李淳罡死了还是飞升了

He did not glance backward as he ran, much less turn to face the man unleashing the destruction behind him. As much as his strength had increased over the past month, he still had no delusions about the outcome if he tried to fight someone as powerful as this.

But while he couldn’t match the stranger in battle, he could outrun the man. Arran was no mere mage, after all, but a monstrously strong Body Refiner besides. Together with his comprehension of the Forms, that gave him a speed that few others could match.

Despite Arran’s injuries, he ran fast enough that a gap soon appeared between him and his pursuer. As the distance grew too large for even magic to cross, the stranger seemed to realize his efforts were in vain, and the conflagration behind Arran finally came to an end.

Arran breathed a small sigh of relief when he heard the thunderous roar of destruction fade away, but no more than that. He knew through his Living Shadow weapon’s Sense that the stranger was still in pursuit, and even without that, he wouldn’t be so foolish as to assume he was out of harm’s way yet.

As the sun fell below the horizon and the harsh landscape was covered in darkness, Arran continued to run as fast as he could, his figure no more than a streak of shadow in the night as he cut his way across the wilderness.

He paused for neither rest nor thought. Both those things could wait until he was truly safe. Instead, he ran through the night, relying on his Sense to guide the way.

Twice during the night, he Sensed Blightspawn in the distance — small groups, with even the largest counting under a dozen of the creatures. Though these groups posed no threat to Arran, he avoided them all the same, unwilling to waste even the moments it would take to defeat them.

Only when dawn arrived and the sun bathed the wilderness in its golden glow did Arran finally come to a halt, taking shelter amid a small copse of trees, the sound of unseen birds filling the air as he inspected his injuries.

His wounds weren’t as bad as he expected. Although he had suffered several broken ribs and bruises covered much of his body, it seemed that between the protection of a Shadow Shield and his starmetal armor, the stranger’s attack had been weakened enough to do no serious damage to his body.

Still, that was enough to cause him unease.

With his strength and resistance to magic, even a Grandmaster would be hard-pressed to injure him with a single attack. Yet the stranger had done so, and he had done it with apparent ease.

That meant the stranger possessed at least a strong Grandmaster’s strength, and likely surpassed even that. An Archmage, perhaps. But if Archmages ran wild in the Desolation...

Arran frowned, then shook his head.

He could not believe that Archmages were a common sight in the Desolation. If they were, the Imperium would not send armies of Rangers and common soldiers to face them. It would be like sending mice to hunt dragons — as futile as it was cruel.

And while he could believe the cruelty, the futility was a different matter. No matter his thoughts on the Imperium, he did not think the Darians would waste their people so carelessly. Not if the sacrifice would be for naught.

Yet Arran did not believe that the encounter had been mere misfortune, either. It had been difficult enough just to find normal Blightspawn in the wilderness, and if the stranger was the only of its kind, then the coincidence was one that stretched credulity.

There had to be a different explanation, he thought. But for all the thought he gave the question, he came no closer to finding an answer.

Whatever the case, he had no time to dwell on the matter. Although he suspected that his attacker had long since given up the chase, he had little desire to put that suspicion to the test.

After he finished inspecting his wounds, he ate a hurried meal, swallowing down more dried meat and fruits in a matter of minutes than most people could eat in half a week.

As he finished the last of the bland food, a wistful smile crossed his face when he remembered his mansion in the Ninth Valley. Though most of the luxury there had been wasted on him, there was no denying that he missed having his own cooks.

But there was no point in longing for the past, and he set off again soon after, traveling at a pace only slightly slower than the one he’d kept while fleeing the stranger.

Time passed quickly as he ran through the wilderness with its endless crags and woodlands, but for all the miles he covered, there was no more sign of any Blightspawn. From the look of it, the creatures grew rarer the further one traveled from the Desolation.

Arran briefly wondered why this might be the case, but he’d only barely asked himself the question when he stumbled upon the answer.

Shortly after noon, when the sun had just passed its highest point and was starting its slow descent toward the horizon, he Sensed a small Darian patrol moving in the distance.

That alone would barely be worth his attention, but he knew immediately that this was no normal patrol. The small group counted half a dozen Knights, and more importantly, there were two Lords among their number.

Arran whistled between his teeth when he recognized the sheer power of the group in the distance. These people, though they numbered fewer than a dozen, were strong enough to match an entire army. If more such patrols roamed the region, then it was a small miracle that there were any Blightspawn at all.

After a quick thought, he decided not to avoid them. His presence in the wilderness was no secret, and he had already abandoned the idea of hiding his strength. Instead, he merely slowed his pace as he continued on his way, knowing that it wouldn’t be long before they discovered his approach.

As expected, barely a minute had passed when he Sensed the group suddenly change directions, their pace picking up as they moved toward him.

