The silence of the temple in the mountains of the Sikhe Empire was so dense it could be sliced with a blade. And that's exactly what he did, literally, as he wiped the blood off his swords, the act echoing against the gold-adorned wooden walls. The ivory warrior stood stoic, his gaze fixed on the corpse at his feet. Around him, six figures: a monk, a foreigner, two boys, and a girl. All remained still, from the second floor.

The man sheathed his swords, his fur-lined tunic stained with the blood of the reincarnation of a great sage. The dead man before him, split in two, had a face of peaceful expression, his golden hair turning red with his own blood spreading across the floor.

"And now? Does any of you wish to try to stop me?" asked the ivory warrior, his voice muffled by the helmet. His skin was as white as snow.

Lior, the young boy with neatly combed red hair, watched the ivory warrior, a living legend he had heard of. A ruthless and monstrous fighter who slices and dices anyone in his path. A man who had crossed battlefields on all continents of the world. Fear gripped his heart, making him clutch his orange clothes tightly to his chest before he began to silently cry.

"Do not waste time crying, child," said the old monk, beginning to rise. "This man will kill anyone who stands in his way. If you are so afraid of death, simply hand over your master's treasure instead."

Master Arun, though it did not appear so, had once been young. In his prime, he was feared and known for his fighting style. The doctrine the monk followed forbade him from killing anyone, but encouraged him to kill and face true warriors in pursuit of improving and refining his body and soul. Although now frail and thin, the ivory warrior did not take his eyes off the old man for a second.

The monk slowly descended the stairs to the lower floor, where there were four wooden pillars and a smooth stone floor now stained red. The only sound that could be heard besides the wind outside the temple was the tinkling of one of the strange metal spheres at the end of the staff touching the ground to help him walk.

Now a few meters away, the size difference between the two was noticeable. As if Master Arun was not short enough, he was also hunched forward. His long beard hung from his face down to his solar plexus. His bald head reflected the light from the candle lamps that hung by chains from the ceiling.

"There is a question I would like to ask you," said the monk, stroking his beard. "Why?"

"I need the chalice for my healing, nothing more," replied the warrior with a hoarse and deep voice, drawing one of his long swords. "And any of you who gets in my way will meet your master much sooner than you expect."

Farid al-Zahad, the foreigner with skin as brown as ripe chestnuts, gripped the hilt of his curved swords at his waist. Sweat dripped down his face, for he knew he would be next if Arun died. His honey-colored eyes calmly observed the ivory warrior's fighting style.

Mikael, the young boy with short, tousled black hair, watched the seriousness, perhaps fear, on the foreigner's face.

"Calm down, Lior," said Mikael. "I trust Master Arun; he will avenge our Lord Zephyr..." His voice, strong at first, ended the sentence with hesitation. "I'm sure of it." His black eyes were filled with an even greater darkness.

The monk gripped his dark wooden staff firmly, and with an agile movement, he charged toward the ivory warrior. The weapon was raised above his head, and almost as quickly as it rose, it descended. The ivory warrior stepped back, dodging the blow in just an instant, until the strange metal sphere touched the ground.

A blinding white flash of light emanated from the tip of the staff, followed by a loud explosion; the ivory warrior was blinded. A series of blows were delivered against his body, stabs with the staff made to his chest. Master Arun continued to attack his target without stopping.

The ivory warrior stepped back, even blind the fight was not over. His heightened senses kept him aware of his surroundings, while he retreated against the wooden wall until he felt it press against his back. "Poor choice," thought Arun.

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The series of blows continued, the warrior dodged side to side, avoiding blow after blow from the monk's advances. The wooden boards of the walls were dented and pierced one by one with each missed strike. The metal sphere of the staff aimed at his face, but he barely managed to dodge.

"My congratulations, old man!" exclaimed the warrior. "Not many have managed to corner me."

"This ends now!" thought Arun, charging at him once more, spinning his staff through his arms to confuse his target; from right to left a strike was delivered, held by the warrior's bare hands. Through the small slits of the helmet, the monk noticed a pair of bright yellow eyes like topaz, before jumping back to create distance.

