Hello again, everyone, and I hope you're weeks been great. Been a little hectic for me, as Exams are encroaching upon me like the inevitable arrival of Death himself. Also, I am feeling a little guilty that my Breath of Fire story has been neglected for so long due to a fiendish combination of this story being jealous, and that particular muse having left me out to dry.

At any rate, I feel the need to warn you of two things. The first of which is that this is an OC centric chapter. Jak and Daxter are in the beginning, but for the most part, this is a segment in which I attempt to flesh out Precursor society and make Kerrog, Tarath, and the others a tad more human, here's hoping I manage to pull it off and that you people aren't going to stone me for dedicating an entire chapter to it.

The second thing is a change around here that has reached my attention. Its just a rumor, but I have inquired of the staff, and until I am told otherwise, I will regretfully be unable to respond to my reviewers in the following chapter. HOWEVER! Those of you who leave signed reviews, I will send you and e-mail, and for those of you who leave anonymous ones, if you want me to reply or respond, please leave me an e-mail address to which I can send you a reply, as I enjoy answering questions and the like. On another note, if this rumor proves to be true, I must say that the rules and regulations are getting a bit nutty around here.

At any rate, to those of you who did review this time:

Farr2rich- Yeah, I always thought that the Arc Wielder was to unwieldy, and that it ate through its ammo at an insanely fast rate. The Arc Caster, on the other hand, was considerably more precise, and in the right hands, can kill a Wookie with a single shot (episode III should show you just how much abuse those walking carpets can put up with) AS for Keira's powers, I'm thinking about chapter twelvish is when she's going to receive her first ones, hopefully not in a manner that is hopelessly clichéd. That said, best of luck to you in your own writings, and sorry it took me so long to review.

Wizard Surreal- THANK YOU! I have been wondering how I was going to have that little confrontation, as Sig was going to be bringing Keira into Spargus, and as a result would likely be in the audience with her at the time of the match. Now, though, I know just how to do it, and how to get Damas down into that ring for a no holds barred scrap. (bows repeatedly) As for Zelda, I haven't played one of those since OoT, though I once had a rough draft for a fic from that timeline. Now though, I am thinking of taking the new twists I had planned for it and throwing them into an AU J&D story set in a medieval timeframe and world similar to the Forgotten Realms…need to get to brainstorming on that.

nightwish635- I thank you for the complement, but I am only as good as the master's whose works I have spent many a night reading, so thank them, not me. As for Keira's heritage, she is an Ascended Channeler, though she doesn't know it yet, descended from a Precursor named Phoenix, who Tarath was rather close to, as will be explained in this chapter.

Philoworm- Hope that you did okay on those tests, I know how rough they can be. As for the cyber battle, there really isn't gong to be much in the way of an environment, as it will be sort of a battle arena styled zone they'll be fighting in. However, there will be ultra fast move, copious use of attack programs, viruses, and hastily erected personal firewalls. That said, hope you like this chapter, and thanks for the luck, I think I'm going to need it.

GoodMorningBeautiful2005- Thanks for the vote of confidence, and yes Keira will hurt Veger again, but it will be a while in coming. Not much of Jak or Kage in this chapter, however, they will be back in the next one, and the beginning of chapter eleven will have Kage getting up close and personal with Seem, so hopefully it'll be worth the wait. Hope you like this chapter too, and let me know what you think.

MariaShadow- Yeah, I always hated how Vin was never really in the third game, a construct can be an invaluable asset on a battlefield, just look at Cortana from the Halo Series, she puts the enemies of humanity through all sorts of hell when given anything resembling the chance to do so. As for my OCs, several more of them have yet to be introduced (most of them with this chapter) that will wind up dying horrible horrible deaths, so please don't be too angry.

Babycakes3620- Thank you for your support, and I hope that I live up to your expectations, as there are a few areas of this tale that I am still trying to iron out at the current moment. That said, hope you enjoy this installment.

ultimatemakuta- Yeah, that was rather dumb of Veger, but don't worry, once Jak gets back to Haven and helps Torn and co. link up with the rest of the gang, he and his cronies will quickly be given their comeuppance, so worry not.

jaklover123- Yeah, war is hell, and it is ugly. Even the Precursors, whose method of fighting is beautiful to watch in practice, will be horrifying to observe once they actually start trying to kill each other, and even worse when Kerrog and the others go all out upon Haven themselves. As for Samos, yeah, he can be nasty when he wants to be. As for Veger, you can pretty much expect just about every major character to have beaten the crap out of him by the time that this is over with.

Ecohorse- Thank you for your vote of confidence, and I am glad that you enjoyed the stories so far. As for Keira and her past, that was one thing that really did bug the crap out of me, as it was a golden opportunity that N.D. wasted, as if you look at her age and compare it with Jak's, there is no way she can possibly be Samos' real daughter. That said, hope you like this one.

Exardas- Haven won't get any sort of mechanized armor suits unfortunately, however, Vin will take over a prototype death bot around chapter twenty five or so, so even old gear head's going to start throwing his weight around, plus he will be doing other things as well. And yes, Keira is the Light Eco user of this story, and she will have a few new tricks thanks to you and everyone else.

LunaticPandora1- Actually, the new Death Bots are more akin to Armored Cores. As for Jak, he's still practicing with Tarath, and the two of them have been going at each other for a while.

YamiTenshi14- Yeah, you should check their works out, both of them can be found on amazon, so that should give you a good idea of what to expect from them. Thanks for the construct battle ideas, not sure on the copying deal, but I might make it to where they can create 'phantom' versions of themselves to try and throw the other guy off on who's who, if you know what I mean. As for the pictures, I'll e-mail em to you along with the reply to your next review if that's okay with you. Thanks again, and I hope you like this chapter.

