Why am I here? I can almost hear my opponent's thoughts churning though his head as they clearly display upon his panicked face. I can see the beads of nervous sweat popping up on his forehead even from this distance. I can't really blame him though, I am one of the best sword fighters on the continent, I wouldn't still be alive otherwise, my master would have seen to that.

"Rule change!" The overseer bellows.

I want to scream, what mad scheme are they up to now? I fight to keep my face impassive, the discipline of the sands are deep within my soul and engraved upon my body. My opponent is not the same however and I do my best to tune out his mindless screeching and focus only on the overseer, I know my life depends on my attention to detail now.

There is a largish case being brought out onto the sands, as it is opened I look up incredulously. Guns?! I have a hard time fathoming that Master would want me to touch the thing, but I am soon dissuaded as the Overseer speaks again.

"These are the weapons chosen by the Masters use them wisely!" He then solemnly passes us our weapons.

I am not even sure how to handle the thing and my usual calm and collected manner has all but evaporated under this new and unusual stress. I vaguely wonder if I have done something that displeases the master and this is his punishment, I desperately hope this is not true, for if it is I will not live to see the end of this day. I can smell the acrid sent of the gun powder, and it brings up a horrible sense of dread in my belly. I have been afraid before, but this is different. I know the icy cold bite of the sword blade that turns to fire as it parts the skin and muscle, I have the scars to show for it as well. The only bullet wound that I ever saw was an execution, a bullet between the eyes. There was precious little left of the man's head when it was over, just mush for lack of a better word. I was on the cleanup crew for that execution, and it was the first and only time I ever vomited over the sight of gore.

"Pace out 20 steps!" The Overseer shouted, pulling me from my morose thoughts.

Nothing left but to obey, I slowly counted out my steps and stopped at the end.

"Turn!" The Overseer bellowed again.

'Does that man never stop yelling?' I thought distantly.

"Aim!" He yelled.

'Guess not' I snickered to myself as I raised the weapon to point at my opponent. He seemed very far away, and I corrected my aim as I would a bow hoping that was correct. How hard do I pull the trigger? I am fighting off the panic now I can see my hand quivering.

"Fire!"

I squeezed as hard as I could.

I feel as if an elephant is sitting on my chest, a heavy burning elephant. I blearily realize that I don't remember laying down, and I can see my masters face hovering over me. I try to speak, but my voice doesn't come. The Master shushes me and brushes a hand over my hair.

"Good boy Kurt." He whispers in my ear, as my world fades to black.