The Gulan minister clicked his mandibles rapidly, his analogue for clearing his throat to address the gathered dignitaries before him.

"...and now let's talk about the Big Angry Sandworm in the Chamber, The..." he paused, making a genteel chirping sound only an insectoid like a Gulan could make "non-war between Earth's and that of the Selceid. For the last few standard months we've been seeing provocations from both sides. Earth has always responded favorably to negotiations but the Selceid are insisting on taking worlds they claim as theirs by their own traditions.

As we all know, the Humans have settled in Tassellar Five, which they new call..." The Gulan's exoskeleton flashed red in confusion and his mandibles clicked as he tried to work his words." Da...damo-..."

"Damocles, honored Minister." Replied ambassador Niles in his baritone voice, representing Earth's delegation. He had more to say but the man sat back, letting the Gulan continue.

"Damocles was settled by the Humans first" the minister continued "we've all seen in their social media system holographs of various civilians documenting their lives there, and they pre-date any visual records made by the Selceid."

The chamber quietly reverberated with the soft laughter and other sounds of amusement by the delegates, as Damocles has been known to the intergalactic zeitgeist as a place where the young and foolish performed stunts for sheer amusement.

Quite recently there was a meme where an organized group of various species would group themselves as "Fossils" and the other as "Tourists and Guide". The Fossil group would disguise themselves as fossilized specimens while the Guide would talk loudly so passersby could hear of purported fossilized remains of the first settlers, and when the victims came too close, the Fossils would suddenly spring to life, and shout loudly.

The Selceids upon hearing of this phenomenon had taken to it poorly, believing it to be a mockery of their claims to the planet. In turn, the younglings and hatchlings redoubled their efforts, making their holographs even more absurd and more direct, such as the inclusion of species that had only recently discovered space travel, much less FTL.

But even the delegates that been thinking of these collection of amusing holographs, were snapped out of their thoughts when the Gulan minister then said "...however it seems that given the recent events, of purported 'accidents' that have been happening too often, and blockades that have been growing in number. We're now in this situation; The Selceid wish to invoke the Ritual of Steel..."

The chamber was abuzz with sounds of shock and consternation so the minister audibly clicked his mandibles again to put the room in order. "Ambassador Niles, you've had a standard five months to deliberate this challenge with your superiors. Understand that a non-definite answer shall be considered a refusal, in that case total war may be declared and no one in this council will be allowed to intervene."

Without hesitating the Human Ambassador stood up, pausing only to straighten his suit.

"To all the gathered and esteemed members of the Intergalactic Council, I have deliberated this to the Humanity Council back on Earth. The prospect of sending a million warriors to engage in combat according to the rules of ancient warfare was met with one unanimous word and it was..." he paused and smiled,

"Finally."

***

One Standard Week Later:

The whole Galaxy was tuned into their holograms as they watched The Ritual of Steel begin.

The Ritual of Steel was a time-honored tradition where two factions sent a million warriors to fight and used only weapons and armor associated with "ancient times". Whoever won the Ritual could then make all the demands they want and it shall be granted by the loser.

During the time between the Selceid issued their challenge, Earth had already submitted information and samples of the vast array of weapons and armor they would use, all of which were accepted, though some did comment on how a few of them looked too primitive to be effective.

The Ritual was held in the uninhabited portions of Damocles, and the observer drones amassed there to capture the action. On the late morning, the Selceid arrived at the Plains first, a huge flood of mounted cavalry bearing lances and spears, the cavalryman's armor glinting in the sun, ancient armor forged from modern machines.

Some rode on horse-like Striders, others rode on the impressive backs of Gol-Podons with their wide horns capable of bowling down several men as it galloped furiously.

