Paragon of Destruction

"Keep your voice down. It’s dangerous here."

The sound of Karanos’s voice was muffled and distorted, and Arran understood the white-eyed mage had used some sort of magic to make it travel through the cloud of Shadow Essence that filled the small cave.

It wasn’t just the air that was saturated with Shadow Essence, he Sensed — the stone floor and walls were filled with it, too. And although Arran could Sense no further than that, he had little doubt that the dark Essence didn’t stop there.

In the Shadow Realm, he suspected, there wouldn’t be a single rock or pebble that wasn’t steeped in Shadow Essence.

"Where are we?" he asked in a soft voice. It was obvious that the small cave wasn’t where they had arrived — it held no sign of any portal back to the real world.

"Somewhere out of sight," Karanos replied. "Unless you draw attention, we can remain here at least a few more days."

Arran realized that Karanos must have moved him repeatedly while he was trapped inside his mind, transporting him between shelters to keep him safe. And if he had been gone as long as he suspected, that had been no small task.

He considered asking his companion how long it had been, but after a thought, he decided against it.

How many years had passed made little difference. And, more importantly, if he was older than Brightblade now, that was a piece of knowledge he could do without.

"What’s next?" he asked instead.

"First, you need to recover," Karanos replied. "At least enough to travel. Our destination is not far from here, but once we reach it, we will need to leave in a hurry."

Arran responded with a short nod. That his body would need time to recover was clear — even if he had nourished it with Essence, years without movement and food had left him withered and weak. "How long do I have?"

"A few days," Karanos said. "I will venture outside, and wait until the area is clear. Once I see an opportunity, we will leave immediately."

"That short?" A few days was far less than Arran needed — barely enough for him to stretch his atrophied muscles, if that. With that little time, he might be able to walk, but not much more than that.

Karanos shrugged. "It’s either that, or leave the area for a decade. Our window grows short, and soon, this area will become a death trap."

"Something is about to happen?" Arran asked, curious to hear more about this world and the dangers it held.

"Winter is approaching," Karanos explained. "In this world, that means a decade of darkness even worse than the darkness of summer. And when the dark arrives, it will bring creatures with it — ones I have no desire to face."

Arran creased his brow in thought. "Then what did you do before I awoke?" he asked after a moment. Although he didn’t know how long he’d been gone, he knew it had been far more than a mere decade.

"We sheltered, but far away from the cities," Karanos said. "The cities are what draws most of the creatures. Out in the wilderness, some safety can be found."

"Then we’re in a city right now?" A puzzled expression crossed Arran’s face. He’d thought the world a dead one — certainly not a place that had its own cities.

"The remains of one," Karanos answered. "But you will see that for yourself when we leave. Right now, your attention is best spent on recovering your strength."

He got up from the ground, then headed toward the small cave’s exit, disappearing beyond the range of Arran’s Sense a few moments later.

Arran did not waste any time after Karanos left. At once, he forced himself to get to his feet, then clenched his jaw and began to walk around the small cave.

The state of his body was every bit as bad as he feared. He struggled just to walk, and the first few steps already caused jabs of pain to shoot through his back and legs. He endured the pain stoically, but even so, his strength failed him after a few short minutes, and he collapsed to the ground.

A wry smile crossed his face as he sat up again.

He knew he would regain his strength eventually, but for now, it seemed he was stuck with the body of a crippled old man — which was fitting, though unpleasant.

To recover from the brief bit of exercise, he began to circulate Essence through his body. Dragon meat would have been more useful, but all his food was stored in his void ring. For now, he would have to settle for Essence.

As Arran nourished his body, he considered the progress he had made while trapped in the Shadow.

The most obvious step forward was that he had become a Master, but he knew that this was also the least useful. As the Sixth Valley’s Patriarch had told it, the Master, Grandmaster, and Archmage ranks only described a mage’s supply of Essence, and little more than that.

In fact, Arran clearly recalled that the Patriarch had said it was possible to become an Archmage without knowing even a single spell. What truly mattered was skill, and of that, rank said little.

Arran’s skills had also advanced, however. While he had not learned any new spells or practiced his casting techniques, countless years of commanding Shadow Essence — both his own and the alien kind — had increased his control considerably.

