I almost didn't finish this today! I won't be writing another chapter at least until after the end of November; if not, definitely count on chapter 12 not being written until this month finishes. Still have a lot of planning out in the next chapter to do.

"This is it, young misfits! Time to prove your worth on the path of the Great Journey!" Vaman stood coldly and calm with his arms behind his back with his right hand holding his left wrist. There wasn't a sangheili in this room that hadn't at least one battle scar to account for from yesterday's competition. It was the last day of the sixth week and, by the rings, it was zealous and rousing. Q'rin, for example, had become so full of himself due to brashness that his opponent rendered him unconscious – Gharan had to pull his lifeless body aside for the next quarrel to go on.

"This week your final assignment is to preserve your bloodline's honor and assess your inborn endowment to wield…a blade!" The moment the hilt that he had craftily carried into our worn-out hall, every eye was opened in inexperienced awe – all but Eelo.

"Hmph. I'm not impressed. Every soldier wishes to brand the iconic Energy Sword but I know a Sangheili is not defined by their skill with this weapon alone. Wrist-blades can be just as lethal as any other blade." She stated skeptically.

And also Q'rin.

"Curses! Not the blade at this appointed time! My leg still throbs from being thrown against the wall!"

"You DID taunt your opponent with inappropriate gestures, Q'rin…" Eelo responded.

Q'rin groaned in shame, not denying his hasty act.

"Eelo, that opinion about the Sword comes from naivety; when you have not gone a day in your life without training with it in your ownership, you would reevaluate that statement of yours." Gharan replied.

"I agree with him, dear sister. My father had taught me a few things or so about the Rifle and Grenade but we mainly spent our time sparring. It was an enjoyable hobby."

"From what you've told us about the training with him, Ruz, it sure sounds appears that way!" I gave her a friendly smile and nodded.

Nikhal fidgeted where he stood, saying nothing but wishing to.

"I should tell her now but this is not the time. I will when we are deployed to our first mission. Assuming I graduate that is…"

"Nikhal?" I called out to the mentally-wandering squad-mate.

"Hmm?"

"You seem to be lost in thought. Are you feeling well? Are you prepared for this coming week?"

"What? Oh, yes, I am of good health and most adequately prepared for this last week of hellfire."

"I would hope so – we spent several weeks preparing for this. And if our drills were valuable, they will show through."

"I'm sure, Ruz." Relieved Eelo.

"Everyone take one and only one blade – a true warrior needs no introduction to a new weapon, they will use it to their advantage at the cost of their survival and honor. We do not have enough to share so do not think about taking more than one." Vaman then went to the corner of the room and sat there, watching us train on our own without instruction.

One by one, every awestruck student took a blade and ten minutes passed by; every student attempting to activate the hilt's usage and slash away at the dummies. Vaman, in his sternness, took note of two extra blades left on the weapons display table. At first, I'm sure he had wondered which of us might have decided to opt out in the week's weapon – finding that Eelo and I both were at "fault".

"You two! Eelo and Eyesore!" Vaman stood before us, and we, in our defiance to one who defies morality, hardly perceived his booming orders.

"What is it, sir?" Asked Eelo.

"Why have you not taken a blade from the table?"

"I am disgusted with how reliant our kind is on tying honor with such a weapon and would rather use something reduced in size, as to not be easily detectable and slowed down."

"Hmph." Vaman scoffed. "Every Sangheili warrior has his time to wield this ancient weapon – no warrior should rely too often on any one weapon or method of carnage; even if you, young one, are decent in covertness."

For once, the fool spoke wisdom. Not without being poisoned by contradiction, however.

"Speaks the one who covers his hoard of stolen hilts under crates of old weapons in secrecy…" I muffled under my breath.

"You have something to say to my face, Eyesore?"

"No, sir, simply assessing my next task to myself." I chuckled. Surely, capturing his attention would initiate a spar that I fully deserve. I was too proud to waste an entire week of a topic I had already fully knew of. I was not necessarily impatient about graduating, just irked that I do not receive some sort of test to show my expertise and possibly help the others with the skill.

"You what? Wait a moment, you are using two swords! And where did you retrieve such poorly handcrafted weaponry?" He replied, attempting to actually confiscate my father's gifts to me. Within a blink of an eye, I tightly gripped his hand from even touching the hilts. I let out a low growl only heard by those nearest to me. This pride quickly turned to defense.

"Let…go…of me." Vaman coolly but bitterly demanded.

"Not…until…you back…away." I hissed.

"Why should I?" He stated.

"These hilts were constructed by my father the day he died and I do not intend to allow anyone to simply handle them and especially seize them from me. They are my right as his trainee graduate to set forth on my path to Glory. You have no authority to take what is duly mine."

