. This far up, there’s no real risk of running into them."

Though her words were meant to be reassuring, they would have been more effective had she not spent the night keeping a careful watch. As it was, Arran could not help but think that any risk real enough to keep Brightblade awake was one worth fearing.

But that was only part of the concern he felt. Another — larger — part was his memory of the creature.

"That creature yesterday," he began. "The Essence Remnant..." He paused, struggling to find the right words to voice his concern.

Yet Brightblade nodded, a look of understanding in her eyes. "They’re disconcerting, aren’t they? As if they shouldn’t exist — Essence come to life and turned hostile. Like your own sword turning against you."

Arran frowned, his expression uncertain. "When I saw it... I couldn’t tell whether the beast had absorbed the Essence, or the Essence had absorbed the beast."

Brightblade gave him a small smile. "That’s a better question than you might realize, and something we might discuss in the future. But for now, what matters is getting out of here as quickly as possible. So eat something — we won’t stop again before nightfall."

He did as she said, and after a short meal, they set off once more, with Arran eager to leave behind both the mountains and the creatures that dwelt among them. Peaceful though the area might seem, he now understood just how misleading its appearance truly was.

Fortunately, however, they made rapid progress along the mountains’ narrow paths. The Remnant had forced them to take a more difficult route, but neither of them had any trouble traversing the harsh terrain, and they moved with the drive of people keen to be elsewhere.

Still, neither their swift pace nor the tranquil surroundings brought Arran much comfort. Even if there was no sign of any more Remnants, he felt like they could stumble upon one at any moment, and he had no interest in seeing the alien creatures’ power up close.

While his body could easily handle the effort of running through rough terrain, his constant wariness made the journey exhausting, and he was almost glad when the day came to an end and Brightblade set up camp — almost, because even if rest was welcome, the same wasn’t true for another day spent in the mountains.

"We should reach the edge of the mountains by tomorrow afternoon," Brightblade said. "There’s another formation there, and when we cross it, we’ll be safe. Try to get some sleep tonight. We leave at first light."

Despite Brightblade’s advice and his own exhaustion, Arran barely slept that night. The memory of the Essence Remnant was still too fresh in his mind for that — especially in a place where one of the creatures could easily stumble upon them while he slept.

But once more, Arran was relieved to find that his worries had been for naught. No Remnants passed their makeshift camp during the night, and in the morning, he found himself filled with energy. Just another half-day of travel, and they would be clear of the mountains.

The morning passed uneventfully, and by midday, Arran’s spirits began to return. Just a few more hours, and they’d reach the relative safety of the borderlands.

They crossed a green, wide valley unhindered, then followed a steep path that led to a pass up on the mountain. And with every step, Arran could feel safety getting closer.

But as they reached the pass, Brightblade came to a sudden halt.

"Son of a whore!" she spat. "Demons!"

Arran was only paces behind, and as she finished the last word, he came to a halt beside her. Immediately, he saw the reason for her curse.

A long, broad pass lay in the distance ahead of them, over two dozen paces wide and at least a mile long. Yet within the pass stood numerous human-like shapes, and even from this distance, Arran could see that these were no people.

The shapes, he saw, held the same kind of raw Essence he had seen in the Essence Remnant. And there were thousands of them.

"What—" he began.

"Draw your sword," Brightblade interrupted. "These are Demons. They’re far weaker than Remnants, but unfortunately, they’re nowhere near as stupid."

At that, as if they had heard her words, the shapes began to turn toward them, their eyes glowing a bright red as they became aware of the new arrivals.

"Cut down any who get in your way," Brightblade said hurriedly, "but don’t stop to finish them — don’t stop for anything. Now follow me!"

At once, she burst forward, sword drawn as she rushed to meet the vast horde of creatures. And behind her was Arran, his blade raised and ready to strike anything that got in his way.

When there were barely fifty paces between them and the creatures, a sudden surge of Essence exploded from Brightblade, strong enough that it nearly brought Arran to a halt. Yet the creatures seemed wholly unaffected, and they Brightblade reached the group a moment later.

Her slender starmetal sword darted forward at once, cutting half a dozen of the creatures down in the blink of an eye. And she showed no sign of slowing down — she continued forward without slowing down even the slightest bit, more of the creatures falling as she cut a path through the large group.

Arran followed barely two paces behind her, struggling to keep up with her sudden speed. Any of the creatures that came within reach of his blade were cut down mercilessly, but he had no chance to see the damage he wrought — fast as Brightblade was moving, even the slightest hesitation would see him fall behind.

Yet after some moments, Brightblade began to slow. Even if she cut down the creatures with terrifying fury, there were just too many of them, and they blocked the way forward through sheer numbers.

Another burst of Essence came forth from Brightblade, and again, it had little effect on the creatures. If she was let down by the lack of a result, it did not show — she continued to carve a way through the mass with fast and vicious blows, her slender sword butchering any who came near her.

Yet as the creatures recovered from the shock of the sudden attack, they began to sling streaks of violent Essence at Brightblade and Arran. And although Brightblade defended herself with an invisible shield, Arran had no such protection.

The first few creatures who tried to attack him fell to his sword before they could hit him, but then, Arran was just a second too late, and one of the attacks slammed into his chest — a fierce red streak of violent Essence.

The force of the hit sent Arran staggering backward, and he realized immediately that these attacks were strong — strong enough to hurt him despite his resistance to magic. And although a single hit wasn’t enough to seriously injure him, he knew a few more such attacks could actually cause him damage.

He rushed toward the creature that had attacked him, and its bright red eyes almost seemed to hold surprise in the brief moment before Arran’s blade took off the top half of its head.

Another surge of Essence came from Brightblade, who was still carving a path through the enemy forces, but Arran ignored it. Instead, he began to attack the creatures surrounding him with his full might, using his true insight into severing to imbue each strike of his sword with devastating power.

Yet although the creatures died by the dozens, Arran realized soon that they were in trouble. The enemy’s numbers slowed Brightblade further and further, and before long, streaks of Essence began to rain upon them from all sides.

Brightblade took the bulk of these, blocking each just before it reached her. Yet Arran was attacked as well, and even if he avoided most of the attacks, several of them landed on his body, leaving shallow injuries.

Arran continued his furious assault on the creatures around him, but he knew the situation was quickly turning bad. Although Brightblade hadn’t been hit yet, her progress had slowed to a crawl as the creatures continued to block her way. And wherever she struck the creatures down, more of them appeared almost instantly.

And as for Arran himself, each attack that struck him left him weaker, and he could only continue to resist the creatures for a short while longer. Soon, he knew, the situation would turn desperate.

Yet then, on the far end of the pass, an unexpected sight appeared. A vast Essence Remnant in the shape of a bear, forty feet tall if not more.

The shocking sight startled Arran even amid a desperate battle, but Brightblade’s loud voice sounded just a second later.

"Keep fighting!" she shouted. "Just a little longer!"