Paragon of Destruction

"Watch out!" Arran yelled.

Windsong barely dodged the fireball, but the prisoner behind him wasn’t as lucky. Before the man had time to look shocked, he was dead, a head-sized hole burned through his chest.

Arran rushed toward the Academy mage who had launched the attack, a terrifyingly strong fighter with a hard face and snow-white hair. And, if Arran was right, one of the few Grandmasters who still fought on the side of the Academy at the prison.

Their initial attack had been unexpectedly successful. Before the Academy could mount a defense, Arran, Windsong, and the prisoners who accompanied them had overrun the guards’ quarters, taking down hundreds of unprepared enemies while losing less than two dozen of their own.

Without delay they had forged ahead to the officers’ quarters, attacking with enough fury that it seemed as if they really were intent on finding and fighting the enemy commanders.

In truth, the whole thing was a ruse — with their attack on the officers’ quarters they hoped to draw away those few guards who still defended the dungeons, allowing a small group of their allies to release the prisoners.

The plan was simple enough, but it did rely on them not running into any unforeseen obstacles — like the white-haired commander who was currently fighting off both Arran and Windsong as his men engaged the other prisoners.

Unlike their previous foes, this one seemed to understand instantly that Arran was trying to create openings for Windsong, and he wasn’t playing along.

Despite Arran’s attacks, the mage constantly managed to stay out of Windsong’s line of sight, using Arran and other prisoners to block Windsong from attacking him. At the same time, he steadily took out weaker prisoners around them, while launching the occasional attack of opportunity at Arran or Windsong.

Arran knew he could not let this continue. With the enemy commander taking down prisoners one after the other, it was only a matter of time before their group would break.

Face twisted in frustration, he launched himself at the enemy commander.

The man saw the opening instantly, and he launched a white-hot fireball at Arran. Arran had expected the attack, of course, and he put up a Force Shield just as the fireball was about to hit.

The fireball shattered the Force Shield, but lost most of its power in doing so. What remained slammed into Arran, and although he staggered backward, his Essence-strengthened body wasn’t injured in the slightest.

Arran immediately retaliated with a blast of raw Essence that hit the mage square in the chest, but he was surprised to see that although the man swayed on his feet, he did not fall.

The man’s power still wouldn’t save him — although Arran hoped the blast of raw Essence would be enough, his true aim was to distract the Academy commander long enough to create an opening for Windsong.

Just as the Academy commander regained his balance, several thin red lines appeared across his body. A moment later, blood gushed forth from a dozen deep wounds, and he collapsed just seconds after that.

Their commander gone, his men were no longer able to keep up their fight, and the last of them fell within a minute.

"That was too close," Arran said as he approached Windsong.

Windsong nodded, a grave expression on his face. "He was a Grandmaster, like me, but..." He did not finish the sentence, but Arran knew what he was thinking. The Academy commander had clearly been stronger than Windsong.

"No point in worrying about that," Arran said. "We should get going again."

By now, they should now have created enough space for their allies to make it into the dungeons. If they could just distract the Academy guards a little longer, their first reinforcements should appear soon enough.

Once that happened, the battle would be all but won.

Arran and Windsong moved ahead, the prisoners following behind them. Although their numbers had fallen by another two dozen, there were still more than enough to keep the Academy occupied a little longer.

As they hurried through the hallways Arran took the lead, cutting down those guards who were still scattered through the prison and found themselves in Arran’s way.

The few who made it past him were quickly cut down by Windsong and the others, and their group moved through the hallways like a storm of death, leaving only corpses where they passed.

Arran was just starting to begin feeling hopeful when they burst into yet another hall, and found that this time, it was filled with enemies.

There were at least a hundred guards before them, and Arran cursed under his breath the moment he laid eyes on them.

Unlike the previous groups, these guards were clearly prepared for battle. They were arranged in three lines, their weapons drawn and ready, and behind them was a broad staircase upon which stood several white-robed mages.

It was a perfect counter to the group of prisoners — a handful of powerful mages who were free to attack while they were protected by several rows of well-armed guards.

Before Arran could act, the middle mage raised his hand in a sharp gesture. In an instant, two dozen of the prisoners were killed, their bodies crushed by what seemed like an invisible force that hit like an avalanche.

"Kill the intruders."

The man who spoke was the one who had just attacked, and other than his strength, he seemed completely unremarkable. He was of average height and weight, with brown hair and a face that was neither handsome nor ugly.

If Arran had not just seen his frightening power, he could easily have mistaken the man for a bookkeeper in a small merchant clan, or a clerk in the offices of some low-ranking city official.

But Arran had no time to spend considering the man’s appearance.

He rushed forward with an inhuman burst of strength, appearing amid the guards before they could even turn their weapons toward him. In an instant, half a dozen of them lay dead or dying, and Arran braced himself for what was about to come.

As expected, he had drawn the mage’s attention, and a moment later a terrifyingly strong blast of Essence struck the Force Shield he had raised, shattering it instantly and sending Arran flying into the wall with a violent crash.

Had he not practiced Body Refinement, the impact would have killed him, but as it was, he was only barely injured. Immediately, he got to his feet, casting a glance at the monstrously strong Academy mage.

As expected, the man’s eyes went wide with surprise, and Arran almost grinned as he knew that Windsong had used the opportunity to attack.

Yet this time, there were no sudden wounds, nor did the enemy mage collapse.

Instead, he swept his hand in Windsong’s direction with a violent gesture, and a thunderous noise sounded as a devastating force crashed down on Windsong and the prisoners around him.

Arran’s eyes went wide with shock at the sight. Windsong and at least two dozen of the prisoners around him were struck with a blast of power so devastating it cracked even the stone floor beneath them. Without even seeing the results, Arran knew none had survived.

With a feeling of panic that bordered on nausea, he sensed the amount of power that was being used, and he knew at once that the man before him had to be an Archmage.

Before Arran had the chance to even consider fleeing, another thunderous crash sounded as the hallway behind their group collapsed, shutting off the only path of escape.

"Leave none alive," the Archmage said, his voice completely calm.

A moment later, deadly attacks began raining down on the group of prisoners.