Days after Ajax was chosen as an Avatar.

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Varic and nine others were lined up in a cave, nervously looking around at the blood that stained the floor, and the bones that could be seen scattered across the floor.

Varic had seen worse.

Out of the shadows came one of the most dangerous men that Varic had ever seen, he excuded an aura of death, destruction, and fear.

“I am the Blade, refer to me as much.” Were the first that came out of his mouth.

He stood in front of them and looked at them as if they were pieces and he was picking out the juiciest parts.

“You are children of the gods now.” The Blade said, eyes looking over the children assembled contemptuously, “you are the gods servant, slave, and dog. The gods will is your will.”

“Freedom is an illusion.”

He grinned at the children, “Repeat it.”

“Freedom is an illusion.” The children chorused after him, some more willing than others.

“The gods are my salvation, and are my masters, repeat it.”

A thickset boy on the right spat on the ground and announced, “I serve no god!”

Varic respected him as much as he pitied him, he could tell what was about to happen next, being a slave gave him that much.

Varics thoughts were proven right as a loud “snap!” filled the room, and blood started to spring from the boys arm.

The bone was sticking right out and the rest of the arm was almost parallel to the shoulder, and bent in all the wrong ways.

The boy started to scream.

His leg snapped and he collapsed, knocking his head against the floor and going unconscious.

Varic saw that some of his companions were retching, and throwing up their lunch.

A punch to the face for each of them, the Blade going so fast Varic could barely track him, and they stopped.

The Blade walked back over to the unconscious boy and looked down at him in disgust, “This is what happens to the weak, the heretics, the pagans, the heathen’s, and any others that do not heed the words of the gods, do not forget.”

Varic didn’t think he was going to be forgetting that anytime soon, it was brutality the likes of which only Master could match.

And master wasn’t that fast.

The Blade turned back to the line.

“Repeat after me!” He snarled, “We are here to fufill whatever the gods desire, freedom is an illusion.”

Once again they repeated what he said.

“Good.” He said.

“I will teach you the prayer now.”

“Put your hand on your heart and repeat after me. He took a breath and started….

“I am a servant of the gods,’

“They are my Masters, Rulers, they are my Judge and Jury’

“The gods will is my will’

“I have no will of my own, for my will is the will of my god,’

“I have no flesh of my own, for my flesh is the gods tool,’

“I have no soul, for my soul as been taken by my god’

“I have no mind, except in service to the gods’

“I am what my god commands me to be, I will die at my gods command, I will live at my gods command.’

“Freedom is for the weak, freedom is unnecessary for we serve the gods, servitude grants us power.’

“Prophet hear us.’

“And in the name of the courts, we end this humble prayer.’

He took another breathed, looked at us and sighed. “This place will be a living hell. Persevere and you will emerge with a god’s blessing, and stronger than any other…Fail…and you will die a failure.”

“All those that stand here now are your brothers. You will protect them, nurture them, but you will also be charged with putting them down. Brotherhood is both a blessing and a curse, they will be your best friends but also your worst enemies. Remember, you must never hesitate, never flinch, as you cut down the traitors.” He looked at us.

“I am the last of my Brothers. I killed one for cowardice, I ran him through and watched as he slumped to the ground, the second I killed for blasphemy, he spat at the high priests feet, I snapped his neck. The others were killed in battle, or by each other. My last brother… I tortured to death, he tried to kill The Prophet, I ignored his pleas for mercy, I ripped all the knuckles from his sword hand, after pulling out his fingernails of course. I fed him my waste, I starved him, I hung him up with hooks and spat at his open sores.” He grinned, eyes twinkling.

“He’s still alive now, though he will never again be a brother to me again.”

Varic and the others looked at him and each other with horror, revulsion clear on their faces, they also glanced at the unconscious boy on the floor.

“You are all Acolytes, the lowest of the low, you will be trained in the arts of war, strategy, subterfuge, and an endless list of other skills, after gaining an understanding of these skills you will be put through the crucible where you will either live or die.”

He paced, “Lesson one...” He put up a single finger, “I will assign you each a god, you will find out the fighting style of each one…and master it.”

The Blade started to walk down the line, “You, Lord Flame, You, Darkness,…” It went on until he came in front of Varic.

“You, The Madman.”

Varic was shocked, of all the entities he had to get this one, the one he swore vengeance against.

The one who chose his worst enemy as an avatar.

The one who ruined everything. He was going to escape that day, he was going to bring Ajax with him.

Then Ajax betrayed him.

“No.”

The Blade stopped.

“What did you say?”

Varic knew what was going to happen if continued on with this.

“No, I said no. Give me any god other than the Madman, any god!”

The Blade leaned in close…and spat into his eye. “No one tells me what to do except the Prophet and the High Priest. You know what? You will train in the Madmans style, and the styles of all others here. You will get no breaks! No rest! Until you have mastered them all.”

“And for your punishment….”

Varic’s head snapped viciously to the side, blood filled his mouth, and one of his teeth went flying.

The fist came again, this time into his gut, his breath left him with a whoosh and he threw up.

Then again, into his side this time, he heard his ribs creak and then snap.

He cursed Vengeance for saving him.

He remembered her voice.

“One in five hundred people are gifted.’

“One in a thousand are empowered, also known as attuned.’

“One in fifty thousand are marked.’

“One in hundred thousand are avatars.’

“You are marked.” She smiled, “congratulations.”

“Count yourself lucky.” Then she disappeared, and moments later he was taken here.

Damn her he thought, as a punch smashed his nose in.

Damn her he thought, as a kick landed solidly in his groin area.

Damn the Blade he thought, as both his arms snapped.

Damn the Madman he thought, as both his legs broke.

And Ajax? He thought as a punch came sailing toward his temple, promising unconsciousness.

Fuck you.