A sickly, dull thud resonated throughout the arid arena. Strained, phlegmy wheezing as blood bubbled and burst, sticky and wet.

“One.”

The sound of air leaving faulty lungs as the sound of a thick leg connecting with an exposed midriff resounded. Muted splintering is soon accompanied by ragged, pained inhales.

“Two.”

Loud clacking, cracking, and splintering as wood and metal split, bursting apart. A whimper as a meat fist connects with a glass chin, jaw creaking under the concentrated force.

“Three.”

Rumbling and shattering as flesh meets cold, hard-packed ground. A choked cough shatters the relative calm that had begun to settle.

“Four.”

Shattering glass resounded in the abnormal confines before a creeping, crawling mist crept out across the floor. Off in a corner, the large figure of a man blinked as shadows stretched up and enveloped him. Nary a sigh or stutter, the gloom receded, quietly slinking away as the chilling fog filled the void.

__________________________________

Watching through a small opening in the amorphous door they stood behind, two figures held their breaths, cheeks trembling as they watched the Tu’i sink into the murky shadow.

One wore the vestiges of a fully fledged Faifekau, the ones who served as the proctors and representatives of the Conglomerate. His long sleeved black button up shirt fit him well, tailored to his exact specifications. A long black tupenu, a sarong commonly worn formally by men, ran all the way down to his ankles, cinched at the waist by sewn on ends for easy tying. Around his neck hung four tightly plaited fibrous necklaces, each one longer than the last. The fragrant, airy smell of maile perfumed the air around the man. His bronzed forehead glistened with sweat as his intense gaze remained locked on the fading figure.

Next to him, a young man was doubled over. He grasped at his stomach as his throat tightened, dry heaving. In contrast to the Faifekau, the young man wore an all-white suit. His long sleeved button up was not tailored but it still fit him well, a testament to his having focused on his physique before coming to the Motu. Rigid, starch pressed tapered slacks hugged his legs, creasing as he squatted and fought the rising bile.

“Come on kid,” the Faifekau’s voice was gruff, almost like he was constantly holding back a cough. The sound of shattering glass resounded in the dark hallway as a soft click issued from the closed door. “He’s done. Let's make it quick.”

Without waiting for the younger man, the Faifekau pushed the door open. Murky, cloying mist flooded into the hallway as he stepped out.

“Ah, shit!” the young man yelped as he shuffled towards the Faifekau.

“Shoulda been quicker,” the older man chuckled as the mist skirted around him. Sliding one of his necklaces off, he passed it to the young man. “Wear that. The maile keeps the mist at bay.”

Lying in haphazard disarray, four prone figures littered the middle of the arena. Frost slowly built as the mist continued to flow over and around them. Beads of sweat adhered to their brows mid-slide, leaving a crusted trail of salty emission.

The closest to the two members was a lanky foreigner. The man lay face down with his jaw jutting painfully to the side, tongue half-frozen from exposure to the mist. An explosion of wood and metal bits framed his resting place.

“Here kid, watch closely,” the Faifekau knelt next to the unmoving foreigner. Tatau wrapping all the way around his neck flickered then flared to life as he began to hum in a low, rumbling voice. As the strength of the tatau’s glow strengthened the older man opened his mouth. A black, ichorous substance dribbled out, falling with a splash as it landed on the cadaverous foreigners face. The substance sizzled as it made contact, spreading like a wave of shadow. It flowed out and encased the man’s body in its umbral embrace.

The young man ran his fingers over his lips, mouth watering as he thought about the black ichor.

“Be quick, recover the other two,” the older man stood and spat out a glob of the clotted fluid. It hissed as it passed through the mist, dissipating before it touched the cold concrete floor. With a quick motion, the older man slid off two more necklaces and handed them to his charge. “Just in case.”

Hurried steps echoed through the mausoleum-esque arena as the two men set about their work.

Kneeling next to a mangled form, the young man’s shaking knees steadied as he braced them against the icy floor. As he exhaled his breath fogged before him, curling and twisting as it fell towards the frigid mist. Clearing his throat, he kept his eyes focused on the form before him. Tentatively, the tatau on his throat and neck flickered, pushing some of the encroaching mist back as it flared to life. As he began his humming he coughed, disrupting the flow for a split second. At the base of his esophagus he felt a rising, squirming liquid. Unable to hum or breath, he coughed again, spraying the malformed ichor all over the inert form. Hacking, he spat the remainder of the diseased, disgusting glob out. It tasted like how dark, murky water looked, a swirling miasma of nasty stinging his sinuses.

The fluid hissed and crackled as it made contact. Instead of spreading and encasing, like his mentors, it began to devour and crush. Frosted skin ripped and tore as the form began to collapse in on itself. Painful crunching as the amorphous blob began greedily sucking in everything around it, mist and all. The young man fell back, thudding onto his butt as he frantically tried to push himself away.

His right foot slid forward, skidding across the glassy floor. Before he could recover the toe of his pristine white loafer touched the roiling blob.

“$3^1, help me!” the young man yelled as the black thing latched onto his shoe, sucking him in as his foot contorted, popping and snapping painfully.