Evil Manic- Vin has not yet begun to fight! And yes, later he will grab a bot for his own personal use, though as per usual, it will be a even more bad to the bone prototype the Precursor A.I. had been designing for himself. The Council will suffer soon enough, and Jak will definitely be busy once he finally gets back and starts cleaning house. Those questions answered, I hope you like this chapter, with all of its AU and finally, some original ideas.

GundamWingFanatic90- Glad you like the story, and I always felt that N.D. should have gotten those two a little closer after the second game. As for the lockdown, yes, Keira will be joining up with him around Chapter Sixteen or so, and they'll be inseparable from there on out, so don't worry. Thanks again, and I hope you like this chapter just as much, as I am stepping into new and uncharted territory here.

animedragongirl- Yeah, I based my lifespan upon what it would likely be in a real fight, as I figured I would survive right up until things started heading down crap creek. And thank you once again for beta-reading my writings. That said, hope to see more of prank wars soon, and I'll try to have the next chapter to you by Sunday.

DarkStarPhoenix- A meter is about 3.3 feet in height, so he'd be around four and a half meters in height, and the Precursor combat forms are about 2.5-2.66 on average. As for Keira's Light powers, she'll hopefully be getting them around chapter twelve or so, and that Metal Head leader made the mistake of assuming that Brutter was dead, so he should hurry up and pursue the fleeing elves so more could be slaughtered. So, I hope that helped you out, and please let me know what you think of this chapter, thanks.

someone- Jak won't be receiving and Light sided powers in this story, as he can't Channel anything but Dark Eco in this version. Instead, Keira will be receiving those, and the Precursors will also unleash quite a few Light Eco powers as well.

Light-Eco-Sage- Tis Okay, I know that all of our schedules are hectic and busy, such is life in this day in age. Hope you like this chapter, and I hope to see your own works posted again soon.

Crazed Demon- No, no death for Veger, however for his fall from grace so to speak, start thinking that scene from RotS when Anakin and the clones are marching up the steps of the Jedi temple, only with Jak, Keira, and the others in a considerably less lethal version. As for When Jak goes back, it will be shortly after he, Keira, and Damas take care of the Marauder threat for good, and they will be taking Pecker back with them (my attempt to explain how he gets back to the city).

SRHumphrey727- Glad you liked it, and I am bad about killing off my OCs just to warn you (lots of the Precursor ones wind up dying) And thank you for letting me know that I managed to capture the realism between Samos and Veger, and don't worry, he and his daughter will get back up, as will just about everyone once she and Jak return to retake the city. As for my thanksgiving, it went surprisingly well, for which I am grateful.

Xazz- I am flattered and honored that my story was read before you played the games (bows in humility) As for the ending to the third game, I have yet to play Jak-X, but some of the pictures I have seen, of a certain scene people like you and me have been waiting for for a long time, leave little to doubt that the crack addict responsible for that was disposed of. As for Vulgar, don't worry, Jak beats the stuffing out of him in the next chapter.

Yuuzora- Sorry to hear about that, and I hope that you are feeling better. As for the death bots, Jak will fight several of them, and it will be a close shave, but the honor of dicing up that lieutenant, who shall finally receive a name in this chapter, shall go to Keira, a little payback for burning her home to the ground and slaughtering everyone she knew. Just one more chapter till the Veger torture resumes!

Weirdo- Was actually planning on an attack like that for the Precursor Templars, except a shield would absorb them, and Keira's own weapon will be a naginata (glaive) styled polearm that she'll be getting with her armor around chapter seventeen (I hope). As for the two legged walkers, I never really liked them, as upon seeing what the eight legged one could do, it made me wonder why they even had those. That said, hope you like this chapter, and thank you very much for reviewing. (bows)

Some Random Reviewer- Glad to know I haven't driven you off, and there was a time when I thought about giving Keira a split personality, but I just couldn't figure out how to make it work, if you know what I mean. As for her being there to scare Veger, she will get another shot at him, as will Tarath, who will personally tear Veger a new one when he points that blaster as Xadec (the Precursor Leader) in that scene we all busted out laughing at. Wish me luck on the fluffy reunion thing, as it won't be a very long scene. That will have to wait until Haven is rescued from the perils it's in at the current moment.

To those of you who read, but did not review, I hope that you have enjoyed by story so far, and that I do not scare you off with the drastic AU steps I take in this chapter.

To the Lawyers: I hereby swear upon my immortal soul that I do not own anything save that which I have drawn up from the depths of my own demented mind.

That red tape done, here's chapter nine.

&

Youthful Reminiscing

With a feral yell, the Ascended Channeler cocked his fist back and sent it streaking forward, aiming for the chest of his target. It almost slipped through his foe's defenses when Tarath caught the strike with his right hand, before giving it a twist and forcing the dark elf to either go with the flow, or suffer a nasty spiral fracture.

Jak did just that, pushing himself up off of the ground and flipping over, lashing out with his feet at the same time. This strike did connect, catching the Reaver he was facing across his helmet. Caught off guard by the sudden offensive attack, Tarath released his grip and staggered backwards, opening up another opportunity for his descendent to try and pummel the living daylights out of him.

Daxter, still stuck in the darkness, could only wonder what was going on in front of him, as they were still practicing using the alternate visor modes, light amplification in this case.

Jak and Tarath had been going at each other for hours now, and his companion had soon learned to harness the powers offered him by the armor of his ancestor. Once that was done, Sentinel had advised going a step further in the training, suggesting that the Ascended Channeler be taught a hand to hand combat style known as Niyan. Apparently, it was something that the Precursor Arbiters used in battle to defend and attack with. Logically, it did make sense for the dark elf to know how to fight back in the event that he found himself without Kitetsu or his powers, as his first foray into the Wastelander arena had demonstrated all too well.

As luck would have it, a holocron stored within the research facility had the style stored within it, so it had been relatively easy for Jak to be flash trained, downloading the images of the style's moves and combos directly into his mind. However, to know how something is supposed to be performed and being able to perform it are two entirely different matters. Thus, the past three hours had been spent trying to fine tune what he knew.

