It was a hot summer day on the road north out of Eden. A lone traveler made his way out of the south and towards the more populated areas towards Serdio. The man had grown up in a small, rural town located in the heart of Eden. A quiet place, most would like it. This man, Renton, however, found nothing there. He wanted action, adventure, to make a name for himself. He couldn’t do this in his town. Renton knew he was something. No one believed him when he said it, but he knew. He would prove it, with his own fists if he had to.

The road before him was wide, used mainly for carts and wagons. A this time there wasn’t much however, except for a traveler Renton could see in the distance walking towards him. He didn’t pay him much, nay any, mind as he continued his journey towards Esto Gaza. He’d heard a lot about it. Wide paved streets, big buildings full of the rich and powerful. That was his world, he’d be at the top. Many would called Renton naive, not realizing he was a small fish in a big ocean. He didn’t listen to the hecklers and doubters though. He knew he was close.

Renton, in his distraction, hadn’t noticed the second traveler had reached him and they were now passing. Without thinking he bumped into him, spinning around as he did and continuing to walk backwards, facing the other man. Knocked out of his daydream and not one to admit fault, Renton gave a shout.

“Hey, watch where you’re going, you bastard!”

It was sweating hot outside, and Oz was in a bad mood. He had been walking for hours now and was getting tired. Combined with the heat, he felt ready to collapse. At least when he was in the city, he could duck into shade and recuperate. Or even get a friend to cast a charm that cools him down or wakes him up. But out there, in the middle of nowhere, there was no relief to be found.

He wasn't sure where he was going, or if he was even going anywhere. It was often that he set out to new places only to return home within a few hours. Or he would set out and end up across the world within a week. It was totally spontaneous, his urge to travel; Oz often didn't know himself when he would want to leave. That made hanging onto a job hard, but he dealt. It wasn't like his odd jobs were important, anyways; when he ruled the world, it wouldn't matter whether he could sell six pairs of shoes a day or not.

He practiced magic to distract himself from the heat and the exhaustion. Conjuring up feathers, balls, rings, ropes...Anything he could think of. He practiced making each object more sturdy, more elaborate, speeding up his summons, anything he could think of to get his mind off the heat.

He didn't even notice the red-haired man before the other crashed into him.

Oz was knocked onto the ground, the candle he was summoning rolling out of his hands and into a nearby bush. He spent a couple of seconds flailing upon the ground, tangled up in his cloak. When he finally freed himself, he sprang up on his feet, scowling. "Oi! I'm not the one who crashed into an innocent traveler, idiot!"

Idiot? How dare this nobody call Renton anything. He was going places. Renton had half a mind to set this man in his place. He stopped walking, instead raising his fists. Even if this person wasn’t in the mood to fight it never hurts to be intimidating.

“Maybe if you were paying more attention to your feet your head wouldn’t be so far up in the clouds.” Renton taunted. Some may have found the it a strange insult, regardless of how hypocritical it was, but it made sense to Renton and that was enough for him.

Letting forth a few quick fire punches, Renton began again. “Maybe you plan on putting your fists where you mouth is and backing up your words?!” It had been nearly a week since Renton had gotten to punch someone, and he was itching for a fight. He hoped this traveler wasn’t some scrawny jerk with no backbone and would take up his challenge.

Oz had only punched three people in his life. One was his friend who let him get away with it, and the two others delivered severely painful beatings. So when the red haired man challenged him to a fight, the smart decision would have been 'no'.

"Bring it on, sucker!" Oz yelled out, raising his gloved fist and shifting to a defensive pose. His other hand went straight for his dagger, the weight of it feeling cool in his hand. He hoped the other guy would chicken out, because otherwise, Oz would have to stab him.

Or not, because honestly, Oz was not good at stabbing people.

If all else failed, he supposed he would conjure up some firecrackers or something as a distraction and knee the guy in a sensitive place. That never failed to down even the most able of warriors.