The foot soldiers followed, many of them bearing their traditional House livery as many of them were not only soldiers but descendants of landed nobility and of knights. The viewers from Human worlds watching this were reminded of the knights of medieval times. The Selceid was comparable to human physiology, but only in shape. Their faces were comparable to early dinosaurs with fierce tusks jutting from their upper lip, and bony ridges at certain parts of their body. Quite a few especially among the foot soldiers were tall men, some towering over seven feet tall.

As the Selceid pass through the plains they were greeted with a barbaric sight.

Hanging from stakes were the bodies of mannequins, with realistic blood pouring down their slit throats. They were arranged so that they flanked the procession like a mocking decoration, it wasn't until one of the units passed that one of the men let out an outraged roar.

"Th-that's Okpos!" Several foot soldiers worked together to take the body down and true enough, they realized this was no mannequin.

The commanding general and his entourage halted in their tracks and began looking around, shouts and orders were issued to take down the bodies and confirm what was going on. One Selceid foot soldier was panicking, how could they have taken and killed one of their own men? That couldn't be allowed unless...

With a start he had realized that officially the Ritual began at midnight, and the arranged battle was to begin at noon. During that time the humans had somehow snuck into their camp and dragged off unlucky soldiers to be killed.

"T-they can't do this! Nobody's allowed to..."

"They can, private, calm yourself!" His captain said. He was visibly disquieted though, there wasn't any rule against attacking the enemy camp at night, it's just that it was common sense that without modern night vision tools this couldn't happen.

Yet the humans did it.

General Da'anul ground his teeth in anger and ordered his men to shut up and march, as well as dispatch riders to scout out the flanks to watch for an ambush.

Then the plains gently dipped into a valley and he saw the Forest.

Nobody did a headcount since this was an ancient war but he was horrified to see just how much Selceid warriors were impaled on stakes dotting the shallow valley's floor. They couldn't have been impaled while alive, he reasoned. He saw their bloodied throats and concluded that this barbaric method was done posthumously, otherwise he would've heard their groans.

The Selceids were threatening to break into chaos. If they took down their comrades they'd leave themselves open to attack, but at the same time they couldn't bear to leave their desecrated men like this.

Da'anul puffed his chest in anger. The number in the forest of impaled men were only a few hundred, still not a dent in their million-strong army, He commanded a host worth a hundred thousand strong, the Humans had played their distasteful trick once and he shouted to his men, telling them that for a every impaled Selceid they would do the same tenfold.

Before he could finish his sentence he saw the silhouettes emerging from the morning mist.

While the Selceid's blew their horns to rally their men, the Human army silently marched towards them. They bore great shields and carried long spears. Over their gold armor they wore red cloaks, their helmets were open and their eyes shone with bloodlust.

Da'anul sounded the charge, his men, angered by the grisly display of Selceid dead rushed forward. It was their mistake. Their mounts refused to rush into a thicket of densely packed spears and in that moment of hesitation the stream of horse archers in scaled armor and pointed helmets rode past, turning the exposed flanks of the attackers into pincushions. As the last of the deadly procession ended, a wave of armored cavalry with lances trampled their way through the scattered men.

Then, the red-cloaked phalanx began marching forward, those that foolishly tried to rush in weave their way past the static line of spears was blindsided when another one thrust its way past the wall of men. It took a while but eventually the density of spears thinned down, but only after burying itself on one Selceid foot soldier.

Waves and waves of Selceid crashed themselves against the wall of shields but it was futile. One soldier, jostling for his turn was expecting the front line to have crumbled only to see a fleeting glimpse of the frontmost red-cloaks retreat into the line of men, only for another, fresher soldier to take his place. The Selceid's soldier grunted as a sword from his blind spot sever his arm and a spear from behind the lines went right through his head.

Da'anul signaled to his hornblower to order his men to spread out and flank the red-cloaks but it was useless. The stream of scaly horse-archers rode in and picked off the flanks as the men tried to disengage and spread out, then as they disappeared into the mist, emerging from the trees were the terrifying war cries of the Armored Demons. They wore masks of ferocious ogres and lacquered armor that seemed to shrug off any blow.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

To the right flank, armored men rushed in, uttering some kind of war cry as they closed in. Rather than swords and spears they bore maces and hammers; bypassing armor and delivering concussive strikes that felled a man in a single blow.