However, it hadn't been easy, as Jak had numerous disadvantages in this fight. First off, while still a test of skill, fighting hand to hand with an adversary placed a heavier emphasis upon strength and size, and while the Dark Eco flowing through his veins might have made him every bit Tarath's equal in the former, in the case of the latter, Tarath still had a slightly more than two and a half foot advantage over him. This meant that the dark elf was primarily limited to attacked regions of the black armored Ancient's chest and abdomen, while Tarath had free reign over where he could strike. Not to mention that even cocked back and into its non attack position, the Praetor's warp blade was still something he had to be wary of.

A vicious left hook from Tarath connected with Jak's helmet, and he could feel the blow even through the protective gear. This was quickly followed by that unique sensation one could only associate with hitting the ground with a rather hard impact. The air was blown from his lungs, and he couldn't help but grunt. This round went to the Precursian warrior.

Tarath was quick to extend his hand down help the Ascended Channeler back to his feet.

Inwardly, he was very proud of the young elf. He was a natural born warrior and leader, though Jak would likely most vehemently disagree with the latter. Still, the Reaver hoped that Jak would realize what role he would play in the upcoming battle soon, as it would fall to him to lead a great deal of people into war, and he would have to be ready to do so. He knew that the dark elf had the knowledge of how to lead other upon the field of battle, that he could command all of the armies of Haven should he choose to, he simply lacked to the will to do so.

Still, all things in time.

"Not bad, not bad at all." Tarath said aloud as he stood back away from the Heir of Mar.

"Could've done better." The dark elf muttered, cracking his neck to get the cricks out of it.

"Can someone please turn the lights back on so that those of us not wearing Precursor made helmets can see?" came Daxter's high pitched voice, a grumble clearly detectable within it.

"Sentinel." The Praetor said.

That one word was all that was needed and the lights flared to life again. As usual, the hologram floated above the battle arena, no doubt having spent every millisecond analyzing and predicting the next course of the many fights.

Jak was panting heavily, and had the cool air not been circulating through his helmet, would doubtlessly have been up to his alien eyeballs in sweat. Strangely enough, Tarath didn't seem winded in the slightest, and it was something that puzzled the elf. He never would have suspected the truth, as after all to pant required lungs to breathe with in the first place.

"Well done, Dark One." Sentinel responded, taking his attention away from the black armored Ancient and redirecting it towards the floating hologram. "You are well on your way to mastering both your armor and the Niyan arts."

And it was true, though the construct knew that the dark elf would never become anywhere near as dangerous with the style as an Arbiter was, as he lacked the ability to create the necessary energy fields to augment the power of his fists and feet.

Jak merely grunted in response, but he didn't know if he had enough in him for another round, which didn't surprise the artificial intelligence in the slightest, as he and Tarath had been scrapping it out for the better part of ten hours, although that was assuming that his internal clock was not malfunctioning, which was highly unlikely.

"I think that's enough for right now." Tarath said, apparently having reached the same conclusion. Besides, while not exactly winded, the power supply from the generator inside of himself was starting to run low on energy, meaning he would have to drop out of his combat form soon enough to let it recharge, and something told him that now would probably not be the best time to reveal his true form to the duo standing opposite of him, as the smaller of the two mutants would have likely let it go to his head, or started begging to be taught as well, which was something the Reaver was certain he did not have the patience for.

Jak and Daxter had been escorted back out of the combat arena and to another exit from the base that led to the exterior of the volcano, for which the dark elf was quite grateful, as Kage wouldn't have to nearly broil himself flying over lava. Naturally, this also elated Daxter to a point that words could not describe.

There had been a slight delay though. They had stopped in one of the armory rooms just long enough to grab an armor repair kit and an instruction manual telling the Ascended Channeler the finer points of keeping his gear in field quality condition, something that would be invaluable out here in the Wasteland, and to make use of an infuser device to recharge the Dark Eco Crystal that Kitetsu had in the pommel, as it was running low.

As he watched Kage disappear into the darkness, Tarath headed back inside, reverting back to his normal form and letting his mind drift. His sparring with the dark elf earlier had brought some old memories to the forefront of his ancient mind, a time when things were simpler, when there was no war, and no impeding invasions that could prove to be the doom of the entire planet, nothing like that at all. He remembered a time of peace, a time when the biggest thing he had to worry about was how well he would perform in the next tournament…

"Come on Phoenix, you're going to make us late!"

Clad in the black robes that indicated his element, with a purple, four pointed star embroidered upon the back that showed him to be a Neophyte, Tarath leaned against a column of the Lostarr house, his crimson eyes examining the source of the voice. The other Precursor was about three years his junior, right smack in the middle of his fourteenth year of life. The Adept's hair was styled like his, but was considerably shorter, as it had only been growing out for a few months as opposed to a few years. His eyes were blue as the summer sky, and sparkled with the energy of youth, and he fidgeted back in forth in a strange combination of excitement and nervousness.

Tarath could hardly blame him, after all, this was going to be Kerrog's first time competing in a major tournament, even if it was only the Adept competition, for the youngest and rawest of the warriors. Determined to be the best, Kerrog had been pushing himself through a maddening battery of tests, throwing himself against the Reaver in training or Phoenix with increasing frequency.

And he'd been pushing himself pretty hard as well. Phoenix and he had done rather well in the lower tiers when they had been younger, but Tarath felt the need to rise above that. This year, he was planning on making himself Arena Champion of his group. He felt that he owed it to his parents if nothing else, as both his father, Eli, and his mother, Rayna, had held that title at one point in their lives.

He couldn't really remember much of them, unfortunately, as he'd only been about two when it had happened. They'd been guarding a research facility not too dissimilar to the one that he'd taken Jak through, when something had gone horribly wrong. A fusion generator within the plant had malfunctioned, going into meltdown and setting off a dozen other chain reactions that overwhelmed the failsafe systems. The plant had been utterly eradicated, along with everyone inside.

