Among the countless inventions of Humankind, one of the most numerous and diverse is no doubt weaponry.

From things to stab with, to things to bash with. When our targets were too far for our swords and pointy rocks to hit, we invented ways to launch those pointy rocks at distances. Swords, Maces and Bows were born.

When our targets were too well-protected to be hurt by our weapons we invented new ways to break that protection, or other ways to bypass it. Hammers and Crossbows were born.

And even cultural importance and beauty is infused in weapons, giving them certain shapes or sizes with significance or adorning them with gorgeous decorations to make them a true feast for the eyes. Many weapons were born.

And with the advent of science and technology the weapons only became more and more complex, until the present day, where most combat is done at range with the power of guns.

Rarely ever did a single person that decided to make combat their craft also decide to master many weapons. Maybe two, at rare times a third one, but most focused their efforts on honing their ability with a single weapon to its limit. Digging a single well to completion is simply more efficient in a craft that demands your life as collateral.

And yet, there were those few called natural geniuses.

Mastering weapons they are given with ease and a natural eye for how to approach a unique shaped piece, such is the talent naturally present within one of the Twelve.

Bandy, a man that has spent most of his free time on training grounds even before their summoning, much like Polly. Just, unlike said Martial Artist, Bandy had always been fascinated by the wide range of tools that Humanity had created and how many of them could be used both on and off the battlefield.

Swords used for dance performance. Daggers used for ceremonial purposes. Hammers used in construction. Spears as powerful survival tools. Maces used in sports.

He was struck by these uses and determined to learn the depths of each weapon himself, with his own body. And this determination of his is what lead us to the present day in the Goddess’ Realm.

Various sounds rang out from one corner of the training grounds, to the point you would think an entire regiment of men were training and sparring with each other, using a wide range of weaponry.

Yet it was all the result of a single Bandy that immersed himself.

Striking an armoured dummy with a Warhammer then turning around and slicing through another with a Zweihänder. Perfectly in tune with the release of his breath, a shield flew to his grip to parry of an approaching arrow. Without another moments hesitation a crescent-bladed spear, a fangtian ji, was thrust into a third dummy and then swept out the side to parry an incoming blow from a bastard sword.

It was a beautiful performance in its own right, with no gap between any movements.

Yet, his training had only just begun and everyone knew it would go on for at least another hour. The vast array of weapons that laid around his area spoke to this. The fact that in the short time I was writing this he had already used up another six spoke to the sheer volume in turn.

And not a single weapon was a duplicate. Every single one was different.

And yet he used all of them with extreme skill.

Just like that time passed, with everyone occupied with their own training, their results visible in their own little ways.

For Bandy, that meant the training he expected to take about an hour only lasted fifty minutes.

Most everyone was sweating heavily as the Twelve congregated in the middle of the training grounds. Each of them had just finished their own training, although some of them had already been sitting in that space for a while, having finished earlier or doing aspects that could be done while sitting.

And it was not only the Twelve that gathered around. Apostles and Angels from all around the Goddess’ Divine Realm moved to secure their seat. Which isn’t hyperbole. One of the Twelve, Altair, had actually prepared a seating structure similar to that found in an amphitheatre on the previously straight ground.

And this was not a one-off deal. It has been a daily event for the past three weeks.

And all of this was happening thanks to Bandy, the person they all gathered to watch.

At first it was only the Twelve, those that were aware of Bandy’s traits. But quickly it became a joyous event for the whole Realm to enjoy as it spread by word of mouth.

And now it came to this. A full-scale theatre performance.

And at the centre of it, a single man with a talwar in his left and the scabbard held in his right.

A loud boom rang out and the crowd immediately fell silent. Not a single soul dared to utter a sound, fearful that they would miss even a moment of this performance.

After all, it would be the last one.

Bandy’s announcement told as much.

“Today will be the last day I perform. As you all know, we will rest up in preparation tomorrow and then leave for the world we must save the day after. It is unfortunate. After all, it means I will not be able to do this for a while as I must rebuild this strength and ability with my physical body.”

He paused for a moment to let his words rest in the air. The audience grew melancholic. The atmosphere grew melancholic as they had all very much enjoyed Bandy’s dances. A beautiful dance with the aid of weapons with unique meanings infused into the will that he carried into each movement. A performance that used the power of Mana to create a new piece of culture.

It was a sad day. So sad, in fact, that everyone present could almost hear a quiet and slow tune play out, notes that carried this sadness within them.

But it was not imagination.

“Thus, I decided that I must go out with as much grandeur as possible. You will now witness the advent of a theatre play containing song, music, will and dance. A creation following a wonderful inspiration I have been given all those years ago.”

The music grew louder, the origin now obvious. It came from the stage upon which Bandy stood. Not a muscle of his was showing movement, but the previously melancholic slow strings of a violin were being turned up and more instruments joined.

“And in honour of this wonderful idea I shall name this play.

“’City of Ascension’.”

And with no more lines to say, his performance began.

