Chapter 2: Fural 'Nasamee

For thousands of years, the Sangheili had been nothing but warriors. Much about their ways had changed over the time they spent in the Covenant, but one truth had always remained the same: war was what they were the most gifted at.

Fural 'Nasamee found himself locked in a duel with another Sangheili. A Blademaster, no less; one very determined to beat him. Everything about the fight was set up for Fural to fail spectacularly, but there was no battle he backed away from.

The two Sangheili circled each other, the Blademaster looking Fural straight in the eyes, bearing his teeth to taunt him into attacking. It made him angry, it worked. Fural lunged at his opponent, throwing his sword forward with enough force to push the Blademaster back when their blades clashed. Fural swung with as much force as he could manage, their swords blasting off each other, breaking them apart with each move.

The Blademaster moved with intent, his feet flowing through the arena as he knew it by heart. He spun with grace, pulling away and launching himself forward again to strike Fural back. Their blades met with a bright flash, temporarily blinding both warriors. His opponent's vision returned first, and he found himself struggling to fight an enemy he couldn't see. Their blades met again once Fural's eyes cleared, both of them attempting to push past the other's guard. The glow of their white-hot blades fully lit his opponent's face, he could see every detail.

Light grey skin, orange-yellow eyes, the look on his face saying 'you will stand no longer'. They were both the same height, despite Fural being much younger. He felt as if he was looking in a mirror, fighting a version of himself from the future that was an adept swordsman.

The warrior he fought was a deadly combination of intense focus, and extreme agility. He danced through the arena like it was his natural habitat. Fural was the complete opposite, lumbering around like a brute, hitting hard with each strike. He was much stronger physically, but that was the only edge he had.

Fatigue burned away at Fural's arms as he held his guard, staying defensive in the face of a barrage of attacks. When their blades locked again, he took the chance to strike back. His roar echoed off the walls as he pushed past the protests of his muscles, sending his opponent away. He attempted to chase after him, but he was too slow, and the Blademaster was already back on his feet. The two Sangheili retreated from each other, and circled around the arena again.

Time was running out, as was Fural's breath. The Blademaster had been toying with him the entire time; if he wanted to win the fight would be over already. It was enough to send a careless Sangheili into a reckless fit of rage. Fural launched himself again at his opponent, putting as much force behind his attack as he could. The amount of effort the strike took was wasted when he missed the Blademaster by a longshot. Fural didn't know what happened before he took a blow to his hip. Jumping back, he dodged a swing of his foe's leg. Using this opportunity, he attacked again, moving slower, and hitting lighter. His energy was more than spent, this was exactly what the Blademaster wanted.

Fural took to weaving around his foe's sword, only striking it back when it came close to cutting him open. Each swing of their swords came faster and faster, their blades turning into streaks of light in the air. The sight was hard to follow, it was almost impossible to track where the enemy would strike next. Overwhelming attacks combined with incredible fatigue, and Fural couldn't take it anymore. Another kick to his side caused him to tense up, and lose balance. The next kick went straight into his abdomen, launching him to the other side of the arena. The ground rumbled as his attacker marched up to him, his breath knocked out again when a foot slammed into his chest.

Glowing blades found their way to the base of his neck, hovering close enough to burn his skin. He closed his eyes, and lightened his grip on his sword. There was no choice but to admit defeat.

"You've beaten me," Fural said with great reluctance. "Again."

"You are too eager," his opponent said, leaning down. "It was as I expected: you attacked too soon."

The Blademaster crouched, lowering himself to look Fural in the eye. The expression he saw staring back at him was one of disappointment. "That is a good way to get yourself killed," his opponent said.

Fural grasped his opponent's ankle, taking advantage of his unwillingness to finish the job. He pulled the other Sangheili onto the floor, trading places as he wrapped his hand around his neck, his blades resting beside his head.

"As is wasting time with talk," Fural growled, bearing his teeth.

