The first test.

Nemis narrowly dodged the wooden trident as it came for his face, the air thrust heavy enough to feel as it brushed across his skin, his own gladius whipping up towards the hand holding the weapon, barely glancing a hit on the big man’s knuckles. If this had been with real weapons, the man would be short a few fingers.

The man sucked in his breath and backed away. The speed with which the smaller man moved more than made up for his smaller size.

Bron wouldn’t make that mistake again.

He raised his trident again, his net in his other hand ready to throw if an opportunity arose.

Nemis stalked sideways, circling the bigger man as he did the same.

Suddenly Bron moved forward, kicking sand at Nemis and following that move with a half-hearted thrust of his trident, this time angling for the boy’s face as his eyes flinched from the sand flying at them.

Nemis was no stranger to having sand used as a weapon. Comella was notorious for cheating. Nemis made a diving jump to the side, his gladius’ tucked under him as he rolled forward away from where he was. Without waiting, he jumped and rolled again, this time further away while keeping his eyes shut.

By the time he landed on his feet again his eyes had naturally purged a good deal of the sand and he could hesitantly open his eyes, only to see the trident coming for his face again.

This time he didn’t jump, but fell back, his right leg whipping up and kicking the hand holding the trident as it again missed his face.

As his butt hit the ground he spun again and rolled his foot around to sweep the big man’s legs out from under him.

It was like hitting a tree as his foot connected with the man’s calf. Not one to stay surprised (Comella beat that out of him long ago, Nemis whipped his other foot into the back of the big man’s knee.

This time, the tree fell.

Nemis whipped his Glaxo is around and stopped short of slamming it into the man’s exposed neck.

The Doctore called the match.

And Nemis already had someone who hated his guts.