What is power, if not one's own manifestation of self-indulgence? Could the crown be worn if it weren't for greed and ambition? Could a bird ever soar the sky, even if there were no prey in the clouds? Could a sword kill without war and conflict? What about gods - when all is said and done, when their jobs are all but finished, what is their purpose? And finally… what good is a god without a sense of entertainment?

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 The realm of Estralyn beamed with glamor and glitter as its people – gods and mortals alike - overwhelmed the marble streets of the Sapphire Realm. An annual tournament, hosted on the birthday of the god of strength Oberon himself in honor of his legendary sacrifice to the realms, was upon them all - one that would test both might and skill. There would be hundreds and hundreds more participating in such an event, and it is said that the victor at the end of the road would be blessed by the gods to lead a fruitful life. However, this wasn't the part everyone was concerned about, for the glory and fame of victory in a tournament such as this meant thousands of gold pieces more than a blessing. 

 Over at the Darius' household, you could see their seven brothers training together with swords and shields alike. The Anesidoras had their daughters practicing the might of magic upon dummies and volunteers. And of course, the thunderous household of Brutus would feature its sole son lifting tremendous feats. Although all are much impressive, the peculiar house of Oberon displays a calmer environment - a boy named Umbra, and his sister Gara sparring with each other while their mother spectated with a proud smile on her face. 

 Umbra, a child no younger than a youth, was the only son of the god of strength himself, yet he possessed no spectacular feats of might and power; unfortunately for him, that was all passed down to his sister. And despite his mother being once a fierce warrior with a mastery over dark, shadowy powers in her lifetime, he possessed little battle tact and wisdom to accompany his fights - he only inherited his mother's prowess over the dark, along with his sister. He was not anyone extraordinary at first glance, but there was much to hide under a mere glance. The god of war Iradin's battle drums echoed an empowering rhythm in the distance, filling the landscape with soul and spirit. 

 "Hey! I thought we said we weren't going to go hard on each other!" Umbra complained, getting a nasty right hook from his sister. Yet, he was only met with a smirk - the only verbal response his sister provided was an overconfident snicker as she gestured him onward. 

 A growl, a grunt, and a creeping smile, Umbra waved over his hand towards his back, grabbing onto an invisible handle and manifesting a dark sword from thin air, made of shadow and mist. It split the air with a whisper of the wind as he gave it a whirl, then planted his feet on the ground to assume a stance taught by his mother long ago. 

 "Oh?" Gara exclaimed, "You wanna take it up a notch, huh? You think you've trained hard enough to finally beat me?"

 The sheath on her hip rested neatly untouched up until now. Gara reached for the handle and drew her own sword. The divine steel that made up this sword's composition sang when its shine was revealed, and the quiver of the air before it announced its purity and edge. With one hand in front of her and her sword kept steady behind, she welcomed her brother's attack with a curious tone. 

 "C'mon. Whatcha got?"

 The two siblings charged head forth toward each other as if with the intent to kill, yet both were equally excited as they were passionate. Their mother watched as they clashed their swords up high and down low; she watched as Umbra abused the rules of sword fighting to his advantage by swapping hands and switching between over-hand and under-hand grips, and she watched as her daughter took on the blows with a smile on her face that dictated she would not waver nor give an inch. The training grounds behind their lavish home made of stone were filled with the sounds of two siblings practicing their finest battle moves on each other. 

 After a parry or two, Umbra spun with utmost confidence to slice at his sister's leg, only to be counteracted by a hefty kick of Gara's heel. Sent tumbling backward across the training yard, Umbra groaned and refused defeat. He pounded the dirt beneath him and got back up on his feet, not even bothering to dust himself off. His sister egged him onward even further, curling her fingers in such a way as if to signify that she was not impressed and was ready for more. Anger and a sense of inferiority started to fill his emotions as he charged once again. 

 Gara had not moved a foothold nor changed her stance as she welcomed the attack. Umbra was not one to try the same tactic over and over again as if the outcome would ever change; and instead of meeting his own sister's game, he tried to overwhelm her with attacks. His misty weightless sword swung low only to go high, then perform a feint on Gara's side with the intention of leaving her left side exposed for a strike across her cheek. Like it were a game of chess, Umbra had managed to predict all his moves perfectly apart from the last. Follow-up wasn't always a strong suit of his.

 His sister swayed and weaved her sword skillfully to parry and block all of Umbra's attacks, and although her side was exposed and her brother did manage to land a strike across her cheek, she retaliated with even more force. Their swords danced and spun around each other in a song of steel against mist while Gara stepped forward once. She overpowered Umbra's grip, pushing his sword all the way down to the side and to the ground before using her pommel to thrust it into his nose.

 "-Ack!" Umbra groaned, stepping back with a bleeding nose. 

 As the two siblings bickered and fought back and forth in a verbal argument, their mother finally intervened with a clap of her hands, wispy black mist leaving her hands as they struck against each other. Wearing a noble's colorful garbs that mask hundreds of stories in tBut his sister was relentless. Every step back was met with another step forward. Gara closed the distance easily to deliver an onslaught of attacks, refraining from using all of her strength to avoid grievously wounding Umbra - but even then, it was far too much. Their swords clashed over and over as Umbra found himself losing more of his footing and control over the fight. Despite his best attempts at regaining his ground, it was to no avail. But if his sword would fail him, he'd resort to his inheritance. With a strong push of his hand, Umbra commanded the shadows into tangible existence before thrusting them into his sister's chest, hurtling her backward and interrupting her chain of attack. 

