Theodore Auburn was using a sports set under a black robe held by a black belt; blue mattress - used in order to reduce fall damage - filled the ground of the entire room and in front of him stood his son, Carter. He had a height of 1,70 m - just a bit shorter than Theodore himself -, used the same clothes as his father and was also standing in a fighting position, mirroring his father.

While both of them used the same black belt, they also both knew the difference in levels that the belt didn't tell. The focused eyes of Carter along with sweat forming before the spar started told Theodore that his son was well aware of this fact, but seeing that the young man was still willing to continue without hesitation put the father in a good mood.

"Start!" Barked Theodore who stepped forward at the same time as his son did.

They met each other head-on and attempted a grab at the same time. They were both prepared for the incoming grabs but Theodore still came out on top in the first move.

As Carter's left arm entered the range of Theodore's right, Theodore suddenly moved all his mass to focus on that opening, his right arm went for his son's left elbow.

Carter realized he had no time to move his arm out of the way so he shifted his weight in a way that affirmed his stance on the ground, Carter's right arm and leg moved at the same time, trying to catch his father's right and disturb his mass by pressuring the upper part of his left leg with his right one.

But the first move was for Theodore, his left arm moved in time and got in the way of his son's right arm while grabbing his left wrist and elbow and twisting to one side. While holding to Carter's arm, he moved to escape his son's leg and waited for the right moment.

They stood in that position for a couple seconds before Theodore managed to straighten Carter's arm and pull him a step closer. This movement proved to be crucial, as the slight mishap gave Theodore a chance to swipe with his right heel at Carter's left leg.

"Ugh..." Came Carter's confused groan when he felt the mattress hitting his back, perhaps it was the other way around.

He still recovered in time to try and wrap his legs around Theodore's head but was met with resistance, another couple seconds passed while Carter tried to get a hold of his father with a leg-lock at the head while trying to block him from putting all his mass on top of Carter.

Theodore's muscles began to work in order to slither out of his son's lock, his right shoulder held one leg while his left arm held the other, Theodore's right arm and weight were being used in order to keep Carter on the ground, but slowly and secretly - almost unconsciously -, he was changing targets.

*THUD. THUD. THUD*

But before he could do it, the sound of a palm hitting the ground three times woke him from his fighting mode and he let go of Carter. They both sat on the ground, recovering their breaths for a few seconds while thinking about the fight.

It was no surprise that the fight ended that quickly, they had both agreed to work fast in this last spar, and with haste, comes openings, not that there is none in defense, but that was another situation.

Add the haste that they both agreed on and the fact that Theodore had enrolled in the army for more than two decades in the army and mastered both judo and krav maga, in contrast with Carter who had only just reached black belt in judo and was still learning krav maga, and you have this ending.

"Ahh, man... Hey, father, did you try to break my leg back there?! I saw you trying to get a hold of it!" Protested Carter.

To this, Theodore casually answered with: "It was just a spur of the moment." And dismissed it as nothing serious.

"You can say that because you're almost a grandmaster now! Wait until I catch up with you, I will have my revenge!" He affirmed while raising a fist.

"Well, you're already better than what I was in your age, you also have more time to train, so perhaps - with a bit of luck -, you can become a grandmaster just a few years after me." Said Theodore, who shrugged at his son's attitude, although with an almost invisible smile on his face.

"I recommend you to laugh while you can, father, because I'm going to win soon enough. Please, again!" Carter stood up and prepared to spar with his father again. Theodore answered to his wish and also stood in a fighting stance, they should keep on for a few more minutes before stopping.

"Every new horror starts with a poor ending." Quote from Admiral Laica Lavridge, after admonishing the decisions written in the Treaty of Versailles, after the First Grand War.

Unnoticed by the thousands of civilians that claimed their equal rights in front of the dictator's palace, the owner of the palace was not in a mood to respond to the human conduct proposed by the civilians in the same step as them, he would be higher, he would be the only one who had a say.

And under his orders, the army moved against the innocent people like they would against violent invaders, they answered with bullets and bombs. Chaos ensued.

At least, that is what everyone is being told; if it is the truth, perhaps we will never know.

*BOOM. BOOM. BANG.*

Hundreds of explosion sounds boomed throughout the city, muffling the screams of civilians being shot and buried under debris that were once buildings with almost a hundred meters in height.

Mortar shells fell like rain, indiscriminately splashing every corner of the city. Men dressed in military garments shot the people who tried to run and arrested those who took cover on the ground. If one were to be told that all this started with a peaceful protest he would not be able to believe, even when this was the truth.

But that was already years behind, few people - besides those who survived - still remember such a thing and even less care for it. The strong leaders used what happened as an excuse at the start to fight against the government and now they fought against each other, creating one of the bloodiest of nightmares to ever strike the non-involved in the conflict.

It wouldn't be wrong to say that there were, in fact, three wars happening at the same time, one for power and politics, one between the different races and cultures and one for religion.

This was scaled by the fact that a single difference between ancestors or chain of religion could divide a group in two, effectively creating an infinity of forces opposing each other.

And now, a conflict between two of the strongest factions faced each other, practically using the civilians as cover. With bombs and missiles being fired from both sides and killing indiscriminately, the only ones to truly lose were those caught in the middle of it all.

And Nicolas, caught in the middle of it all, was losing something precious at this exact moment. He was losing his life.

Far from the giant buildings, but not far enough to avoid the bombardment, there was a lake. This lake was by no means big, only having half a dozen hundreds of meters square, but it was a lake nonetheless.

Mortar shells seemed to fall from the skies before booming on the ground and opening holes in the ground, sending shrapnel everywhere, they would soon start to hit the lake.

Nicolas was standing right beside this very lake when the attack started not even ten minutes ago, having nowhere safe to hide, he could only lay on the ground with hands covering his head and praying to whoever could hear his thoughts to save him since he was sure that his murmurs of "make it stop" would not reach anyone.

He once had military training, his father was a soldier of the government for after all, and thanks to that he knew that if he didn't stay like he was staying now, it would only get worse.

He was not - nor he intended to be -, a soldier himself. He wanted people to live equally, like the first ones to die in this war. Ironically, people like him who would - in a normal society - be called normal and have general support for their actions, were now facing the truth that the factions could take their life at any given moment and the world would still couple them with terrorists.

Perhaps now was the best time to sneer at this situation, because there would be no moments like this ever again, Nicolas knew. The bombs were falling far too close and the vibrations that his body felt and his ears could no longer take told him that nothing would be over much too soon, except him.

*Fuuuush. Booom*

A shell struck beside Nicolas, sending him to the lake that was not even a meter away. As he fell towards the lake, Nicolas could feel a hot sensation coming from his right side. He had also lost control over his arm and leg, probably lost them.

In this unbelievable situation, his mind was a blank, as if he was still laying on the ground - waiting for this occurrence to stop -, he did not try to move what was left of his body to make an escape back to land when his back hit the water. His body fell, searching for the deep of what could only be considered, in the scale of the entire Earth, a puddle.

There was no time to blame the ones responsible for this cruel war. Before Nicolas could leave his state of negation of reality behind and flare his futile anger, his brain had already failed to work. Water rushed to fill whatever void there was inside of his lungs and cleaned the blood from his body, replacing it inside the empty shell.

Darkness took the body and sent it even deeper down, although it was only a few meters deep, the descent - to any onlookers - seemed to take forever, and after an unknown length of time, the body finally hit the wet earth.

*BEEP*

[Organism identified as 'human'...]