"I would not have to waste time were you a real opponent, brother," the Blademaster said, his mandibles curling in amusement.

Fural angrily released his brother, his blades leaving behind a cloud of mist as they disappeared. The place they duelled was a makeshift arena in their ship's brig. Empty crates were placed in a circle around the middle of the room, giving them enough space to fight without the eyes of the crew on them. The only person who ever contacted them when they were sparring was their Shipmaster, Mace 'Rylanee, but he was smart enough to leave them alone until there was a matter demanding their attention.

His brother, Dom, had been training Fural since he was a fledgeling, moulding him into a perfect warrior. The process certainly wasn't happening quickly, if it was going to be successful at all. Some of Fural's earliest memories involved him and his cousins being instructed by Dom, taught how to wield a sword, and what it meant to be a true warrior. In the couple of decades since then, he had learned nothing.

"In a real fight, you would be dead before you could even make that move," Dom said, rising to his feet.

"Or perhaps my foes will be as dim as you," Fural said, grabbing a water pouch from on top of a crate.

"If all your foes are as dim as me, you would quickly grow bored," Dom shrugged, squeezing his own water pouch into his mouth. "Clearly I am no match for you."

"I disagree. Each victory against them is one against you."

"Then it will take years to catch up," Dom said, teasing his brother. "You have yet to truly defeat me."

Fural growled, and finished his water. Dom was only there to watch over him, their sparring matches were something that was forced. After continued acts of insubordination, 'Rylanee felt that someone needed to keep him in check, so they sent his brother. For nearly every day since, they had duelled each other. Six months of sparring, and Fural couldn't beat his brother a single time. This wasn't something he even wanted anymore.

"You fought well, your skills are improving," Dom said, trying to convince him that this battle was not a failure. "I can see you winning in time."

The words sounded hollow, even if Dom didn't mean for them to be. Nothing had changed about Fural's actions, there was no clear improvement from when he first began. No matter what he tried to do differently, he still failed regardless.

"Every action brings you further," Dom said, sensing Fural's distrust of his words. "When you don't realise it, your muscles begin to remember the way to move, your mind pays closer attention to its surroundings, and to what is in front of it.

"But you do not see these things. You tell yourself that nothing has changed, and that is why you don't improve. What you did wrong was attacking first without being prepared, not for your attack nor for my defence. You must read your opponent, and understand them to succeed."

"I know," Fural sighed, not bothering to argue. "I will remember that."

"Good," Dom said. "Get more water, we will duel again."

"Again? Are you serious?" Fural asked. The idea of wasting time with more than one duel in a day was baffling.

"I am. We are not done here yet."

Fural brushed his brother off, and marched to the brig's entrance. He didn't intend on coming back to fight again, preferring to find something else to occupy his mind with. Dom was too observant, he could easily sense his brother's unwillingness to return.

"You want to become a great warrior?" Dom asked, stopping his brother. "This is how it is done."

"Whatever you say, brother," Fural grumbled, and left the room.

The 'Nasamai family was one of long and storied history. Every male born into the bloodline had achieved the status of Blademaster one way or another for as long as their records were kept. Living up to the family's name was a necessity, and a burden. Fural wanted to be like his ancestors, to be a great warrior; he just wasn't prepared for how annoying it would be to get there.

Fural's nature was one of extreme aggression, and violence - far removed from the grace the 'Nasamai's were known for. Sometimes he saw Dom's guidance as an insult, a way to keep him from bringing shame to their family. The longer it went on, the less Fural cared about it. The goal of becoming a Blademaster constantly fought with his spirit, which longed to break away from the expectations that were forced upon him. Dom seemed to think he couldn't be his own warrior, and a Blademaster at the same time.

Despite the circumstances, he didn't hate his brother. Dom was always there for him, for as long as he could remember. From the moment he carved his first mock-sword out of wood, to the day he joined the Covenant military, Dom had been watching over him. Their minds constantly clashed over different ideas of what made a warrior great, or what the purpose of conflict was, but nothing ever tore them apart. The bond between blood couldn't be broken.

