Fair warning: lot of mood whiplash in this chapter.

Also, we're coming up to some of my favorite parts of this story. I've written bits and pieces through the years, and let me tell you, some of the ones I'm most proud of are next.

Happy reading!

"Well, don't you look a sight better than the last time I saw you."

Jak grinned as he entered the arena. Ionna was leaning against the wall, waiting for him. "It's been, what, a week?" she continued. "You must be going stir crazy."

"A little bit, yeah." He folded his arms across his chest. "Seem gave me a clean bill of health. Said I could go back to channeling eco again."

"Good thing, too!" Daxter hopped off Jak's shoulder and onto the ground. "Our boy here isn't an 'inside activities' kinda guy."

"Oh, I'm aware," she replied dryly. She pushed herself off the wall and smiled. "Well, I'm ready to continue your training. That is, if you're up to it."

"Of course I'm up to it." Jak folded his arms and smirked. "I'm always up to it."

Ionna didn't look surprised. Instead, all she said was, "Excellent. Come on, then, let's get started."

She led them down to the arena proper, their boots echoing on the metal platform. There were several clay containers lined up waiting for him.

"Did you gather eco before you came here?" she asked. Jak nodded. "Good. I brought some extra, just in case. To start, I want you to go through each of your powers to make sure you are fully ready to use them."

Jak nodded and exhaled as he let the light eco loose. It felt wonderful to be able to channel like this again. Jak felt the eco fill his senses, blotting out any pain or exhaustion he'd ever felt. It tingled to his fingertips as he went through the exercises Ionna had directed.

"Whoo! My boy's still got it." Daxter gave Jak a fist bump when he was finished. "Ready to kick some doctor butt?"

"Oh, you won't be sparring with me today," Ionna interjected.

Jak tilted his head. "Why not?"

"Well, fighting me is hardly going to be a test of your skill," she explained. "I taught you. I know what you're going to do, I have an advantage. Very few people would volunteer to fight against someone with skills like you and I have." She smirked. "But...I did find someone."

Daxter leapt to his feet. "Oh, man, what crazy idiot would be stupid enough to let Jak pound on him like yakkow steak?"

"That would be me," a voice said from behind them. Jak turned to see the king of Spargus himself standing there, staff in hand and a fierce grin on his face.

"Er, as I was saying," Daxter quickly said, while Jak stifled his laughter, "what bold, noble man would be brave enough to face Jak in a fight?"

"Damas and I have sparred together for years. If anyone is prepared to give you a fair fight, it's him." Ionna folded her arms. "And a fair fight it will be. No guns, no staffs. Hand-to-hand only."

"Hmph." Damas met Jak's eyes and handed his staff to Ionna. He seemed to be almost amused. "I suppose I can teach this youngling a thing or two."

Jak's lips curled into a smile. He pulled the morph gun off his back and tossed it to Ionna. "Don't get ahead of yourself, old man."

Ionna slung both weapons over her shoulder, ignoring their boasts. "The fight ends when one of you either taps out or is pushed to the edge of the platform. Agreed?"

Jak and Damas both nodded. Ionna started towards the rising platform, then stopped. "Oh! I almost forgot." She held out her arm and nodded towards Daxter. "Fair is fair. It's a one on one fight, so Daxter just gets to spectate."

"Fiiiiiine by me," Daxter said, skittering up to her shoulder. "Too many spikes in this lava pit anyway."

As the two of them headed up to the throne above, Jak and Damas turned to each other.

"You'd better not give me any less than your best, warrior," Damas said, getting into a battle stance. It was almost a threat. "I expect a fight I can tell stories about for years to come."

Jak tilted his chin up haughtily. "I've never half-assed anything in my life."

Damas gave a rough laugh. "Well, don't start now."

From above, Ionna let out a sharp, shrill whistle, and the battle began.

Damas was fast, a lot faster than Jak anticipated. He was forced to practically dive backwards to dodge Damas' first strike, a blow directly to his head. "Whoa!"

"Come now, warrior," he said, in a voice that was both teasing and chastising. "Did you think it was going to be easy?"

He ran for Jak again, but this time, the teen was ready. Jak spun to the left, avoiding a well-aimed elbow to his ribs. He tugged on a thread of red eco and turned to strike back at Damas.

But the king was quicker: he grabbed hold of Jak's wrist and forced it down. With a ringing clang, his punch hit the platform, sending a painful, reverberating shock up his forearm.

Still holding his wrist, Damas smirked. "You should know better than to underestimate an enemy."