Arran acted as if he didn’t notice this, continuing forward until the Darians were almost upon him. Then, as they finally came into view, he feigned a look of surprise — an easy task, given the power of the men and women before him.

As he came to a halt, he eyed the Darians with unfeigned apprehension. Heading the group were the two Lords, both dark-haired and rough-faced, their appearances similar enough that he thought they might be brothers. Behind the Lords followed the Knights, half a dozen of them, each well-armed and wearing expressions that told they were ready for battle at any moment.

When they caught sight of Arran, one of the two Lords stepped forward with a curious frown.

"These are dangerous lands for a lone traveler," the man said, speaking in a voice that was wary but not unfriendly. "What brings you here?"

"I hoped to find enemies to aid me in my training," Arran replied truthfully. He shrugged, and continued, "What I found exceeded my expectations, so I decided to return to Knight’s Watch."

"Hah!" The Lord laughed sharply, his expression one of amusement and disbelief in equal parts. "A Ranger, fighting Blightspawn outside the Desolation? You’re lucky to have escaped with your life. Outside the Desolation, even a single Reaver is a mortal threat to a Ranger."

Arran frowned, then shook his head. "Reavers weren’t what caused me to flee." He produced the two amulets he’d taken from the Reavers he’d slain and tossed them to the Lord. "There was something different out there. Something more dangerous."

Amusement fled the Lord’s face in an instant, and after inspecting the amulets, his expression turned grave. "What did you find?"

"I encountered a creature," Arran began. "Or rather, a man..."

He described his encounter with the stranger, straying from the truth only where necessary to hide his secrets. As he told it, the stranger’s first attack had narrowly missed him, and he’d fled immediately after, only hearing the roar of destruction behind him as he ran.

When Arran finished the story, the Lord gave a forceful curse. "A Warlock," he grunted. "A damned Warlock, beyond the Desolation. When did you meet the thing? And where?"

"Yesterday," Arran said. He described where he’d met the stranger — the Warlock, apparently — then asked, "But what difference does it make whether it’s in the Desolation or not?"

At this, the dark-haired Lord gave him an odd look. "You don’t know? As a Ranger, you should—"

"I’m no Ranger," Arran interrupted him. "Not yet, at least."

Surprise flashed across the Lord’s face. "Not even a Ranger? And already you’re hunting Reavers?" He frowned, but then, he gave a slow nod. "Good. I imagine you’ll be a Ranger soon enough."

"Then can you tell me?" Arran asked again. "What the Desolation does?"

By now, he understood that the Desolation had secrets he had yet to learn. From the Lord’s words, he suspected that it somehow affected Blightspawn, likely weakening them.

Yet the other man merely gave a firm shake of his head. "Once you become a Ranger, you will understand." Before Arran could object, he went on, "But now, we must make haste. If fortune is on our side, we may yet catch the creature you found."

He made a small gesture with his hand, and immediately, the others in the group readied themselves to move. From the smoothness of their reaction, it was clear that the members of the patrol were well-accustomed to working together.

The Lord handed the two Reavers’ amulets back to Arran. "What’s your name?"

"My name is Arran. But—"

"Should we catch the creature, you will be rewarded." The Lord motioned to his companions, and as they set in motion, he cast a final look at Arran. "You should return to Knight’s Watch without delay. These lands are unsafe, even for one with your talent."

As the Lords and Knights set off, now moving in the direction from which Arran had come, Arran could not help but frown in frustration. Not only had the Lord treated him as little more than a child, the man had also completely refused to answer his questions. And he had many of those.

Yet as the patrol disappeared in the distance, Arran’s frustration faded as well. Even if his questions had gone unanswered, he had still learned much from the encounter.

He now knew for a fact that the hostile stranger had been a type of Blightspawn, and one far stronger than the creatures Arran had faced so far.

More important still was what the Lord’s words about the Desolation had suggested, even if he hadn’t said it outright — that facing Blightspawn inside the Desolation was somehow less dangerous than facing the creatures outside of it.

The thought caused Arran some pause. If true, it would explain many things — why the Blightspawn the Wolfsblood Company had faced had been so much stronger than they expected, and why the Imperium would dare to send common soldiers and Rangers to face the Blight.

But for all the things it explained, it raised at least as many questions.

Arran glanced in the direction where the patrol had gone, then let out a weary sigh. There was no point in speculating. What he needed were answers, not suspicions. And the only way to get answers was to climb the Darians’ ranks.

He resumed his journey back to Knight’s Watch at once, pushing his questions about the Desolation to the back of his mind. Instead, as he traveled through the wilderness, he turned his thoughts to the Forms.

His single most important task was to grow stronger. Only that would allow him to accomplish his goals — to learn the Darians’ secrets, to win their treasures, and to escape with his life after doing both those things. And to grow stronger, he had no better path than the Forms.

But although he’d achieved far more than he expected in the wilderness, making a breakthrough that had increased his strength several times over, he knew there were still several pieces missing.