I do this for my family, Fural reminded himself. He decided he would return to Dom, if not only because there was nothing else to do.

The interior of the Supreme Crusader was an endless maze of near-identical purple corridors, spacious enough to accommodate the largest of the Covenant's species. Fural had served on the ship for years, but he rarely explored it. If something wasn't between the brig and his personal quarters, he didn't know where it was. A display in his helmet guided him through the prison sector, leading him to the closest water dispenser.

Gathered around the dispenser was a group of Kig-Yar, huddled close and chuckling to each other, speaking in their native tongue. Fural recognised them from a battle he had fought previously, they fell quiet when they recognised him too. The Kig-Yar stared at him for a moment before realising they were in his way, and scurrying across the room.

Whatever they were up to, Fural didn't care. It wasn't his ship. The fear they expressed only concerned him for a moment before he remembered he had almost led them to their deaths at a human fortress. Be grateful I did not kill you myself, Fural wanted to say. He imagined his brother behind him, disapproving of the threat.

He decided to ignore them, and fill up several more pouches of water. There was no telling what Dom had planned, but Fural was already exhausted; he would need as much water as he could get. The Kig-Yar went back to their conversation as he left, their voices quiet and startled. When he arrived at the brig, Dom waited with his back turned, and his hands clasped behind his back - meditating while he sent his brother to do his work.

"Are you ready, brother?" Dom asked.

"I suppose," Fural grumbled, tossing the pouches onto a crate. "If I have to be."

"You must always be ready," Dom said, retrieving his sword. "You never know when the next battle may come."

Fural drew his own sword, and the two brothers stood apart from each other in the arena once more. They started to slowly circle around one another, their swords crackling as they ignited; energy fields trapping clouds of gas in the shape of two curved blades running parallel to each other. The ability to create a burning blade out of almost nothing was one of many gifts granted to them by the Forerunners.

"Remember: pay close attention to how I move," Dom said. "Watch my arms, my feet. Never look to your opponent's face, you will only find lies behind them. You must predict how I will attack, or defend. The signs are subtle, so you must free your mind."

Dom assumed his fighting stance, his back hunched with a foot forward, holding his blade to his side where it could be clearly seen. He held his free hand forward, his fingers pointing outward. Fural assumed the same stance, making sure he stood the exact way his brother did.

When Dom moved, his steps were slow. Each one was carefully planned out, he knew his surroundings well enough that he didn't have to take his eyes away from Fural. His expression was blank, the absence of thought making his gaze cold. Is that your secret? Fural wondered. How does one win without thinking?

Subtle changes in the way Dom moved presented themselves. His steps were shorter, more like he was sliding across the floor. His outstretched fingers moved in a way that looked like he was lining up an attack. The grip on his sword was light, but firm. It will be a fast attack then.

Fural tried to predict how his brother would open, gauging his memory for all their duels in the past. When Dom moved fast, his assault could be broken by a strong return. What moves he would make weren't apparent, this was the first time Fural actually paid close attention to his brother's stance.

Dom sprang forward, catching Fural off guard as he panicked and swung his sword to intercept the attack. There was no more time to analyse Dom's form, he had to strike back. Flashes of light and cracks of energy filled the room as Fural held off his brother, waiting for the perfect time to launch a heavy strike. Dom's attacks were not what he had anticipated. Heavier, methodical blows reached his blade, and another kick to his hip knocked him onto the floor.

"Impressive," Dom said in a teasing tone. "You almost have it."

Fural pushed himself back to his feet, rage burning in his veins. He wanted to strike his brother, but there was no use. Getting angry would only embarrass him further, and push Dom away.

"So what did I do wrong this time?" Fural asked, deactivating his sword and grabbing a pouch of water.