With a jerk, Jak slammed his elbow upwards and into Damas' jaw. The king grunted and staggered a few feet away, a wild smile on his face. Jak took advantage of the break in defense and attacked again, this

time pulling some yellow eco to his fingertips. He jolted forward, intending to hit Damas with a blast of eco.

But Damas seemed to expect that move. He gripped Jak's forearm tightly and yanked upwards, pulling the boy's arm up over his shoulder. The blast left Jak's fingertips and went off towards the walls of the arena, dissipating against the rocks. Damas gave a hard jerk and spun Jak around, still holding onto the teen's arm.

With a sharp pain, Jak felt his shoulder pop out of its socket. His arm hung limply at his side when Damas let go.

"Gah!" Jak stumbled back, gripping his dislocated shoulder tightly. He gathered green eco and it popped back into place, just in time for Damas to slam his fist into Jak's stomach. "Oof!"

He gathered blue eco and clapped his hands. Everything around him slowed, eerily blue with a stillness that still unnerved him. Damas had been in the process of pulling his fist back for another strike. Jak scrambled across the platform, putting some distance between the two of them.

The eco broke quickly, blue flecks dissipating from the area. Damas swung around and locked eyes with Jak. There was a split second between them, each considering their options, before Jak ran forward to strike again, red eco at his fingertips.

Damas moved with surprising fluidity, ducking and dodging as Jak tried to hit him. Each punch seemed to land just shy of where Jak wanted it to: an inch left of Damas' torso, a bit higher than his head.

Damas dodged another punch, then grabbed Jak's arm, throwing him over his shoulder like a rag doll. Jak landed on his back with a grunt, quickly rolling away and springing to his feet. Damas was on the offensive again, and now it was Jak's turn to dodge punches.

He brought his shield up around him, hoping to give himself a moment to counterattack. Damas, however, didn't seem fazed. He reeled back and punched the shield, then again, and again.

The shield shattered.

The next punch was straight to Jak's mouth, and he spun back to avoid any more. Wiping a trail of blood from his lip, he watched Damas. The king was breathing heavily, but there was a glint in his eye that was just as energetic as ever. He seemed to be considering his next move.

Jak gave a frustrated growl. Damas moved fast; he needed time to think. But as long as Damas was looking at him like that, Jak wasn't going to get any peace.

Looking at him…

Jak let out a laugh. He exhaled and pulled on the eco again, but this time, he reached for dark eco instead. It settled over him like a second skin, and suddenly Damas was looking through him.

While Jak carefully started to move, Damas narrowed his eyes. "Clever. Here I thought we were supposed to be testing your light abilities." He scanned the arena, careful as he did so. Jak kept his footsteps as quiet as possible as he crept behind the king.

"...But I should tell you, I'm rather good at hide and seek." Damas was standing completely still, searching for Jak. His eyes caught movement behind his back, but Jak was quick.

He slammed into the king from behind, sending him stumbling forward. Damas whirled around to face Jak, who punched him directly in the jaw, red eco tingling. Another punch, then another. Enough force each time to push Damas back, even as he blocked Jak's blows.

But each punch took a little more eco out of Jak, and his body seemed to be rebelling against him. His arms and shoulders ached, and he knew the fight wouldn't last much longer.

Maybe Damas could tell Jak was getting tired. Maybe he just saw an opening and took it. Either way, Damas suddenly ducked down and kicked up.

His boot slammed into Jak's stomach, knocking the wind out of the boy. As Jak tried to catch his breath, Damas grabbed the ring on his chest and bodily threw him across the arena.

Jak skidded across the metal platform, rolling until he came to a stop at the edge. He grimaced and tried to pick himself up. A sharp pain ran up his torso; broken ribs, he thought, probably from Damas' kick. The heat of lava prickled the skin on his arm. He could hear Damas coming over towards him, his footsteps rattling the metal.

A shrill whistle sounded, and the battle was over.

Jak glanced up. Damas had his hand outstretched. He took it, letting the king help him to his feet.

"You continue to impress me." Damas clapped Jak's shoulder, while Ionna and Daxter descended into the arena. "How badly are you injured?"

Jak's pride warred with his pain for a moment. Finally, he rubbed his midriff and grumbled, "I think you broke my ribs."

Damas laughed roughly. "It appears I split your lip, too."

Jak grinned. "I think I held my own pretty well."

"Ahaha, he kicked your skinny ass! Ahaha!" Daxter came barreling across the platform. Jak made a face. "Oh, man, it looks even worse up close. Somebody call a medic!"

