Paragon of Destruction

"Just how many people are here?" Arran asked, his eyes wandering around the camp while Tuya guided him to the castle.

As they passed through the camp, it seemed even larger than it had from a distance, spreading out in all directions like a city built out of tents. There were recruits everywhere, many of them wearing swords and carrying spears, and once more Arran thought it looked more like an army than anything else.

Tuya’s giant figure drew many looks from the recruits they passed, yet Arran saw reverence rather than surprise in their eyes — they were clearly already familiar with her, which meant the camp wasn’t a new one.

"There are several hundreds of novices," Tuya said. "Each with a few hundred recruits."

"But why are they here?" Arran asked. "And why so many?"

"The conflict between the factions has made the borderlands too dangerous for lone novices," Tuya said. "The Waning Moon faction has already attacked dozens of novices, killing many of them. Here, our novices are under my father’s protection."

As she spoke, Arran suspected she wasn’t telling the whole story.

Perhaps it was true that the novices had come here for protection, yet if protection was all they needed, simply forming small groups would have been enough — there certainly was no need for a vast army like this.

With so many armed men and women around, there had to be something they were waiting for. And although Arran knew little about the conflict between the Soaring Sun and Waning Moon factions, the impression he got from the camp was that they were preparing for a grand battle.

If they were, it would be something beyond anything he had seen before — hundreds of mages and thousands of warriors facing each other, endless masses tearing into each other with sharp swords and powerful magic. Rivers of blood would flow, and devastation would fill the lands for miles around.

In fact, even now, there were enough recruits for a large battle. If he slew just a few, the bloodlust would quickly fill him with strength, and with such numbers to feed it further, he would quickly become powerful enough to—

"We should hurry," he said with a start, realizing that he had been on the verge of attacking the camp.

Tuya gave him a sideways glance. "You’re feeling the rage?"

Arran nodded. "It seems to be growing stronger."

"Or your control is slipping," Tuya replied, her forehead creased in a frown. "Either way, we’re almost there."

Indeed, when Arran looked ahead, he could see that they were nearing the castle. Large and austere, it loomed over the rest of the camp like a mountain amid a meadow.

There were several dozens of guards at the gate, but they let Tuya and Arran pass without a word, Tuya’s stature being all the proof they needed of her identity.

Within the courtyard, Arran saw several dozens of men and women sparring against each other. They were dressed like mages, but he didn’t need to see their clothes to know what they were — even if they used no magic, they fought with a strength and speed that no commoner would have been able to match.

Several of the mages cast interested looks at Tuya and Arran as they passed, but seeing the firm look on Tuya’s face as they made their way to the castle proper, none approached them.

"We’ll head to my father immediately," Tuya said when they entered.

"Can I see Snowcloud first?" Arran asked.

Tuya shook her head. "Father told me to retrieve you without delay. You can speak with her later."

Arran frowned, unhappy with the answer. He had wanted to talk to Snowcloud first, to find out whether she knew what Tuya’s father had planned for him. But from Tuya’s expression, it was clear that she would not be swayed, so he had no choice but to go in blind and hope for the best.

The giant woman quickly led him through the castle’s maze-like halls, eventually coming to a stop before a large wooden door. She opened it without knocking and stepped through the doorway, with Arran following behind her.

Inside, Arran found himself speechless. There was a large wooden desk, with an even larger wooden chair behind it, and in the chair sat a man so vast he barely even looked human.

This was Tuya’s father, Arran instantly knew, and just the sight of the man left him dumbfounded. Dark-haired and square-jawed, the man had shoulders so thick with muscle they resembled barrels, and even sitting down he towered over Arran.

Arran no longer wondered why the man was nicknamed ’the Dragon’ — his sheer size was enough to make him resemble one.

As they entered, the giant looked up from a book he was holding, which in his massive hand looked comically small.

"Father," Tuya said, giving the man a polite nod. "I’ve brought you the recruit."

"So I see," the man replied, his voice calm and friendly. He looked at Arran, then added, "And it seems you reached him before the madness took hold. Ghostblade, was it?"

"Yes, Elder Naran," Arran said, guessing at how to properly address the man. No correction came, and he was relieved that he seemed to have chosen correctly — offending the giant Elder seemed like a bad idea.

"Tuya, could you go and get Snowcloud?" Elder Naran said. "I think she will want to be present when we discuss our next steps."

Tuya stepped out of the room, and Elder Naran gestured at one of the chairs. "Please, take a seat."

Arran did as the man said, suppressing his surprise at finding that despite his size and fearsome nickname, the man spoke more like a scholar than a warrior.

"Now then," Elder Naran said. "I will explain how I hope to aid you after Tuya returns with Snowcloud, but perhaps you would like to hear what is actually affecting you?"

"I would," Arran replied instantly.

Elder Naran gave him an approving smile, then began to speak.

"Blood magic is one of the more curious types of magic that exist. It neither relies on Realms nor on the Natural Essence that imbues the world, instead directly consuming life force for its power."

"It consumes my life force?!" Arran’s eyes went wide, and he feared things might be even worse than he thought.

"Not yours," Elder Naran corrected him calmly. "A Blood Crystal is created by draining the life force from thousands of people, then twisting and condensing it into a single spark of power. When someone absorbs it, that power merges with their body and mind, becoming part of them."

Arran frowned. While that might explain why he healed so quickly, it did nothing to explain the bloodlust or the strength he felt during battle. "But what about the effects? Why does it make me stronger and fill me with bloodlust?"

"A good question," Elder Naran said, nodding. "When people die around you, whether in battle or otherwise, the Blood magic draws in their severed life force. Only a small part of it is absorbed while the rest is ultimately wasted, but before the excess escapes you, you can briefly draw on its power."

The giant man scraped his throat, then continued, "The rage you feel is like hunger or thirst — a primal instinct that is now part of you. And the stronger it grows, the harder it will become to resist. The effects will weaken after battle, but each time you kill, the Blood magic will grow more powerful within you."

For several moments, Arran was silent.

"Can you remove it?" he finally asked.

"I can’t," Elder Naran replied. "It’s a part of you now, and to remove it would kill you. But I might be able to help you control it, and if I succeed, it will be a blessing to you."

The man’s eyes shone with enthusiasm at those last words, yet Arran’s mind was on what came before. From what Elder Naran said, he wasn’t confident he could help.

At that moment, the door opened and Tuya stepped inside, Snowcloud a step behind her.

Arran nodded at Snowcloud, and she gave him a smile in response. But then, as she turned to Elder Naran, her face turned hard.

"Have you figured out yet how to help him?" she asked, her voice severe.

"I have," the Elder replied. "There is some risk involved, but I think there is a good chance of saving him."

"What are you planning to do?" Snowcloud asked.

"The Tempering," Elder Naran said.

Arran took it as a bad sign when Tuya gasped in shock.