His name is Runt. He was a street urchin in the country (city? Town? I forget) Boleteria. He was a runt of a youth and picked on because of his girlish features. Yet, one day, while he was being tormented by his usual bullies, he was saved by a man in Black Iron. He scared away the Runt's aggressors and helped the boy. He took him in, educated him, and nurtured the youth.

Yet, one day when Runt had been in the house running his daily chores, as the man in Black Iron had proved that he had no skills in the way of domestic matters, he had heard cheering outside. Runt put his chores away and ran to the commotion. He was greeted to the sight of the man in Black Iron battling fiercely with another of the same fortitude.

He heard shouts of "Havel!", and "Tarkus!" as the two heavy hitters went at it. Run's eyes gleamed with excitement. He watched as Tarkus's Great sword sailed toward Havel's Great Shield. Havel responding with a swing of the heavy bludgeoning weapon over his shoulder. The two heavy weapons met in a collision of force, the shockwave of wind created knocked back hats, and blew Tunics.

Runt had never seen such great battle in his life. The battle continued until, a blow was struck to Havel's lower side. He staggered before falling upon his back.

Tarkus looked towards Havel's before leveling his sword to Havel's neck.

Havel bowed his head in defeat. The crowd cheered as Tarkus helped Havel to his feet, after which the two bowed to one another.

Runt ran through the crowd and glomped onto Tarkus's left leg, the boy's weight made little change to Tarkus's stance.

Tarkus looked down at the child, whose eyes glittered like the day's sun.

"Teach me!" It had been said with such enthusiasm that Tarkus himself almost staggered back, before he regained his composure, and kneeled down to the former street rat.

"The life of a warrior is one filled with danger" His regal voice coming out like sweet honey to the boy's young ears.

"Please! I will try my hardest to become worthy of the blade. But to do so I must prove myself under your tutelage!" Runt answered, as he bowed his head. The crowd watched in anticipation.

Tarkus's pose was one of thought before he rose.

"Well, everyone! What say we make this the day that we bring another warrior into our mitts?" Tarkus's voice echoed over the crowd, as they shouted cheers of encouragement. Runt blushed.

"Well it seems we have a complete consensus" Tarkus said. Runt's eyes widened before they gleamed brighter than stars.

"I will not let you down!"

The coming years were filled with much harsh training from Tarkus.

Runt was pushed to his very limits. His patience was tested, his strength was taken through painful trials, and his body broken.

But through it all, he smiled. He would continue, he would thrive in his training, and prove provide Tarkus with the satisfaction of creating a great warrior.

So the days passed and he trained. They took small breaks every now and then. Tarkus taking him through an armory of weaponry.

They traveled to towns, cities, and temples. Seeing the world, and learning the ways of the warrior.

When asked the type of weaponry he was to wield, Runt's mind came to a standstill. He wanted to wield a Great Sword like Tarkus, but Tarkus had said that the way of His sword was different to Runt's. So Runt pondered as they traveled. AS they came upon a deep forest, Runt was granted the sight of something he had never seen before. It was a statue. Its body being a Dirty stone, but the intricacy of the design was well beyond regular stone.

Regular and intricate. Extravagant and dirty. A Contradiction in itself.

But what held his attention was what was held in its hands, Twas a weapon unlike many he had seen. It was long, and it seemed heavy. Its blade was sharp and terrifying. Made of what could only be an unknown brown colored substance.

Tarkus turned and watched as Runt walked forward toward the statue. The boy's feet dragged on steps of vines. Runt's hand met the foot of the strange stone statue before it erupted in light. Colors of black and white flowed around the child's arm before solidifying into a dark mark upon his arm. Runt's eyes followed toward his forearm in wonder. Tarkus's voice cutting him away from his awe.

"So, the legends were true"

Runt turned around to see Tarkus looking at his armor in contemplation, before beckoning him over.

"Legends?" Runt's voice asked, as he ran his eyes toward his father figure.

"Yes, legends of weapons wielded by beings, not so of this world. Beings who were the greatest warriors of times passed."

Runt was left in awe.

"And it seems my dear boy they chose you"

Runt's eyes widened in astonishment before he ran his finger over the dark mark. It glowed.

~time skip~

His arm glowed as the weapon appeared from within its confinement, before he caught it, twirling it thrice for good measurement and coming back to a ready position.

Across from him stood the man in Black Iron, whose weapons were at the ready, gleaming in sunlight, as the crowd cheered once more.

"Are you ready? Steel Runt?" Tarkus teased.

His opponent turned to him, his body covered in gleaming steel metal, a Hero's shield in one hand and his weapon of choice in the other.

"I told you before..." He started, as they leapt at one another.

"The name's Steel Halberd!"

The shockwaves ran rampant.

They crossed blades.