A/n. 1/3 of a triple update

Zephyr's knuckles grow numb as they're reunited with a fresh punching bag.

A six foot seven vampire soldier to the faction who had volunteered to be next to face Zephyr Vallencia.

Dirty, competitive fighting as such was never a thing in Erridan.

Not until the young man himself came back from his visit to the humans at age twenty two.

He returned with a temper that could only be calmed by throwing fists and challenges around.

When too many punching bags broke he turned to people.

He'd always been the troublemaker of the family growing up but this took it to a whole new level.

He began to pummel his fists into anyone who so much as breathed to heavily in his presence and after the scolding of a lifte time from his parents, he reluctantly switched to willing participants who stood a higher chance of surviving at the least a few more minutes of consciousness in the ring.

To this day it was still a mystery to most as to what happened on that trip.

Himself included.

He had no memory of what happened.

Only a hollow feeling in his chest and resentment towards it.

Anyone with muscles and an ego in Erridan quickly grew to adore every little thing about the one iconic boxing ring in the faction's training centre that became popular for the fights held against the undefeated Zephyr.

Even Milos had fought him in the early days of its growing popularity.

And he lost.

Zephyr brought anger and fire to the fight whilst Milos was there for a potential laugh.

For potential bragging rights amongst their family.

Perhaps if their motives were equal the fight would've been more fair.

The tall, burly man towering above Zephyr swayed side to side as his resolve weakened with every blow to his torso.

His long, curly beard dripped with sweat and some drool, causing Zephyr to scrunch his nose in disgust mid swing.

When the man finally fell and Zephyr's expected victory was announced, he didn't stop like he usually did.

He knelt down and kept pummelling the face of one of his family's most loyal and talented soldiers.

"Sir..." the referee remained polite in his reluctant warning.

"Mr Vallencia." He tried again.

Zephyr didn't hear a word.

All he could focus on was the image replaying in his mind of an infuriatingly attractive angel bolting just to avoid meeting his gaze.

And the betraying tug in his gut that made him want to follow her. To dig deep beneath her cold and hard surface and find out why she hated him before she even knew him.

A bruising grip latched around his right bicep and yanked him backwards with one swift tug.

He turns to take a swing at whoever dares to be so bold and comes eye to eye with a pair of glassy blue eyes filled with as much fury as his own.

Little do they both know it's over the same silent young lady.

"Atleast fight someone with a fair chance Zee." Valentine's deep voice rumbles.

The arena falls silent.

Zephyr's mind clears for a moment.

And he rises to his feet, staring directly eye to eye with the oldest legacy in the faction.

Some twisted, self loathing part of him deep down lit up at the sight of a genuine challenge.

Someone with the means to beat him and the motivation to beat him, proven by the deadly twinkle in his ice like eyes.

Zephyr cracks his knuckles, assessing his new opponent for potential weaknesses.

"Clear the ring." He demands of any bystander without a death wish, keeping his empty green eyes locked on the angel before him.

Without turning from his opponent he bent to collect his waterbottle and drained the contents coolly whilst waiting for the unconscious body to be removed from his stage.

"Place your bets now! We have a rare brother versus brother fight coming up!"

The commentator sings, bouncing in his seat like a child on Christmas eve.