Precipitous moments in history often have humble beginnings. War, in particular, is rarely the product of a single defining instance. Instead, these periods are caused by a pitter-patter of snapshots in time. They add up like layers of soil. They tell a story if one can delve deep enough to study their chronology. Life is rarely so inquisitive. Instead, it is normal to see the topsoil and think: this is the truth of things. There is no need to dig because this is apparent fact lay bare for all to see. It wasn't a human failing. Every race had the same blind spots. It was telling that despite a belief in the True Spark, they couldn't see below surface-level.

             Perhaps that is what happened with Ket. Ket had a dark and old hate for the Sel'Kyn. Perhaps it was the whip coiled in Vin'Tar's clawed hands. The whip that brought with it pain and blood and death. If it where just the whip, maybe Ket wouldn't hate as he did. If the pleasure in Vin'Tar's eyes were replaced by mechanical efficiency, perhaps Ket wouldn't feel the raging inferno of hatred. But Ket was no fool. They made it personal with their whips, their sermons, and their dogma.

         What the aquatic overlords didn't realize was that all their efforts to create the perfect human warriors merely telegraphed the weakness within themselves. If this were Earth, they would be the prey animal baring their throats. On an instinctual level, the fish had to understand their actual place. This was the true reason for their whips and their magics and their fear.

           Ket could smell their fear. It was a greasy, oily fish-stink in the air. He grinned savagely. He bared his teeth in a predator-rictus that was answered in kind by Sulit across from him. They were sparring without weapons or armor. The thud of flesh striking flesh was a primal beat that called the blood, bone, and muscle to dance its deadly tune. Each strike was designed to incapacitate; to kill. Strike to the inside of the elbow. Grab the wrist. Chop to the throat. Gouge to the eyes. Kick to the kneecap. Punch to the solar plexus. Each drumbeat was blocked easily by Sulit. The intensity slicked their bodies with a patina of moisture. It slid down their naked chests, through the rough-spun trousers, and down to their bare feet. Flickering mage fire lit Sulit's bronze skin acting the counterpoint to Ket's paleness and casting it in dancing shadow. The tenebrosity of their movements formed living companions.

           Behind each combatant, a fish-man waited with loosely held whips. Any perceived flaw in form or figure earned them a lash. If the lashing disrupted the continuity of their contest, they would receive more beatings yet. The two humans had long progressed past the Sel'Kyn's ability to spot a flaw, but they carried on in these gains in a futile effort to assert their dominance. Vin'Tar, the most sadistic of their captors, did it for the pleasure of the thing. He took almost sexual pleasure in the parting of flesh and the streaming of life-blood. The excremental creature was positioned behind Ket, and every few seconds a new mark would appear upon his back.

           Despite the best efforts of their turnkeys, the bite of the whip was nothing to the pain caused by the magical experiments visited upon their flesh. Not one human was afraid to fight in the Pit. It was the arcane labs that turned their bowels to water and their mouths to desert sand. There the mage prodded with their unnatural gifts and plumbed their bodies with arcane energies. The last session had felt as if each bone in his body had been melted and then reformed individually. Their powers kept him aware and conscious as their ancient rituals, and hellish magics wracked his self and threatened to scatter his sanity.

            Soon the practice was over, and they were made to bow prostrate with their foreheads touching the ground. Ket studied their forms with the eyes of a predator. He could see the tension in their forms and the subtle tightening of fists around their whips. Due to their amphibious nature, they did not sweat as humans do but the rush of blood to their pale gray faces and the stink in the air belied the lie of confidence. They were very much aware that without their wards, the humans were a force they weren't sure they could defeat.

Well, thrall your forms are getting sloppier. We might have to beat some discipline into your bones. You heal fast enough. Shall we play the finger game?

          He stepped forward and placed his booted foot on Ket's hand. With a dextrous twist of his foot, Ket felt his finger pop out of his socket. Despite the pain, he refused to move or whimper. Any sign of weakness would bring more pain from Vin'Tar. Once he got started, he wouldn't stop until the subject of his pleasure was near death. Seemingly dissatisfied with the non-reaction, he continued.

