The Exemplar

[Shang Tsung]

“Hubris?” Atelos inquired as the two exchanged another quick flurry of blows.

“Boredom.” Shang shot back with a smile as he swung low. “I abandoned the monastery to enter a tournament. A tournament comprised of the greatest warriors from Gaia and the other realms.” The sorcerer made certain to use terminology that his associate would understand, lest he waste me words on explanation.

“Gods?” The Spartan asked as their blades clashed over their heads a few times.

“Champions. Some had the strength of demigods. Whoever won the tournament would bring peace and prosperity to their home, and if a realm ever won ten consecutive tournaments, it would absorb the loser into its landholdings.”

“Did you win?”

“No,” Shang answered as he dodged a light swing and thrust his blade toward Atelos’ chest. The Spartan veered back and smacked the blade to the side before it could find its mark. “I was defeated in the semi-finals, although it was discovered later that my opponent has cheated. He had tampered with part of the arena the night before.”

“A heinous act,” Atelos muttered before the two exchanged another rapid set of blows. “I would have been unable to rest until I had revenge.”

Shang snickered at irony only he understood. “He was executed by the Elder Gods, but I remained in disgrace nevertheless for my defeat.”

“And then you wound up here?”

“No, but that story will have to wait for another time.” With that, Shang swung high. The Spartan countered easily but wasn’t prepared for when the sorcerer stepped forward and thrust his free hand into his partner’s armored chest. With a loud thud, Atelos landed on his backside. The look on his face was somewhere between shocked amusement and irritation.

As the Spartan rose to his feet, Shang stole a moment to glance at their surroundings. Rather than engage in their own folly attempts at sparring, the other members of their trainee garrison had their eyes locked on the two primes. You should be in awe of your betters. Removing the smile from his face, Shang extended a hand to Atelos, who shrugged him off and rose to his feet. The pale white aura that draped the warrior’s figure appeared to be ‘burning’ a little stronger as he reached behind his back and retrieved his large bronze shield.

“Yes, I think it’s time we set the banter aside and settle this,” Atelos muttered, a scowl on his face as he rapped his sword against his shield.

The sorcerer nodded his head as he backed up against the wall and retrieved a kite shield from the ground. It was time for him to stop pulling his punches and test both his new acquaintances resolve and equipment. With a smile, Shang moved forward and swung wide with the jian. Rather than intercept the blow with his sword, Atelos used his shield to bash the weapon to the side with a shocking degree of strength. The sorcerer had to tighten his grip or lose his blade, and in that moment, he left himself open to the flat side of the Spartan’s sword, which smashed Shang on the side of the skull.

“That blow would have been fatal had I used the blade.” Atelos said matter-of-factly as he crept toward a now fallen Shang. With a now blood-laced smile, the Chinese warrior rolled away from a downward sword stab and popped up to his feet. Before the Spartan could wrench his blade from the ground, his opponent lashed out at him. Atelos managed to liberate the sword in enough time, but when he moved to parry the oncoming attack, he watched his weapon shatter upon impact. His foes broadsword continued its path uninterrupted and smashed against his bronze breastplate. The material held strong against the weapon, but the force was more than enough to dent the material and deliver a crushing blow to the right side of the Spartan’s ribcage.

Atelos stumbled backwards, and as Shang watched, the white aura that enveloped the Spartan seemed to literally go up in flames. Pale white faded away as a blanket of crimson, ethereal fire engulfed the warrior’s figure. With a roar, Atelos charged—his shield leading the way.

Shang threw up his own defensive bulwark, and in a show of irony he wouldn’t soon forget, the iron kite shield exploded on impact with its Bronze Age predecessor. Unimpeded, Atelos landed another thunderous blow against his foe’s chest and face. When Shang failed to go down after the first blow, the Spartan reared back and thrust his shield forward once more. Rather than absorb another painful attack, the sorcerer dropped backwards, rolling head-over-heels before righting himself a few yards from his opponent.

He set his eyes upon the bronze shield, which glowed with the same fires that enveloped Atelos. Not going to get through that with brute force. Holding his sword in his right hand, Shang beckoned the Spartan to attack once again.

When they came together, Shang swung with his sword. Atelos bashed it far to the side with his shield, leaving both of the men open to attack. In that moment, the Spartan clenched his fist and threw it at his opponent’s face, but before his gauntleted fist could find its mark, Shang opened left hand. In a flash of orange and red, a ball of fire erupted from the sorcerer’s fist and smashed against the Spartan’s chest. The impact knocked Atelos back and left him open for the oncoming sword strike that stopped short of his neck.

Without words, the two stared at one another, knowing they had made their first encounter with someone in the Omniverse who could match them. As the fires around the Spartan died back to pale white, the two warriors relaxed their stances as the garrison trainer walked over to them.

“That’s enough for now,” he spoke, despite the fact that neither man was bothering to pay him much attention. “We’ll reconvene for post assignments at 2000 hours. Dismissed.”