Paragon of Destruction

When they arrived at Darkfire’s home, Arran was stunned for a moment. It was not so much a house as it was a vast mansion, large enough to serve as the headquarters of a merchant clan and surrounded by a ten-foot wall.

"You live here?" Arran asked with some disbelief.

"For the time being," Darkfire replied. "I was hoping not to have to stay here long, but then..." He sighed before finishing the sentence. "It’s been a while already."

Arran remained quiet. Although he was curious, he didn’t want to pry into Darkfire’s affairs.

"So, you want to go a few rounds?" Darkfire asked, changing the subject.

Arran nodded. It would be good to get some practice.

Darkfire led the way through the gate, Arran following him inside. Within the walls, a large field lay next to the mansion, empty except for some training dummies and other practice equipment.

Darkfire took out some wooden training swords, tossing one to Arran. The sword was heavier than Arran expected — from its weight, he thought the center must be filled with lead.

"Ready when you are," Darkfire said with an eager grin.

Arran gave the sword a few practice swings, then nodded. He stepped forward with the sword raised in front of him, and Darkfire did the same.

They started slowly, cautiously exchanging blows and testing each other’s defenses. At once, Arran found himself impressed with Darkfire’s skill. The young man’s style reminded him of Master Zhao’s, with near-perfect control and sudden powerful attacks.

Although he had planned not to use the strength he owed to his training in Body Refinement, Arran soon found himself lacking the skill to match Darkfire. Unwilling to lose, he decided to use just a bit of his real strength — just enough to avoid embarrassing himself.

As Arran attacked with greater strength and speed, Darkfire’s eyes lit up in what seemed to be excitement. A moment later, his strength and speed increased as well, and once more Arran found himself hard-pressed to keep up with his opponent.

Again Arran increased the strength and speed of his attacks, and again, his opponent did the same. This continued for some time, until at last Arran felt he could go no further — yet Darkfire had ceased to increase his power slightly earlier, leaving the two equally matched.

Between Darkfire’s greater skill and Arran’s greater strength and speed, neither was able to gain the upper hand over the other. Yet the fight filled Arran with excitement — finally, he had found a sparring partner who was his match physically, and who wasn’t trying to kill him.

They sparred for some hours, and already, Arran could tell that his skills were benefiting from the experience. He was forced to go all-out to match Darkfire, but without the risk of death, he was able to focus on his skills and technique.

Finally, Darkfire stepped back, panting loudly. "That’s enough for now," he said, then promptly sat down on the grass. From the look of it, he was as exhausted as Arran felt.

Arran sat down as well, his body weary and weak from hours of hard exercise, and his robe soaked in sweat.

For some time, they sat in silence, both recovering from the fight.

"You’re a Body Refinement practitioner," Arran said after a while, the exhaustion still slowly ebbing from his body.

"And so are you," Darkfire replied. "Your technique needs some work, but you really are monstrously strong. I haven’t had an opponent like that in years."

Arran didn’t mind the criticism, because he knew it was true. Even if his greater physical strength allowed him to match Darkfire, purely in terms of technique he had to bow to the man’s superior skill.

"I could use a good sparring partner," Darkfire said. "I’d invite you to stay here with me, but..." His voice trailed off as a troubled expression appeared on his face.

"But what?" Arran asked. Even if he had no serious intention of staying with Darkfire, the words still sparked his curiosity.

"Associating with me isn’t a good idea. It will hurt your chances of being recruited." As Darkfire spoke, it was clear from his voice that the words troubled him.

"How so?" Arran asked, now even more curious.

"My family holds some influence within the Society," Darkfire said. "Normally, that would have been enough for me to join directly. But with my lack of magical talent..." He shook his head dejectedly. "I’ll have to join the same way outsiders do — by being recruited here in the city."

"But with your strength, how hard can that be?" Arran asked. Having seen Darkfire fight, it seemed like the Shadowflame Society should be happy to have him.

"I would be easy if I were someone else," Darkfire responded. "But because of my family, things aren’t as simple."

"Why not?" Arran asked.

"To be recruited, a novice needs to select you to join a patrol across the border," Darkfire explained. "But few novices would risk angering my family’s enemies within the Society by recruiting me, and those that would are afraid of being blamed if something happens to me across the border."

"I’m not too worried about that," Arran said. "I’m in no hurry to join, and I figure I’m strong enough to get recruited eventually."

"Then, will you stay?" Darkfire asked, a smile appearing on his face. "With a few hours of daily sparring, I think we could both grow a fair bit stronger."

Arran hesitated, but then he shook his head. "I can’t," he said. Even if Darkfire’s information about the Shadowflame Society would be invaluable, he couldn’t bring himself to endanger the young man.

"Why not?" Darkfire asked, a confused look on his face. "If you’re not concerned about your chances of being recruited, what’s there to worry about?"

"There are people after me," Arran said. "Powerful people. It’s part of the reason I’m here."

"You don’t have to worry about that," Darkfire said with a shake of his head. "Many people here are fleeing something or someone. But within Shadowflame territory, no one would dare come after you."

Arran was silent for a moment, but then, he decided to repay Darkfire’s honesty in kind. "It’s the Academy."

"You’ve managed to piss off those bastards?" Darkfire frowned for a moment, but then, a grin appeared on his face. "It doesn’t matter. We’re in Shadowflame territory. Even if you killed a thousand of them, they wouldn’t dare attack you here."

Arran shook his head. "They will want—" he began.

"It doesn’t matter," Darkfire interrupted him. "There are many dangers around here, and even more when you cross the border. But the Academy isn’t something you have to worry about."

Arran slowly nodded, although he still wasn’t entirely convinced.

"So will you stay?" Darkfire asked.

"All right," Arran said. It would be good to have a sparring partner, and he knew that with Darkfire’s help, he would be able to learn far more about the Shadowflame Society than he would otherwise.

"It’s settled then," Darkfire said, a broad smile appearing on his face. "Now, how about we go and celebrate with some drinks?"

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