The Lostarrs had been good friends with his own family, and had taken him in, raising him as a twin to Phoenix. While his new mother and father, Celebrian and Valadil respectfully, had treated him as every bit a member of the family, he still sometimes felt like an outsider, something only driven home by the fact that they were Archons, and he himself a Reaver, polar opposites in their alignments. For the most part amongst their society, marriages occurred within the same elemental clan, which was probably why he sometimes felt so awkward.

"Come on!" Kerrog's voice rang out again, getting to the point where the young Archon in training was hopping up and down, his tail swishing back and forth in agitation.

"Alright, keep your robes on, little brother." Came Phoenix's calm voice as he descended the stairs of the home, a smile upon his furry visage.

The elder Lostarrs would meet them at the Arena, as there were a few things that they had to do beforehand, so they trio left the house, stepping out onto the street of Qualistia, the capital city of the Precursor civilization.

It was a bustling place, built in a strange, Neo-Romanist fashion of columns and marble covered metal stretching thousands of feet into the air, a perfect blend of tradition with modern technology. With the exception of heavy industrial transports streaking overhead, there was no traffic, as the advent of intraplanetary teleportation gates had long ago made private repulsor lift vehicles obsolete relics of a bygone era, and it also made pedestrian fears of being mowed down a thing of the past as well. More advantages came from the fact that the gates were free, reliable, and barring the occasional feeling of nausea from the odd person, completely safe.

The nearest gate was about a half mile away from where they were, and so the young boys walked at a brisk pace, not wishing to be late for such an important event.

Looking around, Tarath could see people of all social statuses moving about to there various destinations, mingling amongst each other.

Precursian society, very much unchanged since their early tribal days, was composed of several different 'ranks,' though in truth, there wasn't much difference among them and no one caste was really above another, as each had their own very important role to play. There were the 'workers,' the scientists, technicians, and the like, that kept their civilization moving ever onward and upward, as well as the teachers that were responsible for training the next generation and those few who were required to keep the mechanized farming equipment up and running.

There were also artisans and writers, keeping their culture alive and flourishing with new sculptures, paintings, plays and poetry, always striving to brighten the soul of his kind.

Not to mention the group that was necessary for all societies to function properly, the politicians. They were the ones responsible for the delegations of the scientific and technological projects carried out, and for just about everything else that their civilization required to keep moving forward.

Then there was his caste, the warriors.

For the most part, their roles in society were very much ceremonial, keeping alive the old traditions of the tribe champions. Indeed, he was inwardly proud of the fact that he himself could trace his heritage back to a couple of hundred years before the Great Unification. However, his brain was always there to remind his ego that in the long run, that didn't make much of a difference. The Lostarrs were among those whose skills had been learned after the end of the wars, and he'd still seen Kerrog and Phoenix give their share of thrashings to older families.

Such were the wonders of modern technology.

Furthermore, they had always been told as children to never look down upon those who were of another social grouping, and to try and increase this harmony, all younglings of all upbringings were trained to a slight degree in the arts of the other castes. As a result, he could handle a hydro-spanner or a fission splicer with an average degree of skill, knew something of political science and economics, and had found out the hard way that the soul of a poet was something he most certainly did not have. Above all though, he was a fighter, it was his calling, his family's time honored tradition of service, and he was proud to be one of them.

Warriors also served as police and guards, as despite all their efforts, crime was still an occasional problem. However, the sight of one of the warrior caste, who were intimidating enough in their armor, never mind if they should be walking about in a combat form, which made them almost three times the height of a normal person, usually deterred most would be irritants to society. The exception to this being the Arbiters, who predominately found themselves as the doctors and healers of the people, as their powers were far more in tune with that calling, though they still participated in mock combats.

Warriors also functioned as part time entertainers, as this tournament was sure to draw a large crowd, since literally every warrior in the city, from the lowest Adept to the Praetors themselves, was going to be participating.

The young Reaver stretched slightly, popping his back as he stepped out of the infusion chamber, responsible for pumping his systems full of concentrated Dark Eco, ensuring that he would be at his full combat potential in the next round.

The tournament had been going on for hours, and he had claimed twelve victories in his group. This had landed him in the finals, the furthest that he had ever gotten. However, as fate would will it, Phoenix had also beaten every one of his foes, meaning that the two of them would be squaring off against each other. Brother against brother. It would make things interesting, to say the least.

The tournaments might have seemed a little strange to an outsider, as rather than putting everyone into their own elemental group, the pairings were completely random, with no thought given to different classes clashing. Templars fought Archons, and Reavers Dragoons on a regular basis, even the Arbiters might find themselves being paired up against a Zealot. While this might have seemed a tad bit unfair, as the various classes relied on different styles of fighting, the warriors merely shrugged and said how it taught them to be more prepared for real combat, as in battle, it was highly unlike that the warriors would be able to pair off against someone of their own alignment like choosing a partner for a dance.

He let out a sigh, and started taking a long walk towards the double doors that would lead him out into the combat arena. Nervous would not have begun to describe the feelings coursing through him at that moment. Never before had he managed to get this far, which would have made defeat all the more painful, to have come so far, only to fall short in the end. On the other hand, he tried to cheer himself up by thinking about the fact that no matter who won today, there was going to be quite a bit of celebrating in the Lostarr household over the next couple of days.

The fact that Kerrog had made it to the finals in the Adept division probably made it to where his adoptive parents were beside themselves with pride and admiration.

The doors drew closer, and Tarath concentrated. A black sphere suddenly surrounded the whole area, and when it cleared, he stood, combat ready. At eight feet, ten and a half inches, he had something of a height advantage over most of the other warriors, but he had learned long ago that intimidation was just one part of a many piece puzzle that you had to have completed to ensure victory over your adversary. One also had to have skill, knowledge of one's adversary, and the flexibility required to change tactics at a moments notice.