"I personally do not care who gave them to you! As far as I am concerned, they are smut!"

I narrowed my brows and growled yet again.

"Unless you want to lose your fingers, I suggest strongly that you let go of my hilts."

At first he smirked, honestly believing I was bluffing; but the more he tried to take them, the more I dug my claw into his digits. The sight of his blood nearly set off whatever shifted in me the last time I was attacked.

"Do you really believe that I am being flippant? Look, your honor is being taken from you the more you fight me." I told him concerning his fresh wound. Seeing it, he let go and cringed a little at the pain. If defending my father's name weren't more important, I would have laughed at his weakness for said pain.

"I shouldn't let you keep them – the only reason I am is because I am fed up with your rebellion. Perhaps I will inform His Holiness of how troublesome you have been." Smirking, he looked to his son for acknowledgement of tending to the class at his departure. "And maybe, just maybe, they'll send executioners to end you so that my hands needn't dirty themselves."

The class had not yet fully engaged to the task at hand but after the discussion between my friends, this week would surely come to a close today. We all planned it that way. I could have easily left my blades alone and took one of the other ones and used them all the way through the week but then when would I display my father's inherited gifts with pride? And I could also use the other blades and then use my personal ones for the weekly battle but this situation would have still occurred either way – this was purely unavoidable.

"Then perhaps I should tell them that you are dishonorable – that you are in cahoots with that traitor, Garr so that one of you may take the place of the Hierarchs and rule over the Covenant!"

He then turned around, bitten by fury, unable to move, he simply boiled over in his boots. Distracted by his own flaws, I took my hand dripping with his blood, his life-force, his honor, and I consumed it, allowing it to awaken the burning fire that is the spirit of my father – the inner passion that is embedded within my own blood; the unexplained stirring of chaos within.

My vision dawned a crimson hue and all at once, I leapt with both blades at the so-called instructor, startling the training students, who were too inexplicably terrified and too proud to admit it. He had his hilt already equipped on his person and was ready to defend himself from any student who wishes to challenge him – which tells me that on the second week, he had said hilt on his belt from that point on in preparation for this moment; most likely from me.

Our blades clashed; forcing one of us to recoil. Upon withdrawal, we studied eachother and circled one another. The old geezer has not been practicing as of late, no doubt in part to spending his energy wasted on ridding of me; to which he now had his chance if he hadn't been so sluggish. I made the first assault and from that point on, a series of clashing blades raged on. Eventually, his sword emptied its energy and I chuckled, knowing he'd marvel as to why mine are still functioning.

"I know your feeble mind wonders how my smut of two blades haven't discharged as of yet. Well, these 'poorly made' weapons not only empty one percent each use, my armor also has a charging station installed, my father's handiwork. This information wasn't necessary for you know, I just relish in watching you overflow in disillusioned might that is cloaked by vehemence." I ended with a cackle.

This was met with a beaten brow and my back to the ground and befire I could regain composure, Vaman stated,

"Impressive indeed. However, not most impressive. I've seen Unggoy fight more movingly. Your last task, Eyesore, is to fight the one no opponent of your age has defeated - me."

He then choked me and also gave me new lacerations and ruined my armor – most infuriating of all, he tossed my weapons aside without a care. The inner need to kill was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore at this point. He insulted everything about who I am. Regardless if I deserved it due to the current ego trip I had, this fool nearly spent seven weeks making my training worse than what it should have been. I know that even if he were to rat me out, he'd carry on his power-hungry plot regardless if I stepped into his life or not.

"So, you think you can walk into my class, be treated equally, steal the trust of my real students and dishonor me? Ha! Who is writhing in pain, throat clogged of their own blood now, worm? Your father was a disreputable nobody and he sent someone worse to take his throne! I'll do him a favor by ending what he couldn't start himself!"

Despite that all of me wanted to devour every last inch of him, his strength at the moment had me cornered. Until Nikhal interjected, that is.

"Stop, Vaman! If you leave her be, you can kill me instead." He beseeched the instructor.

"You're not worth my time, go about your business. This doesn't concern you." Vaman replied with a monotonal voice.

"Actually, sir, it does." With that, he revealed the rifle he had hidden behind his back and fired furiously at Vaman's face, momentarily blinding him, allowing time to recover my wounded self to the other end of the room. Yelling out in pain, Vaman scratched his scorched face when Nikhal told him, "Who do you think you are to insult and disregard the most honorable student in this class? And you self-appointed your son as so but I tell you the truth, without the guidance of Ruz, he would have surely missed his chance to earn honor! You sicken me!"

