"Wake up, lazy bones!"

Master Duncan's intense training regime was enough to make most aspiring martial artists run crying home, but not his two finest pupils. Perhaps this was due to their indomitable spirits, or perhaps it was due to the fact they already were home and had no where else to go.

"Awww, but Master the sun isn't even up yet...," a sleepy-eyed man whined from under the covers of his bed.

"What's the matter Sabin, did I beat you too badly yesterday?" a second voice jeered from a large dark-skinned man already wide-awake and standing dressed at the foot of his bed. "C'mon, I'll race you to the training grounds!" The dark-skinned man was out the door before the sleeper could even reply.

"Vargas wait up!"

A mountain of muscle tumbled out of bed and within half a moment was fully dressed and hot on the heels of his training partner and rival. An old man with a long flowing beard sat in the corner and stifled a laugh. Nothing like friendly competition to hone the fighting spirit. Duncan was pleased with his students for taking initiative and doing his job for him. Now if he could just rid Sabin of that nasty habit of sleeping in. Hopefully his son's example will eventually infect the young would-be prince. With an agile leap, Master Duncan was on his feet and following his star pupils to the forbidding Mt. Kolts, birthplace of his own fighting style - the blitz.

High atop Mt. Kolts in the center of a sunny bowl-shaped crater the dark-skinned man impatiently waits for his rival. He went easy on Sabin yesterday, and he plans on not pulling any punches today. The princeling needs to be trained right, and his fool of a father seems too afraid of injuring his royal highness to do it himself. Sabin has much potential, but years of being pampered by his servants in Figaro Castle have left him weak-minded and oblivious to his true talents. Vargas would awaken those talents even if his own father would not. A little blood-letting here and there was all part of the game. He would show his father he had what it takes to carry the secrets of the blitz to the next generation.

Sabin came huffing and wheezing to the pit where Vargas waited. He was greeted by a swift kick to the face that sent him sprawling back several feet. The astonished man wiped the blood from his split lip and answered with a cry of indignation.

"What was that for, Vargas? I've barely healed from the injuries you gave me yesterday!"

Vargas sneered, but helped his training partner up as he said, "You'll never understand the nature of the blitz if you can't even anticipate my attacks, Sabin. You've come a long way from your days as a scrawny teenager, but you're still as much a naive idealist as ever. Don't trust me just because I'm your friend. You can only trust yourself in this world. Didn't you learn that from what happened to your father?"

This cut right to the bone for Sabin. His father, the king of Figaro, had been poisoned by the Empire, which had claimed to be on friendly terms with their kingdom. The unprovoked betrayal and lack of immediate action on his family's part shocked him to his core, and he ran away from that world of corruption for a purer lifestyle. The instant gratification and swift revenge of the well-placed fist naturally drew him east, over the mountains and into Duncan's hands. He was a lean but fit teenager at the time, but ten years under the tutelage of a world famous martial arist had turned him into a brawny bear of a man. He was still prone to emotional outbursts, and Vargas savored setting him off.

"Don't talk about my father like that, Vargas. He was a great man and his death a great injustice. I will avenge him someday, and I'll use what you and Master Duncan taught me to do it! Hyah!"

Sabin let fly a wave of punches, aimed low so as not to injure. Vargas easily evaded the first and second, barely parried the next three, and had the wind knocked out of him by the sixth.

Vargas had the edge in experience, being born and bred into the world of fighting, but Sabin had an innate talent for it, and his passion for the art had allowed him to rise in the ranks to be second only to Duncan's own son. That this stripling highborn could come so far so fast galled the man, but he said nothing. He let his fists do the talking for him most of the time.

Vargas quickly recovered from the attack and prepared his counterattack. He wouldn't be shown up today, not with his father watching.

"Lucky shot! Now try my Blizzard Fist!"

The dark-skinned man unleashed his own flurry of punches, each strike honed to deadly perfection. Sabin was still no match for Vargas's technique and soon he was on his knees, dazed but unhurt. Mostly. Vargas stood over Sabin and laughed, preparing to knock him to the ground.

"Enough!"

Duncan's powerful voice echoed down from the lip of the crater. He sat perched on a crag of rock, and watched the spectacle below with a careful eye. Now it was time to take his son down a notch. Confidence was a valuable asset to a fighter, but too much of it and even the most powerful warriors became more dangerous to themselves than to their opponent. His son needed to learn this before his ego got out of control. The old man sighed and got up, then closed his eyes, stretched his arms out palms-forward, and breathed his own special mantra. A huge bolt of energy grew from his palms, and then with careful skill and practiced hands Duncan let the bolt loose and watched with pitiless eyes as it homed in on its target - his son.

The effect was immediate, and devastating. Vargas lit up like a candle as the force of his father's aura pushed him back against the cliff wall. He was out cold, but other than the bruises from the rock face, completely unharmed. The Aurabolt did not harm the physical body, only the spirit. And Vargas's overwhelming spirit could stand to take a few knocks now and then.