"You took too long," Dom said. "I had enough time to plan my own attack. You were too focused on reading me to fend off my advance, and you assumed I would attack first rather than take the initiative to throw me off guard. Never make assumptions, even if they end up being correct. They are nothing but an easy way out."

"And what if the easy way out is the right way?"

"Did that seem like the right way? Was it your goal to be defeated?"

"No," Fural sighed. "It was not."

"That is your answer," Dom said. "Rest, brother. We will try again."

Fural growled, his rage growing to the point where he might explode. Not again, I have had enough, he thought. Storming out of the brig was the only way to get away, and Dom already saw right through him.

"There are no easy ways out," Dom said, giving him a judgemental stare. "In every decision there is a clear path to take."

The lessons were no longer helping to teach him, only serving to anger him. It was what Dom wanted after all, just not in the way he expected. Anger was a good motivator, it had led Fural through his journey in the Covenant, and it would lead him to victory. To finally triumph over his arrogant brother, who thought of himself as the strongest warrior in the galaxy - an untouchable force that stopped at nothing.

I will not run, he told himself. My brother will taste defeat.

Fural ignited his blades, watching his brother intently as they began to circle each other again. This time he assumed his own stance, keeping his blade raised in the air, crossing one foot over the other with each step.

If taking too long to read his brother was his previous mistake, he wouldn't make it again. Instead, he would make himself impossible to predict. Throwing Dom off was the first step, reading him would come after. His steps were heavy, but his grip on his sword was light. The only thing that betrayed him was the sneer across his face.

Dom kept his usual stance, his movements slower than before. He gripped his blade tight, ready for Fural to launch a flurry of attacks at him. The Blademaster prided himself on being ready for every situation, and now was the time he would fail. The deception was working.

Fural launched himself forward, his blade slamming against Dom's at an incredible speed. Each clash sent shivers through his body, he saw through each blinding flash the blades produced. Dom looked upon his brother in surprise, a hint of fear crossing his eyes when he saw the hatred in front of him.

At first there was a struggle for Dom to hold him off, but he grew more confident. The deception was broken, and there was no other plan for Fural to rely on. Rage took over, he attacked at a greater speed, swinging heavier with each attack as he tried so hard to break his brother's defence. Their blades locked, and Dom cut through the opening between them, catching the upper blade of Fural's sword and throwing it out of his hands.

Fural frantically searched the room for where his sword could have gone, but he found himself on the ground before it even landed. Dom's blades were at his neck once again, his brother taking heavy breaths, his mandibles almost curling into a grin.

"Very good!" Dom said as he fought to recover his breath.

The genuine praise in his voice took Fural by surprise, cutting through the anger that had built up in his body. It was refreshing. No longer was he Dom's opponent, now he truly felt like his student. The knowledge that the feeling wouldn't last long was the only thing dragging him down.

"You were on the right path," Dom said, helping his brother to his feet. "But your mind wasn't in the right place."

Fural grunted, of course there was still more he had to learn. He sat down on a crate, and finished his water. Whether Dom asked for yet another duel or not, he no longer had the strength to do it.

"This was a blessing," Dom said. "I believe I found what is holding you back: you are trying too hard."

"There is no such thing," Fural snorted.

"Ah, but there is. You're focusing too hard on your need to win. The purpose of this is to improve your skills as a warrior, not to be a competition. I saw it first when you assumed my stance, you tried copying me because you thought it was the easy way out. In this round you fought with clear anger, pushing yourself too hard because you wanted to defeat me."

"You're supposed to be a powerful Blademaster," Fural said. "Of course I copied you, of course I have to push myself. You give me no choice."

"You give yourself no choice," Dom said.

He sat down on the crate next to Fural, clasping his hands in front of him. An awkward silence fell between them when Fural didn't know how to argue against his brother. Even when victory was so close, defeat still found him. He didn't know what to do.