Slave I originally came to let you know that you and your team need to report to the labs tonight by the eleventh bell.

Vin'Tar grinned evilly.

It's your final procedure. No one has survived the ritual before, but maybe your group will be the first. I heard that all the ones before you died slowly in agony. Apparently, its a ritual that you feel in your very Spark. Since you lack even that basic trait of life, I imagine it will be painful indeed.

          He waited to receive a response. Seeing none he and his companion reached over and placed their palms on the back of the humans' bald heads. Here the Sel'Kyn had inscribed wards into the flesh there. It was a seal of sorts that allowed or restricted access to various parts of the compound. The labs lay behind a door that led to the Sel'Kyn's compartments. To get there, the wards would need to be altered.

          Ket could feel an intense searing in the back of his skull and smell the sizzle of burnt flesh. It was a sickly sweet odor that he had sampled many times in his life. The procedure was quickly over, and the two fish-men departed. Once they left the pit, the two men rose to their feet and looked at each other.

Sulit, his second in command, opened his mouth to speak and Ket silenced him with a gesture. He used sign language to convey the message he needed.

Not here, there are eyes and ears in the walls.

         Ket glanced around and studied his surroundings. The Pit used to be intimidating when he was a child. The rock walls rose up around them four times the length of a man. The floors were stone smoothed by the passage of time and puddles of spilled blood. This room was huge and took a twenty-fourth of a bell to run from end to end even at their advanced speeds. The Sel'Kyn often summoned lower races from other worlds to the Pit for the humans to fight. Ket's team hadn't lost a match yet, but the challenges always got more severe over time.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

          Goya (their team zoologist and walking bestiary) informed them after their last fight against a troop of goblins that they had defeated every known lower race. This had large implications for the team's future. It meant that their next opponents would be magic users.

           Ket made his way to the door that led to their quarters. Sulit followed him quietly. He took the position to the rear and right of Ket. After long years of training together, the position came naturally. In the event of an attack, Ket would draw his sword and advance left while Sulit would draw and move right. While they were both ambidextrous, the formation took advantage of each's preference.

          The two were always on guard in the Pit. The landscape of the pit could be dramatically altered to impede or assist the Sel'Kyn's chosen champions. It was a simple application of magic for them to grow ancient trees, fetid and murky swamps, or volcanic wastelands. Their team had fought in every climate imaginable and were no strangers to elemental hardship.

          At the end of the room, opposite the door that led to the jailor quarters, was the entrance to their lodging. It was a stone arch built into the wall out of the same bluish gray stone that made up the rest of the Pit. Runes were etched into the keystone that acted as a form of key. Those without the proper ward were violently repelled. The two men only felt a slight tingling as they entered the tunnel that led the open room they stayed in.

           The passageway resulted in a long rectangular room. Blue mage light perpetually lit the three rows of beds numbering twenty-five each that stretched the length of the chamber. Each bed had a single locked trunk in the front of it. They contained all the same items. Armor, clothing, repair kits, and whatever books or scrolls the Sel'Kyn distributed to assist in the specialization each human was assigned. The youngest cohorts slept in the front of the room. Each cohort consisted of five humans of about the same age and there was always the exact number of groupings. Training began around the age of five. The Sel'Kyn scoured the various worlds for above average humans and then bought them from their owners. Here they would be trained for fifteen years until the approximate age of twenty. The exact ages were difficult to determine because each world tracked years and time slightly differently. Ket's cohort was the oldest. Every year he watched as entire teams were wiped out. They either died in the Pit or in the labs. It seemed that their time had come. Ket and Sulit marched down the aisle way like returned conquerors. As they passed each human they would stand and raise a knuckle to their brow in a token of respect. Ket had seen more battle and more pain than they had yet to know and his cohort had proven their competence time and time again.

