They stood opposite each other, the large courtyard of white stone seemed to shrink in comparison to the two beings of titanic power facing off in its midst. Necairus, liaison to the gods, and proctor of the final test necessary to become an Aspect, one of the divine protectors of the natural world, and Mith was the first candidate for the position of Aspect of Balance in over one hundred-thousand years. Mith stood impassive, white hair blowing in the wind, his eyes, one pure white, and one impenetrable black, surveyed the terrain, looking for every possible angle and advantage. He stood roughly eight feet tall, and his long pointed ears signified his elven heritage. Though he was only sixteen years of age, his battle experience far outweighed that of even the most celebrated warriors, easily discerned from his well-muscled body and the flowing grace in every move he made.

Necairus was at the complete opposite end of the spectrum, while he belonged to no race in particular, he appeared as an elderly human male. While Mith’s hair held a natural white, Necairus’s held the dull white shade of age. He was in fact one of the first beings ever created, and was well over ten billion years old, this time had given him an endless wealth of knowledge, and a mastery of every form of combat known to the mortal world. He was one of the most powerful things to ever live. The coming battle would rock the foundation of the world, if Mith could hold his own for thirty minutes in non-restricted combat then he would be granted the title of Aspect of Balance.

“Mortal champion Mith,” Necairus said for all to hear, “the final test will now be administered, Aspects, take your places.”

At his command Solauria, Aspect of Life, and Zerachiel, Aspect of Death, stepped into the courtyard. Both were full fledged Aspects, and commanded terrifying power, they had lived for thousands of years as the safeguards of the world. Zerachiel was the eldest, having held his position for over one hundred-thousand years after completing the test at nineteen years of age. Magical combat was his specialty, and he could enhance his physical capabilities through these means. Solauria had lived for ten-thousand years as an Aspect, and had completed the test at eighteen. He specialized in close combat, and was a master of almost every unarmed style in existence; he also mastered the use of the katana.

“Aspects, you are commanded to kill this elf, hold nothing back for as of this moment he is an enemy of the Gods.” Necairus paused, “if he is alive after thirty minutes you will cease hostile actions toward the target.”

“Yes, sir!” they both sounded off in unison.

Solauria and Zerachiel took up positions on either side of Mith, surrounding him. He watched and analyzed their movements with impossible detail, instantly he knew which style both would use.

“Jintal, broken fist, uses powerful strikes to break and batter the opponents skeletal structure…causing its eventual collapse” he said to Solauria, who was instantly taken aback,

“Kintal, severed fist, uses short, accurate strikes to break, dislocate, or paralyze the opponents’ joints, rendering them unable to move” he said to Zerachiel, who maintained his composure, but was no less impressed.

Both immediately adjusted their intended combat styles, they exchanged a quick telepathic message.

“Your knowledge is impeccable for one so young, but I can only hope it is reinforced by an equally impressive mastery of combat, if not, you will most assuredly die, for we are opponents the likes of which you have never dreamt,” Zerachiel said, “if you fall, I will weep for the loss of such a rich soul.”

Mith was strangely touched by the genuine kindness in Zerachiel’s voice, but at the same time he knew the Aspect would not hold back.

“Enough talking,” Solauria said, still slightly perturbed, “guard yourself!”

Solauria drew his katana, Aevum and rushed Mith. Mith easily ducked under the first horizontal cut, but was put on the defensive as Solauria recovered and immediately regained his momentum. Mith had never seen such beautiful swordplay, even though every strike moved to end his life, he could not deny the supernatural grace in Solauria’s form. One thing bothered him as he nimbly dipped and dodged his opponent’s attacks; within the first ten seconds of the fight…it was obvious that Mith far outclassed Solauria.

Solauria lunged at Mith, in an unorthodox motion, tipping his body backward instead of forward. Seeking to confuse Mith, and then end the fight with a quick counter. But Mith read every move, and took the offensive. He side-stepped the thrust, and as Solauria moved to counter, Mith grabbed his sword-arm by the wrist, brought it above his head, and launched a kick at the underside of Solauria’s shoulder.

The movement was so fast, Solauria didn’t even register the kick until it hit him under his right arm, at the base of the shoulder joint. His arm was immediately dislocated, and before he even had time to react, Mith had struck him in the chest with both fists in a follow up maneuver. Solauria stumbled back under the force of the blow, falling to his knees. He coughed…and blood spattered the ground.