"My actions are meant to sharpen you, my words meant to guide you," Dom spoke softly. "If you do not open your mind, you will be locked in a never-ending cycle of anger, and defeat. You do not have to listen to me, you do not even have to become a Blademaster, all I ask is that you let me help you."

"I just want to become a great warrior," Fural sighed, his emotions draining with his exhaustion. "Just like you."

"And I want you to be your own warrior. If all you want is to best your opponents, you will not find yourself going far. Not every Sangheili who wields a sword is a Blademaster, only those who truly understand the art of the blade can achieve that title; and in understanding the art of the blade, you come to understand the art of battle.

"Our swords are an extension of our will; their hilts linked to our spirits, their blades linked to our hearts - they are not tools to be used and cast aside. But that is all they are. They cannot break a defence, or find the heart of an enemy, only you can do that. Control your sword, but do not let it control you.

"This is what I have been teaching you all this time. Fight not for the glory of victory, but for the thrill of the battle, and the necessity of war. No warrior is remembered for the ones they killed, but for the battles they fought, and how they achieved victory. I believe that is what makes a great warrior."

"You are very wise," Fural said, listening to his brother's words. He didn't agree with all of it, he believed war was fought with the intention of winning. If nobody went into battle to be victorious in the end, what purpose would the battle have in the first place? There was no arguing anyway, not in his exhausted state.

"I have lived a long life," Dom said. He stood up, and attached the hilt of his sword to his belt. They were done training for the day. "Every battle teaches you something new, each experience makes you wiser than the last. I am ready for Fied to call my name, and I want you to be too."

Fural couldn't stop himself from shaking his head. His faith belonged only to the Forerunners, but Dom was reverent of everything holy. If the Unggoy had their own Gods, he would probably believe in them too. Dom paid no mind to Fural's blatant disrespect of the ancient Sangheili beliefs, and dismissed his brother from their practice.

"I have taught you all I can for today," Dom said. "We will continue this tomorrow."

A subtle vibration ran through the floor, the lights in the brig fading to a soft purple. The Supreme Crusader exited slipspace, perfectly timed with the end of their session. Fural's chest tightened, their real mission was back on his mind.

The Crusader was one of many ships in the Fleet of Particular Justice, a fleet that had conducted a major blow to the humans weeks prior. Fural and his brother had fought fiercely in the battle, it was the largest operation he had ever been a part of. It was a glorious sight when beams of plasma rained from the heavens, scorching the ground of the blasphemers' worlds. The destruction of the human planet was the first time he'd seen it in person, and he couldn't wait to see it again.

One ship had managed to escape the fleet, and they spent the weeks chasing it. If they just exited slipspace, the humans wouldn't be far behind, and another battle would ensue. Fural was eager to take the fight back to them, but Dom didn't care either way. Fight not for the glory of victory, but for the thrill of the battle, Fural tried to remember, but he couldn't help his nature.

"I will join you soon," Dom said. "You may go."

A loud ping signalled the activation of the ship's intercom, interrupting Fural as he made his way to the door. Both of them knew who was contacting them, only they didn't know why.

"'Nasamee, 'Nasamai," Mace 'Rylanee said, his smooth voice echoing through the brig. There was an urgency to the Shipmaster's voice, he wasn't usually one to rush anything. "I request you both make your way to the control room immediately. There is something you need to see with your own eyes."

"We're on our way," Dom said, the intercom deactivating.

"What could this be?" Fural asked, following his brother as he marched out of the brig.

"I do not know, but it must be important," his brother replied, anticipation creeping into his voice. If there was one thing that excited Dom more than a fight, it was the unknown.

The corridors outside the brig were empty as usual, but the further they travelled through the ship, the more activity they ran into. Sangheili warriors whispered to each other, Kig-Yar raised their voices in excitement. Groups of Unggoy ran through the halls, one almost tripping Fural when it ran into his legs. The tiny alien was easily scared off with a growl.

