[ WP ] He wielded Death , and the crowd loved him .

“ And in the red corneeeeeeeer, the hero of the Milky Way galaxy, fighting by way of Earth. Weighing in at less than a tenth of a ton, he wields the legendary machetes, Bu and Ka! Your favorite and mine, Jooooooon Eriiiiiiiiiiic!! ” 
 
 The crowd went wild, screaming their lungs out for the little Earthling that could. He barely registered on the official scale, he weighed that little. It was a weird trick of the Earthen gravity that they weighed so little, but those that had visited said there was life even smaller than the humans. Could you imagine? Sentient life that thought a human was *big*? 
 
 That ’ s what made his rise through the ranks so much fun to watch. Jon Eric had faced down foes twice his height, twice his weight, and twice as long. And he ’ d put on a show doing it. His blades danced in the limelight, their force field reinforcements sizzling every time they made contact. Sure, it ’ d only take would be one well placed blow from a heavier opponent to put him down for good, but to date, twenty opponents had failed to find the right blow. 
 
 He was the ultimate high wire act in combat sports, a gnat of a fighter with next to no defensive power to speak of. Oh, but the gnat could bite. His Earthen style focused on flowing attacks, a striking art that inflicted bursts of damage. Even the heaviest of shields were incapable of sustaining attacks indefinitely, and Jon Eric never stopped moving. He stuck, moved, and stuck again, over and over again, from opening bell to finishing bell. 
 
 On the rare occasion that an opponent managed to glance him with a blow, Jon Eric always made sure his head was off-center, his vital organs were protected, and he was moving with the blow. Two opponents had managed to knock him off balance, but he quite literally rolled with those punches to virtually nullify the damage. It was like fighting a weed, they ’ d complained while nursing their prides afterward. 
 
 This, though, was the championship fight in the carbon-based division. His opponent was the rocky Grat, an opponent that no one had managed to hurt, let alone defeat. Grat ’ s opponents had had the opposite complaint: they said fighting him was like fighting a sheer rock face. Even landing a blow against him was painful. So what happened when the unstoppable force met the immovable object? Billions had shelled out good credits to find out. 
 
 The referee went over the rules, demanding that the combatants protect themselves at all times. This was a sport, not a death match. Combatants were allowed to use weapons to help equalize their vastly different anatomies, but killing was not allowed, under any circumstances. That ’ s why Jon Eric ’ s blades had force fields, to dull their edges. 
 
 The referee walked away slowly, and the crowd held its breath. Jon Eric bounced from foot to foot, keeping himself moving in anticipation of the opening bell. Grat, for his part, stood as still as possible. The differences in styles could not have been more clear. 
 
 The opening bell rang out, loud and clear, and Jon Eric did not disappoint. He came dashing out of his corner, machetes raised. Grat had expected this, and knew he would not be lucky enough to land a knockout blow this early. Instead, he put up his guard, and tried to throw out a quick teep kick. It was a foot jab, really, just trying to keep Jon Eric at distance. 
 
 It wasn ’ t good enough. Jon Eric danced around the foot, flashing his blades around the extended limb. One, two, three cuts, and he sidestepped deftly. It wasn ’ t nearly deep enough to do any damage, but Jon Eric noted the nicks on the leg near the calf. He flashed a grin. Grat could be hurt by his blades, after all. 
 
 Grat barely noticed, though, so he pulled the foot back and tried again. He was surprisingly quick for someone that weighed two tons, but Jon Eric had faced faster opponents. From his vantage point, Grat was moving with all the speed of a glacier. Jon Eric dodged the blow, spinning towards his foe as he dodged. The crowd roared in appreciation, marveling in the little Earthling ’ s flair as he defended. 
 
 The rotation was not just for show, though. He spun tightly, and brought both blades down, hard, as he finished the spin. The extra centripetal force added some weight to his blow, and he ’ d aimed for the exact same spot as his first few nicks. The true followers of the sport gasped in unison, as they realized exactly what the tiny fighter had done. He hadn ’ t just avoided the blow and counter attacked, he had picked his spot. What skill, what grace! What daring the human showed. 
 