Yet what had improved most was his Sense.

Once, this had been among his weakest points, perhaps even the weakest. But no longer. Years of studying the infinitesimal differences within Shadow Essence had sharpened his Sense so far he suspected it would put even most Archmages to shame.

That was something that would help him in many ways — in his studies, in avoiding traps, and even in combat. Even if it would not directly strengthen him, a strong Sense was an invaluable tool for mages. And Arran’s should now rank among the strongest.

Still, he could not help but feel slightly disappointed.

The one thing that had not improved was his strength. Once he unsealed his other Realms, he knew he would find them no stronger than before. His offensive magic had not improved in the least — if anything, he would need to practice just to return to his old level.

And his body was worse. Weak and withered as he was, it would take him months to regain his old strength, and his techniques must have suffered from years of disuse.

All considered, it seemed a poor result for countless years spent trapped in darkness. But complaining wouldn’t change that, and after a brief sigh, Arran turned his attention back to his recovery.

In the days that followed, he divided his time between training — if it could even be called that — and nourishing his body with Shadow Essence, using both his own and the foreign Essence that surrounded him.

The efforts allowed Arran to recover, after a fashion. While he was still far from regaining his full strength, his feebleness mostly subsided. As long as he managed to avoid battle, that should be enough to travel, if only barely.

Several more days passed without any sign of Karanos. At first, Arran was glad for the extra time this gave him to recover, but as more days passed, he began to feel some worry.

But then, after ten days, Karanos suddenly stepped into the cave again. And although Arran could only use his Sense to see, even the limited sight that gave him was enough for him to know that the gaunt mage was worried.

"We need to leave," Karanos said. "Right now."

Arran faced the mage, raising his eyebrow. "That opening you mentioned... I take it that didn’t work out as planned?"

"It didn’t," Karanos replied. "But we’ll have to chance it. The creatures are already arriving, weeks earlier than they should. Even if we flee now and return in a decade, I fear the situation will only have grown worse."

He shook his head in frustration, then continued, "Each time I’ve been in the Shadow Realm, it was worse than the previous times. But these past years, it’s as if it has begun to deteriorate more rapidly."

"So we’re heading out?" Arran asked. While Karanos’s obvious concern caused him some unease, his lack of familiarity with the Shadow Realm meant he had no way to judge the danger.

"Right now," Karanos confirmed. "Follow me. And whatever you do, once we’re outside, don’t allow even a shred of your Essence to leave your body."

Without waiting for a reply, he headed for the cave’s entrance, with Arran following close behind him.

When they stepped outside, Arran was immediately struck by his surroundings. Everything around him was pitch black, not even the slightest sliver of light passing through the thick layer of Shadow Essence that covered the land.

If this was summer, as Karanos had said, Arran wondered what the supposed darkness of winter must be like, and how the mage could even tell the difference between the two. Because as far as he could tell, the world was already plunged in utter darkness.

Yet his Sense allowed him to inspect the area, and he immediately realized that this was a city — or that it had been one, at least, countless thousands of years ago. As far as his Sense reached, the land was covered in worn-down ruins, crumbling reminders that the place had once been inhabited.

However, this examination was interrupted when he Sensed something farther in the distance — a creature, seemingly made of Essence. And although the type of animal it had once been was unfamiliar to him, he recognized the kind of creature it had become at once — except this one was vastly larger than the ones he had seen before.

"A Remnant," he whispered.

"That’s what they’re called?" Karanos’s asked in a subdued voice. But a moment later, he continued, "No matter. We need to leave before it Senses us. Come!"

Crouching, he hurried in the opposite direction of the creature, and Arran quickly followed after him, anxious to move away from the monster in the distance.

While the Essence Remnants he had seen in the mountains near the Ninth Valley had been terrifying, this one was something else entirely. Hundreds of feet tall, the colossal monster lumbered through the ruined city, and Arran had no interest in finding out what would happen if it spotted them.

For over an hour, Karanos and Arran rushed through the seemingly endless ruins of what must once have been a vast city. Then, finally, they came to a halt.

Crouching behind a crumbled wall, Karanos turned to Arran. In a tense voice, he asked, "The creature... you’ve seen ones like it before?"