"Nikhal, please, I-" I softly called out.

"No, rest. I can't watch this baseborn verbally molest you and your path for Glory. He will pay for his trespasses…" I laid there in wonder, amazed that such a shy soul had enough desire to defend me like this. He had activated the blade and prepared for a gut penetration upon Vaman.

"Wait, Nikhal!" Gharan appealed to his new friend.

"What is it, Gharan?"

"Spare his life but not his dignity." He told him.

"What? What are you meaning by that, Gharan?" Vaman asked to no answer given.

"Why? He hurt her!"

"I know, I'm just as furious, but trust me, I have a better solution as to whom should dismember him…" He said putting his hand on the blade Nikhal held. Nikhal looked down, watching him do this, and nodded, understanding his words. Vaman's eyes widened in comprehension but could say nothing.

"You have just as much a right to regain your honor and hers, albeit, some other method. Go ahead."

Nikhal nodded to him in reaction and the first thing to cross his mind as to how he would go about this endeavor was simply kicking Vaman in his side.

"That is for putting her through turmoil, you wretched thing." Once this was done and Vaman was left to cringe, Nikhal nodded to Gharan, handing him the blade he had before. Gharan walked to his father, standing over him and sighed deeply.

"For too long, you have abused me and shown me no love. For years I have put up with your hatred out of respect for mother. Now, I will regain every ounce of the honor you took from me by the spilling of your blood…" Putting the blade in front of his eyes, it was centered between them, and he readied himself to do what he had longed to do weeks ago.

"Gharan, you can't! Who will teach us?" A student called out in protest. Gharan eyed the fellow student.

"Listen to your classmate, Gharan. He speaks truth." Vaman slyly manipulated him.

"No, he does not. I know he is only following you because he either is more afraid of you than I used to be or he simply idolizes you. Either way, you taught me everything you know – if I have to, I can pick up where you left off; and fill the needs of the students that you could not meet."

"Gharan, you're over-reacting, help me to my feet and we can forget-"

"NO!" The young Sangheili declared. "I have lived too long wearing scars I am not proud of! Days have gone by where I wished I was dead; knowing you would dismiss my death as merely weakness, if you were to notice it at all. No one would flog your sorry carcass for cruelty because I was not only a spawn of a fiend but your false honor would shield you from justice that needs to desperately be served. No, a greater punishment, dear 'father', is knowing that today marks your defeat in fair battle by whom you consider lower than you and your death by way of Blood." Holding the hilt, blade pointing towards Vaman's belly, Vaman's hands went up in fear and defense.

"No, please, I am your father!" He was cowering in his sweat.

"Not anymore…" With one swift silent move, the fool was gutted. You'd swear that through the foggy stillness, you heard Vaman whispering, 'I'm sorry…'

"If mother were still here, she'd have had your hide. She'd remind you what love was."

The class didn't know whether to be silent or murmur or shout in fear – so each thing cycled through every student every so often. The three boys of my squadron tended to my wounds, making sure that I was fit to lead them in the event that we would indeed graduate.

"You know, my friends, I CAN take care of myself."

"You shouldn't have you, Ruz." Nikhal replied with a smile.

"Not after the way my father has treated you." Gharan added.

"A leader like you deserves a little pampering." Q'rin grinned.

"Much appreciation, you three. You are all cherished." I said, laying down, accepting the indulgences.

As Gharan finished his part of the help, he then told nearby authorities of what happened within the room. At first, they dismissed it as folly, that is, until he provided them with the sword that was within his father's side. He further explained all that went on after the guards accepted the truth, including the bit about his plan to dethrone the Hierarchs. Upon hearing this, they immediately appointed a new teacher for the class and those involved with the purging of Vaman to be rewarded – which would mean the five of us, being my team and I, would see the Hierarchs if they so wish to request to speak with us.

Within the hour of the Prophets hearing the news, my team and I were invited to their chambers. I held all of the anticipation that my friends silently kept within combined.

There you have it, folks! The end to the Proving Honor "Mini-Series"! xD seriously, that is it. Next chapter will have a different name, I promise rofl It may not have been what you expected but I really didn't know what else to do with it. I couldn't think of how to extend this chapter to include one day then skip to the last day and involve Vaman's death. Figured all this tension would good for plot and such. I mainly have a lot of work to do once the next chapter is finished since I have to involve the Prophets yet again. By the way, the source of Ruz's fury is not ALL in her sangheili blood…but that is information for much much later ^^ Anyway, hope you liked this chapter! :D

NEXT TIME: Ruz and her squad speak to the Prophets. Will they be rewarded or punished? Will they be banished from becoming a warrior or graduate?