"You're gonna need a medic when I'm done with you," Jak threatened. Daxter laughed nervously and hid behind Damas' boots.

"Hey, hey, take it easy! You know I'm just kiddin'."

Jak rolled his eyes. Ionna came up, a soothing aura of green eco around her. "Hold still," she ordered. "I'll heal you."

Jak felt his ribs shift back into place, the pain ebbing away. He nodded as she pulled away. "Thanks," he said.

Ionna turned to Damas. "Now you," she said. Damas tilted his chin up. "You got you pretty good across the jaw, didn't he?"

Damas grunted as she healed him. "Quite a fight, I will admit."

Jak straightened. "Um…thanks."

"It was very clever of you to use dark eco," Ionna told him. "I'm sure Seem will be pleased to hear your skills are improving."

She finished healing Damas and put her hands on her hips. Daxter grinned as he climbed up to Jak's shoulder. "Puh-lease. The closest I've ever seen Rubber Ducky get to a smile is a sneeze."

Ionna looked as if she was holding back a smirk. "Even if she doesn't show it, she'll be pleased."

"So, uh, you two used to fight each other, huh?" Daxter sat down on Jak's shoulder plate and put his chin in his paws. "When are we gonna see a few of your fists fly?"

Damas and Ionna looked at each other. Damas shrugged and Ionna replied hesitantly, "Maybe…another time. I need to get back to the infirmary, and I'm sure Damas has tasks to attend to."

Damas nodded in agreement. "Our priority is training Jak to use his powers to his full potential, not sparring with each other."

"I bet I could learn a lot from watching you two fight," Jak added quickly.

Ionna laughed. "Nice try. Maybe after the cataclysmic disaster has passed."

Daxter snapped his fingers. "Damn! So close."

"Go get some rest." Damas was smiling, but his voice left no room for argument. "You did an excellent job today. I'm…very proud of you."

Ionna glanced at him. "Yes. You've done well, Jak."

Jak looked between them, before he smiled. "Thanks."

He and Daxter left, heading up the elevator as Damas and Ionna watched them go. As they made their way into the city, Daxter leaned against Jak's head.

"I betcha," he declared confidently, "that those two fight all the time when no one's lookin'. I bet they're all watchow! Kapow!" He pretended to do karate poses. "Boom!"

"Maybe we'll get to see it some time." Jak stretched his arms above his head. "That'd be a sight to see, huh?"

"Oh, yeah," Daxter agreed breezily. "I bet it's a load of fun."

They say that a warrior is made, not born. Damas finds that he agrees with that sentiment.

He did not become a warrior in the Wasteland. He did not gain the courage and strength needed to survive while lost in the desert.

No, it was before that.

In a pitch-black cave, thick with the feeling of dark eco. Dead bodies littered around, skull gems glinting in the shadows. Outside, Damas could hear his soldiers being slaughtered.

There had been a lot more metalheads than Damas expected. His forces had been overwhelmed almost immediately, overrun by the sheer number of monsters awaiting them.

And they'd gone straight for Damas, who had decided to lead the soldiers himself.

In the chaos of the battle, Damas had been beaten pretty badly: claws had ripped across his stomach, his shoulders were cut and slashed by the metalheads aiming for his back, and he'd been slammed against the rocks so hard his head spun. Eventually, Praxis had forcibly dragged Damas from the battlefield, tearing the young man away despite his own injuries. Even as Damas resisted, Ionna pushed him along, too.

"No! No, I have to go out and fight!" He struggled, but Praxis pushed him back. He shoved Damas roughly into the cave and then collapsed himself, panting in pain.

"Praxis!" Ionna went for him immediately, the eco at her fingertips. Damas glanced over and was almost sick. "Hold still."

Praxis was missing half his face. It looked like a metal head had torn its claws against the man's skull, ripping open his flesh. As Ionna approached him, Praxis held up his hands, spitting out blood onto the ground.

"N-no. You will need to save your energy to get yourself out." He looked over at the king, a fierce anger in his eyes. "Get Damas out alive."

"Praxis, we're not leaving you," Damas said. He could feel his voice wavering, the dark eco in his wounds burning like fire. "We can still fight!"

"Stop your foolish nonsense!" Praxis snapped. "You dragged my men into this massacre, and now we might lose the city!"

"We'll come up with a plan," Damas said. "We'll think of something else—!"

"There is nothing else!" Praxis screamed. He slammed his fists into the ground, unable to stay upright. "Fool! This is the end of the line! Do you really think you can defeat all those monsters?!" He cried out in pain and collapsed, his head against the rocks. "I never should have allowed this to happen."