“Either you’re holding back, or you have absolutely no chance of beating me” Mith said, voice completely free of ego, “this is a style you have never seen before, and you’re not ready.”

Zerachiel had watched the thirty second tradeoff of blows closely, that was how they had always fought. Solauria would engage the target in combat, while he watched, after a while Solauria would back off, and Zerachiel, having analyzed the enemy’s attacks would deduce the easiest way to defeat them. But this had never happened before; it was his turn to enter the fight.

“Never stop to speak in the middle of combat young one” the Aspect of Death said.

Mith turned to face his other opponent, but he found empty space from where the voice had come. But he had no time to be stunned, Solauria was up again, and charged Mith once again. As Mith had thought, he had indeed been holding back…

The strikes were no less beautiful, but they came ten times faster. Solauria’s sword seemed to appear from nowhere, seeking impossible angles of attack…but Mith could still read every move with ease.

Suddenly a warning went off in Mith’s head; he spun and launched a kick high in the air behind him. It connected with Zerachiel’s head, who had attempted to teleport behind Mith, catching him unaware and defenseless. The blow caught him under the chin, snapping his head violently backward and sending Zerachiel’s body into a flip. But to Mith’s surprise, he let the momentum carry him, and completed the flip, landing back on his feet. Zerachiel summoned a double bladed staff from thin air, and went on a joint offensive with Solauria.

Necairus had relocated to a balcony overlooking the courtyard, turned battlefield, he watched the duel intensely. Never had he seen a resident of the physical plane move the way Mith was. He was under attack by Aspects…both of whom were veterans of their post; the test was to hold his own…not win. A crack of lightning sounded as Zerachiel summoned the bolt from the heavens, but Mith was already gone…he dodged lightning! Necairus looked on with grim approval, indeed no mortal could move like this…this was how God’s fought…

Blades flashed and fists flew, as the three dueled. Mith worked his limbs in perfect harmony as he nimbly ducked and weaved through the tangled web of metal seeking to skewer him at any second.

Solauria suddenly backed off, he nodded to Zerachiel, who did the same.

“Zak, lets end this” he said.

The other Aspect nodded, “you have five minutes left” he said. “ Those five minutes will be the most perilous moments in your entire life, your death is likely, I give you the option to yield.”

Mith shook his head, “I cannot.”

Solauria and Zerachiel exchanged glances, nodded once more…

A blinding light forced Mith to shield his eyes. It lasted only a brief second, but in that second, Solauria and Zerachiel had undergone a complete transformation.

Gone was Solauria’s blood red plate armor, in its place was a white robe. It was torn at the waist, so his chest was bare. His rippling muscles were covered in white markings that glowed intensely. His sword had vanished, but on both arms he wore long, white metal gauntlets. They had long blades, running from each fingertip all the way to his shoulder that bended with his armored limb, as if they were a part of his skin. His eyes had been replaced by twin orbs of white fire.

Zerachiel’s robe now danced on his skin, a cloak of black flame that wrapped him in its’ fiery embrace. His staff had separated in the middle, revealing two more blades that had been sheathed inside each other. He now held two daggers that sported blades on both sides of the hilt. His eyes had too been replaced by orbs of fire, but they were an impenetrable black.

Mith exhaled slowly, both of his opponents levels of power had risen tenfold. Their movements revealed nothing…he had no idea what to expect. He felt wind…Shit!…he cursed, moving at the last second as an armored fist tore through the air where his head had just been. Solauria spun instantly and with a feral growl, launched a kick at the side of Mith’s knee. Mith jumped away and recovered, or tried to. Zerachiel was behind him already, daggers poised. Mith ducked and rolled to the side, narrowly evading evisceration. He had no time to react as Solauria caught him full in the stomach with a punch. So powerful was the blow, that it sent him flying through the air. He cried out in pain as he hit the far wall with a sickening crunch, destroying a large portion of the thick stone. The powdered remains of the wall rolled over the courtyard as a wave of dust and debris.

Solauria cackled with delight, “ I dare you to get up again boy!” He turned to Zerachiel, whose face was completely impassive, devoid of any emotion, “let me finish him!”