"There. You see Sabin? That's how it's done. That is the power of the blitz."

"Master...I'm sorry, I'm not strong enough yet. I'm still as helpless as the day you took me in."

Duncan reached out and grabbed his pupil by the wrist and pulled him to his feet, smiling as he did. Yes, Sabin was a fine pupil, full of humility and grace and eager to learn. The years spent in the shadow of his twin brother must surely have influenced his demeanor. From what Sabin had told him of Edgar, it seemed the new king of Figaro could be every bit as arrogant and over-confident as his new brother-in-training. The heirs to great power usually were that way. It seemed the messy business of ruling and responsibility had siphoned some of that egotism out of Sabin's brother. Duncan only hoped when his son succeeded him as blitz master he would follow the king's lead and cool off a bit.

"Don't worry, Sabin. You're time will come soon enough. If you keep up your current level of training, you'll master my technique in a few more months. Here, let me show you how to really add some bang to those punches of yours..."

Vargas watched silently from where he lay, not quite as unconscious as he appeared. He seethed with contempt whenever he saw his father fawn over Sabin, while just pushing him out of sight. Sometimes it seemed the man cared more about that outsider than he did his own son.

Just look at that way he hovers over him, showing him his secrets! I'll not be ignored, father!

His own insecurity over his father's love fueled his rage and paranoia about being chosen to succeed him when he was gone. Over the years of Sabin's training Vargas had watched with increasing suspicion that, as impossible as it seemed, Sabin would be picked over him. Yes, impossible...but...

Stop it! I'm his son, his only son. He can't deny me my right by blood! He can't, and he won't!

Sabin was oblivious to Vargas's internal struggles, and day in and day out focused only on making himself the perfect weapon of vengeance against the injustices that had killed his father. He trained not just to take his vengeance on the Empire, but to actively work against the corruption and pointless debate of politics as a whole. He hated the whole messy affair of ruling, and believed the only actions worth taking were the most direct ones with the most immediate results. When he had enough power to overcome the problems of the world through sheer brute force, he would return and show his brother what that power was really for - to be used. Not wasted in the endless red tape of political strategy, like Edgar believed. He would see the dream of a unified kingdom, and eventually the entire world at peace. He would make that dream come true, for his peace-loving father and for his kind-hearted Master.

He would be the hope of his people, taking action when his father and even his own brother would not. How he hated them for their cowardice. He loved them just as much, but as the time of his exodus from the castle came closer, the more he was prone to outbursts and heated debates that often left both him and his brother on the verge of tears. They had fought so much during those last few weeks after his father's death, and there had been so much love lost. Could he ever hope to rekindle those feelings? He must. Only the unified brothers could hope to achieve the dream of total peace. If he couldn't even save his relationship with his family, how could he save the world?

For now, he was beat. If Vargas pushed Sabin physically, Duncan pushed him even harder mentally and spiritually. He had come far today, but he still had much to learn before he could compare to Vargas's superb skills and dedication to the art. He would try harder tomorrow.

"I think that's enough training for today, Sabin. You've done well learning the basic pummeling technique. I think you may even be able to give Vargas a few surprises tomorrow now that you have begun to understand the nature of the blitz. Speaking of which, it looks like my hard-headed son is beginning to recover from his own lesson for today. Shall we help him up?"

Duncan and Sabin shared a quiet laugh as they walked over to Vargas and offered him their hands with good-natured grins.

Fools! How dare you mock me! You'll pay for humiliating me. I'll...I'll...dammit Vargas get ahold of yourself. Control your anger. Use it, don't let it use you. Focus on being the best. You must try harder tomorrow.

"Thank you, Father. It seems I still have much to learn before my training is complete," Vargas said as calmly as he could.

"Not as much as you think, son. There is much you can only learn through experience, and you both still have your entire lives ahead of you. The world will teach you far more than I ever could if you keep your eyes open and your hearts pure. Remember that, you two."

Duncan spoke to both young men, but his eyes were only on his son. Yes, Vargas would need to open his own eyes and heart soon if he was intent on taking his place. He fought too many of his own demons, instead of focusing on what really mattered. If he could not be at peace with himself, he could never be at peace with the world and with nature, and never fully master the blitz.

The old man led his two pupils back to their hut at the base, reminding himself to keep pushing Vargas to understand what it meant to be a true leader. He would try harder tomorrow.

"It was a good day, wasn't it, brother?" Vargas asked Sabin as they ate their dinner. Master Duncan's students trained hard, and he made sure they ate just as much.

"Yes, I learned much, and it looks like you learned a rather painful lesson yourself. How do you feel?" Sabin replied in between large bites. Part of the secret to Sabin's amazing transformation from boy to bear was the hearty portions he ate every night. Duncan only allowed one meal a day, but Sabin definitely got his fill of it.

"Fine now. I learned a great deal today. A great deal, indeed. I'll see you tomorrow then," the dark-skinned man replied as he got up and left for bed. Vargas had barely touched his own meal.

Sweet dreams Sabin.