Fural wanted to stop to ask one of the other warriors what was happening, but Dom moved like he was on a mission. He almost struggled to keep up with his brother until they entered a transport tube that would take them to the control room. A pair of Unggoy huddled in the corner of the tube, avoiding Fural and Dom as if they weren't supposed to be there. They were the last people Fural would consider asking for information, so he ignored them.

"Do you think it's a good thing we've found?" Fural asked, breaking the silence.

"I would hope so," Dom replied. "This is a good day for another blessing."

"Agreed. Even the Kig-Yar are excited, that must be a good sign."

"Indeed," Dom laughed.

The Supreme Crusader's control room was huge. It was spherical in shape, a screen covered its walls entirely to show the view outside the ship, making it look like a dome placed on the Crusader's hull. Sangheili officers stood at stations along the walls, each one monitoring a different function of the vessel. Fural forgot he was deep inside the ship every time he was there.

A raised platform in the middle of the room was where Mace 'Rylanee stood, another Sangheili behind him being displayed from the control room's holotable. Thel 'Vadamee, the Supreme Commander of the Fleet of Particular Justice. Fural couldn't tell if he was worried or intrigued, he wasn't often approached by the Supreme Commander himself. Both Sangheili had their eyes locked on something in the distance.

"Shipmaster, Supreme Commander," Dom said in greeting while Fural offered them a respectful bow. "What is there to see?"

The Shipmaster's mandibles were splayed in an expression of awe, he gestured to the view ahead of them, the screen adjusting to give them a better look. It was a ringworld that eclipsed the entire Fleet of Particular Justice in its shadow. Fural had seen it before in all of the Covenant's sacred texts; he remembered it from as far back as when he was a fledgeling.

"Halo," 'Rylanee exclaimed. "At long last, we have found it."

"By the Gods," Dom breathed. "I did not think I would see the day…"

"Magnificent, isn't it?" 'Vadamee said, his voice coming through the holotable as clearly as if he was in the room with them. "I'm glad you could join us in this moment."

"It is indeed, commander," Dom said. "This is a glorious day."

Fural was not as devout of a believer as the others around him, the prophecy of the Sacred Rings was not something he fully put his faith into. This discovery changed everything.

"Its divine wind will rush through the stars," 'Rylanee said, quoting the prophecy. "It will propel us all to salvation."

"What of the humans?" Fural asked, bringing up the more pressing matter. "Have we found them?"

"The slipstream is being monitored," 'Vadamee said. "Their technology is lousy, and unpredictable. However, we suspect they will arrive soon."

"We cannot allow them on the ring," Dom said, his voice boiling with anger. Fural had never heard his brother like this. "Even gazing upon its majesty is more than what they're worthy of."

"The Prophet of Stewardship forbids us from firing upon the human vessel," 'Vadamee said, his voice betraying his anger.

"Preposterous," Dom growled through gritted teeth.

"It is unfortunate they will be here to witness the Sacred Ring," 'Vadamee agreed. "The Prophet claims we cannot risk bringing harm it any harm. He does not share my faith in our officers, so we must find another way to stop them.

"I am organising an attack on the human vessel. They will be defeated, regardless of how the Prophets wish for it to be done. I ask both of you to take part in the assault. If it is destroyed quickly, we need not worry about damaging the Sacred Ring."

"Of course, Commander," Dom said. "It will be done with haste, and with glory."

"Excellent. May the Forerunners guide your hands."

'Vadamee disappeared, and 'Rylanee brought up a schematic of the human ship on the holotable. It was an ugly monster made up of uneven blocks and hard edges, studded with weapons exposed to the elements of space. The design lacked any kind of form or artistry, Fural was glad he would take part in destroying it.

"Your target is the reactor," 'Rylanee said, highlighting the fastest path from their projected insertion point. "Send the confirmation signal once it is destroyed, and I will send transport to pull you out. The layout of the ship will be provided to you both as well, I trust you to end this quickly."

"Of course, Shipmaster," Dom said. "We will be ready when it is time."

