“The Peirazo erupted as the hypersonic blast wave rippled across now scorched soil in all directions as if a nuclear bomb had been dropped on the center of the arena. The blast crashed on an invisible barrier along the inner walls of the battleground as a hockey player being checked into the boards. The barrier quivered, uncertain if it wished to withstand the impact or not. Despite the blast reverberating through the arena the two warriors at the epicenter had long moved past the impact, a whirlwind of flashing blades, axe heads and streaking arrows.


    Hani, the swagger of an old west gunfighter yet one of the youngest Malakh by appearance, seeming to be no more than a sixteen-year-old in your lands, was a top fighter of the Tribe of Mik and always a crowd favorite. His iconic dual spathas whirled like a cyclone, pulling all to its path, and leaving nothing behind. His grace and movements were second only to the Sar, and his swagger was only bested by App himself. His thin build and shoulder length brown hair held back by a simple white band just above his forehead moved with the grace of wind itself. At the heart of the flashing blades and axe heads Hani’s swords danced. As he spun, his opponent''s axe blade was always within a mere inch of his body, yet never actually made contact. Few could fight with this precision, and even fewer could defend against it.


    In this three versus three match, both teams had chosen a similar lineup, two warriors, of what you would call male, leading the charge in hand to hand combat and a female moving about the edges of the arena with ranged weapons. In this case, both females had brought a spear to the fight which had long been spent, and they now engaged with Bows of Doxa. Granted, they were training bows, unable to channel the level of power of the bows given to the Sar so long ago, yet capable none-the-less.


    An arrow streaking across the arena at head height as a lightning bolt moves across the night sky, was loosed towards Hani. In less than a breath, using the flat edge of one spatha like a ramp, Hani tipped the arrow upward and with a brutal, overhead, downward arc of his other spatha sent the arrow back towards the very bow it came from. The motion was so quick, so artistic, the returning of the arrow nearly imperceivable, as it struck the female opponent in the upper chest, obliterating the chest piece of her lite armor, and sending her careening against the still rippling, invisible barrier. As a wave crashing on the beaches of Mavericks, the ripple exploded as cracks momentarily appeared in the barrier. The archer slumped to the ground, unconscious, and the crowd roared at the incredible display of technique. Observing Hani with a sword blade was like watching Michelangelo paint a masterpiece.


    Hani, not even waiting to see if the arrow had struck its target, let alone taking the time to celebrate a technique that should not have been possible, had already turned to re-engage his first opponent. His opponent, a brute of a being, and one of the strongest Malakh in the Tribe of App had not waited to see if the kid’s trick with the arrow had worked either but instead was bringing his double-headed battle axe down on Hani’s head, attempting to split it like firewood. Hani sidestepped, the perfect step, using a spatha to aesthetically guide the axe blade just far enough from his body to escape harm, yet the energy and time saved from the minuscule movement left the brute completely exposed to a savage round kick. As the axe descended just to his left Hani opened his left foot, planting it delicately into the ground, a perfect measure between the ball of his foot and heel. His blue tassets rippled as he gathered bearak, forcing it to the bottom of his right shin, coiling his core like a twisted rubber band, as he raised his right knee. Locking his ankle out, pointing his toe down like a ballerina, Hani released the tension in his coiled core whipping the right leg out, his shin connecting directly with the jaw line of the brute. The strike itself was likely enough to finish the brute, but the new technique of concentrating bearak to impact points on the actual body prior to delivering strikes had just been crafted by members of the Knowledge and Beauty classes of the Tribe of Mik in a joint effort. The technique proved to be every bit as devastating as the testing had shown. If the brute had not been an immortal being, this strike would most certainly have killed him. His body exploded across the arena as if it had been shot from a rifle. A vapor trail extended from his body as he soared across the arena and the crack of the sonic boom did not hit until after he had already struck the far wall, dropping to the ground as a stack of books falling from a student''s hand.


    The crowd roared again as Hani bowed to the section of seating reserved for the Knowledge class of the Tribe of Mik, as a magician at the end of his act, unable to contain the swagger any longer. He had single handedly dropped two of the most dangerous warriors in all of the tribes. The bow, the swagger, the beauty, the execution of a never before seen technique, the crowd was receiving quite the show. Even Lyte, who was present in his usual seat, had stood at the completion of the bearak concentrated kick. The elegance and the ingenuity, Lyte couldn’t help but appear elated. Of course he would be personally seeing to the injured Malakh, ensuring none were permanently injured and repairing those that needed it.


