Anmos found himself standing on stage, azure robes fluttering with the gentle breeze. His cinnamon eyes drifted across the stage - to his opponent. The first time he ever fought was marked on this day. The first of many slaughters, wars, and wages.

His opponent wore the spotless blue robes of an Inner Discipline. At the second level of Qi Condensation, his robust tan-skinned muscles glowed under the sun, highlighting the power compressed within each cell. Observing Anmos with sheltered confidence, he became assured in his own strength.

"Any bets?" Elder Apola, the elder in supervision, briskly asked.

"None. What's your name?" Anmos turned from the elder to his opponent.

"Zairtor. And you?"

"Anmos Archer."

"BEGIN!" Elder Apola glanced between the two and stepped away. The small crowd burst into cheers, full of excitement for the two new challengers.

With unmatched ferocity and speed, Anmos' first step dug into the arena, knees bending at a dangerous angle. He bent his back forward, magnificent Qi circulated to the tip of his toes, sky-rocketing him to Zairtor. An arrow fired from a bow - he didn't waste time.

"FALL FOR ME!" His arm cocked all the way back, his muscles a spring coiling. His fingers curled up, balling into a fist, Qi circulating through his knuckles. Zairtor was caught off guard; it was expected for Anmos to take small strategic moves. No one expected for such a furious attack!

Zairtor attempted to step backward, giving ground. He brought his arms up into an X shape in front of his face, using his forearms to try and take up the brunt of the damage.

"THUD!" Anmos' fist raced forward, having reached the end of its spring - bouncing back with extreme force. His knuckles SLAMMED onto Zairtor's arms, reeling Zairtor back. Anmos' lips part into a wide smile, Zairtor felt vibrations shake his arms up, the sting of pain flowed across his arm. Anmos then continued to wrap his hand around Zairtor's left forearm, forming a solid grip. One hand on one arm, what is he trying to do? The crowd continued to watch.

"W-wha!?" Anmos' hand jerked Zairtor's arm to the side, revealing half of Zairtor's face! Half of his face exposed, another fierce jab smashes on Zairtor's cheek, Anmos legs finally landing onto the ground. His fist knocks Zairtor's head backward, leaving his foe's face pointing to the sky. Nose bleeding and arms hurting, Zairtor called out to Elder Apola.

"I forfeit! I forfeit!" Zairtor stumbles backward, holding onto his cheek while blood trickles down from his nose. Shockwaves of pain still flooding through his face, he didn't dare look Anmos in the eyes and jumped down the stage.

"Who is that kid!? Anmos, right? How aggressive is he!?" The crowd burst into cheers - it's rare for someone at that level to have that kind of ferocity and aggressiveness. He didn't waste any time!

Elder Apola looked at Anmos with a hint of surprise. Why did he look so satisfied when fighting?

"Anmos Archer, winner of one challenge. Continue on with the second match?" Anmos' rugged breathing finally caught up to his body. Heart thumping, all he could think about was the adrenaline and excitement that came with a fight. He didn't know any martial arts, but it felt great to brawl.

"Yeah. Next match." Wiping his cheek, he clenched his hands together; the tiny stream of Qi circulating throughout his body. His next challenger stepped up to the stage, slimmer and what seemed craftier compared to Zaritor.

"Let's not waste time on names." The opponent briskly said.

"Begin!" Anmos did the same move as before, placing all the force packed within his calves to jet him towards his foe. His fist curling up, Qi circulating towards it, he threw a sole jab at the foe's face.

How could his foe allow a repeat? The opponent ducked, allowing Anmos' fist to fly above him. Bending his knees at a near 90-degree angle, he sent his Qi toward his knees. He jumped upwards, skyrocketing into the air, extending his fist into a BRUTAL uppercut!

Anmos' bottom jaw and the youth's knuckles connected, jetting Anmos into the air. He felt a warm liquid crawling into his mouth - he knew it was his blood. Sprawling in the air, he landed onto the ground. Anmos quickly scrambled to his knees.

"That's it." His foe clapped his hands together as if removing dust. If Anmos was normal, that would be true. That kind of uppercut isn't easily recovered from.

"Who said I'm out?" A mixture of blood and spit ejected out of Anmos' mouth. His copper eyes looked at his foe with an insanity, madness, and slaughter that was terrifying. His foe could only stammer, stuck in place, frozen from Anmos' smile.

"M-madman?" Was the last word he said on the stage, a brutal right hook fracturing his jaw. Ripples flowed throughout his skull. Stumbling backward, another fist crushed his nose, slamming him onto the arena floor. 'I FORFEIT', he tried to scream out, but Anmos' foot collided with his chest, knocking the wind out of his body, throbbing pain spreading throughout his body. Gasping, he tried to recover his breath, his mind thrown into chaos. Eyes facing skyward, another foot of doom hovered directly above his face - descending quickly.

"That's enough." A firm hand softly gripped onto Anmos' shoulder, ending his rampage. Elder Apola's hand held Anmos in place, he couldn't even move his fingers. It was truly mystical.

"Anmos Archer, two wins. Continue longer?" The crowd was silent during the entire "rampage". They were shocked - it was simply a spar! When they walked up, it didn't seem like the two had enmity. The crowd broke out into cheers, shouting all kinds of chants. Anmos Archer, they committed that name to memory What kind of man delivers such strikes after taking an uppercut like that? A true man, some in the crowd would say.