The first of these was practice. He’d made a breakthrough in his understanding, but he had yet to properly temper his newfound comprehension in combat. The two Reavers had given some small help, but those few moments of battle weren’t nearly enough to truly master what he had learned. He needed hundreds of fights, or thousands if he could find them.

Still, he wasn’t too concerned about this. Given time, he had little doubt that he would find all the enemies he needed — and probably sooner rather than later, at that.

The second missing piece, however, was a bigger problem.

Arran’s comprehension was built around the Forms, atop a foundation laid by the techniques he’d learned from Muna. Improvised though this path was, the results had far exceeded Arran’s expectations, and the insights from the Forms worked almost as well for swordsmanship as they did for magic.

Almost — and therein lay the problem.

The Forms encompassed a wide selection of insights, but as Arran’s understanding grew, it became increasingly clear to him that even the numerous insights within the Forms only represented a small sliver of reality.

This was to be expected, of course. Elder Nikias certainly hadn’t comprehended all of existence, and even if he had, the entirety of his knowledge wouldn’t have been contained in a single memory amulet he gave to a student. Rather, what the memory amulet contained would be a selection of those insights he thought most suitable for his apprentices.

Yet all of the Elder’s students had been mages — specifically, mages of the Shadowflame Society. And as Arran studied the Forms, he grew increasingly certain that the insights within them were those the Elder had deemed most relevant to Shadow and Fire magic.

That was likely the reason Arran’s Shadow magic had benefited so much from his comprehension of the Forms, and he had little doubt that his Fire magic had benefited similarly. For a Shadowflame mage, that was an incomparable blessing.

But Arran wasn’t just a Shadowflame mage. He was a swordsman as much as he was a mage — possibly even more so. And the more familiar he became with the Forms, the more he became convinced that he was still lacking in insights related to physical combat.

The solution to that was as obvious as it was simple. All he had to do was find a proper teacher. A skilled Knight, or better, a Lord. With that, his progress should be nothing short of phenomenal.

After all, he had already begun to fuse his insights, which was far more difficult than merely gaining some nascent insights. And with the knowledge he’d gained from his true insights, he could advance far faster than most.

But as simple as that solution was, it was useless to Arran. Neither Knights nor Lords were likely to take him as a student unless he pledged himself to them, and he had no desire to enter the service of some Darian Lord.

Which meant he had to find another way.

Arran pondered the question while he traveled, a thoughtful frown on his face even as he ran through the rough terrain of the wilderness. Yet for all his ruminations on the matter, the answer to his problem continued to elude him.

He continued his journey through the day, paying little attention to the landscape around him as his thoughts were occupied elsewhere. But he wasn’t so careless as to ignore his Sense, and halfway through the day, he discovered a large group of Darians moving slowly toward the Desolation.

Arran approached the group cautiously, moving just close enough that he could observe them without being spotted. And when he laid eyes on the group, he could not help but frown in surprise.

He’d Sensed that the group was large, but what he saw exceeded his expectations. Along a broad dirt road in the wilderness walked a column of soldiers that was at least a mile long, headed by what looked to be over a hundred Rangers.

There were no Knights among the group, much less Lords, but the sight was formidable all the same. At a glance, he guessed the group counted well over three thousand soldiers, and not a one of them was lacking in weapons or armor.

Arran realized at once that it was one of the Darian groups headed into the Desolation — a proper army, with the numbers to face even a large group of Blightspawn. And while they might not be strong enough to face the stranger that had attacked Arran — the Warlock — he had little doubt that their combined might could easily match several Reavers.

As this thought crossed Arran’s mind, he suddenly furrowed his brow when an idea came to him — an idea on how to approach his problem.

He had thought he needed a teacher with a vast trove of knowledge, whose insights he could study and learn for himself. But as he looked at the army that inched along the dirt road in the distance, he realized that together, they should hold numerous insights as well.

Each of the soldiers would have his own talents and his own budding insights, and while they might be weak individually, their combined knowledge would not be negligible.

Moreover, there were the Rangers. Most of them would have studied Darian techniques for decades, practicing every day from the moment they could hold a sword. Even if their progress hadn’t been as fast as Arran’s, that still represented a wealth of knowledge and experience.

By themselves, any one of them might have little to teach Arran. But together, they should know at least as much as any Knight.

A smile crossed Arran’s lips as he reached a decision. If he couldn’t have a single teacher, then he would have a thousand teachers, instead.

Of course, the group before him wasn’t likely to agree to such a thing. But if Kaleesh’s efforts had been even half as successful as he suspected, then another army should await him on his return to Knight’s Watch.

He cast a final glance at the Darian army, then quickly turned around and set off. If he traveled through the night, he should reach Knight’s Watch by morning.

And there, he would begin his final step toward unlocking the full potential of the Forms.