It hadn’t been a breath before the pair were amongst one another. They had become feral, their muscles rippling, their sweat gleaming with the sun’s rays bouncing off of the trails. Orazuta’s size had not betrayed his speed, for those powerful rippling thighs left the ground cracked with a single hoof print that had fallen in inches, the cracks of earth showing the roots of his great power. Yet though the warrior was quick and powerful, Orndu was equally so. Orndu, who was quite tall himself, but smaller than the large Orazuta, held with him a greater power that had been trained by Rivea’s regime, designed to create professional soldiers and the most elite warriors in the land. The morning runs, the spars with the others, as well as the drills that stressed within him the habit of killing, these were all the recipes that created Orndu, son of Orndu, Captain of the Roaring Tridents. It was the rage within Orndu that allowed him the great ability he was showing off. As Orazuta swung down the might axe he had received, but Orndu was gone. Orazuta turned to swiped with a great blow, but Orndu was gone. Orazuta tossed his axe forth towards the oxfolk, but Orndu was gone. Again and again, Orndu danced around the mountain, again and again, Orazuta missed. Orazuta’s body strained with sweat pooling down the crevices formed by his muscles, and with each passing moment he grew slower and slower, like a buffalo that had run on for too long. Even in his feral form, in which he was the same size but far more beastly, he grew weak. Then finally the form dropped and Orazuta dropped to a knee, panting and gasping for air. Yet Orndu remained within his feral form, glaring deep into Orazuta. His eyes were rage-filled, and yet he did not step forth to strike a blow. He just remained there, as still as death, watching Orazuta pant. Moments passed, seconds turning to minutes. Yet Orndu remained there, still in his feral form. The air grew heavy and the people’s grew afraid. Ares remained there, watching proudly as Orndu waited to strike the finishing blow. “Impossible,” whispered the large Boranran, staring with deep awe. “How can he remain in his form for so long?” “It is a simple matter,” Ares said, “for he is Rivean.” Boranran threw a look towards Ares, who remained watching the great Captain of the Roaring Tridents. “Orndu is no simple man in Rivea,” Ares said. “Whereas Torak may have been a Horn once, Orndu had always worked his way up. He leads the Roaring Tridents, my own elite guard formed to fight with me on the battlefield. He fights to rid the shame of me almost dying on the battlefield against your buffalofolk, which is why he was so quick to meet the blade of Uta when he tried to strike me down. This is Rivea embodied, Orndu, Captain of the Roaring Tridents, son of Orndu who had travelled with me to conquer Dragon’s Spine to heal my daughter, who died to the mighty Peros who has since become a friend.” Boranran said nothing, for there were no words to be said. Ares raised a hand. “I suppose the fight is over, don’t you think?” Boranran nodded, but it was not he who stopped the fight. Uta roared wildly with laughter and then dropped down. “How great a warrior I have faced today, for yet his King seems to be more powerful!” he roared with great laughter that filled the air with it’s humour. “I give in, I give in! Even I am not such a fool to think I could face this Orndu son of Orndu!” Ares waved a hand and then Orndu marched forward in his feral form, saluting Ares before dropping it. Orazuta held his head high as he sauntered to Boranran’s side. “You are humoured for one who had lost a bout,” Ares said with a small smile on his face. “There is no dishonour to lose to a mighty opponent,” Orazuta said. “It was my mistake, King Ares, for attacking you so cowardly.” Ares raised his brows in surprise as the warrior fell to his knees before him and then threw out his fists onto the ground to grovel. “It was a great shame that has befallen me, and I will accept it with whole heart for your forgiveness.” Ares suddenly felt rather embarrassed by the whole ordeal. Ares turned to look at the peoples that watched. He probably shouldn’t bully the fellow too much in front of his own people, for Ares would want some leniency if his own family watched his shame. “Orazuta, you had fought well. It was merely a shame you had faced against a Rivean. Perhaps one day I’ll be able to see you ravage some humans at my side, for it would be a beautiful sight indeed. That matter is now in the past, raise your horns mighty Orazuta, for you fought honourably against my warrior and so I have seen you with well eyes.” Ares continued to try and figure out how to make it sound as though he had forgiven him in a fancy way, but his thoughts failed him. Orazuta finally pulled back up with a wild grin and then stood. “I will see to it that we fight side by side against the humans one day for I am always willing to fight.” Ares nodded and then he threw a look at Boranran. “Are you ready for he second bout then? Shall I send Zika along?” Ares asked as Boranran nodded. Zika stepped forth with her large body, which towered over Ares quite a fair amount. She almost reached the height of the other woman as well, though fell short a few inches. Zika turned to face Ares as if to say something, but after a moment’s pause, she turned back to face Lailina. “Let us face each other honourable under the heart of the