Renton smirked when the other man accepted his challenge. Though he would never admit it, and likely didn’t even realize it, he wasn’t the best fighter. Anyone with any real skill would easily knock some sense into Renton but as of yet he’d gotten off pretty well. It was something he’d have to learn soon enough.

“Alright, let’s go!” Renton shouted, kicking dirt and gravel towards Oz. It was a cheap trick, but something he happened to specialize in. Renton didn’t make a habit of fighting fair. As soon as he had kick up some sand he charged, stopping just short of Oz.

Letting loose a single jab towards Oz’s face with his left hand Renton began counting his punches, showing off more then anything important. “One!” He followed up with an uppercut towards his chin with his right hand. “Two!

Finally he brought his hands together above his head, reading for what he hoped was a finishing blow. “And three!” He yelled his final count as he brought his hands hard towards the top of Oz’s head.

Oz swore as the dust and gravel got into his eyes, making them water. He fiercely wiped his teary eyes, but barely got time to take a breath before the idiot attacked him.

The first punch caught his left cheek, and it hurt. To take his mind off the pain, he concentrated on his attacker's words. One? Seemed self-righteous and conceited, if anything. Though his cheek was still smarting, he began to smirk.

Of course, that was before the other punch landed on his chin. Oz swore mentally again. He had wasted too much time insulting the other in his head! Next time, he'd be ready.

So when Renton yelled "Three!", Oz wasted no time. He ducked down, avoiding the punch, hoping that would overbalance his opponent. At the same time, he swung his left fist at the other's ribs, and his right hand with the dagger clutched in it went for the belly. At the last moment, though, the dagger twitched away. Oz didn't want his first kill to be this random nobody. He hoped his first kill would be someone more significant.

Renton shifted his weight quickly when his last hit didn’t land. He quite nearly fell forward onto Oz. He was about to jump back quickly when a sharp blow hit him in the chest. It knocked the wind out of Renton, who stumbled back slightly. He hadn’t even noticed how he had quite nearly been killed

Catching his breath Renton smirked and reached into his pocket. “Pretty good!” Renton thought himself sly enough to cover the movement to his pocket, but in reality it was probably pretty obvious.

In the next moment Renton swiftly withdrew his hand and threw a few small coins at Oz’s face as a distraction. All in all it was the same routine, a distraction and an attack, but why fix what isn’t broke. At the same time he took a few steps forward, aiming a hard punch directly to Oz’s gut. Renton was no longer counting his punches and quickly followed the punch with an attempt to knee towards the groin.

Renton really did fight dirty.

Oz quickly sheathed his dagger when Renton was staggering back. When the other was reaching into his pocket, Oz rolled his eyes. "So you're a one trick pony?" he demanded, flicking a strand of purple hair out of his eye. "That makes it easier."

He was able to dodge most of the coins thrown at his face, though one hit him in the eye. He ignored it, though, for the sake of pride. Instead, he conjured a few lit firecrackers in his left hand, subtly, and managed to throw them in the general direction over Renton's head.

Just as they went off with a loud bang, Oz had the wind knocked out of him with Renton's punch to the gut, and was downed, wheezing. Thankfully, when he fell, the kick missed, instead kicking his ribs, again. Still painful, but not as painful as if it had landed where it was aimed.

He forced himself to spring up quickly, though, eyes watering hard from pain, to take advantage of the distraction he caused only split seconds before. This time, he aimed his own kick at the groin, but his hands went to grab at Renton's neck.

If his cloak was ripped, he was going to torture the other. No one ripped a future Evil Emperor's cloak and got away with it! No one!

Though he hit Oz, Renton jumped at the firecrackers. For a moment he thought someone was shooting at him, and when foot met firmly with balls he felt kinda like he had. Renton gasped and fell to his knees.

“Low... blow...” He managed to mumble, completely ignoring the fact he had just attempted the same thing. Suddenly Oz’s hand’s were around his neck, a Renton struggled to breath. He gripped at the choking hands in a weak attempt to pry them off, though the lack of air combined with crotch pain meant the force he had to pull Oz off was rather low.