The scaled horsemen shot their arrows into the middle of the Selceid Ranks where none of the melee were happening. Only the rear of the army was facing no attack but many were breaking rank and running away, only to be trampled by the lancer cavalry.

The Armored Demons made a feint, seemingly pulling back but only to allow the Selceids to rush at them in a disorderly line and get cut down in the process. Their swordsmanship was excellent, all it took was a single careless strike and the Selceid knight was set off balance and dealt a lethal blow.

The Selceid Cavalry had all been decimated; their fruitless attempts against the scaly horse archers ended up with them getting killed or their mount shot.

Throughout all of this, the red-cloaks continued their inexorable march without a sound..

***

In another army fighting in the forest, the Antler Corps of the Selceid Cavalry was in disarray. They hoped that the narrow forest would make the Antlers of the Gol-Podons an asset, as the humans would not have room to maneuver.

Instead they were met with Elephants. Bigger, heavier, and much more intelligent. The beasts did not spook as the stories said, perhaps it was due to seeing their human companions being assaulted by unknown animals that drove them in a frenzied bloodlust. They pushed down trees and some even tossed fallen trunks that they could carry with their tusks. Those Selceid that tried to escape into the forest met their ends at the jaws of war hounds.

***

At a bridge by the river, the Selceid forces seethed in impotent rage. The Humans held control over a bridge protected by a thick phalanx wall. Most mockingly, the humans built a parade float and a painted dancer and his cohorts began partying, mocking the Selceids into attacking. Arrows flew but most were deflected with shields.

One by one, Selceid prisoners were hanged and the Human soldiers at the other side cheered, laughed, and partied, beating their drums.

Several times the Selceid tried to push their way through and each time they were repelled, their numbers were useless in the narrow confines of the bridge. Rather than shoot arrows, the Humans threw rocks, some even bearing insulting messages carved into them. This further fanned the flames of anger but it was futile.

That night, one division was harassed with eerie singing of a thousand voices. They've heard this time and time again earlier during the day, the warriors would sing their haunting death chant in unison, then charge. They heard the pounding of a thousand feet and countless voices but no attack ever came.

Or so Sargent Aunlo thought. Just a little bit, I need a little rest, he thought. As he drifted to a sleep, he saw bare feet,

Bare, human feet.

Hundreds of bare, human feet.

***

"Grok! How goes?"

"All clear," said Grok in a monotone voice.

Rishok couldn't blame Grok for being tired. The two of them were once again assigned to useless night duty. Nobody fights in the dark, unless you got modern weapons, with modern sighting gear. His division saw no enemy all day. Maybe they got lost, but what's a hundred thousand less from a million? Those primitive humans thought they could best a world with a rich warrior culture but he was sure to prove them wrong.

Rishok took a swig from his smuggled vodka, a human drink that he's come to enjoy.

"Grok, wake me up when it's my shift, alright?"

Meanwhile Grok was actually much farther away, at the camp. Where was Rishok? Nobody does night duty alone!

Captain Mujar looked at him wide-eyed.

"What the hell!? I saw him go with you!"

"Go with who!?" Grok said, lifting his helmet visor. The two men suddenly erupted from their tent, asking around where Rishok went. As they made their way through the camp they were stopped by a wall of Selceids silently standing there.

"Let us through! We need to talk to the General..." Mujar turned purple as he saw what the men were looking at...

Their General and some of his lieutenants were lying dead under a tree. Resting on the General's stomach was a holograph device. A piece of paper pinned beneath it read: "Not an IED"

One angered soldier, hoping it was an IED in order to disqualify the Humans, activated it, but it didn't blow up. Instead, it played a hologram of an armored man repeatedly kneeling and then standing up.

