Paragon of Destruction

When Arran stepped back inside the waiting chamber, he was met with the gazes of several dozens of fighters.

No longer engrossed in battle, he finally had time to wonder why so many people wanted to fight him. He’d defeated numerous opponents already, and it seemed unlikely that these newcomers would fare any better.

"You can’t leave yet!" one of them said, a young man with ruffled brown hair and a thin face. "We haven’t fought yet!"

"Give it a rest, rookie," an older man said. "It’s not like you had a chance, anyway."

"I still could’ve learned something," the young man replied, looking dejected.

Hearing those words, Arran suddenly understood why opponents kept coming long after it was clear they had no chance of winning. Even if they knew they would lose, they likely thought they could improve their skills by fighting someone they believed to be a master swordsman.

He could not help but feel slightly embarrassed at this.

Although he was more skilled than most of the opponents he had faced, his true advantage lay in strength rather than skill, and the only thing others were likely to learn from fighting him was to stick with weaker opponents.

"You caused quite a stir, and in less than a day."

When Arran looked, he saw that the voice belonged to the uniformed man who had given him a cold welcome some hours ago. Although the man had hardly paid him any attention when he arrived, Arran’s string of victories seemed to have raised his interest.

"Just wait until you see me fight next time," Arran said. Any chance of staying unnoticed already lost, he figured he might as well act the part of the arrogant young fighter.

The uniformed man chuckled. "You won’t be fighting here again," he said. "Not outside the tournaments, at least."

"What?" Arran was puzzled. "Why not?"

"The arenas run on gambling," the man replied. "Fighters like you are bad for business. If the Governor knew what you cost him today, he’d probably have a fit." He laughed at the last part.

"Then what about the tournaments?" Arran asked. "I can still join those?"

"Anyone with at least ten wins can take part in the monthly tournaments," the man said. "You’ve achieved that and then some, so you’re free to join the next one, in about two weeks." A thoughtful expression on his face, he added, "You should find more of a challenge there, too."

Arran nodded in understanding. "I suppose I might give it a shot." Although he was in the city to be recruited by the Shadowflame Society, he wouldn’t mind the chance to test his skills against stronger opponents.

Figuring there wasn’t much point in waiting longer, he stepped out of the waiting chamber, ready to head back to the inn. Yet to his surprise, a noisy crowd immediately formed around him, with at least a hundred people all trying to reach him.

"Thank you!" a red-faced man with a joyous expression cried out, pressing something into Arran’s hands.

The man disappeared back into the crowd before Arran could respond, but when he looked at what the man had handed him, he saw that it was a bulging coin purse.

Before he could see what was inside, someone else pushed a handful of coin into his hands. He looked up, and saw it was a tearful woman. "You saved my family!" she blurted out.

As Arran struggled to make his way through the crowd, people kept putting coin and other gifts in his hands and pockets.

At first, he was confused by this strange turn of events, but then, he realized what was going on.

All of these people were likely to be gamblers, and Arran had just won over a hundred fights in a row. With some amusement, he realized that anyone who had bet on him must have earned a fortune.

He made his way through the crowd as best he could, keeping his hands on his void bags. He didn’t care too much about the coin his new fans put in his pockets — he had more than he needed anyway, and if some got stolen, he wouldn’t miss it.

Finally, he stepped out of the arena and onto the street. Even here he was followed, over a dozen voices still sounding around him, some thanking him, others merely praising him, and yet others asking for favors.

He ignored them all, hurriedly stepping into a side street to shake off the crowd. A few more quick turns, and he stood in a mostly empty street, where he finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Yet before he even had a chance to catch his breath, he was approached by a young man in a black robe.

"You did well today," the young man said. "I take it you’re planning to be recruited into the Shadowflame Society?"

"Perhaps," Arran said. "But what business of yours is it?"

"I’m Li Jing," the young man said. "I’m a Shadowflame novice, and after seeing your performance today, I would be happy to have you join me."

"Oh?" Arran said, immediately wary. "That’s a bit quick, isn’t it?"

Li Jing shrugged. "I figured I should move before someone else snatches you up. Talent like yours is rare, even here in Hillfort."

"I think I’ll try my luck in the tournaments, first," Arran said, suspicious of the quick invitation. "I only just arrived in the city, and I want to see what my options are, first."

"You’re holding out for the auction, then?" Li Jing asked, a dejected look appearing on his face.

"The what?"

The young man gave him a puzzled look. "The auction," he repeated, as if the words were self-explanatory.

"I have no idea what you’re talking about," Arran said. "What auction?"

"It seems you really are new here," Li Jing observed. "Every month, the Governor holds an auction where Shadowflame novices get to bid on the strongest fighters in the city."

"You novices actually bid on fighters?" Arran asked, surprised.

"Not me," Li Jing replied. "I don’t have the wealth. But the richer novices bid on fighters, yes."

"But why? You’re Shadowflame novices, aren’t you? What difference does a fighter make?" From what Arran understood, novices should be strong enough that having normal fighters on their side would make little difference in a fight.

"It’s dangerous beyond the border," Li Jing said. "Especially these last few years. Having some strong fighters on your side can make a difference, if you have enough of them. Even a short distraction can make a big difference in a fight, after all."

"So if I hold out for the auction, what can I expect to get?" Although he had little interest in gold, Arran figured that if novices were bidding on fighters, they would have more to offer than just a bit of coin.

"You? Not much," Li Jing said with a laugh. "Only mages and Body Refiners are worth a lot."

Arran nodded absentmindedly, thinking about this unexpected turn of events. He had expected that finding a novice to recruit him and Darkfire would require at least some effort, but instead, it seemed that they’d be able to not just get recruited, but make a profit as well.

"It’s a bad idea, though," Li Jing said in a serious voice.

Arran looked back up, eying the novice. "Why’s that?"

"Some members of the Shadowflame Society believe outsiders shouldn’t be allowed to join," Li Jing explained in a low voice, as if he was sharing a secret. "Occasionally, they’ll bid on strong fighters, only to have them disappear beyond the border."

"Members of the Shadowblood faction, you mean?"

"You already know of them?" Li Jing asked, his eyes wide in surprise.

"Someone warned me about them," Arran replied, unwilling to reveal all he knew. "Told me to stay far away from them."

"Then you know that joining me now would be in your best interest," Li Jing said. "In the auction, you won’t know who’ll be bidding on you. And if you do well in the tournament, you might well draw dangerous attention."

"Still, I’m going to keep my options open, at least for now," Arran said. He did not point out that he had no reason to trust the young novice in front of him any more than other Shadowflame novices.

"If you change your mind, you can find me at the Drunken Weasel," the young man said, although he didn’t look hopeful. "I’ll be there for at least a few more days."

"I’ll give it some thought," Arran said. "For now, thanks for the information."

In truth, he had no intention of accepting the novice’s offer. Friendly though the young man might be, the fact that he hadn’t noticed Arran was a Body Refiner meant he was either stupid or lying.

With a nod to Li Jing, Arran headed back to the inn, already curious to hear how things had gone for Darkfire.

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