Renton’s mind raced. He thought he was gonna die. He wasn’t supposed to die! He was gonna be big! It’s not like he had meant to kill the stranger either. He just wanted a good fight! That wasn’t a reason to kill someone!

Renton’s vision began to go black. If Oz kept up the strangulation, Renton would pass out and, ultimately, die.

Oz was, putting it mildly, surprised that he actually managed to hit Renton. And even more so when he actually got Renton's throat in his hands. He smirked, and suppressed the urge to pump his fist up and down. Because pumping his fist would require letting go of the throat, which would be kinda stupid.

Oz wondered what to do now. "Um," he said. He had never won a physical fight with a stranger for no reason before, and didn't know what to do. Should he ask Renton for money? No, the poor guy looked, well, poor.

He noticed that Renton looked about to pass out and swore. He still didn't know what to do! To buy himself time, he loosened his grip for a millisecond, quickly grabbed his dagger, and pressed the blade of the dagger against the other's throat before the guy had a chance to resist.

He wasn't strangling Renton, but Renton would still not be able to fight back. Pretty good, he congratulated himself.

Suddenly, he had an idea.

"What's your name?" he demanded.

Renton coughed a few times and took a big breath. He was about to stand up when a knife was pressed against his neck. He knew better then to try anything. He was still worried that the man would kill him. Before Oz could say anything Renton, lacking the normal hotheaded confidence in his voice.

“Come... Come on! I-I was j-just looking for a fight!” His voice was shaky and full of fear. “I w-wasn’t gonna kill you!”

Renton didn’t want to die, and while it shamed him to have to beg for his life he’d do it if he had to. When Oz asked his question Renton was quick with an answer.

“Renton! My names Renton!” He quickly went back to begging. “Please, guy, don’t kill me!”

"Well, um," Oz blinked. "Don't pick a fighter with people better than you are. I don't want to kill you."

He wished his voice had sounded more cold and imposing, but it was too late to change now. He shrugged it off mentally. It wasn't his fault; he wasn't expecting the guilt! No one told him that to almost kill someone would make him feel guilty. Oz considered this a considerable flaw in his education, and decided to speak to someone about it whenever he got back to Esto Gaza.

Oz decided to get back on track, and made his voice cold and forbidding. "Repeat after me," he said. "'I, Renton, am an inferior to Oz, for now and for the rest of my life.' And then I'll let you go. But only if you say that. And if you don't attack me the second I turn my back. Because if you do, I will kill you," he bluffed.

Damn guilt. Damn uncertainty. Oz vowed to rid himself of those the second he had a chance to.

Renton relaxed a bit when Oz said he didn’t want to kill him. Even so there was still a knife to his throat, so he couldn’t relax yet. He was still worried that Oz may change his mind. He was also too worried to care about any uncertainty in Oz’s voice.

When Oz spoke again, this time with a more serious voice, Renton got worried again. For a moment he thought he was still gonna die. When the demand of an announcement came he was more then willing to repeat it.

“I, Renton, am an inferior to Oz, for now and for the rest of my life!” he shouted. He was utterly and thoroughly shamed at this point, but all Renton cared about at this point was staying alive. He shouted again. “Please let me go!”

Oz laughed, as richly and fully and impressively as he could, with real amusement coloring the edges. "You're nothing but a pup who barks big, but has no bite, aren't you," he stated. "And remember what you said; you are always inferior to me."

He withdrew his knife, but didn't turn away yet. "And if you try to attack me again, I will kill you," he reminded Renton. "Goodbye, Renton. I sure enjoyed this fight."

Oz started walking away, tensed for another attack. He did hope Renton didn't attack him again, because he might not be as lucky this time. But boy, was he impressed with himself for sounding so cool and composed! How could he not become the Ruler of Zelpha? Next time, I'll fight an evil assassin, he told himself. Or a king! Or just a knight. Something befitting my true abilities. He smirked.