          They stoically ignored the gestures of respect until they reached their bunks. Once there, the others turned and went about their business to give them the illusion of privacy. Ket found his team on their various beds. Goya had his nose in a book. When he noticed Ket and Sulit, he put the book aside and swung up until his feet were on the floor. He was slenderly built but muscular in the way that they all were. He had honey brown skin that glowed with vitality. Dark eyes that didn't miss even the smallest detail noticed the agitation in their bodies. He remained silent except for a slight cough that caught the attention of the final two members of the cohort. Mudi and Merak were identical twins that couldn't be more different in demeanor if not in appearance. They had exotically tilted eyes that gave them the appearance of a predator in motion. Their lithe, muscular forms gave every movement a graceful, animalistic quality. Their feminity added to their allure. Every human sported a shaved head but no one could mistake their feline grace for masculinity. They made the rest of the team look slow-footed and awkward in comparison. The whole team sensed the mood immediately.

What's the problem Ket?

          He gestured in a way that kept his movements hidden from the rest of the room. While every cohort came up with their language, any of those that had been with them over the years could have picked up some of the language just by proximity. Every human knew that the Sel'Kyn could scry into the room and listen surreptitiously without the people knowing. As such, they took these precautions to keep their secrets safe.

Tonight we will be subjected to the final ritual. We need to plan.

         Goya immediately took up the conversation as Ket knew he would. While Ket was the provisional leader, Goya was the most intelligence one among them and had received the most technical training within their cohort.

I think we should try our luck tonight then. We've prepared for this. Vin'Tar and his ilk aren't usually allowed into the ritual chambers or the labs. Every time we've gone into get our abilities enhanced, they've been barred from entering.

Goya looked over to Merak leaning against the wall for confirmation. She was the resident spy and saboteur.

Her hands flashed lazily. He's right. I heard one of Vin'Tar's men talking about how they weren't allowed anywhere near the rituals because of their low affinity. I'm not sure who -or what- they summon during the rituals, but we can assume an entity a magnitude higher than their powers. I would bet a shadow elemental at least.

Sulit butted in as much as one can in sign language.

I agree. The whole purpose of their experimentation has been to hide us from magical senses to include scrying. That kind of power is difficult to acquire. Over the years, we've become as stealthy as inhumanly possible without actually being able to turn invisible. We need to consider the possibility that they're punching way above their weight and we'll be the ones to pay for it.

Ket nodded in thought.

So we're agreed then. We can't allow the mages to perform the ritual. We need to enact our plans before hand.

Everyone nodded to include Mudi who had remained silent. Ket continued.

In that case... Sulit put the three eldest cohorts on standby. They'll need to take out Vin'Tar and his group. We'll need one prisoner to activate the portal out of here.

He looked over to Merak.

Get the next two cohorts to prepare to disable the Wardstone. Once that goes down, we'll all be able to strike back at the Sel'Kyn without magical reprisal.

He paused in contemplation.

Mudi. Organize the healers in each of the cohorts numbering nine through five to set up mobile emergency aid. Casualties will be inevitable until we neutralize the Wardstone.

He finally turned to Goya. Goya, we need to get rid of the priest. I know you want the task. I'm asking you now; will you be alright?

I'll do it Ket. I have to. You know what that bastard did.

Ket nodded. Understanding the fiendish hate that dwelt in Goya's heart just as much as it did his.

Good. Take care of your preparations and be back here before the tenth bell for final instructions.

          Each member of his team nodded once and stood abruptly. After gathering their various requirements, they brushed past him. First Goya passed, and then he clapped a hand on Ket's shoulder and met his eyes. His steely gaze reminded Ket to tighten up his appearance. A leader couldn't show fear in a moment like this. Instead, he projected confidence and competence. Goya nodded and continued past.

           Each member of his team repeated the impromptu ritual, and Ket felt as if they were saying farewell in some way. It wasn't goodbye to him exactly. It was goodbye to the only life they had known in the hopes of a better one. The final one to pass him was Sulit, and Ket turned to take in the bay that passed for lodging.

            A sense of gravity fell upon the room like a burial shroud. Every human stood at the foot of their bed next to their trunks. They watched the oldest cohort walk past them with heads held high and backs straightened. Observing them, Ket could believe that at this moment they were capable of changing their destiny. This moment, like many others before it had a humble beginning. They were but slaves yoked to cruel and sadistic masters, and Ket hoped that it would be enough to ignite the war that they so desperately wanted.