The doors opened, and the roar of the crowd was deafening as he stepped into the arena, separated from the stands by large, and rather thick, slabs of transparasteel, a revolutionary invention created some six decades prior that made such live contests possible, as with energy blasts flying about, it would have been stupid beyond all comprehension to not have such protective measures in place.

The cheering reached a crescendo as he walked out to the center, and he stared around at the audience, his gaze once again settling upon his family, before drifting over to one of the box seats, in which Executor Xadec Thas sat, his brown eyes staring down at the young warrior. Tarath placed his left hand, balled up into his fist, into the palm of his right, holding them horizontally parallel to his chest as he bowed before the leader of his kind.

Then, Phoenix entered from the opposite side, and performed the same bow, first towards the Executor, and then again towards his adoptive sibling, a gestured that the Reaver in training returned. They then walked to the other side of the combat arena while the announcer called out a few points and accomplishments of both combatants.

Once that was done, both of them flicked their blades into attack position, waiting for the signal, arched forward on their toes. Inside his helmet, Tarath licked his suddenly dry lips, and took a few deep breaths, watching, waiting.

The signal came, a loud 'ding' from the bell, and both of them shot towards each other, their weapons cocked back and battle cries upon their tongues. So fast did their feet move, that some wondered if they weren't already flying.

In less than two second's time, the two siblings crossed the hundred feet that separated them from each other, and crossed weapons. Tarath's warp blade came down from a mighty swing, meeting Phoenix's upstroke halfway through, and the two began a strength contest. Warp blade scraped against cryosis sword, as the Archon and the Reaver struggled to overcome each other. The dark armored brother growled, narrowing his eyes, realizing that this was getting them nowhere fast.

An idea came to him, and with a burst of strength, he shoved Phoenix's weapon down and to the left, before pushing off of the ground and bringing both of his two toed feet slamming against the helmet of his brother. Caught off guard, the Archon stumbled backwards, breaking the blade lock and leaving himself wide open for an offensive drive.

Fully intending to capitalize upon his advantage, Tarath charged up a ball of Dark Eco in his left hand, before sending it at his opponent. The use of powers was not forbidden in the arena, however, charging up to a point in which such an attack would have been lethal was, and doing so would result in the warrior being stripped of his honor and his rank. In a civilization where honor was the basis of everything that the warrior caste did, such a fate was worse than death, hence why fatalities were rare indeed. As a mater of fact, there had been no record of anyone being killed in these contests since well before the time of the Great Unification.

Phoenix, stunned as he was, had enough sense about himself to realize what was likely about to happen, and instinctively held up his own hand. A shimmering, translucent barrier appeared around him moments later. The dark bomb attack struck against it, and a shadowy explosion occurred. However, moments later, from the fading vapors, Phoenix came blasting out, his blunted weapon cocked back and ready for a strike.

Tarath brought his own weapon up to meet the strike, swatting it aside and then following through with a wickedly powerful uppercut style attack, which blunted as it was, came within inches of sending his sibling's voice into the tenor range. However, Phoenix jumped back and up, evading the strike with nigh effortless ease. He didn't land though, opting to use his abilities to hover in mid air for a split second, before angling himself forward and blasting towards his adversary.

The Reaver in training saw the attack coming, and ducked beneath the strike, rolling backwards and pushing off the ground with his hands, his feet pointed straight out. A moment later, he felt them connect with something and heard a loud 'oof.' The dark armored warrior twisted about as he righted himself in mid air, and saw to his surprise, Phoenix hovering in the middle of the arena, clutching at his stomach.

Tarath was more than a little confused at this, realizing that his blow had indeed connected. He had intended for it to be something that would force his adoptive sibling to keep some distance while he got ready to attack again, he could never have foreseen the Archon actually falling for such an amateur trick, and he couldn't help but wonder if his crafty brother was trying to lure him into a false sense of security.

Nonetheless, he rose up into the air as well, waiting and watching for Phoenix to make the first move, studying every detail of the white armored Precursor's mid air stance, trying to read for a weakness or something he could exploit.

His scanning was cut short an instant later as the Archon shot back at him, screaming ferally at the top of his lungs. Focusing, Tarath fired off a few bolts of Dark Eco lightning at his foe, and not surprisingly, Phoenix easily spun out of the way, lashing out with an offensive attack of his own. A pulsing ball of Light Eco appeared in his hand, which quickly became a decently sized beam, lighting up the arena as it shot towards the Reaver. However, a well timed barrel roll got him out of the way of the attack, which dissipated as it connected with the transparasteel at the far end of the arena.

The two met moments later at break neck speed. The Reaver's warp blade and the Archon's cryosis sword connected for a brief moment, before both warriors attempted another strike. Tarath went up and over, Phoenix down and under, where the two weapons clashed again, crossing each other midway through their strokes. As fast as he could, the dark armored brother broke off his attack, and spun about in the air, bringing his scythe like weapon around and aiming for his brother's chest, a blow that surely would have left a mark had it connected.

However, Phoenix was fast enough to get his own weapon up in time to block the strike, and once again a blade lock ensued amongst the two siblings, sparks flying as light and dark vied for control of the battle. With the grunt, Tarath broke the lock and backed off for a second, calling upon his powers, summoning dark lightning to his aid, while Phoenix opted for a more defensive tactic, raising his shield once again in an attempt to outlast his brother.

Time seemed to slow in a dramatic way, as it always did during such stalemates. Faintly, both could hear the crowd cheering, urging their favored warrior on to victory. From behind his visor, Tarath's crimson eyes narrowed, and he growled, focusing his powers to a slightly greater degree, trying to shatter the Eco shield that his sibling had around himself. Much to his surprise, it took only the slightest increase in power to succeed in accomplishing his objective, and some of it coursed its way over the white armored Precursor as his protection faded.