"Lior, pay attention," said Mikael. "Master Arun will win now."

"Shut up, you fool," replied Farid. "Don't you see this fight won't be easy? Pay attention, for after me..." A drop of sweat slid down his face and fell from his thin nose. "You three will have to defend this place."

"What is your name?" the warrior then drew his second sword, his yellow eyes shining like flames.

"I am Arun Bhaskara, from the East," replied the monk, stroking his beard. "I imagine you do not have a name."

"That's correct. Names are unnecessary for someone like me..." The warrior's mind wandered off somewhere. "But feel free to name me should you bring about my death." This time, the ivory warrior approached the monk. "Unfortunately, I feel it will not be so easy."

Three quick cuts were delivered in the monk's direction; a double strike blocked by the staff, the third glided by it and cut through the fabric protecting the top of his thigh. The cut was deep. "What monstrous speed is this?" Arun thought, realizing he barely had time to process what had just happened.

The rhythm of the fight had changed. "Until now, Arun decided the music they danced to, but the warrior is using both instruments!" observed Farid al-Zahad, a darkness slowly spreading through his chest.

Master Arun quickly took a defensive stance with his staff, abandoning his attack for the sake of his defense. The cut in his thigh hurt deeply, but years of training taught him to endure and ignore the pain. The successive blows from the ivory warrior made it difficult to anticipate his next attack. The movements were so fast that the monk could only defend himself through the pure experience of a lifetime of fighting.

"I need to tire him out," Arun thought. The blows came from above, below, left, and right. At all times, at least one of the blades was in direct contact with the staff, slowly suffocating the monk of his explosive offensiveness.

"Master Arun is going to lose," said Keiko, the girl with black hair and slanted eyes. "Lior, Mikael, we need to flee from here."

"Flee?" asked Lior, crying. "And Master Zephyr? He died for nothing?" His voice was filled with deep sadness.

The monk was a very difficult opponent to face. Possessing a lifetime of wisdom, experience on the battlefield, and an almost supernatural luck... but this fight was different. There was a bad feeling in his chest telling him the ivory warrior had an ace up his sleeve.

Blow after blow, the arms of his opponent did not tire. Countless charges and cuts blocked by the staff until, by a stroke of luck, during the exchange of which sword would attack the old man, the blade of the ivory warrior exploded.

At this moment, everyone held their breath; Master Arun spun his staff almost instinctively, hitting the powerful warrior on his wrist and knocking the weapon from his hand. The topaz eyes shone even brighter, as the monk delivered a series of blows to his body. The sound of bones breaking, bruises forming on his arms, the monk ended his series with a powerful blow to his target's trachea, throwing him meters back.

His arms ached, his leg bled and hurt. There was a trail of blood where they fought, and the monk felt it in his body now. With the warrior lying on the ground, motionless, a wave of hope took over the children.

"Now it's over..." said Lior, rubbing his eyes, stopping his crying.

"I knew Master Arun would win!" shouted Mikael, waving his hands.

"Silence!" yelled Farid. "Master Arun is not finished yet."

The motionless body of the warrior on the ground slowly began to rise in a strange way. The pair of yellow eyes emerged again through the darkness of his helmet. His arms, previously marked with bruises, were now healed. "I have to stop him," thought Master Arun; he quickly moved towards the warrior before he could continue whatever he was doing, hitting him with another series of blows, but his body was stiff.

The more the monk hit, the more he realized it seemed like he was hitting ivory. The muscles of the legend began to expand, slowly increasing in size while large veins appeared on his skin. His height and the amount of hair on his body increased drastically, even covering his hands. The topaz eyes shone strongly; by instinct, Master Arun tried to jump back, but his leg hindered him.

The ivory warrior then charged at him, barehanded. A right-handed blow was delivered from below upwards; the monk blocked it with his staff, but the wood broke, and his chest was pierced.

Now Master Arun, lifted more than a meter off the ground, looked into the yellow eyes, as the light slowly faded. The monk could hear screams and crying from someone, but that did not matter to him. "What are you?" the old man thought in his last moments.

"After I take the chalice of Eir, I will become human," replied the ivory warrior.