“Dammit, boy!” the older man huffed. The tatau on the back of his hands flared to life. Using one hand, he gripped the young man's shoulder. The other hand he held out in a tensed claw. Sweat beaded on his brow, quickly freezing, as his arm shook, veins spider-webbing across the back of his clawed hand. Slowly, the roiling blob calmed. It throbbed to the rhythm of a distressed heart, pulsating and vibrating as it allowed itself to be consoled. With a wet, sticky pop it let go of the young man’s foot.

Shifting backwards as the thing released his foot, he hissed in pain as his mangled foot touched the hard ground, shaking as waves of excruciating pain pulsed up and down his leg. Tears leaked, steaming as they quickly froze.

“I’m sorry man, I didn’t mean to,” he let out a sob. A snot bubble popped, jolting him and sending a fresh wave of pain up his leg. “I really didn’t. It was on accident. I swear!”

The long shadow of the Faifekau fell over him as he continued to cry, tears freezing as they dropped into his shaking lap. The older man's face remained veiled.

“Kid, you know the law,” the older man's throat tatau shimmered, casting an ominous pall over the whimpering young man. A cascading array of tatau glimmered menacingly through his black shirt. “Names are reserved and sacred.”

_____________________________________

‘Ekolu’s huge frame emerged from the billowing shadow, stepping into the spacious vacuum of the Domain. Behind him, bits of the biting mist wafted, drifting back and forth before dissipating.

Still sitting in his comfortable, worn couch, Nima observed the giant’s return with the shadow of a smirk curving his lips. Miniscule lines of hidden, ancient tatau ached as mana glinted, running up and down his skin as it traced the plethora of markings that riddled his body.

“Took longer than I’d expected,” Nima chuckled as he watched the heavily-muscled man take a knee before him. “Didn’t think you’d actually try to savor it.”

“I wanted to prepare,” ‘Ekolu’s smooth, slightly high pitched voice flowed through the Domain. “I’ve reached the amount, Tamai.”

“So you’re warm? No excuses this time?” Nima covered his smile with a calloused, ragged hand. Trying to hide the mocking smile he’d been fighting.

From behind Nima, Rua chuckled as she stretched, yawn mixing with the constrained laugh. “Maybe Crybaby will finally not be one today.”

‘Ekolu ground his teeth as he kept his eyes focused on the amorphous, ever-shifting ground. Like he had so often before, he watched as it shifted, stirred, sifting back and forth in its formless state. Anything to distract him from the threatening tears.

“Lighten up, Lika,” Nima appeared next to ‘Ekolu, materializing out of the shadowy, ever-changing floor next to the large man. The leader of the Tu’i stretched his legs out and leaned back, using his arms to brace himself. “It’s just a challenge. They’ll be ready soon enough.”

“Stupid showoff crybaby,” Taha grumbled as he waddled in circles, still sulking. “Shoulda been mine, that woman looked tasty.”

“What was that, Little One?” A voice echoed from within the nebulous darkness. It advanced wildly on the sulking little man as a form took shape behind his stooped back. A shiver ran down Taha’s back as a tall shadow fell over him.

“Repeat that one more time for me,” the feminine voice dripped with saccharine vehemence. Stepping out of the hazy shadow was a tall, muscular woman. Her white tank top clung to her defined torso, accentuating the rigid lines of her abdomen. A pair of loose sweatpants enveloped her lower body. Intricate tatau covered every inch of exposed skin but her most prominent, and most prized, set of markings were the ones that covered her jutting lower jaw. The designs swirled and interlaced along her jawline, curving up her hairline before swooping back down and underneath her chin as it connected with her throat tatau. It gave her the appearance of always having a cold, sinister smile.

“Wha,” Taha’s voice faltered as he quickly turned to face the woman, exposed belly jiggling as he fell backwards. With an inelegant plop, he landed on his misshapen rear and began crawling backwards, nervously sneering as his eyes darted to the other Tu’i, hoping for some help. “Didn’t know you were up!”

“Aww,” Wha stepped towards the retreating little man, her bare feet cracking and shattering the murky floor as it tried to provide her with a proper foothold. “What’s wrong? You thought I’d let you talk shit for free?”

A wall of thick, condensed shadow rose behind the little man, halting his backward momentum. He let out a yelp as ethereal hands reached out of the gloam, pinning and immobilizing him.

Wha leaned close and blew her hot breath in his face. Her voice oozed danger. “Do I always have to remind you?”

“Wha,” Nima’s reserved voice carried towards the two, carrying a note of warning.

“Bitch,” Wha mouthed before turning and lightly padding towards the rest of the Tu’i.

Taha let out a sigh of relief as he sank into the roiling shadow beneath him, throwing a defiant glare at Wha’s back before he popped out of existence, retreating to his little corner of the Domain.

“Hello Tamai,” She bowed her head as she sat next to the still kneeling ‘Ekolu, bumping him with her shoulder on her way down. “You’re too stiff, come on. This isn’t your first challenge.”

She playfully nudged his exposed, incredibly muscular abdomen. His head still lowered, she caught the glint of a smile.

The sound of glass shattering and crumbling filled the Domain as a passageway opened.

