Not fully checked for typos or language consistency, but OH WELL.

Well, where to start... It was a long time ago. It's probably even been a half-century, but I'm not sure. Time has never really been important to me. Back then, no one cared about the progress of time beyond the rise and fall of the sun. We didn't have birthdays or celebrations. I don't even know what day I was born on, to be honest.

It was also a much different world. Different from anything people know today, with the constant advance of society. The structure of the clan was loose, yet at the same time so tight it threatened to suffocate you. We had one rule and one rule only; the strong gave orders. A trio ruled over the clan at all times, no matter how large or how small. One time the clan shrunk to a measely six people, yet the rule stayed. These three were the guardians and leaders.

The top two had to kill for their positions. That was the rule. The strongest and Second strongest gained their position by slaying whoever was above them. The only way to become the leader was to beat the Third, kill the Second and then kill the First.

The Third, in truth, existed only as a safeguard. It was for the same reason the other positions were duels to the death. If someone remained, embittered, to contest your strength... it would weaken the clan. However, needless slaughter would do the same. So the Third was a barrier. He could, of course, challenge the Second and attempt to move up if he so wished, but only he could. One needed to be the Third to challenge the Second and the Second to challenge the First.

The Third, however, never killed for his position. That was the rule of the challenge. That was the meaning of the barrier. Strength was the most important thing in the clan, and without such a barrier they would have thrown themselves to their deaths to try and prove their worth. Because, you see, those matches were never to the death. Killing in such a challenge meant swift judgment.

It was the only way the clan stayed together. The First and Second were simply too strong to challenge and the Third kept the bloodshed to a minimum. Very rarely would the seats change, for once one took a position they could name whoever they wished to take the old one. The Second changed from time to time, but almost invariably the new second would appoint the previous Third back to the position. The First... was never defeated. Not until they became old and frail.

We wandered from place to place. The world was our buffet and it's occupants were the main course. We were ravenous. We fought, killed and devoured as we pleased. The clan had destroyed entire forests, purged entire fields of life and made the waters in the lake still. We fought and fought and fought.

We were Scyther. Proud, strong and above all else, arrogant. We saw not a world full of creatures such as ourselves. All we saw were whetstones with feet. Targets to sharpen our blades on. It shames me that I came from such a foolish clan, but I owe it so much of what I am now.

It was the first step. That first, essential step. I was powerful long before I met my original team. I was much, much more powerful in comparison to the pokemon then, and most certainly the pokemon now. The clan trained me. By the time I was an infant, I could already kill. They taught me that life was a callouse thing. That you had to earn your survival, not merely let it happen.

And it is true. Especially then. In the wake of the Groudon disaster, you had to fight if you wished to win. The world was in turmoil. All the creatures that went bump in the night had been killed. Darkrai was sealed and the rampant semi-legendaries had been extinguished. One fought because it was how they lived. Killing was necessary to eat, to drink and to sleep.

It was with the strength I gathered there that I could stand beside the rest of my team. It was only because I had been born into that clan and grown with them that I had become "exceptional", and it was through the team that I became a quiet legend. We became people who stopped wars. Entire clans would part for our steps. It was because they knew. They knew that if we so wished, we could cut a swath through the crowd and go where we wished by force. We had killed titans and gods, simply because they had crossed us.

Looking back at it now, we must have been terrifying. We must have seemed untouchable creatures who slaughtered anything that got in their way.

But that was the price we paid. In exchange, we could live happily. We could do as we pleased. We helped... a lot of people. For the hundreds I killed, I saved thousands.

Heh, well... It doesn't really matter anymore. Besides, you didn't ask for a history lesson. You want to know about him, right?

Well... that doesn't make it any easier to explain. It was a different time then. But... I'll do my best.

I... had woken up. That morning. It was a normal morning. Fight, kill, eat. I nearly killed someone else in the clan in a duel that wasn't meant to be to the death. Just a normal guy. I was only a year older and it was just normal practice, but I nearly cut his throat.

I was cocky back then. I was strong, I felt. If you believe that you can "inherit" your strength, then mine was from my father. He was a wonderful man. I would like to think I've grown to match who he was, but I don't think I ever became as wise. I, now, am much stronger than he. But he may always be smarter than I.

But that's something for later. That day was the one where I made my challenge. It was a normal fight in every way but it's significance. I was challenging the Third for his position.

The rules were simple. Don't kill each other. If your opponent gets you on the ground, you lose. Either side may yield at any time. If the First calls it, then the match is over with the winner being the one in his favour.

And so the fight started. It was in a small grove. The trees were thick, but they allowed passage. It wasn't that we were restricted, of course, but that all fights had to start in an open area. It was sort of an unspoken rule. If you could shift someone into the terrain and use it to your advantage, then that was your skill as a fighter.

I, of course, charged him. Like I said, I was cocky back then. He easily deflected my first slash, but I was ready for it. I shuffled forward suddenly and rammed him in an effort to send him back.

I very nearly lost my balance. He had anticipated the motion. My dive had done nothing but destroy my stance and screw up my own balance. He simply took the back of his scythe and his me upside the face as I tried to regain my balance. I took a few steps back, and the fight came to a stand still.

We both stood, watching one another. Nothing happened. He did not move and neither did I. It was frustrating. I recognized the disadvantage of striking first, but my body didn't seem to want to listen. It was keen on making the attack.

So I charged forward again. The Third simply took a few steps back and weaved around my attacks. His scythes acted only to deflect mine. He lured me back into the trees without me even realizing it.