A growl of pain could clearly be heard as Phoenix flew backwards, trying to put some distance between himself and his foe. The Reaver stopped his attack as well, frowning behind his helmet. It had been far too easy for him to shatter that shield his brother had erected, which caused him to theorize that Phoenix was attempting one of two possible scenarios. The first was that he was indeed attempting to lure him into a false sense of confidence, which was very feasible, seeing as how Phoenix had long demonstrated a masterful grasp of tactical and strategic manners of thought. The other…well that was something that Tarath would simply not stand for.

Still, only one way to find out which goal his adversary was aiming for, and while it was risky, it was better to be safe than to be sorry with this much at stake.

Deciding on a course of action, the dark armored Ancient jetted forward, his warp blade cocked back and his dreadlocks flying about wildly as he streaked towards his opponent.

As he closed the distance to melee range, easily dodging a couple of energy ray styled attacks, he hesitated for a split second. An untrained eye would have never detected the pause, never seen the flaw, indeed, the audience missed it almost entirely, and even those who did pick it out simply assumed it was an adrenaline induced mistake. However, Tarath and Phoenix had sparred against each other long enough to practically be able to know each other's moves by sheer memory, and had learned to capitalize upon even the smallest weakness as a result. Thus, when the Reaver in training did not receive a blunted cryosis sword to the gut, he knew full well what his adoptive sibling was up to, and it caused his unseen eyes to once again grow to slits as their blades locked once again, and got up in each other's faces.

"What in the nine hells are you doing, Phoenix?" he hissed, so quietly that none could hear him above the scraping noise of their weapons.

"What's it look like, brother?" the Archon responded calmly, doing his best to make it look like he was struggling. "You deserve this victory more than I do, you want it more, I've seen you driving yourself past the point of exhaustion to prepare for it."

"And because of that, I want to earn this victory, not have it handed to me simply because I spent a few more hours shadow sparring!" Tarath growled. "So stop trying to throw the match, brother, or I swear to the gods, I'll forfeit here and now!"

"Never willing to take the easy road for once, eh?" his sibling whispered in a warm way, right before he broke off the blade lock.

He flew up some twenty odd feet, before whipping his mounted weapon around a few times and assuming a combat stance. There was something different about him now, an almost perceptible aura, and the Reaver knew he'd managed to convince his adoptive brother that he wanted a for real fight.

Playtime was over.

The white armored Precursor shot down at him, appearing as nothing more than a blur through the air. The two siblings met again an instant later, blades clanging and hissing harshly through the air at each other as they slashed, chopped, thrust and spun, each seeking to penetrate the other's defenses.

It was in this, that the casual observer would have noticed one other thing about Precursian warfare that made them different from about ninety five percent of the rest of the sentient races in the known universe. For those ninety five percent, war was a matter of science, of developing bigger and better things that went bang, boom, or something of that nature. However, while it might have been true that the Precursors had certainly come a long way in technology, and were always looking for a means to improve, the way they fought was different. Precursors in battle were literally practicing the art of warfare, for there was scarcely a better term to describe the manner in which they fought.

The movements of the two brothers were elegant and graceful, efficient and beautiful, and every bit as deadly as they were pretty to watch.

Phoenix dove towards the ground, spinning about as he did so in an attempt to dodge a barrage of Dark Eco bolts that his dark armored twin sent streaking towards him. They impacted around the arena, causing superficial damage, and as Tarath rushed back down to meet him blade upon blade, the Archon prepared himself. He pulled his legs in close around himself and pulled his arms down around his waist. Light Eco pulsed and shimmered around his combat form, and Tarath just managed to check his rush in time to avoid being nailed by what came next.

With a feral cry, Phoenix unfolded from his stance, the power he had Channeled coursing down the length of his cryosis sword, and it trailed off behind his weapon like the white, fiery tail of a comet as the Archon spun about, moving like a gyroscope in midair, tumbling vertically as he did so, making the trail look almost like a sphere that was being unraveled. The trail flew out away from him, and had the fight been for real, anything within about twenty five feet would have been hurting. As it was, a frantic back flip propelled the Reaver away from the area of the attack. Nonetheless, it would take more than a burst attack like that to cow him, and the moment the stream had dissipated, he streaked back in, ready to take back the offensive from his sibling.

For many minutes, the battle raged back and forth, neither brother every holding the edge for long. Nonetheless, all battles have a close, and after a time, the ending to that one had drawn nigh.

Even though he was no longer pulling his punches, Phoenix barely managed to get his cryosis sword up in time to deflect the vicious uppercut that Tarath sent at him. No sooner did he block that then he was forced to duck beneath a pair of armored feet that came streaking in towards him. As the Reaver in training passed over the top of him, the Archon performed a mid air back flip, and brought his own feet rushing down towards his brother, ready to slam them into the dark armored Precursor's ribs. However, Tarath hadn't earned his reputation as one of the premier up and coming soldiers for no reason, and barrel rolled out of the way, avoiding the attack by a fraction of a second.

As he lacked any of Phoenix's defensive powers, Tarath naturally was quick to renew his assault upon his adoptive sibling, not wishing to put himself at a disadvantage. He jetted back towards his foe, a battle cry upon his tongue and small orbs of Dark Eco flying from his left hand as he prepared himself for a devastating assault. Not surprisingly, the white armored Ancient was able to easily dodge the attacks, which didn't surprise the dark brother by any great degree, they had only been distractions and deceptions after all.

The Reaver in training was making it appear as though he was going for the standard, run of the mill tactic of using ranged attacks until he was within melee distance, during which time he would use his warp blade. The main reason behind this was though the powers came readily enough, to use them still required a very high degree of concentration, and so using them when someone was trying to carve you up was rarely a good thing to attempt to do. However, there were a few who had been able to multitask to that degree in times past.