Mujar turned to Grok given his knowledge of Human culture but he was gone.

Due to the darkness, he failed to notice Grok's feet poking out from behind a tent. With a short tug, his feet completely disappeared from view.

***

That morning, some Selceid commanders had found abandoned weapons and armor from soldiers who quit the battlefield and were proceeding to extraction zones. They were followed by drones to ensure they would not resume fighting or were attacked.

While some talking heads pointed out the conduct of the Humans, most knew that it was far from uprecedented and were outed for being Selceid syncophants.

"Last I checked, the Humans weren't burning people alive like the Selceids did during the Ritual of Steel at Amapolna." One anchor said, her six eyes blinking accusingly at one syncophant. But ultimately it was pointless for the latter; both sides had agreed to a medieval styled battle and the battle wounds were already barbaric enough.

Meanwhile on a hilly stretch of land, Selceids were routed, stumbling across the uneven ground as a horde of frenzied warriors, wearing the skins of a fearsome predator tore through their ranks. Armed with large axes, maces or clubs, these berserk warriors shrugged off swords and spears, their eyes eerily gleaming with bloodlust as they roared like enraged animals.

***

Elsewhere...

General M'urok's forces arrived into a clearing in a forest of thin, bendy trees. His army had encountered no enemy until now. But all that greeted them was one man, sitting at a table. Drinking tea perhaps.

"Is this an ambush, General?" M'urok inquired at the tea-drinking man, suspecting that he cannot be alone.

The man wore no armor, he wore trousers and a doublet of some distant motherland.

"A challenge." The man replied. "Send me five of your best warriors. Then another five after I beat them soundly. I think I might be done before the sun sets..."

In response five Selceid knights jostled forward.

"Where's your weapon, little man?" One of them jeered.

The tea-drinking man made a gesture, he put his hands near his chest, A closed fist enveloped in an open hand.

"I'm Jing Chou, student of the Hou Fan Fist."

"Who cares, you'll be a dead ma-" one knight said as he lunged forward, his speech was interrupted as Jing quickly and somehow twisted his arm, grabbing his sword and slitting his own throat with it.

"What a badly balanced blade," Jing remarked, tossing it away.

***

Elsewhere....

Lieutenant Phemi was struggling to keep his men's morale from failing as they tried to hold back the Armored Demons and Metal Men. The former was frighteningly silent and disciplined, while the latter was fanatical and zealous.

Movement caught the corner of his eye and he shouted "Take heart men! Our cavalry arrives!"

Then the unfamiliar shrill, ululating war cries came from the cavalry.

The Gol-Podons were ridden not by his men but by horrifying painted warriors, wearing audacious plumages he was sure belonged to birds only a master archer could take down.

***

Captain Yalorja and his cohorts stumbled their way through the thick jungle. As exhausted as they were, their pursuers were somehow still hot on their trail.

"Come out, come out, amigo!" Said a warrior wearing the mottled skin of a predator. "you were such a fun bunch when fighting, no? Stop running."

Yalorja's lieutenant grunted in pain again. A dart had embedded itself on his shoulder an hour ago and now the boy was very sick. Poisoned, that's what it was he thought. But the dart was merely a thorn, it wasn't hollow, no sophisticated method of injecting its lethal payload.

"I know one of your tenientes got shot, capitan!" The hunter called out. "Drop your weapons and lose your armor before he goes into shock."

The lieutenant was breathing heavily, his eyes flickering.

"Your soldados? Gone. What's left of your team? Probably just a few wannabe candidates who learned how to hold cutlery properly, that's why they were in the back lines... no shame in surrendering, jefe! You want your pride to kill a few more niños' in your team, be my guest, carnal!"

Yalorja silently drew his sword. That insufferable skin-wearer had wandered too close. He charged through the bush, intending to skewer him.

But the tattooed warrior leaned back, his razor-lined club then knocked his sword away before swinging back to hit him with the flat part of the club.

