Paragon of Destruction

"You should meet my friend," Darkfire said, speaking to the two pretty girls standing in front of him. "He’s a master swordsman from the east."

Arran groaned in discomfort. He was sitting in a chair in the tavern, trying very hard not to be noticed as he drank his ale.

The entire night had been like this. They had already visited a handful of taverns, each filled with young people who were hoping to join the Shadowflame Society, and in each tavern, the story was much the same.

The moment they entered, the girls’ eyes would turn toward Darkfire’s handsome face. To Arran, it was like watching moths being drawn to a lantern — girls would constantly approach Darkfire, adoring smiles on their faces, giggling as they spoke to him.

Darkfire, seemingly intent on being a good friend, kept trying to steer girls Arran’s way, talking up his martial prowess and exotic origins.

Although Arran appreciated the effort, all it did was make him uncomfortable.

It wasn’t that he was completely unused to female attention — back in Riverbend, he’d occasionally stolen a kiss or two from some of the girls in town during festivals — but this was different.

"So you’re a master swordsman, then?" One of the girls, a beauty with light-brown skin and black hair, directed her attention to Arran.

Arran shrugged. "I wouldn’t call myself a master," he said truthfully.

"You’re so modest," the girl said with a giggle. "Maybe you could give me a few lessons?"

"I, ah... I already have someone," Arran responded, stumbling over the words even as he spoke them.

Instantly, a hard expression appeared on the girl’s pretty face. "I was just asking for some lessons! Don’t be so presumptuous!"

She gave him an annoyed glare, then turned around and walked off, leaving Arran behind. He drained his ale in a single swig, the mug covering his flustered face.

"So, do you?" Darkfire asked, sitting down next to Arran and handing him another mug of ale.

"Do I what?"

"Have someone," Darkfire said. "A girl."

"It’s difficult," Arran said with a frown. In truth, he wasn’t entirely certain of the answer himself. There was something between him and Jiang Fei, but he could not say what exactly it was.

"When it comes to women, it always is," Darkfire replied. "Who is she?"

"Someone I met while traveling," Arran said. "We spent half a year together, but we parted ways a little over a year ago. It might be a long time before I see her again."

Darkfire nodded. "If you’re joining the Shadowflame Society, it will be years, perhaps even decades. Do you think she’ll wait that long?"

"I don’t know." Arran sighed. "I don’t even know if we will meet again."

Arran and Darkfire spent more time drinking and talking after that, even if neither of them could truly get drunk — for Body Refinement practitioners, drinking normal alcohol had little effect.

Finally, well after midnight, they left the tavern. Yet they had only gone a few dozen paces when someone called out to them.

"Darkfire!"

When Arran turned toward the voice, he saw that the one who had spoken was a tall young man with a gangly body and a scowl on his face that was probably intended to be intimidating but instead made him look like a spoiled and sulky youth.

"What do you want, Li Da Wei?" Darkfire said in a bored tone that made it clear he thought little of the young man.

"We heard you have a new friend. We just wanted to welcome him to the city." The tall youth slapped his balled fist in an awkward gesture that was more comical than it was intimidating.

"Are you sure about that?" Darkfire asked, an amused smirk on his face. "It might not go the way you expect."

"He doesn’t look all that tough," Li Da Wei said. "And besides, we’re no cowards."

Despite the words, Arran could not help but notice that the tall youth seemed to have no intention of fighting alone, his companions standing close behind him, doing their very best to look threatening — a task that was clearly beyond them.

Darkfire turned to Arran. "You should give it a go. Give them a good thrashing, but try not to hurt them too badly."

Arran nodded. Then, he stepped forward, cracking his knuckles.

"Come on then," he said. "Let’s see what you can do."

The tall youth and his companions approached cautiously, forming a half-circle around Arran but staying several paces away. From their expressions, he could tell that his confidence made them wary.

Still, he waited for one of them to make the first move.