The training he had put him self through in practice rounds against training drones to do such a thing had been some of the most punishing times of his young life. Still, this trump card was not a guaranteed victory, as he still had to wait for the opportune moment, and any slip up, however minute, would be disastrous, and he had little doubt would seal his failure.

For a few more seconds, he and Phoenix traded blows, their Metatron weapons appearing as mere blurs through the air as the crowd watched, even the Praetors leaning forward in their seats as they watched with heightening anticipation the drama unfolding down in the combat arena.

Phoenix, an ancient battle cry tearing its way loose from his throat, cocked his right arm back and shot it forward, a thrusting attack that would have doubtlessly given Tarath a very nasty bruise had his black armored sibling not spun out of the way in time. Swatting the blade aside, the Reaver in training held back, forcing himself to hold out for just a few more seconds as his brother spun around completely, trying to use his built up momentum to shatter his defenses.

He ducked beneath the strike, and as Phoenix turned it into a massive downward swing, the dark armored Ancient struck, lashing out with the warp blade on his right arm, while diverting as much concentration and focus as he could muster into his left fist, willing the dark lightning to come forth and end the match here and now.

Much to the surprise of everyone, the multi attack worked.

Caught completely off guard, his sibling could do nothing to stop of defend against the purplish bolts of electricity that suddenly began to shoot out from the tips of his fingertips. The coursed over the surface of Phoenix's armor, and the Archon let out a scream, falling back slightly in the air as the pain flooded his nervous system. The attack ended swiftly, as Tarath didn't wish to overplay his hand, but stunned and shocked as he was, Phoenix never made a move to stop the blow.

A crushing chop came down upon the right shoulder of the white armored Precursor, and everyone present could hear the cracking of bone, knowing that had the weapon been a combat grade one, Tarath would have just cut his brother in twain.

As it was, it merely sent him plummeting towards the ground, some forty feet below.

He landed, hard, and groaned, trying to get back to his feet, but knowing in his heart that the match was over.

Tarath landed a moment later, placing his blunted weapon against throat of his sibling, who yielded. The Reaver then gently helped his brother up, and hobbled however to the exit to the preparation room, where a couple of Arbiters were always on standby duty in the event that a medic should be needed.

"Nice one there, brother." Phoenix muttered, pain distorting his voice slightly, though he was doing his best to shake it off.

"You didn't do too bad yourself, Phoenix." Tarath conceded, mentally reviewing the fight, knowing just how close his adoptive sibling had come to winning.

As the two hobbled off, cheering filled the stands, music to the Reaver's ears. Pride filled his soul at his accomplishment, but he was quick to remind himself that this would only mean more pressure to perform in future tournaments.

And the competition would be gunning for him.

About half an hour had passed, and both he and Phoenix sat in the stands next to their parents, though he was still clad in his armor, as it was only fitting that he wore it once the award ceremony got underway.

However, he was hardly thinking about that right now. Instead, the majority of his attention was focused once again upon the combat arena, where Kerrog was busy scrapping it out with his own competition. Clad in red armor, Nira Stanak, the former year's champion, charged at the Archon, her psion claws poised to land a couple of bone crushing blows upon the Adept.

The young Lostarr's cryosis sword was quick to intercept both strikes, but Nira, undeterred, spun around and delivered a punishing kick straight to his chest, blasting him backwards off of his feet and crashing into the wall of the arena. Tarath couldn't help but wince, knowing that blow had probably cracked his little brother's rib cage at the very least. Nonetheless, Kerrog was apparently able to stomach the pain, as he flipped back up to his feet, and then took to the air as Nira rushed back towards him, a war cry resonating throughout the stadium. Using all of the massive strength that she had at her disposal, the Zealot leapt into the air, and rose thirty feet up, before swinging both of her weapons towards her foe.

Kerrog back flipped out of the way of the assault, which would have doubtless broken his legs from the force behind the swing. However, as gravity began to take its hold upon the crimson armored warrior, she took one last shot. Extending her palms towards the white armored Precursor, the audience watched as the air in front of the young Zealot began to distort and waver, before bursting into flames. As she began to fall, Nira launched the pyrokinetic attack.

With an oath, the Archon in training executed a mid air dash to get out of the way, but was unable to escape the attack completely, The flames washed over him, turning his armor from white to a nice gray as it was partially cooked by the intense heat.

Kerrog was lucky that use of lethal force wasn't allowed, Tarath thought to himself as a lull came in the fighting. After all, they'd all seen holocrons showing master Zealots using their pyrokinesis to turn solid rock into a liquid state.

However, the young Lostarr had a few abilities of his own, and here, floating some fifty feet above the floor of the combat arena, he was able to use them without fear of interruption or retaliation. Focusing, he felt within himself and called forth one of his powers, and became bathed in a gentle, blue-white glow. He felt his injuries slowly beginning to mend themselves, muscle and sinew and bone stitching itself back together.

That was one thing that was strange about Archons. While they were not the particular 'masters' at anything, as Zealots could take more punishment, Dragoons react faster, Templars blast better, Arbiters heal more efficiently, and Reavers could simply overwhelm them if they went all out with a combination of Channeling and blade skills, they could do a little bit of everything. This could make them rather tricky to deal with in the event of a warrior finding them as an opponent. That was one reason Tarath had pressed his attacks so viciously, so as not to give Phoenix the time needed to heal up and put the fight back to square one.

Nira, however, lacked the flight abilities of her foe, and growled to herself as she realized what he was doing. Still, that was the fourth time Kerrog had had to patch himself up, and the young Archon knew he didn't have the power to spare for another. If he wanted to come out on top, he needed to finish this now.

But how to do it? Zealots could put up with an almost ungodly amount of abuse before they finally went down, and with a second weapon, she had an edge on him in melee combat. Furthermore, Zealots were capable of pushing themselves into an almost berserker like state from time to time, in a state where they were stronger, tougher and from practically all experimental data, pretty much did not feel pain.