Zerachiel held out his hand, “do what you must” he said evenly.

Solauria smiled in anticipation, “here kitty kitty…” he mocked as he confidently strode into the thick cloud of dust.

The morbid sound of blade slicing flesh emerged from the cloud, followed by gasping…then silence.

Zerachiel bowed, “you were a master of combat and intellect…just not enough of combat.”  

He blew the dust away with a casual wave of his hand.

“Come Solauria, let us depar…”

Zerachiel stopped mid-sentence.

High above on his perch, Necairus tightened his hands into fists, not willing to believe what was in front of him.

Mith stood, blade drawn, over Solauria’s body, whose throat was neatly cut.

Zerachiel was transfixed on Mith. His eyes were no longer amber. The right was a mirror image of Zerachiel’s, a black ball of fire, and his left was white, like Solauria’s. His face wasn’t simply emotionally numb…his entire being was emotionally dead. Zerachiel felt keenly something he hadn’t experienced for centuries…fear.

Mith stalked forward, toward his remaining opponent. Zerachiel stood to face him…only three minutes left. He felt no outrage toward Solauria’s defeat, for as an Aspect, he could not really be killed except by another ascended being. While Mith’s power suddenly dwarfed both his and Solauria’s…he wasn’t ascended…not yet.

Mith spoke, “his brash and impatient attitude bothered me, you wield power like his,” he paused, “why does it not corrupt you…I would think death to be the less stable of the three.”

Zerachiel didn’t answer, he attacked.

Teleporting out of sight, he re-phased behind Mith and lunged. Mith casually turned and grabbed Zerachiels’ wrist. Zerachiel broke his emotionless mask and cried in pain as what seemed like thousands of pounds of pressure closed around his wrist. He saw movement to his left…

Mith ducked as Solauria suddenly leapt and aimed a kick at his head. He released Zerachiel from his iron grasp and retreated. Mith cocked his head in genuine interest as Solauria’s wound closed itself.

Both Aspects suddenly attacked, and Mith met them full force. The ring of metal sang out from the epic battle like a macabre symphony, heralding the struggle of the three locked in its midst.

Necairus stood in awe, watching the fight unfold from every angle. Blades descended, punches and kicks were thrown, and spells flew, in an unending spectacle of the fighters’ mastery over every type of combat. Then he saw it…from a balcony overlooking the battle…Necairus saw the end coming, with thirty seconds left.

Zerachiel and Solauria had reversed positions with their opponent. They were on a desperate defensive, and Mith was ferociously beating down any attempt they made to get the upper hand. His entire body moved without emotion, without passion…without life. It was more horrifying than anything the two Aspects had experienced in their immortal lives. Both were on their last legs.

Thirty seconds…the mental timer went off in Zerachiels’ head. It was now or never…

He sent Solauria a mental image of his plan. They shifted fighting styles, and focused on speed to wear Mith down as fast as possible, all defenses had a gap…they just needed to find it.

Solauria saw it first, he mentally communicated his plan with his brother Aspect. When Mith blocked, his left side was open for a split second, because his left hand was unarmed. If Solauria faked Mith into grabbing his hand, the opening would be vulnerable just a second longer, allowing Zerachiel to strike.

Solauria punched for Mith’s face, and left his flank exposed. As expected, Mith grabbed  Solaurias’ right arm, leaving him exposed on his left side. Zerachiel lunged for the killing blow.

Fifteen seconds…

Mith dropped his sword, and caught Zerachiels’ wrist with his other hand. He squeezed, forcing Zerachiel to drop one of his daggers.

Fourteen seconds…

Mith twisted his hands, breaking both Aspects’ wrists. He released both from his grasp.

Thirteen seconds…

Mith caught his sword, and Zerachiels’ dagger as they dropped in mid-air.

Twelve seconds…

Mith jumped and spun. Both blades flashed, and Mith landed, weapons stained with blood.

Ten seconds…

Both Aspects hit the ground…throats slit. Silence.

The time was up…both Aspects were bleeding on the floor…toppled by a single elf who now stood over them both.

Necairus was silent. He should have proclaimed Mith the victor, but he was unable to speak after what he had just witnessed. Instead Mith looked up at him and nodded…then walked away.