    While Hani’s magician-like bow was brief, it was just long enough for a ferocious war hammer to swing from low to high, in an upward arching motion, connecting with the bottom of his jaw. Hani’s entire body accelerated upward from the ground like a firework, only for his long hair to be grabbed by a gloved hand and slammed back into the ground, a shockwave exploding across the arena, his body penetrating far enough into the solid ground that the spectators could only see the tip of his nose resting on his unconscious face. While there were no rules prohibiting a warrior from attacking another while in the arena, it was generally viewed as poor form to attack a warrior paying respects to another class.


    Thar, the Dux representing the Tribe of Mik leapt over the top of the two the latest shockwave had echoed from. His two-handed great sword held in both hands over his head, legs curled back behind him as he soared through the air, time seemed to almost stand still. While keeping his chest pointed towards the ground, he completed half of a flat spin and brought the sword down in an arcing motion with the force of an avalanche. The bearak he had already channeled into the great sword danced like a solar flare jumping off the edge of the blade, begging to be released. Bia, one of the Dux of the tribe of App, met the blow with equal volatility, extending the great single-handed war hammer he had just struck Hani with, as one opening an umbrella as they entered a storm. At the connection point between the two Sidalcum weapons time actually did stop, space rippled, as the power brought to bear appeared to condense into the impact point of the two weapons, only to rip space apart as a new blast wave ripped through the arena. The remaining fighter in the arena was immediately leveled as a tsunami striking a village, allowing nothing to escape its path.


    As a glass window being struck by a hammer, the invisible barrier around the arena no longer had the choice to remain in place and instantaneously dissipated under the pressure of the blast. The massive crowd screamed, turning back in their seats as one might to avoid a foul ball. Then… it was over. Lyte, long white robes gently swishing, stood in the middle of the arena, beaming ear to ear, clapping furiously, “Well done, well done!”


    The crowd, briefly stunned at the prospect of being hit by the blast, realized Lyte himself had, at some point, though when, nobody could guess, entered the arena and using the power of time and space itself had contained the blast, dissolving it prior to any irreversible damage. The medical teams entered the arena to attend to the four other fighters unconscious on the ground as Lyte strode towards Thar and Bia.


    “Ladies and gentleman, two of the finest warriors in all of Doxa!” Lyte shouted as he raised a hand for each of the warriors. Both stoically bowed their heads, pulling their hands from Lyte’s grip, placing their knuckles together while touching their chest in a solemn salute of respect, bowing to Lyte.


    Seeing the display of respect from two of the most dangerous warriors in Doxa directed toward Lyte, and acknowledging most of the crowd would now be vapor without his intervention, a voice from the silent crowd yelled out, “Long live Lyte!” and the entire arena echoed, “Lyte! Lyte! Lyte!”


    App and I hopped over the wall that separated the floor of the arena from the crowd, striding towards the Dux, our Unknown Blades sheathed on our backs, our lite armor glistening, blue and white tassets swaying. Lyte turned to greet us with a face that was at war to contain the size of the smile. “Well done, well done, well done!” he shouted. “Yet again, your tribes never fail to reach new heights!” His enthusiasm to see us and those around us succeed never faded.


    Thar and Bia solemnly observed App and I as we approached, a slight bow of their heads indicating deep respect, though not nearly the same level of respect as they had shown Lyte.


    Once we were within earshot of a normal tone, Bia spoke first, a gruff voice asking, “Where in Doxa did the kid come up with those techniques? Redirecting an arrow with two separate strikes, from the tip of a sword, while in mid-air. Impressive. A non-Sar concentrating bearak to an impact point on the body. Didn’t think it was possible.”


    Looking at me, head shaking, a slight chuckle in the rise and fall of his shoulders, Thar asked, “Did you know he had been working on those?”


    Eyebrows raised, mischief pouring off my lips, I gloated, “Me? Never!”


    App, with a one-handed shove to my shoulder, smirk radiating that he knew the kid had gotten the best of two of his better warriors, responded, “Sure the kid had the stones to execute, but the truth is, your Knowledge and Beauty classes strike again. I would venture to guess Bia’s cheap shot was to ensure he didn’t have to find out if Hani had a technique up his sleeve to go for the hattrick.”


    Lyte, Thar, and I erupted with laughter, and even Bia’s gigantic shoulders simply shrugged, acknowledging he had no intention of finding out what new toys the kid had in front of an entire crowd at the Peirazo.


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    Turning to look at the body-shaped crater that had recently held Hani’s frame, Lyte looked to the medical team from the Tribe of Mik. Hani was sitting upright, under his own power, his legs straight out in front of him, a sheepish grin on his face. A member of the medical team was in a baseball catcher''s squat in front of him, attempting to assess the youthful Malakh’s eyes.


    “I’m fine, Doc,” Hani responded, as he playfully pushed the medical team member away, before adding, “It looks like he hits a lot harder than he actually does.”