By the time I understood what he was doing, it was too late. I struck for his head and he quickly shifted his head to the side. My blade sunk into the tree. His leg sweeped out and took mine from the ground. My stance had shifted forward for the thrust, leaving me incredibly vulnerable.

I fell to the ground, with one scythe still forced into the tree. He silently rested his foot on my back and the match was over. It hadn't lasted more than a minute. It was a complete victory. I had never stood a chance, because he had never taken me seriously.

I got another challenger, later that day. Someone who wanted to prove themselves. I nearly killed him as well in an effort to vent my anger.

We went out for a hunt. I vented more of my anger on some hapless creature that I found. It was childish. Though, I had a good reason to be angry. When the night came, we slept with our family. Those without a mate stayed with their parents. Those with a mate stayed with their mate.

I had no mate then. I never have. Scythers typically aren't big on family, so it wasn't that unusual. Most took a partner at an age long after I left the clan, and after that the Scyther I met were few and far between. Most of them were like I had been.

So, I was with my family. My two parents. I was angry. Incredibly so, almost vengeful. But I kept it to myself. I held my tongue, until my father spoke.

"You're not strong enough for the position. You should give it up." He said that to me. It took me decades to understand why, but, just then... I was angry. "I'm more than strong enough! The only reason I don't have that position is because you refuse to fight the second! We're both stronger than he is. The only thing that's holding me back is you!"

My dad was the Third. He had held that position for years, in spite of his vast strength. He could easily overpower the Second. He could probably take the spot of the First, if he so desired it. But he never did. He always stayed right where he was. I had asked him many, many, many times why he never moved on. He said the same thing, that time and every other time. "You'll understand it some day."

It was frustrating to hear. The idea that I wasn't smart enough or wise enough or experienced enough... and I wasn't. I really wasn't. True enough, I could have held the position in the clan with ease, but... There was more to it than just fighting.

The years ticked by. I remained rash. But his position began to become a problem. The Second had grown paranoid of his strength, and much of the clan had taken... issue with him. He was clearly strong enough to advance, yet he refused to. Things were getting difficult.

So, he decided to teach me one final lesson. Or... to facilitate it, would perhaps be the better way to describe it.

He challenged me to a fight to the death. He marked his own son with a duel to the death. The First agreed to his proposal; if he survived, he would bloodlessly take the position as Second. If I survived, I would take over as Third and would have the option to do as I pleased.

The fight... was much more even. Much more so, at least. We hacked and slashed at one another almost mercilessly. He... held back. I managed to avoid his traps and his efforts, and I even managed to get a few hits in. I cut up his sides terribly. It must have hurt.

But he was the better fighter. He smacked my blades aside and sunk his scythe into my left side. The fight was over in a single stroke.

...Or, that was what I had thought. He braced me carefully with his left scythe and he whispered so quietly into my ear I could barely hear it above my heart pounding. The adrenaline and my instincts both magnified and dulled the pain, leaving me sharply aware of what was going on.

Into my ear he spoke quietly. "Tolin. I want you to run. I'm going to pull away, and I want you to run as fast as you can. Get far, far away. Escape this place and these people."

To anyone who could see me, I must have looked pitiful. My eyes had shot open in fear. I was shaking. I could feel my pulse in every inch of my body as my blood pounded without end.

The scythe pulled out of the wound and my body did what it could. All pretenses of honor and justice ceased. Had I been in my right mind at the time, I would have stayed. It was my loss, it was my life to be taken.

But, no. I ran. I ran as fast as I could. I ran into the trees, as far from the little clan as I possibly could.

I can only imagine the shock on their faces. As I sprinted off into the trees, wounded, I could just barely hear the enraged stutter of the First. A wrathful cry to restrain my father and to capture me.

But it wasn't to happen. My father fought. In his injured, miserable state, he fought back. Between the shock at what had happened, the fear of engaging me or my father and the damage he wrought, none of them chased me. I got away. I managed to free myself from the clan, if only through fear.

If I returned, I would be killed. As my head pounded, that thought went through my mind. "They'll kill me like they'll kill my father." Because there needed to be death. That was the duel. When two people engaged, only one left. I ran, my father was going to be killed.

And that was the last time I saw my father. That was the last I saw of him. He died to get me away from there. For a long time, I cursed him for it. I hated him. In that clan, I could have been strong. I could have been the strongest. I could have been the king of my own domain; unbeatable and unrelenting.

But I understood it, a long time later. After hunting on my own for a while, I met Serrin and Melissa. They were a wonderful couple. Happy. Strong. Tremendously so. I fought so much to try and prove myself to a non-existent crowd, but that little Ivysaur trounced me completely. But I ended up going with him. I learned a lot about... a lot. Myself. Others. Fighting. Living. Dying.

I understood what he had said. Why he had done what he had done. He held that position because it stopped the blood. Because so long as he, so much stronger than others, held it... there was no death. None could ascend the ranks. There were no duels to the death over rank. By staying as he did, he single-handedly stopped the blood from flowing. If it had been allowed to continue, the clan would have decimated itself.

And it did, later on. Too much in-fighting with the clan weakened it and they ended up breaking apart. He chased me off to avoid that. It was only a matter of time at that point. The clan was stupid and prideful. The fighting would have begun eventually, and I was likely to be one of the casualties. So he chased me off. He gave his own life to force his son out into the world.

It... was a tremendous thing he did. I learned so much. I met so many people and did so many wonderful things. I grew amazingly strong. I grew much stronger than he had ever been. Even now, in my old age, I'm certain I would defeat him in a fight.

But he was always smarter than me. I think he still is now, somewhere. I just hope he's proud of who I became, and who I am now.