 This time, Grat felt it. He pulled his foot back more from pain than from muscle memory. It hurt with all the fury of a paper cut, but the pain itself surprised him. He had not expected this from his smaller foe. 
 
 A larger opponent might have taken the opportunity to bull rush Grat and knock him off of his feet, but Jon Eric didn ’ t have the mass for that. Instead, he continued to dash forward, blades working all the way. 
 
 This was another daring move, as he was working his way toward Grat ’ s powerful arms. He rushed forward only a half beat ahead of the leg Grat was pulling back, but it was enough to keep the smaller fighter safe. He was scratching up every inch of Grat ’ s leg as he moved, and he managed to get a few good nicks on Grat ’ s torso before the larger fighter found his balance. By the time Grat spun around to locate him again, Jon Eric had stepped out of range again. 
 
 Grat smiled at his opponent, a tactical mistake. That ’ s how Jon Eric knew his blades were starting to sting. A fighter didn ’ t acknowledge blows that had no effect, they just kept coming forward. Grat, however, did not come forward. 
 
 The rocky fighter tried a switch kick this time, trying to get the element of surprise. It was a sudden motion, and generated a swift kick from his lead leg. Jon Eric, however, saw it coming. He *rolled* to the left, which was a move almost unheard of in a championship match. The crowd delighted with glee yet again, thrilled to see such an exotic display of martial arts. 
 
 Grat had had no intention of following through with a full roundhouse. He ’ d banked on the element of surprise, so he pulled the leg back. Jon Eric, however, was rolling forward. He came up in a crouch by the leg Grat had planted for balance, and he went to work. His blades sang, the force fields a constant hum as they dug in to Grat ’ s as-of-yet-undamaged leg. Suddenly, the hum stopped, and he rolled to the side once more. Grat found his fighting stance a moment later, whirling to face him once again. 
 
 Once more, the dance repeated. Grat tried desperately to fend Jon Eric off with kicks, and the Earthling ’ s blades showed him why that was a bad idea. Flustered, Grat tried a punch combo. He fired off a quick jab, and followed up with a mean-looking cross. Both came up empty, as Jon Eric bobbed and weaved his way through the blows. He stung Grat with his machetes once more, leaving nicks across the torso this time. 
 
 For two rounds, the little human danced and flashed his blades. Grat did everything he could to pin him down, but it was to no avail. He simply couldn ’ t catch him. The billions in attendance saw a display of skill for the ages, as Jon Eric nicked, cut, and sliced his way through the reigning champion. 
 
 As Jon Eric readied himself for the third round, he saw a commotion in his opponent ’ s corner. The cut men had worked furiously, but Grat was in no shape to continue. Mercifully, he quit on the stool. Jon Eric was the new carbon-based champion. 
 
 — — — — — 
 
 “ Just too quick, ” lamented Grat as he answered the first question from the reporters. 
 
 “ Grat! Grat! Do you think anyone is going to stop the human any time soon? ” 
 
 “ All fighters get beat, but right now, I don ’ t know of anyone who can take Jon Eric down. He was the better fighter tonight. ” 
 
 “ Did the blades give you trouble? ” asked the reporter from the Andromeda galaxy. 
 
 “ They stung, but they weren ’ t anything special. It was the way he used them that was special, ” Grat said with a half-laugh. Ever the gracious fighter, Grat knew when to laugh at himself. 
 
 “ So I guess it ’ s true what the rumors say, then? ” 
 
 “ What ’ s that? ” 
 
 “ The blades aren ’ t actually called Bu and Ka. They ’ re called Buhay and Kamatayan. ” 
 
 “ Sorry, I don ’ t speak any of the Earth languages. What ’ s that mean? ” Grat asked. 
 
 “ Life and death. He wields Life and Death in his hands. ” 
 
 “ Ha! I ’ ve never heard that, but if it ’ s true, he ’ s earned the right to call those blades whatever he wants. That ring is his world, and the rest of us are just living in it, ” Grat chuckled in response.