 Gara's eyes darkened with a gloom, suggesting her usage of her own inherited, dark powers - but Umbra was quick to act. He dropped his sword to command the dark with both hands, pulling them apart from their sources and conjuring more to knock his sister back once more, and a third time for good measure just to keep her on the ground. Mist started to surround her hands and feet before chaining them down to the ground, and try as she might - there was just no getting out of this. Perhaps if she had her father's full strength, she could; but as luck would have it, she was immobilized and defeated.

 "Damn it to all hell! That's no fair!" Gara complained with a grunt, struggling with frustration. 

 "Yeah, right. As if." Umbra retorted with a short breath, walking closer to his restrained opponent, "All is fair in love and war, is it not?"

 "Without your stupid little tricks, you'd be struggling beneath me right now!" Gara yelled back.

 "Really?! If you're so good then how come my 'stupid little tricks' have gotten you stuck to the floor like a dead rat?!"

he shape of battle scars and tattoos, Philomena approached her two children with light-hearted amusement. She shook her head, gently pushing aside a stray strand of her short black hair that was bothering her eyes. With a slightly condescending tone, she finally addressed Umbra and Gara.

 "Now, now… settle down, now. Umbra, well done, but your footwork needs practice. So does your confidence. Gara, impressive as always, but you need to work on your attitude. Go take five."

 "But mom-!" Gara whined, the black mist finally letting loose of its hold so that she could get up. 

 "Nuh-uh, I don't wanna hear it! I said you did great. Besides, you did kind of start it."

 With a huff, Gara dissipated her sword into thin air and got up on her feet again before walking back into their home, frustrated and irritated. Umbra was about to do the same until his mother stopped him from turning around. 

 "Where do you think you're going?" Philomena asked rhetorically, taking off her coat so that she could move easier. "You're up against me next."

 Umbra stood there in confusion. The tournament was soon, and his confidence to beat his own mother in a training duel was not at all high. However, despite it all, he always found himself swimming against the current whenever the chance presented itself. Not out of rebellion, or spite; but rather an overwhelming inclination of 'why not?'. He found himself smiling despite his waning belief in his abilities and readying himself for another spar. His own mother conjured a dark sword and gestured for him to do the same. 

 "Remember, Umbra. Focus. Don't let impulse take over. And keep that back foot of yours steady." 

 He gulped hard, a drop of sweat rolling down his forehead. His mother tightened her grip on her sword. It was clear that she wasn't going to be holding back on much. Most manner of noise began to drown out in Umbra's mind as he heeded her words - and before he knew it, he found himself ready to fight the woman who taught him everything he knew.

 "Begin," Philomena commanded, commencing the fight.

The crowds boomed with cheers as the tournament began, showcasing a variety of fighters participating in this competition in pursuit of glory and fame. It was said that the Colosseum was built by the goddess of creation Zanara herself and spent many days and nights painting on the blank stone canvases that made the arena's walls. Images depicting ancient stories and portraits of the gods themselves could be seen carved into those massive, stone and marble walls - and as the stories say, the goddess of destruction Deianira helped a hand in the finishing touches to allow for gothic beauty to seep in the walls' cracks. 

 Others may say that it was Oberon himself who picked up the stones and marbles that made up the arena by hand and that it took him many months to finish its construction. You may even hear that the god of time Tempus had finished building the Colosseum in mere seconds; but whatever the story may be, the present facts remain the same, and that is that today is a wonderful day. 

 Red and gold banners were strung up underneath lit braziers in honor of the gods and the Sapphire Realm. There were countless market stalls set up just outside the arena for people to come and enjoy, selling a variety of things from clothing, jewelry, delicious, greasy food, and even spiritual items that are said to harbor 'good luck'. The mortals that preoccupied these streets and spaces would look like an ocean if you were to view them from afar, and their laughter and smiles would be the waves that come crashing down on the noon of today. 

 The Sapphire Realm of Estralyn always had a way with sunlight. Its rays were visible at an angle, and it shot down golden light that seemed to illuminate everything so vividly and cause even the dullest of objects to shine under its warmth. The weather was fair, and the clouds were nowhere to be seen. Bards and musicians were wielding their instruments with such prowess that their music never left your ears, no matter how far you went from the arena. Children were observed running about and starting pretend fights in which they roleplayed themselves as the gods, or perhaps a famous fighter, or maybe even a popular figure from the past while their parents observed with love and adoration.

 However, while you can spend hours spectating the festivities, the tournament has begun. The announcer - the god of war Iradin himself! - spoke with a booming voice, wearing steel-clad decorated armor that was shining with the heat of the forge as if it never stopped cooling, yet still donning the blood stains of his slain enemies on them as if they were badges. He stood around seven feet tall, built with a body the size of three men and the strength of ten. Golden locks of hair danced gently in the breeze as they rested on his shoulders, and an excited smile was all that it took to bring the whole look together. Iradin is a god who prides himself in battle, viewing it as the ultimate form of worship.

 Iradin sat on a platform elevated in the middle of the Colosseum along with his brothers and sisters, the council of gods and goddesses.