Dazed and struggling to rise to a crawling position, he watched in horror as he saw the savage-looking warrior pick up his poisoned lieutenant.

"Pablo! Alex! Get these niños out of here! Goddamned 'cids bringing kids to a warzone." He muttered the last part.

"What about him, jefe?" one of the men asked.

"Leave him."

***

Rornos awoke from his sleep, screaming of painted faces lurking in the dark. But the sun was high in the sky.

Where was everyone? He wondered.

And where was his camp?

All he had was the clothes on his back, his armor and weapons gone. The ground bore holes of tent pegs and gouges left behind by wagons. It was as if everyone decided to play a prank on him and pack up while he was asleep.

Except for one feature standing in the distance. It was a mass of Selceid spears, forming a cone. As he hurried over, the grass stirred and a painted warrior stood. In his eyes he was immensely tall, his dark skin contrasted with the war paint, gleaming in the sun. His face a bright hue of an unknown substance like a god of ancient times. It was showy, not tactical, as if mocking any opponent to dare attack him and his beautiful appearance.

He wondered, could he take this man down, he wasn't sure. The man wore no armor yet there wasn't a scratch on his body. And he was sure that he had glimpsed this man's face before.

Rornos turned and walked away, towards the LZ. He didn't look but he was sure the warrior had vanished back into the grass. He heard the pounding of a hundred striders from the east but he was sure it was futile.

***

"I think we're surrounded, General," M'urok's lieutenant whispered.

"Yes, we just have to play their game until we get reinforcements. There should be another division crossing here soon."

"Twenty! That's a good streak!" Jing called out. But Sung Dae-Hyun was feeling rather competitive today.

"Don't tire yourself, kid." Takeshi Kato added, pouring more tea for himself and Jing.

"Yeah! Take a dive for a bit." Jake Addams said "I wanna play next!" he emphasized this by flexing his biceps.

The Kung-fu, Karate, and MMA fighter played cards and drank tea as the Tae-kwondo expert made short work of the next set of opponents.

The hubris of the Selceid made them send their best warriors first, only to return with concussions and fractures. Every now and then one of their fighters managed to land but a small scratch, prompting the Human to withdraw and his friend to take his place. Eventually they would make a mistake or die a slow death of a thousand tiny cuts, but progress was so slow.

They thought their armor would protect them but they struck in a way that circumvented it, and they weren't above snatching their weapons and using it against them.

***

And in two days, the Ritual would end. Collectively, the amount that the four men had defeated would be greatly embellished but ever since then, every Selceid in that division learned how frightening humans can be if you weren't wearing armor.

A series of routs, successful infiltrations, and staunch defenses of keypoints had led the Council to intervene and declare the Ritual over. The Selceids were woefully underperforming and suffered huge casualties. The variety of human warrior types and fighting styles overwhelmed the opposition.

"...and that is all?" The Gulan minister asked Ambassador Niles. "...you want nothing else besides reparations?"

"Yes, we don't want to claim nearby planets around Damocles, Selceid can keep them since they've already settled there."

"Very well, meeting adjourned."

***

Niles rubbed his temples. On the good side he had prevented any further problems from the Selceid and Damocles would no longer be contested ground. On the other hand, the image of humanity in the Intergalactic Zeitgeist had probably taken a blow, they were after all, still a recently developed civilization and it wasn't uncommon for many to label Earthlings as a "bunch of savages and barbarians."

He could see it now, give it two weeks, and surely there'll be a Holograph Movie of Space Zulu-Aztec-Pict-Berserker Killers from the Darkness. Or maybe a slasher movie but instead of Michael Myers or Jason Voorhees it'll be a slow-walking Samurai or Knight...hell, maybe Space Samurai vs Space Knight; the ultimate versus movie.

"What's so funny?" The Aenorsian aide asked him as he chuckled to himself.

"Oh uhh... it's going to be hard to explain..."