High noon. It had always been a rather traditional time for things such as where about to take place. The time of history, of great battles, of quick draws… of death. The sun would be highest in the sky, a perfect symbol of balance and symmetry and justice for each warring side. Why though? Not to ask of the time, for that matter, it just seemed right. Dawn and midnight seeming the only other two most reasonable options. In any case, why then did people fight? Well, some fought for power. To gain something from eh battle, to take land, to seize treasure or to take a throne. Other fought to kill, for pleasure, for peace or for money. Some even fought for practice, to get better at the art of battle itself. Today, would hopefully be the latter, though, who truly knew? Perhaps Ky wasn't the calm collected man he presented himself as. Perhaps deep down life had put him through far too much, taken too much from him. Perhaps he wanted revenge. "A life, for a life, equivalent exchange…" he muttered aloud softly as he padded towards the arena behind the school.

It was a large open coliseum, with stone walls reinforced by magical power far greater than even the teachers of this school had, and the dirt floor was paced tight. He admired it, and considered the fact that parts of the idea for the place must have been taken from the roman coliseum, a fitting inspiration of course. As he entered, he walked to one side, the door leading in was just on the east wing of the place and he headed north with an odd gloved hand tracing the wall. Normally, Ky wore either fancy dress such as suits, ties, collared shirts and other formal attire, or more punk-ish clothing like hoodies with band logos or anime characters on them. Today, he wore something special; armor. It was light, and far from flashy, very simply it was tight fitting spandex like material with flexible platting between the stitching. It accented his muscles, the plating that is, and covered his body from head to toe. One might mistake the attire for some modern play on what a ninja might wear; but again, Ky's was unique. You see the plating was not Kevlar as one might assume, but a carbon plating which would provide much greater defense with much less weight.

His were tipped with diamonds, only the tiniest of pieces in the tip of each finger and as he traced his hand along the wall heading northward, he was etching designs. Circles and prisms and letting within them, all clearly visible, and all of the same design. Finally, he reached the north end, and crouched like a catcher in a baseball game with his right hand between his legs, here he began to draw a new design in the packed soil, and awaited his opponent, the necromantic teacher, whom had suggested his skills be tested, with a duel! A thin, crooked smile stretched across Ky's face, for unless the man had been watching him carefully, he had no idea what he was in for.

And my Great Mother, Woman of Dreams, true mistress of knowledge, true mistress of secrecy, I beg you to loan me your power that I may reincarnate this man. So that I may allow him the chance to once again breathe the air which you under your grace give us. Under your grace may I bind this man’s soul to his most loved trinket in life, a locket he had given to his daughter? Lend me your ability, lend me the ability to grant this man life!

Vial repeated this three times, each time getting louder and louder. He overlooked the grounds of the Academy of Magic Arts, admiring the marvelous serenity. He had a great view of the surrounding countryside, letting the sound of nature calm him, seep into him, He often meditated atop the roof of the Academy of Magic Arts, as he found it calming, he found he could keep completely in touch with his inner being. Vial sat completely still, whispering to himself. After five full minutes of prayer and of meditation to his lady, Vial’s lips curled into a smile. He was in preparation of quite an interesting spar. He’d heard tales from some of the alchemy teachers of a prodigy. That one of their students had an amazing gift, greater than that of most of the greatest mages in the world. So he thought he’d bring out his favorite Wight, his initiate Wight, only three of which he had ever made a deal with. This particular man, was a soldier under Vial back when he still had not the enlightenment of his lady, back when he was still a cruel warlord. He had died faithfully serving under Vial as one of his mages, a Necromancer to be exact. This was Vial’s strongest reincarnation, and at the same time, the easiest to make a deal with. This man was a loyal soldier. So loyal in fact, that the only thing Vial had to do to have the man in his services once again is promise the opportunity for the man, to once again, serve under him and prove a valuable soldier.

Vial stood, his spell complete, and withdrew a dagger. This dagger was the medium of almost all necromancy that Vial would ever perform and as such he gripped the dagger almost as if he would were he holding a sanctified dagger of offering. This dagger, Vial slowly drew across his face, ripping a hole in the veil between Dreaming and the physical world. Staring into this veil, even after so much experience with it, still gave Vial the chills, and he was almost reluctant to do this next bit. Vial wrapped a locket around his fist, and punched through the veil, finding cloth and dragging it out. From the veil emerged a man with a sunken face, pale and hollowed. He wore complete black robes, featureless. His hood came over his head and shadowed the face of the man, making it hard to make out anything but his eyes.

Now he was able to make his big entrance. This would be quite fun, and his lips curled in a smile again. Vial bent down, grabbing a crossbow-like mechanism, set it up on his shoulder and took aim. There was a dart, with some sort of magic in it back from Vial’s days as a warlord, which would allow it to withstand one ton of pressure before breaking, and had some sort of property so that it had a much higher piercing ability than normal. He had used this in the past to infiltrate buildings which had too much security and things of a similar. He found the perfect place spot, a wooden chair in the back of the stands. He fired. The dart sank into the wooden chair, bolted into the ground, and Vial pulled the rope back, tying it to a chimney. Vial unfastened his belt, a brown leather one, from beneath his robes, and slung it over the top of the rope, his initiate Wight imitating him. The duo jumped off of the roof of the twenty story high Academy of Magic Arts, zip lining on the rope at high speed.

The exhilaration he was feeling was unbelievable, surpassed only by the adrenaline rush he felt at a battle to the death, everything on the line. It was a simple feeling: It was… freedom. He was soaring over a hundred feet over the ground, his mere strength keeping him from plummeting to his death, being free of this world. He was nearly tempted to let it all go. He was nearly tempted to just give up. But… it may have been a figure of his imagination. He wasn’t sure. But… could that be? Was that Amelia’s voice? Daddy, don’t give up. Daddy, make me proud. No. He shook himself. No, it wasn’t her. It was the mere memory of her, the mere fragment of her soul which she had left with him. Woman of Dreams taught, and so did Vial, that when a loved one died, you retained a piece of that person’s soul. And it was contacting him. With renewed vigor, Vial was about 10 feet above the stands, and so he let go, landing with a roll and a quiet thud, the initiate Wight following. Vial untied his robe and lifted it above his head, and when he had just renewed his sight again, the robe completely off, the man he had challenged was entering the north end of the arena, drawing something on the ground.

Vial’s true attire was now able to be seen. He wore tighter, white robes with leather straps holding things like weapons and equipment strewn across his form. Under this was his protection. He wore leather armor under his robes, completely concealed by them, making it seem as if he was completely unprotected. Vial’s true reasoning for challenging this man, this alchemist was of two things. First, he needed to test this “prodigy.” If this “prodigy” was as good as some of the teachers had told him, then he was going to request that his katana, slung across his back, be transmutated into a stronger alloy. This sword was something he held dear, something he had given to his daughter’s husband as a way to give his blessing. Vial’s Initiate Wight struck the ground in 3 different places, giving rise to three knights. All of which were officers in Vial’s army of old. While two remained behind on either side of the Initiate Wight, protecting it, and the the last walked a step behind and to the left of Vial. From Vial’s lips spilled the words in almost a velvety voice as he was 60 feet from the man he had challenged. “I have heard of your genius, that you are a prodigy from your teachers. Care to show it?” Vial stopped at his sixty foot distance from the alchemist, wary of what he had drawn in the ground. He awaited the Junior to attach, but before he had the chance he’d asked a simple question. “I am Vial, Teacher of Death. Introduce yourself.”