Paragon of Destruction

Arran’s brow was furrowed in a deep frown as he stared at the four vials that stood on the table before him.

Though the vials were small, they contained priceless treasures — four greater bloodlines, each of which should have a power to rival the Ruiner’s and Devourer’s bloodlines he already possessed.

That one of these vials also contained a corrupted version of the Hungerer’s bloodline was a small matter. Lady Merem had granted him the true version of that bloodline, and as long as he consumed it before the corrupted bloodline could take hold, he would suffer no ill effects.

Instead, he’d merely gain yet another powerful bloodline.

While these five bloodlines should cause his strength to increase with leaps and bounds, they also represented something nearly as important — that he could finally choose to leave the Imperium.

His goal in coming to the Imperium had been twofold. First, he wanted to learn its secrets, and second, he wanted to seize its treasures. At this moment, both those things had been largely achieved.

There were still bloodlines to be had and secrets to be uncovered, of course. He had yet to touch on the Lords’ second step into Enlightenment, and he hadn’t even begun to learn whatever technique the Imperial Knights used to control their bloodlines.

But if he was forced to flee now, he would no longer consider it a failure. He’d already achieved more than could reasonably be expected, with his strength increasing several times over in just a few short years.

A faint smile crossed his lips when he imagined how Brightblade and Snowcloud would react when they learned of his progress. When he left the Ninth Valley, he’d barely had the strength to defeat a Master in a fair fight. But when he returned, he’d have the strength to defeat even Grandmasters.

Yet fast as his progress had been, he knew that further gains would be slow in coming.

Seizing another bloodline or two might still be possible, but learning the Imperial Knights’ techniques or setting another step into Enlightenment would be far more difficult. Those were things that might well take decades.

And by then, the war between the Shadowflame Society and the Imperium would long have started.

Arran let out a small sigh, then turned his attention back to the four vials.

It only took him a moment to decide that he would take the vial with the Titan’s bloodline last. He was all but certain that was the one that also contained the corrupted Hungerer’s bloodline, as the Titan’s bloodline would be best suited to mask its effects.

As for the others, the order in which he took them shouldn’t make much of a difference.

He pondered it briefly, then decided to start with the Sage’s bloodline. Of the three, that should be the one with the mildest effects.

Decision made, he wasted no more time in acting. Without hesitation, he opened the vial, then downed its contents in a single gulp.

Arran grimaced as he tasted the liquid. It was a cloyingly sweet wine that utterly failed to mask an aroma of fresh blood, with the two unpleasant flavors instead combining to create a taste so foul it almost made him gag.

Yet despite his revulsion, the grimace lasted only a single breath. Then, as the liquid entered his stomach, his eyes widened when he felt a warm glow spread through his body.

It was a pleasant sensation, albeit one that was even milder than he had expected. While it was stronger than what he’d felt when becoming a citizen of the Imperium, the difference between the two was modest at best. And it certainly came nowhere close to receiving a bloodline from Crassus.

Yet as he sat and waited for the bloodline to take hold, he could tell that it had some small effect on his mind. His mind became slightly clearer, as if he’d stepped outside on a crisp spring morning after a good night’s sleep.

That was the extent of it, however. Though he waited for another quarter-hour, no more changes came.

"That’s it?" he muttered, a slightly dejected look on his face. While he hadn’t expected a miracle, he hadn’t expected something as weak as this, either.

The increase in his clarity of mind should help his comprehension, but the difference was small enough that he could not help but be disappointed. Had it not been for the fact that he’d received this bloodline for free, he almost would have thought the church had swindled him.

Still, he spent the next hour fully focusing his Sense on the Natural Essence within his body, carefully observing the minute changes in the paths of its flows.

When he was finally satisfied that he’d observed everything he could — which wasn’t much, as the changes were exceedingly small — he immediately moved on to the next vial.

This time, he chose the Master’s bloodline. Unlike the Sage’s bloodline, this one should have a more formidable effect, giving his body a wholly new power.

Again, he downed the vial’s foul liquid in a single gulp, suppressing a scowl as he waited for the bloodline to take hold.

Only a single breath of time passed before he felt it — a chilly sensation that rapidly spread through his body, causing him to shiver violently. Yet although Arran expected the feeling to strengthen further, it faded as quickly as it had come, with the only lasting effect he could Sense another small change to the flows of Natural Essence within his body.

Forehead creased in an uneasy frown, Arran carefully examined himself, quickly finding that his control of Shadow Essence had seen a slight increase. But again, the result left him disappointed.

Although he had no way of testing it here, he was certain that this Master’s bloodline would allow him to control just a sliver of the Essence used in any serious magical attack he suffered.

With this small bit of power, he would barely be able to deflect an Adept’s attack. As for the attacks of Grandmasters or Archmages, there was no need to even mention those.