“Rua, Wha,” Nima stood, gingerly flexing his legs, shaking them out as he walked towards the newly opened passage. “You two join the witnesses. Make sure not too many pass out this time.”

‘Ekolu stood and followed. A ripple of excitement and anticipation sent shivers up the large man's spine as he focused on the voluminous back that he strove to emulate.

Blinding, exhilarating light rushed at the Domain, trying to illuminate the shaded place. As if there were a barrier restricting everything, light and sound failed to breach the Domain from the outside unless it was allowed by the Tu’i.

As the two Tu’i stepped out into the empty hallway leading into the challenge grounds their senses were assaulted; their ears popped, their pupils adjusted and dilated, their equilibrium corrected itself. Exiting the Domain always made them feel like they had been in a sensory deprivation tank, at times they forgot what it was like to feel, to see, to hear.

Nima shook his head, tapping and scooping imagined gunk out of his ears. “Hate that shit.”

_______________________________________

The fiery glare of the midday sun peered down on the challenge grounds reserved for the Tu’i. There was nothing fancy about the area, if anything it was an ugly, marred stretch of land. Gashes from previous challenges lay unhealed, a constant reminder of the destructive power the beings known as the Tu’i wielded.

The murky purple-black water of the void-sea grew still as it sensed the approaching challenge. Its incessant dance of touch-me-not with the land consecrated by the Tu’i ceased as it retreated to a safe distance. As with all cases, the sea would always be the first to be aware of the approach of a natural calamity.

High walls circled the alcove, housing the innumerable viewing rooms. Groups of Faifekau and their charges huddled before screens, waiting for the entrance of the rulers of the Motu ‘Oe ‘Otu Tu’i.

As the two combatants entered the arena every witness took in a collective breath. The dreadful aura that accompanied the plain, unremarkable leader caused many stomachs to lurch, many hearts to skip a beat, many brows to break out in sweat.

For many of the Faifekau, this was their first time laying eyes on the enigmatic being. The one who stood at the pinnacle of the Conglomerate, at the head of the Tu’i. Many lingering, niggling doubts were washed away as they felt, more than anything, the monstrous presence of the fabled being.

And still, among them were the detractors, the doubters, the sceptics. The ones who were still trying to explain their murmuring hearts and sticky brows as anything but their souls reacting on an instinctual level. Some even dared to mouth unnecessary questions, against the better judgement of their bodies.

“Is he really the leader?” a young trainee whispered to a peer, covering her mouth with a white kerchief. Her mentor, having just barely heard the foolish question, shot a glare at her. He was too late, everyone in the room was thrown to the ground. The last thing the trainee saw before her face was forcefully introduced to the ground was the shining, crazed eyes of the being known as Nima as they turned her direction.

Swinging his long arms back and forth, ‘Ekolu exhaled, forcing some of the exhilaration and nerves out.

Nima massaged his neck as he languidly turned his gaze on each and every hidden viewing room.

Shattering glass announced the closing of the passage, sealing the two Tu’i off from the rest of the island for the duration of their clash.

“Remember,” Nima rotated his shoulders before holding his left arm over his head. “No crying, not in front of the members.”

‘Ekolu nodded, lips a grim line of determination. He pressed his fists together over his sternum as every single one of his tatau activated.

A humongous shadow descended on the battleground, casting its pall over the two as ‘Ekolu dashed forward.

_______________________________________

The viewing rooms were abuzz with activity, members rushing to and fro as they tended to the dazed and confused.

Rua walked through the dim halls dressed in the nondescript uniform of a low ranking member. She surveyed the carnage wrought by the challenge. A small smile of satisfaction sat on her lips as she watched a pair of members pushing a collapsed Faifekau away on a gurney.

As she passed one of the rooms, raised voices caught her attention.

“Stupid child!” the voice of an older man, hiccupping as he sobbed. “Stupid fucking child! What did I tell you?!”

The Faifekau, vestments tattered and awry, knelt over the unmoving body of a white clad trainee. The trainee’s face was pallid, blood leaking out of both nostrils as his listless eyes stared at the undefined walls.

The sobs sent scintillating chills of pride down her back as she shuddered, continuing her walk. She reveled in the fact that this could easily be misconstrued as a natural disaster. And it was, for the lower beings.

As she passed another viewing room she spotted a familiar face. The person sat with a shivering, sobbing Faifekau, consoling them. Rua clicked her tongue at the person and raised an eyebrow.

The person shook their head and held out a hand as if to say “not now.”

Just beyond the person, Rua saw the state of the challenge grounds. Rubble, some charred and some frozen, was strewn all over. Where large, free standing pillars once stood were now only whittled nubs, bearing the scrapes and scars of having survived torrential winds. In the middle of the arena a huge, gaping crevasse had been opened, bits of shrapnel still tumbling down the freshly made hole. Further out, the void-sea still hadn’t returned to shore. Barely visible to the average eye, the roiling purple-black water calmly waited hundreds of meters away, still waiting for permission to return. Peeking out of an uncovered area, the huge handle of an ironwood povai settled into its resting place after an eventful return to action.