Paragon of Destruction

"But when you saved my life, any chance of that was irretrievably lost," the Patriarch continued. "Every Elder in the Valley knows who you are, and before long, your fame will spread to the rest of the Valley. If you remain here, you will never have the quiet you seek — nor the safety."

Naturally, Arran had already come to this conclusion himself. By breaking through Elder Feng’s formation in front of several dozens of Elders and Grandmasters, he had ensured that his face was engraved in the minds of all.

"So what do you suggest?" It was clear that the Patriarch had something in mind. He would not have called Arran otherwise.

"I have a plan," the Patriarch replied. "Or rather, a proposal. But before I continue, Snowcloud should be here as well. She faces the same issue as you, and what I have in mind involves both of you."

He pulled a small golden bell from his robe and rang it. Although the sound was so soft it was almost inaudible, a white-robed servant appeared in an instant.

"You called, Lord Patriarch?"

"Please fetch Snowcloud," the Patriarch told the man.

"At once, Lord Patriarch." The servant hurried off immediately.

As Arran waited anxiously for Snowcloud to arrive so he could hear the Patriarch’s plans for him, the old man calmly finished his bowl of soup.

Snowcloud entered into the room a short while later. A smile on her face, she gave the Patriarch a small bow. "Grandfather."

"Good to see you," the Patriarch replied. "Have a seat." As Snowcloud sat down, he continued, "In saving me, both of you have become targets for my enemies. With the Valley no longer safe for you, I have decided to send you away."

"Send us away?" Snowcloud’s smile disappeared in an instant, and she stared at her grandfather with wide eyes. "Can’t you protect us here?"

"I can, of course," the Patriarch replied. "I could take you both as my personal apprentices and have you guarded at all times. You would have myself and the Valley’s Elders as your teachers, with enough resources at your disposal to make even Grandmasters go green with envy. It would be a path that would destine both of you to become Elders."

Arran frowned. What the Patriarch described was everything he wished for, but from the sound of it, it wasn’t what the man had in mind for them.

"But your lives would be sheltered ones," the Patriarch continued. "You wouldn’t be able to leave the Valley or face real battles, and although your knowledge of magic would be vast, you would lack the experience to temper it. While you would become Elders one day, your power would be unremarkable at best."

"Then what do you intend for us?" Snowcloud asked.

"Seeing Ghostblade’s memories, I was reminded that the path most mages follow is a limited one. In their pursuit of magical power at the expense of all else, they grow blind to their weaknesses. Even I made this mistake. Relying on my strength in magic, I ignored my body, and fell victim to a simple poison. What I intend for you is a path that avoids these pitfalls."

It was clear in Snowcloud’s expression that the answer didn’t satisfy her, but after a moment, she let out a sigh of resignation. "What is it you expect us to do?"

"To start, I will send both of you to the Ninth Valley, where none know your identity. You will pose as initiates, the students of a visiting adept."

"Initiates?!" Snowcloud’s voice was thick with outrage.

"You’re making us study under an adept?" Arran felt nearly as outraged as Snowcloud sounded. After months under the tutelage of an Elder, he understood well how large the gap between the two was — being taught by a mere adept, he doubted his progress would be even half as fast.

"I think I’ve done a reasonably good job at teaching you so far," a woman’s voice sounded at the back of the room.

Arran quickly turned around, and saw that it was Brightblade. She had entered the room without him noticing, and on seeing his startled expression, she grinned broadly.

"But you’re not an adept," Arran said, somewhat redundantly.

"It’s only been a few short centuries since I held that rank," Brightblade replied. "Taking on the role once more shouldn’t be too difficult. And with me teaching you, there is some small hope of you becoming a proper mage yet."

The Patriarch scraped his throat, and as the others went silent, he said, "Brightblade will accompany you, as your teacher and protector. With an Elder posing as an adept, I trust you won’t find it beneath your dignity to pose as initiates."

Snowcloud hurriedly shook her head, and Arran could see there was a hint of red on her cheeks.

"Now, with that matter settled, there is something I wish to give you."

The Patriarch produced two rings, then put them on the table before Snowcloud and Arran. They were exceptionally plain and seemed to be made of iron, and Arran could Sense no magic coming from them.

Seeing their puzzled stares, the Patriarch explained, "These are void rings. They are much like void bags, except when you retrieve items, they will appear directly in your hand — a rather useful quality when fighting or gambling. Inside these rings, you will find the supplies I have prepared for you. Go ahead and bind them."

Arran did as the Patriarch said, and when he saw the ring’s contents, he had to stop himself from gasping in awe. The space it contained held tens of thousands of Essence Crystals, along with numerous scrolls, memory amulets, and various objects he did not recognize.

Yet where Arran could barely contain his excitement, Snowcloud spoke glumly, "There’s dragon meat in here."

"A gracious gift from Elder Naran," the Patriarch said. "You will also find a Body Refinement technique he devised with the help of your mutual acquaintance in the Redpeak Mountains. While it won’t be as effective as the Dragon’s Ruin, it should allow you to gain a great deal of strength over the next few years."

"But..." Snowcloud glum tone turned to horror. "Using that will interfere with my magic!"

"It will slow your progress," the Patriarch confirmed. "Which is a small price to pay for the benefits you’ll receive."

Before Snowcloud could object any further, he continued, "Among the supplies, you will also find amulets, one for each of you. I created them recently, but you should find them quite useful. You can use them to unleash a steady assault of unbound Essence upon yourself, which will allow you to build a resistance against magic."

Arran frowned. What the Patriarch described sounded exactly like what he had done in Uvar, and with the Patriarch having seen his memories, he understood that wasn’t a coincidence.

"This..." A complex expression appeared on Snowcloud’s face. "You want me to follow Ghostblade’s path?"

"No," the old man said. "I want you to combine the two and forge a new path. I want you — both of you — to become equally formidable in magic and physical combat. I want you to avoid the weaknesses other mages have, but without losing their strengths."

"You want me to abandon the True Path." Astonishment was clear in Snowcloud’s eyes when she said the words, as if she only now understood the magnitude of what her grandfather was suggesting.

"The True Path is just one of many roads to power," the Patriarch said. "And although it has served us well, it is no longer enough. The Iron Mountain’s betrayal was just the latest in a long line of disasters, and with every passing year, the Society grows weaker and more divided. You have seen the evidence of that with your own eyes, this past year."

"But why us?" Snowcloud asked, looking bewildered. "If a new path is needed, why not have an Elder search for it?"

"Naturally, we have done that," the Patriarch replied. "I wouldn’t place the fate of the Society in the hands of a novice — not even one who shares my blood. There are many Elders searching for ways to improve our strength, and perhaps some of them will succeed. But you are both young enough that your path hasn’t yet been set, and I would be a fool to waste that opportunity."

"So we’re an experiment?" Arran gave the Patriarch a flat stare.

"In a sense," the old man said. "But one that I firmly believe will benefit you both."

"If it’s an experiment, what if it fails?" Arran asked. Firm belief or not, the old man’s words hardly inspired confidence.

"Then you will have wasted a few years traveling down the wrong path." The Patriarch shrugged. "At your age, there will be plenty of time to reverse course. But even without my suggestion, would you give up your endeavors in Body Refinement to focus solely on magic?"

Arran sighed, knowing very well that he wouldn’t. "Very well. I’ll go."

The Patriarch nodded, then turned to Snowcloud. "And you?"

She took longer in answering, but finally, after a look at Arran, she said, "All right."

"Excellent," the Patriarch said. "You will depart a week from now."