"We need to retreat behind the shield wall," Ionna said firmly. "Praxis…"

"Go." His voice was softer this time, seemingly unable to muster the strength to yell. "Soldiers...know when the end is near...and you don't heal dead men."

As Praxis' breathing deepened, Damas finally felt the weight of his injuries and guilt take over. He collapsed onto a rock and put his head in his hands. "This is all my fault," he whispered. "I should have listened to you two. All of you."

"I'm going to be blunt," Ionna said grimly, hands on her hips. "We don't have time for the pity party."

She was facing the opening of the cave, her eyes glimmering in the darkness. "...We need to salvage what we can," she continued quietly. "We need to retreat now, before the casualties get worse."

She turned to Damas, a fierce flicker in her eyes. "Damas. I think I can get most of the surviving soldiers back into the city. But you have to promise that you will listen and do what I ask. Can you do that?"

Damas swallowed. "...Yes," he said finally. "Yes, I'll do whatever you need."

Ionna straightened her back and reached for the clay jar attached to her belt. She uncorked it and raised her hand, leading light eco out into her body. It glimmered in the darkness, casting shadows along the cave walls.

"Alright." She exhaled softly. "We need to get every survivor behind the shield wall. That sort of retreat is going to require a lot of coverage."

"So how do we do it?" Damas reached for his rifle, but Ionna stilled his hand. "Hmm?"

"We don't do anything. I'm going to cover the retreat." She clapped her hands and transformed, her skin turning an eerie white-blue. "I'm going to bring up a shield around the area, and then you are going to lead the soldiers back to the transports. Once everyone makes it, I'll let the shield lapse."

"Got it." Damas hesitated, then asked, "Are you going to be okay? Won't you collapse if you use too much eco?"

Ionna was quiet, then she replied, "I'll be fine."

Damas nodded. "Alright. Give me a second."

He went to Praxis and hauled him up, throwing the man's arm over his shoulder. He checked for a pulse; Praxis was still alive, and barely conscious.

"You...what are you...doing?" Praxis groaned. "Leave me."

"No. I was the one who led us out here." Damas dragged Praxis to the entrance to the cave. "I owe it to you to at least try."

He glanced over his shoulder at Ionna. "Let's go."

"...I will stay and keep the shield up." Her voice echoed in a way that wasn't quite natural. "You must get out safely."

"Then…how will you get out…?"

She turned to him, but didn't answer. Damas felt a chill down his spine, ice flooding his veins. He shook his head. "No. No, no, I won't leave you!"

"You said you would do whatever I told you to." Ionna straightened her back and stared ahead. "You promised."

"I can't leave you," Damas argued. "You'll die out here, I can't do that!"

"We eco sages are guardians." She was looking directly at him now, her eyes blank pools of blue-ish white. "Our duty is to the world itself; our lives are not our own."

"I'm not leaving you behind," Damas began, but Ionna clapped her hands again. He felt the eco reverberate around him, his voice caught in his throat. "...You'll die," he whispered.

"Then I'll die." Ionna's face kept the blank, peaceful look that it always did when she was channeling eco. Still, Damas saw her hands shake as she spoke. "Listen to me, Damas, and listen well. My duty is to ensure that humanity survives. That our world, our city, our people, survive. If this is what needs to be done, then this is what needs to be done."

She didn't wait for him to respond. She clapped her hands again, and a shield spread out from her body. It slowly expanded, covering the cave and eventually leaving it.

Damas watched from the entrance as the shield hit the metal heads. They squealed and growled in pain, then were eviscerated from the light eco. As he watched, they began to retreat back to the nest.

"...You only have a few minutes." Ionna's voice was ethereal and calm, almost eerie in it's detachment. "I cannot keep it up for long."

Numbly, he pulled out his communicator and called for the soldiers. "Fall back to the city. Grab those who are wounded and retreat."

He set the communicator aside and shifted Praxis' now-unconscious body on his back. "...Being a martyr doesn't fit you well," he said finally. "I'm coming back for you, so I hope you're not too ready to leave this earth."

"No." Her voice echoed in the cave. "Damas, you are too wounded. Get to safety, and do not return." He opened his mouth to respond, but she interrupted. "Do not bother trying to argue. The only thing you can do…if you really want to respect my wishes…"

She turned to him again, her eyes still blank. Still, there was a sadness there, something deeper than tears.

"Survive. Get out of this place alive."