Finally, one of the young men darted forward toward Arran, fists raised and ready to strike. An instant later, the rest followed, and Arran found himself in the middle of the group, being attacked from all sides while defending himself from a rain of blows.

Almost immediately, Arran understood that it was like a grown man fighting a group of toddlers. He could tell that none of the young men practiced Body Refinement, and the fight was so one-sided as to be pointless.

Even if he was far from an expert in hand-to-hand combat, it didn’t matter. Lacking the strength to even bruise Arran, there was nothing his opponents could do to hurt him.

His own strikes, on the other hand, were far beyond anything they could withstand, and each time he struck, one of his opponents went down.

One by one, they fell to Arran’s blows. He took care not to do any serious damage, limiting himself to only a fraction of his true strength. Even so, he thought most of them would be in pain for at least a week or two.

The fight only lasted for some moments before Arran had defeated the last of them. In truth, even calling it a fight was a stretch — the entire exchange was over in seconds, with Arran finishing it completely unharmed.

"Bravo! Terrific job!" a large and broad-shouldered man with a shaved head called out, clapping his hands as he approached. He was wearing a uniform, and although it looked a bit shabby, Arran figured him for some kind of official.

"Especially you, Li Da Wei," the bald man continued, glancing at the lanky young man. "That new technique of yours, blocking punches with your face... have you named it yet?"

Neither the tall youth nor his companions responded, instead helping each other back to their feet. When they were all standing again — some a bit unsteady on their feet, and several with bloodied faces — they eyed the bald man warily.

"Off with you," the man simply said, making a shooing gesture with his hands.

At once, the group departed, but not before each of them gave Arran a nod of acknowledgment. This surprised Arran — he had not expected them to be gracious in defeat, but apparently, there was no bad blood between them. He gave a slight nod in response.

"Now then," the bald man said. "Young master Darkfire, who’s your new friend?"

"Ghostblade," Darkfire answered, ignoring the puzzled look Arran gave him.

"A pleasure to meet you, Ghostblade," the man said, nodding at Arran. "I’m Xiao Zhuzi, the local guard captain. From the look of it, you’re every bit as monstrous as your friend."

Taking the words as a compliment, Arran slightly bowed in response. "Good to meet you, Captain Xiao," he said.

"I expect the Governor will want to meet you," Captain Xiao said. "The two of you should pay him a visit tomorrow. But until then, please, no more fights — save that for the tournaments."

With a final wave at Arran and Darkfire, the man departed, walking off casually.

"What was that about?" Arran asked Darkfire. "And why did you want me to fight them?"

"To be recruited," Darkfire began, "you need to be noticed, and that means building a name for yourself. That’s why they challenged you — even if they know they can’t defeat me, defeating a friend of mine could still have won them some small fame."

Arran nodded, understanding now. "And what about the Governor? And the tournaments?"

"The Governor likes to know about any strong fighters who enter the city," Darkfire said. "As for the tournaments, the city has weekly and monthly tournaments, where fighters try to make a name for themselves."

The last words raised piqued Arran’s interest. "When’s the next one?" he asked, already eager for a chance to test his skill.

"The next weekly tournament is tomorrow," Darkfire said. "But don’t get too excited — I doubt anyone there will be much of a challenge for you. "

"What about you?" Arran asked. "Do you ever fight in any of them?"

"Me? I’m banned from participating," Darkfire said, giving Arran a look of mock sadness that could not fully hide the grin underneath. "They said I was ruining it for the others."

Arran chuckled, at once understanding the level of opponents he’d likely face — at a guess, he expected to see more young men and women of the kind he’d just faced, with more enthusiasm than strength.

Remembering something, Arran turned to Darkfire. "Oh, and... Ghostblade? Really?"

Darkfire shrugged. "You’re pale, and you have a sword."

"But why not use my real name?" Arran asked, somewhat puzzled.

"It makes you sound weak," Darkfire explained. "Like you haven’t earned your own name yet."

"But I haven’t," Arran pointed out.

"Others don’t need to know that," Darkfire replied, a big grin on his face.