It told a story. The beautiful, yet ugly, the heart-wrenching and struggling story of a single man as he aimed to correct the world and himself. A man with the drive to kill himself for revenge. A man with the conviction to lock himself into eternity to save a single life. A man with the desire to scream of the suffering of even the most unfortunate souls. A man with the love and dedication to fill an ocean.

His mouth sang of his actions, the objectivity of what he did and would do. The words echoed across the entire Realm as it all resonated with the will that Bandy infused. The man’s actions were drawn as if on a canvas, all the right and wrong from an outsider’s perspective.

His music painted of his emotions, the subjectivity of his own mind and wishes. The intense rage of revenge, the torment of time, the nine deaths of thousands and the burning desire he held in his heart. At times slowly, at times quickly. The man’s mind was drawn as if on a canvas, all his dreams and thoughts.

His sword spoke of his conviction, the pure and unbreaking resolve with which he carried out his actions. How it never breaks, never even bends. A single wish, and the sorrow which he set out to correct. How he may have wandered, but never strayed from this path.

His body screamed of his existence, his proof and his all. It screamed at the world, at the Heavens and the Hells. It screamed of his suffering and the suffering he carried for others. It screamed of his qualification. It screamed of his entire self, a self that carries the scars of a time that no longer exists.

It ended.

It is said simply as no words may do this play justice and to try would be disingenuous.

Bandy bowed and left the stage, only his sword still filled with conviction.

No more words were needed.

The audience was left in awe, some still immersed in the gorgeous tale that was spun.

One thing was certain.

They would never forget this.

***

No words were needed as two beings faced each other.

A mountainous creature, 7 metres tall, gigantic tusks and green skin filled with tattoos. Often called the older brother of the Orc, it was an Ogre. With a tree carried in two hands like a mace, it was a truly threatening image. On Earth there are likely none that would not simply fall over in cardiac arrest if this beast opened its maw to scream at them, spittle flying everywhere and trees shaking due to the shear force of the roar.

Yet, the target was unfazed, halberd held at the ready, waiting for a swipe to come.

Seeing its intimidation have no effect the Ogre briefly considered the threat, but quickly dismissed it due to the puny size of its prey. It had often encountered those that simply froze up, it wasn’t a special event to it. So it swung the tree it carried as a weapon with its truly ignorant level of strength, ready to crush its prey and the ground along with it.

The human across it lightly jumped to the side at the last moment, completely avoiding the strike.

Its prey moved but showed no signs of trying to run. Even worse, it had avoided the swing. The Ogre was furious and broke out into a lashing of wild strikes like children might when throwing a tantrum. Of course, due to its extreme muscles each strike felled more and more trees, quickly creating a large clearing filled with fallen trees and wood debris.

Not a single strike landed on the man.

And it was time to counter.

He rushed in, towards the massive legs of the creature which would crush him the moment he stood still, no matter how good his armour. He was aware of this as the beast he was hunting was skilled at Mana, evidenced by how its own tree wasn’t even dented by its rampage. So he hooked the halberd behind one of its legs and swept it to cut the Achilles tendon.

The beast screamed in pain and anguish but remained standing.

So the man quickly whirled around, doing the same to the other leg, before dodging back to his original position where he threw the halberd at the beast, sticking it into its chest. To not fight weapon-less he pulled the great sword he was carrying on his back and readied his next assault. His posture was clean and simple, no fault to be found. Not a single emotion distracted him at that moment.

The beast fell to its knees but reared up to strike from the top once more.

He simply used his sword to parry the blow of to the side, not avoiding it this time. Using this moment he struck the Ogre’s wrists, completely unprotected. Only the Mana offered resistance, but it was easily cut through by his own. He connected the strike, bringing his downward momentum back up and cutting halfway into the beasts belly from its legs. The sword got stuck, but it did not bother him. He left it there and pulled out a hammer from his side, extending it into a two-handed behemoth of a weapon within moments.

The beasts could only scream in pain and didn’t look at its coming demise.

Ray jumped into the air and with a simple strike demolished the Ogre’s head, blood and gore scattering to the right and painting the clearing in a streak of it. A gruesome sight, yet one that Ray had gotten far too used to.

As was tradition by now, he took a seat on a nearby tree trunk to collect his thoughts as the corpse vanished into thin air, leaving only the thump of his weapons tumbling to ground alongside a bluish-turquoise stone that would only barely fit inside his backpack.

The result of today’s fight was rather good in his eyes.

After all, he finally managed to test what Bandy was always talking about in actual combat. Not only was using several weapons extremely fun in its own right, it also proved quite effective, though he did have to find ways to streamline the carrying process and transitions from weapon to weapon.

The extendable hammer was his first idea and while decent, it lacked some heft and balance. Not super important for a superhuman wielding a glorified boulder to ignorantly batter his foes, but important to his pride.

But, it worked.

Although he was sure Bandy could have handled it better from the start.

After all, he always jokingly called him the Thousand-Arms Wielder after seeing his backyard littered with hundreds of weapons.

Ray could only sigh as he thought back to the times he spent with that guy.

His wordless weapon dances were always a delight.

An awe-aspiring feat and gorgeous piece of culture.

No doubt he would also spin this entire tale into one such play.

A tale that none of them would ever forget.