Paragon of Destruction

Three months had passed since Arran escaped from the prison, and by now, he had recovered almost completely.

Although he would sometimes still feel pangs of pain if he moved too quickly, he knew that for some time already, he had been well enough to travel.

That he remained here was in part because he wanted to recover fully before braving the dangers of the road, but mostly, he was reluctant to abandon the peace and safety of the stronghold.

After the stronghold had fallen to the prisoners, surprisingly little had happened.

Arran had been unconscious during the final battle for the stronghold, and after he came to, it had taken some weeks before he had been able to leave his bed.

When he finally got the chance to explore the stronghold, he found it almost shockingly normal. Instead of the castle he had imagined, the stronghold was more like a small town, albeit an unusually well-fortified one.

If the streets weren’t exactly bustling with traffic, they were by no means abandoned either. Merchants and farmers sold their wares at the market, and on many street corners, there were hawkers vending food of questionable origins.

Even many of the townsfolk remained, having taken the change of leadership in stride once it became clear that the prisoners had no intention of allowing the stronghold to descend into an orgy of pillage and murder.

While many of the prisoners had left, the ones who chose to remain kept the stronghold at peace, interfering little in the townsfolk’s affairs other than to buy their goods.

Those few prisoners who did cause trouble were quickly dealt with by the others, and the sight of their bodies hanging from the walls did much to discourage further violence.

The signs of battle had not been completely erased, of course. Many buildings still bore scars from what must have been terrifying attacks, and in several spots the buildings had been destroyed completely, only rubble remaining.

Yet most of the damage had disappeared within weeks of the battle, and had it not been for the presence of some terrifyingly powerful mages, one could almost mistake the stronghold for a normal town.

Initially, Arran had feared that the Academy would attempt to retake the stronghold, but when he shared his worries with Panurge, the man had merely laughed.

As Panurge explained it, the prisoners who had taken control of the stronghold were strong enough to defend against anything short of a major assault from the Academy. And although such an attack would come eventually, Panurge said it would take them years to organize it.

Arran wasn’t fully comforted by the man’s words of reassurance — it was Panurge, after all — but if an attack did happen, he should be able to flee before battle broke out.

Moreover, leaving would not take him out of danger either. Even if he was confident in being able to handle any bandits he encountered, there was still the matter of his involvement in the fall of the prison.

Most of those who knew his role had died in the fight against the Archmage, but if even a single person informed the Academy, he had no doubt that there would be few places in the Empire where he would be safe.

He wasn’t exactly frightened by this — by now, he was used to the idea of the Academy wanting to kill him — but he still cherished the opportunity not to have to think about the Academy for a while.

As he spent his days within the walls of the stronghold, Arran sought little contact with the prisoners and the townsfolk.

A few nights he spent drinking in the few taverns the stronghold counted, but other than that, he spent his days mostly by himself, focusing on his recovery and occasionally practicing his magic.

"You’re leaving for the Shadowflame Society, then?" Panurge asked him one evening.

During Arran’s months at the stronghold, Panurge visited him often, although the man often disappeared for days at a time. Had Arran not known better, he would almost have thought Panurge was lonely.

Arran nodded. "In a day or two." He did not bother to ask how Panurge knew about his plans. At this point, he was all too familiar with the man’s annoying habit of knowing things he shouldn’t.

"You need to watch out for the Academy," Panurge said, his expression uncharacteristically serious.

"I know," Arran said, wondering why the man felt the need to point out something so obvious.

"You don’t," Panurge replied. "Before, you were just another youth with a forbidden Realm. But now... if they figure out your part in the prisoners’ escape, those they send after you will be far more dangerous."

"Wasn’t that your plan when you brought me here?" Arran asked. "Force me to choose your side by making me an enemy of the Academy?"

With the benefit of hindsight, it hadn’t been difficult to piece together Panurge’s plan in putting Arran in an Academy prison.

Had Panurge merely wanted to give him a peaceful place to improve his strength, there were many other options. But in the prison, the only means of escape involved battle against the Academy’s guards.

"My plan had you becoming far stronger than you are now," Panurge said. "Weak as you are, you will be in far more danger than I intended."

"If they send stronger mages, I’ll just have to run faster." Although Arran knew he could only barely take on a Master using just his own power, he was still confident in his ability to escape if needed.

Panurge shook his head. "You still don’t understand. Until now, you have faced only the dregs of the Academy."

"Dregs?" Hearing this, Arran could not help but frown. Just a few months ago, he had only barely survived the terrible power of an Archmage, and now he was being told that his foe had been among the dregs of the Academy?

"The Academy mages you’ve faced so far only studied a single Pillar," Panurge said.

"Pillar? Pillar of what?" Arran furrowed his brow at the term, trying to recall if he had ever heard Master Zhao or Lord Jiang use it.

"Power," Panurge replied. "Essence is one of the Pillars, and so is Strength — what you call Body Refinement."

"What are the others?" Arran asked.

"You should learn that at the Shadowflame Society," Panurge said. "For now, all you need to know is that defeating a mage with only a single Pillar is like kicking over a chair with only a single leg."

"I have more questions," Arran said promptly, now understanding that the subject was an important one.

"And I am more than willing to answer them," Panurge replied with a grin. "All you need to do is pledge yourself to Chaos and become my apprentice. With my guidance, you’ll be able to squish Academy Archmages like bugs in a matter of years."

Arran’s enthusiasm instantly disappeared when he heard Panurge’s conditions, but still, he hesitated for some moments.

"I can’t do that," he said finally. Even if he was willing to go against his better judgment and trust Panurge, he wasn’t willing to tie his fate to Chaos.

"Then you will have to travel to the Shadowflame Society and learn by yourself," Panurge said, sounding not at all disappointed at the rejection. "It’s a longer path, but if you manage to survive, the destination will be the same."

Arran nodded. Already, plans were forming in his mind, and he knew that he would no longer put off his departure from the stronghold.

He left the stronghold just a few hours later, in the deep of night. He did not inform Panurge of his departure, but there was no doubt in his mind that the man knew about his decision well before he made it.

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