Then, an idea came to the young Adept, and he realized what he had to do to come out on top of this battle. He dashed forward, straight at the crimson armored warrior, who promptly crossed her claws and braced herself, waiting for the attack that she expected.

However, that particular attack never came.

Instead of charging straight at her, Kerrog altered his path just slightly at the very last possible second. This had the result of sending him straight into the ground. However, his forward momentum had built up to a sufficient degree by that time for him to skid right between the spread legs of the Zealot, who relaxed her stance just slightly as she thought her foe had screwed up his dive.

Too late, Nira realized her error just as Kerrog jumped up behind her, and brought his blunted cryosis sword down on her back with enough force to make her eat dura-crete. The Zealot attempted to rise, but as she did so, felt the weapon against the back of her neck. In that instant, Nira realized her reign as Arena Champion of the Adepts was over. Still, stinging and shameful as the defeat was, she had to admit, she had been well and truly bested. However, that did not stop her from making a mental note never to fall for that trick again.

Up in the stands, the crowds erupted into cheers, four in particular standing out as the Lostarr family whooped and hollered at the top of their lungs, exchanging hugs with each other, unable to believe that they'd taken both of the younger divisions on that day.

Down in the combat arena, Kerrog stepped away from the fallen Nira, and with a triumphant cry, pointed his blade skyward, unable to believe that he himself had done so well.

The celebration that night had been a grand one indeed, Tarath could recall. However, the memory was a two edged sword, it was both a soothing balm and a fiery poison, a comforting solace and an ever bleeding wound. On the one hand, it reminded him of his innocent youth, before the horrors of the great civil war had changed that. On the other, it was a painful reminder of how much he had lost. Both adoptive parents dead in the war, one brother had the hands of the Hora-quan, and the other one now a mortal enemy.

It was then that the dark armored Ancient did something he hadn't done in millennia. He popped the seal on his helmet, revealing his scarred and mutilated face, and closed his eyes, real and artificial alike, before a single tear was able to squeeze its way out of his normal one. That single drop quickly became a torrent, as the Praetor broke down and wept like a child.

He wept for Kerrog, who had fallen so far, for the brother he feared he would have to destroy. He wept for Phoenix, whom he had not been able to save. He wept for his people, so utterly torn apart and decimated by all that had happened, and had yet to. He cried for the elves, who it seemed, would once again suffer for the sins of his people.

One tear he also shed for himself, for the failure he had been his whole life. Every time it had really mattered, he had come up short, had not been good enough.

He had been weighed, he had been measured, and he had been found wanting.

Millions of kilometers away from what was going on down on Gaia, a white armored Precursor stood on the center of the Day Star's command bridge, more specifically, he was eyeing a pair of holotanks, in which his groundside commanders were making their reports.

"So, the attack went as planned?" He inquired, scratching at his orange furred chin.

"It did indeed, my lord." Said the first of the two, Dao'Drac, the leader of the Hora-quan's forces. "It happened as our new ally said it would, and we now have a good number of the pointy eared freaks pinned down in the Harbor area of the city."

"However, victory is not ours yet." Said the second one, who appeared as a hooded and cloaked figure in the right holotank. This lieutenant was also unusual, as he lacked any physical form whatsoever. However, being an A.I., his mental capacities more than made up for it.

"Explain what you mean, Grendel." Kerrog asked, wishing to know the four one one on what was happening.

"A Lockdown was initiated approximately forty five minutes into the counter attack, just as our forces were ready to push into the Residential Sectors and conquer the city in its entirety." The construct replied, irritation present in his voice.

"Can you bring it down?" the Archon asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Not from where I am…" he began.

"That's because the activation programs can only be accessed directly from the central network core." A new voice interjected.

All present turned to see Errol walking in, clad in his own black battle armor, his red hair flying about wildly and his glowing, slitted eyes boring into all that were in the room. Kerrog acknowledged his entrance with a nod of his head.

"Ah, Errol," he said, a faint smile present on his face, "I was hoping you would come. I want to extend my thanks to you for sharing with us you knowledge of elven battle tactics, as it has made this victory possible with a minimum of casualties to our own forces."

"Don't thank me." The Ascended Channeler growled, barring his teeth in a manner that reminded the Fallen leader of an animal. "I'm doing this for myself, and I care nothing for your cause. I simply want vengeance and to be placed in charge of Haven once you're through tearing it apart."

"And I assure you that once I have given my word, that I shall honor it." Kerrog responded to the man, not at all intimidated by the fact that the former K.G. commander towered over him at the moment. "Unlike your kind, we Precursors do not use our allies and then toss them out with the trash once they have fulfilled their part of a bargain."

With that, the Executor turned back to his two commanders, and began going over further battle strategies and plans for the future.

&

Alright, there's where I'm going stop it, and I hope I managed to pull this one off to the liking of you readers out there. In the next chapter, expect to see Jak getting back into the action, and a heap of Veger torture.

Also, I need to ask something of you good people. I've been having trouble trying to think up what Keira's 'Ascended Form' is going to look like. For a long time, I have been thinking of gong with something that has something of a draconic undertone to it, but is still clearly humanoid in nature and still possesses the 'angelic' features we all know and love from Jak's Light Form, but there are a few thinks I'd like to pin down, and I'm running out of ideas. If anyone has a suggestion, or something else of that nature, I would be most grateful. (starts muttering curses about lack of own creativity)

If you have any other comments, constructive criticisms, flames, ideas, or questions, feel free to ask, as responding to these reviews is actually one of the highlights of the week, just be certain to leave me an e-mail address with which I can link back up with you, should this rumor prove to be true, as I would hate for someone to ask me something and me not be able to answer for fear of having my story deleted. (glares in direction of administration)

Thanks again to everyone for your time, and I hope that you have a great week.