Nevertheless, he spent two full hours using his Sense to observe the effects on the flows of Natural Essence within his body, occasionally nodding to himself as he was beginning to recognize the problem.

Then, he moved on to the next vial.

The Guardian’s bloodline proved no different than the previous two. Once more, the effect was exceedingly faint, small enough that it would make next to no difference in battle.

As Arran had already expected this, he was not disappointed. Instead, he merely focused his Sense once more, spending three hours contemplating the small changes the bloodline had caused within his body.

Once he was confident that he’d seen all there was to see, he moved to the last vial — the one that should hold not only the Titan’s bloodline, but also the corrupted Hungerer’s bloodline.

While he’d emptied the previous three vials without hesitation, this time, he felt some reluctance as he reached out. To knowingly take poison was an unpleasant thing, after all, even with the antidote in hand.

But then, if his suspicions were correct, the corrupted bloodline should pose little danger to him.

He grabbed the fourth vial without any further delay, downing it like he had the previous three. Once again, he nearly gagged at the taste of the liquid, but a mere moment later a look of utter surprise appeared on his face.

Just as he suspected, the fourth vial contained two bloodlines. While this would have been impossible to notice for a normal Darian warrior, Arran was a mage, and a Master of Shadow at that. Moreover, he’d already carried two strong bloodlines for years, and he’d just spent several hours observing another three.

With that, it would have been impossible for him not to notice that there were two bloodlines, one of which was completely unlike the ones before it. Rather than the calm energy he’d felt in the other ones, this one contained a twisted energy that caused the Natural Essence within his body to briefly flow in a jagged and chaotic manner.

Yet that was something he’d already expected. What caused his eyes to go wide with surprise wasn’t the tainted bloodline itself, but rather, his body’s reaction to it.

He’d suspected that the Blood Ruin would reject it, but the response far surpassed his expectations. Rather than merely rejecting the corrupted bloodline, the Natural Essence in his body tore it apart in a savage attack, eradicating even the slightest trace of it in an instant.

"So that’s how it is..."

By now, Arran understood clearly that the disappointing effects of the previous bloodlines were a result of the Blood Ruin suppressing them. This was something he hadn’t expected, but now, he realized that it made perfect sense.

The Blood Ruin was the fusion of two powerful bloodlines, both of which had been strengthened to the extreme.

The Devourer’s bloodline had been forced upon Arran by a frightfully powerful creature whose strength he still did not fully comprehend, and he’d gone on to further feed it with the lives of thousands of foes.

The Ruiner’s bloodline, meanwhile, was something he’d gained while fully submerged in the blood of a dragon so strong it could shatter mountains, and he’d gone on to build it up by eating the meat of dragons and monsters.

No wonder the church’s bloodlines could not compare. A few drops of blood diluted in wine could not possibly match such strength.

It had been different with the lesser bloodline he’d gained when he became a citizen of the Imperium. But that bloodline, Arran now realized, merely served to unlock strength that was already present within his body.

The greater bloodlines, meanwhile, would effect more fundamental changes. And achieving that required them to alter the vast foundation the Blood Ruin had already built - something they clearly lacked the strength to do.

As for the corrupted Hungerer’s bloodline, it was little different from a poison. Since dragons’ blood naturally resisted even the most powerful poisons, such a thing naturally failed to take hold.

A wry smiled crossed Arran’s face, but after a moment of thought, he took out the shadowmetal vial that contained the true Hungerer’s bloodline, and downed that as well.

If the church’s four bloodlines had proved too weak to leave more than a faint presence inside his body, the one given by Lady Merem was slightly stronger. While its effects still fell far short of his original expectations, it should still be somewhat useful.

Arran couldn’t help but laugh at himself as he remembered his earlier excitement. He’d honestly believed that he would gain another source of power equal to the Blood Ruin, easily surpassing even the strongest of Knights in a single step.

But now, he knew the path would be more difficult.

Although the bloodlines failed to grant him the power he hoped for, that didn’t mean they were useless. At the moment, they were like seeds inside his body, waiting for the nourishment that would allow them to grow into true powers. And for that, there were two options.

The first of these was to increase his strength. In doing so, he would allow these five bloodlines to benefit as well, slowly growing them into the treasures he’d believed he already had.

This was the path the church followed — a path of toil and labor, slow but certain in its outcome. Decades might pass, but eventually, these so-called greater bloodlines would become worthy of the title.

Arran rejected this path the moment he recognized it.

While its outcome was certain, the time it would take was far too long. And not just that — he could vaguely sense that such a path would only reveal a shred of the bloodlines’ true potential.

After all, the Knights he’d faced should all have had greater bloodlines of their own. And yet, they had died far too easily, the bloodlines they carried not enough to protect their lives.

But there was another path. And as Arran pondered that path, his expression soon turned thoughtful.

Perhaps the journey would not be quite as long as he feared, after all.