'Rylanee dismissed them with a motion of his hand. Dom was the first to leave, but Fural stopped at the door, his eyes resting on Halo. This was the day the Covenant had spent thousands of years preparing for. It was told the Sacred Ring would bring them endless prosperity, eternal life; the means to become Gods, walking in the path of their forefathers.

This was the moment that would make all of the Covenant's strife worth it. Perhaps it would even bring Fural the glory he was looking for. There was a lot to think about as he chased after his brother.

The time for the assault came quickly, the discovery of Halo had sent the fleet into a religious frenzy. Praise for the Forerunners took precedence over the arrival of the humans - the ring was the promised land of the Gods, a millennia of struggle paid off. Dom and Fural were some of the few not blinded by its majesty, they knew no humans could be allowed to defile it.

"I believe we have a fine selection of warriors," Dom said, looking over an army of hundreds. Sangheili and Unggoy would flood the human ship, overwhelming them with a sea of cannon fodder while the true warriors crushed them.

"The Sangheili, yes," Fural said. "I doubt the Unggoy will be of much help."

"I disagree," Dom said, crossing his arms. "There are many conflicts we could not have won without them. What they lack in skill, they make up for with their spirits. If they will die for the magnificence of the Sacred Ring, then they are my brothers and sisters."

"They are good for nothing but to be killed."

"If it prolongs the lives of others, it is a worthy sacrifice."

Fural shook his head, scoffing at his brother. His words didn't make any sense. The Unggoy only ever slowed them down, and got them from bad situations into worse ones. Even looking at the small creatures, hunched over in conversation with each other, made him worry for the mission ahead.

"They are living beings, brother," Dom continued, trying to sway him from his obvious dislike of the aliens. "Each with family, goals, and the faith they share in our Gods. They are here because they are worthy to follow us on the Great Journey, just as the humans are not."

Fural was more than fed up with the constant lessons, especially when their moment of salvation was at hand. That was something better left with training sessions. Now was the time for glory, not to be told to learn his place.

"You simply cannot stop teaching me, can you?" he grumbled.

"Teaching you is why I'm here," Dom said.

"No, the reason you're here is to watch over me," Fural said, pressing his brother. "Because Mace 'Rylanee thinks I am a fledgeling, because I'm not good enough to serve the Covenant on my own."

"That is not true," Dom said calmly, even finding amusement in Fural's anger. "You are a skilled warrior, no doubt, but you rely too much on yourself. You forget there are others in battle beside you. War is not a game, it is a conflict between spirits. I am here to help you learn, but it seems either I am not good enough, or you simply cannot be taught."

Fural stared his brother in the eye, the words cutting straight through him. His anger faded, and he was left behind while his brother made his way across the hangar. This wasn't just a time for glory, it was a time to rejoice, and Dom had been right about everything. That was what angered him the most. But Fural hadn't made any progress until he started listening to his brother, perhaps it was the clear path to take.

"What must I do, brother?" Fural asked, stopping him.

Dom turned around, a curious look in his eye. It wasn't often Fural asked him a genuine question.

"Fight by my side. Let me teach you," Dom said. "And when this battle is over, we will set foot on the Sacred Ring, and begin the Great Journey."

Fural nodded, and followed his brother. I will try my best, Fural told himself, unsure if his best would be good enough. Hundreds of Unggoy stood in their way, clearing out as their Sangheili commanders barked at them. Dom may have been right about everything else, but he was not right about the Unggoy. He still couldn't stand them.

They reached the ship breacher together, and were the first ones inside. The interior was a long tube, not much wider than the corridors of the Supreme Crusader. Its pink floor and purple walls were bathed in blue lights along the ceiling.

"You will be a great warrior," Dom said before the rest of their force arrived. "I promise you."

Four more Sangheili boarded the ship-breacher, their blue armour denoting their ranks. Seriously? Minors? Fural considered saying, but he knew how his brother would respond. This was the exact thing he was being taught against.