    Bia’s deep, booming laugh echoed over the arena floor, as he said, “You spend a lot of time putting on a show, and not enough time blocking war hammers.” Bia walked over to Hani, and offering him a hand, helped hoist the Malakh to his feet. “Next time, you should wait until the show is actually over before you take your bow.”


    Eyeing Hani with a proud, yet reproachful look, Lyte asked, “Did we learn any lessons today Master Hani?”


    Hani, all the swagger left in the body-shaped crater nearby, looked down at the ground.


    Lyte, never missing a moment, put an arm around Hani, and said, “You know this will not be the last learning moment you have, right? So much can be learned about a being by their response to adversity, disappointment, or embarrassment. If I’m not mistaken, the crowd received quite the show today, but the other Malakh of the opposing Warrior classes received a gentle reminder of the capabilities of both the Tribe of Mik, and more importantly, their warriors.“


    The words coursed through Hani’s veins, pushing out embarrassment and ego, and allowing room for a life lesson and humility. I supposed Hani would never lose that swagger, but he certainly never allowed that swagger to leave him so vulnerable again.”


    Kai interrupted Mik’s story to ask, “How old was Hani really?”


    Mik responded with a simple retort, “Remember, in Doxa, there is no age, however, our appearances still vary greatly, and Hani always appeared to be very young. Though Malakh do not marry or become involved in marriage-type relationships, Hani was still always viewed as captivating to most of the female Malakh population.”


    “You mentioned Hani’s grace and movements were second only to the Sar, and swagger was second only to App. Did the Sar themselves fight in any of these ranking competitions? Also, what do you mean by App’s swagger?” asked Kai.


    Mik responded, “The Sar did not compete in any of the ranking competitions. Our place was to lead and serve the Malakh entrusted to us. We would involve ourselves in training though, and I would venture to guess many rumors were started from here, particularly when Sar weaponry was utilized. In the same way Eli threw App and I off when he activated Fortitude near the eastern gate, I would venture to guess it had happened within tribal training sessions of all the Sar.


    As for App’s swagger, his tribe was routinely in the top three in the rankings, but also on a much more personal level, he had grown very close to Speaker and Lyte over the course of time. His ability to create music was his greatest gift, but his ability in combat was not far off, making him a favorite, if not, the favorite of Speaker and Lyte.”


    Enjoying the crackling warmth of the fire and processing the story he had just heard, Kai decided to shift the line of questioning, asking, “I’m assuming, much like the professional and college sports of my land, this story is not the only moment that you look back on fondly?”


    Mik, seeming to hang on the word “fondly”, dwelt in silence, allowing for the full gravity of not only the question but the depth of Kai’s interest to process, before responding, “Yes, there are a great deal of stories, but in using your analogy, the time it would take to communicate all the stories that have built your culture would be endless, and the land of Doxa has been around significantly longer.


    That said, there are several moments that occurred within the Peirazo that would prove to be defining in the culture of Doxa. This moment, while centering around Hani, was defining due the techniques Hani brought to bear, and it also accelerated the progression of development amongst all the classes. I would say it became the Doxa version of a good-natured arms race, with all tribes looking for new techniques, particularly the channeling of bearak within the body. It may sound as though tension existed amongst the tribes or even Sar to Sar, however, up to this point this was not the case, and much like Bia walking over to congratulate Hani and help him up, the other tribes vehemently celebrated successes within other tribes, understanding the greatest good was being served when new discoveries were made or new creations were completed.


    While the Peirazo was certainly the epicenter of any major combat event, each tribe had training grounds and research centers in the areas they resided. Speaker, unsurprisingly, had placed three gates on the four sides of the walls of Doxa proper, each leading to one of the tribe''s living, training areas, and research centers. The Sar were given full autonomy of these locations and each had it’s own flare, so to speak, reflecting the Sar himself in charge of that area. A great many moments occurred in these training grounds, not so much outwardly influencing Doxa culture, but influencing the reputations of the Malakh, thereby indirectly influencing the culture.


    Much like your high school football teams schedule preseason scrimmages, tribes would schedule for other tribes to come to their training grounds for practice matches. On one such occasion, long after Hani unveiled the new techniques, the Tribe of Tabi sent members of the Warrior class to the Tribe of Sid’s training grounds for a standard training session, a scrimmage for lack of a better term. The Warrior class of the Tribes of Sid and Tabi, while never really top contenders in the ranking system, often found themselves just below the front runners, thereby making this matchup interesting to many of the Tribes. Due to this, far more spectators than normal for a practice match were present, including myself and App.