sun,” Zika said as she raised her large spear. “It would be my honour,” the woman replied with her large pair of axes, one in each hand. The pair remained still and silent, the breeze passed through the giant mountains that were Zika and Lailina. Even now the bronze-grey scales glittered, with Zika who looked between a cross between a dragon and an ox, and a Lailina who was rippling with powerful muscles. Their muscles grew taut, as if they were going to step forth, and yet neither did as they relaxed and continued to stare at one another. The level of fighting that had begun was not physical, for it was in the mind. Each breeze required a different tactic, each breath changed the terrain of battle in such a way that neither wanted to give up their advantage. Neither found the time, and so finally the pair went feral. Zika’s glittering scales gleamed like polished jewels as they set together in a way like the waves, and Lailina went feral. Her body grew in such a way where she seemed far more feminine, and yet it was though she had gained such strength that Ares wondered if such a thing truly mattered. The pair did not beat around the bush, for they charged at one another. Yet Ares could see who would win, for though Lailina was powerful, truly so, Ares could see that she would have been a challenge for him if he had just appeared in the world, in fact she probably would have killed them if they had met back then, but Ares had gone face to face with Zaka, the daughter and now Queen of Zanz. Zika’s red blood flowed as the pair of axes slashed at her, and yet she remained standing. She had struck the other woman with such strength that she had been flung aside many metres away. Lailina landed, her face awestruck by such strength. She stood up quickly, with Zika waiting until she had braced herself before the Reptai charged forth. Zika was a medley of death and destruction, and Lailina fell moments later. She had been shredded apart, crimson painting the earth beneath her as Boranran raised a hand and exclaimed, “Enough! She has fallen!” With that Zika glanced at Ares who waved her back to him and so she returned to her normal disposition and slithered to his side. “A glorious battle?” she asked. Ares nodded his head. “You fought with great strength and honour,” Ares said. “I am honoured to have seen such a bout.” “Would we be so powerful under the rule of Rivea?” Boranran looked over to Ares and spoke with such childlike. “Any who join Rivea will know such strength, for that is the way of Rivea,” Ares puffed up his chest and crossed his arms. “It is but a simple matter, for Orndu was not quite this strong when he had joined Rivea, and yet look at him.” Orndu remained statue-esque, but Ares could see the strain on the oxfolk’s face. He had been feral for so long that the toll had taken to his body like a sickness. “Zika, however, was about this strong before she wished to join Rivea,” Ares smiled. “It is the way to fight for honour at your side,” she said simply. “Even Torak was a Horn before he joined me, as I have said. There’s a reason why so many leaders flock to Rivea.” “Then would any that join Rivea gain this strength?” Boraran asked. “It is not hidden behind status?” Ares thought for a moment. “It is locked behind a status, you must be Rivean, but once you become Rivean then such a matter is only for those that wish to have the strength. If you want the strength, earn it. Orndu trained his body to gain his strength, and even I trained so. Right now I could probably defeat several of you at once even in my injured state,” Ares nodded his head and flexed his arms. “It would be a simple enough matter, though I would hate to face Orndu and Zika together.” “Then we have lost,” Boranran said. “If you are as strong as you say, I will be unable to defeat you.” “You shouldn’t give in so,” Ares said, not wanting to miss the chance of a fight. “There is no need for such a bout if it means utter loss,” Boranran shook his head, “it is meaningless.” Ares raised his brow. “It is not meaningless, for you will see the height that I have achieved and the difference between us.” “What need is there in such a thing?” “The knowledge itself will help you make a decision on your future. As I have said, I have come to ask you peacefully now to join, for if you deny it, Rivea will march around the place and will ask once more for you to join or for you to leave your lands.” The stoic face of Boranran broke into despair and Ares couldn’t help but feel perhaps he had gone a little too hard. “You needn’t worry,” Ares said, “for Rivea won’t march soon, and you can always join us before that. You earn the right to be Rivean, and the moment you do so, you will be the same as any other Rivean, treated fairly and well, that is my word as King, and that word is checked by our Consul, Rori who is cousin to Beor, who once was not Rivean.” Boranran narrowed his eyes and then looked to his people. He turned back to Ares and nodded and the pair then took their place against one another. Boranran sighed, inhaling deeply. It was then his look changed. He was no longer a man facing against the wall of death, but the chief of his people. It was a good look. Ares inhaled deeply as well and then cracked his shoulders before summoning his blade to his hand. He would meet with the chief with the greatest respect. He stared at Boranran. “Let us have a most honourable bout,” Ares said. “As you say, King Ares.”