"I am ready for a glorious fight!" one of them exclaimed, drawing a booming laugh from another.

"Soon we will be propelled into the divine beyond," the other said. "We need not worry about the humans any longer."

"Salvation is at hand!"

A group of ten Unggoy waddled in behind them, a mix of all different ranks; not that any of them held any authority. The little creatures sniffled behind their masks, sucking in methane provided by the tanks on their backs. Fural could not figure how Dom would consider one as a brother, he felt ashamed being on the same level as them in his eyes. Some minds were simply not meant to be understood.

The tube sealed behind them, the entrance being covered by a breaching charge, an incredibly thick door, and a layer of energy shielding just in case that wasn't enough. A Sangheili officer in the hangar spoke through an intercom, preparing the warriors to launch.

"Boarding teams, you will be launching in one minute," the Sangheili's voice rumbled through the troop bay. "The day of our endless struggle has arrived, this is the beginning of our future. We enter this sacred place as simple warriors, and we will leave as Gods. But let us never forget where we came from, we must remember our sacred oath."

"According to our station! All without exception!" the other Sangheili roared, Fural the only one being silent other than the Unggoy.

"On the blood of our fathers, on the blood of our sons - we swore to uphold the Covenant!" the officer continued, hearing the collective chants of every Sangheili warrior in the hangar.

"Even to our dying breath," Fural joined in, his voice not reaching the excitement of the others.

The cheers of the five other Sangheili was enough to hurt Fural's ears as the sound got trapped in the breacher.

"Onward, brothers! You shall bring eternal prosperity to our glorious Covenant!"

The breacher lurched forward, launching from the Supreme Crusader's hangar. A screen appeared at the front of the troop bay, displaying the view ahead of them. All they saw was empty space, the human ship invisible against the black. Despite the distance between them, it would only be a matter of minutes until they reached their target.

Eventually the ship came into view, gliding through the vacuum of space on an approach to the ring. They're trying to reach it first! Fural clenched his fists. A calming hand touched his shoulder before he watched his brother step to the front of the breacher. Dom looked upon all the warriors with pride as if he had personally trained them all.

"Warriors," Dom said, "this is the day we have been waiting for. We were born to be here in this moment, the Gods watching our every step, guiding our hands to their eternal rewards. This is our destiny! But the humans have come to ruin it all.

"They wish to prevent us from achieving our purpose, and they will stop at nothing to hold us back! They are a rot that must be cleansed! It is up to us to save the Sacred Ring from these voracious heathens, to crush them beneath our might! Their pathetic race will burn in the divinity of Halo's light!"

The Sangheili roared, Fural enjoyed Dom's speech a little more than the officer's. They drew closer to the human ship, projectiles and missiles launching from all over its hull. The breachers couldn't make evasive manoeuvres at the speed they travelled, Fural watched another boarding team get split apart. The breacher exploding, throwing debris and bodies in the human vessel's direction. Three more were cut down on the path to their objective.

The first to die in Halo's presence, they will be avenged with the humans' slaughter.

"This is the first step of the Great Journey!" Dom shouted, the breacher lurching again as they slammed into the human ship. "And we take it as brothers!"

The door exploded, and the shield lowered. The bland walls of the human ship were scorched with plasma, the remains of human soldiers scattered across the floor. Dom was the first to rush out, his shields flaring as he was met with a storm of gunfire. Fural followed him out, raising his plasma rifle to fire on any human he saw. He could barely see through the smoke filling the corridor.

They marched out of the smoke together, and Dom leapt forward as he ignited his sword. He moved through the hall with grace, flowing like he did in the arena; humans fell at his feet. Fural followed him into battle, watching him kill every human before he even had a chance to shoot.

He can't leave me some humans? Not even out of pity?

Fural chased after his brother, leaving the rest of their forces behind so Dom didn't take all the glory for himself. This was meant to be a tremendous moment, but Fural only found himself angry again.