    Several scrimmages had occurred throughout the day with several heated battles taking place. The final scrimmage was the top ranked Dux and their protégé from each tribe, a highly sought after match, and one typically reserved for the Peirazo. The Tribe of Tabi was known for their reserved, calculated fighting, the Tribe of Sid far more like a heavyweight boxer simply looking to out slug the opponent, clad in the heavy armor of a tribe whose Sar was the master blacksmith of Doxa. The beginning of the match started slow with a great deal of dancing about on the part of Tabi’s Malakh while Sid’s spent most of the time slowly shuffle-stepping about the training arena hoping for an opportunity to end the match with a single strike.


    Rut, the Dux of Tribe Tabi, known through all of Doxa for his speed and endurance, nearly floated around the arena, the body length great maul of Zari, the Dux of the Tribe of Sid reaching out, bearak briefly extending the length of the handle. The head of the maul was thin at the connection point of the handle, radiating out into a large impact point on each side of the maul, a truly special creation of Sid himself. The edges of the head coursed with an electrifying current of bearak. This maul had single-handedly destroyed many sets of Doxian armor.


    The cat and mouse game came to a brutal halt, as Zari feigned a massive sideways swing of his maul towards Rut, just as Zari’s protégé changed his point of attack, throwing one of his dual war hammers into the path of Rut’s protégé, forcing him towards the back right shoulder of Zari. Without turning his head Zari stopped his maul as if it had struck a wall, bearak flowing from the side of the head directed towards Rut, exploding in the opposite direction where the unaware protégé moved, unaware of the impending catastrophe. The bearak infused great maul struck the protégé at an almost imperceivable speed sending the protégé towards the now waiting protégé of Zari, as a line drive back towards a pitcher, who was already waiting with one of his war hammers held high over his head, a sinister glare radiating off his face. Rut’s protégé’s head was met with the downward arch of the war hammer as an Olympic volleyball player spiking a perfect set.


    The crunching sound of the protégé’s helmet splitting turned observing stomachs to knots. Immortal beings or not, pain and injuries are very much real. The Tribe of Tabi protégé hit the ground as a boulder falling from a cliff, dust erupting into the air. Despite the brutal strike, the protégé immediately attempted to rise to his feet an MMA fighter attempting to fight through a flooring headshot. Barely conscious with wobbly hands planted on the ground, the protégé rose to his knees, attempting to remain in the fight, his courage and tenacity filling the hearts of those around him. A massive bearak infused maul descended from the other side of him down upon his now exposed skull. The sickening sound of the impact radiated through the training grounds and into the surrounding streets.


    Rut stood motionless, his longsword hanging loosely from his hands, as Zari and his protégé released a loud battle cry high-fiving over the top of the warrior''s limp body. The devastating finishing blow had left the arena silent, all except Tabi himself who had been observing nearby. Before the two could finish the high-five, Tabi had cleared the wall of the arena and was kneeling next to the downed warrior, as a father shielding a child from an oncoming car. The two warriors from the Tribe of Sid continued their celebration, as Rut, brain still in shock, knelt on the other side.


    Even a tournament in the Peirazo itself would not have justified a brutal strike on an already downed opponent such as this, let alone in the training arena, however it was well known, brutal moments happened in combat. That said, this was not a moment to celebrate. There was no honor in this, and there should certainly be no joy.


    Certainly, Lyte would have the power to repair Rut''s protégé, this was not in doubt. It was the heartless celebration of an attack that probably should not have happened. Tabi looked up at the two celebrating, and declared, “Enough.”


    The two, momentarily pausing, as a child deciding if their first jump from the high dive was worth it, elected to take the plunge. Another high-five. Another, “Whoop,” as though daring Tabi to make a move. Tabi slowly rose to his feet, eyes calmly boring into Zari.


    “I said, enough,” came the low, almost inaudible warning.


    There was no way a Dux and mere Malakh could even stand in the arena with a Sar, let alone actually stand up to one, but this seemed to be irrelevant in the moment. Whether the joy of victory or the surge of bloodlust, it did not matter. No Malakh had ever defied, let openly taunted a Sar, ever.


    Bearak began accumulating along Tabi’s knuckles, leaping knuckle to knuckle like boiling lava, as he spoke, “A victory, yes. A beautifully coordinated attack, yes. A finishing strike that did not need to occur, probably. Open celebration of the intentional harming of a fellow Malakh in a training session, I think not.”


    Tabi stepped forward as App and I hopped the outer wall of the arena, moving towards the group. Before we arrived, Sid appeared next to the group, moving in from the opposite side of the arena. As we moved within hearing distance, a subtle, “… sore losers. You would have celebrated just the same with such a clean technique to finish a match,” left Sid’s mouth with a low murmur.


    Bearak openly surged all around Tabi’s hands now as his shoulders rolled back and his chest pushed out, “Would I now? Let us test this theory.”