Vanguard
A thunderous boom echoed throughout the forest. A crackling fist was swung upwards with colossal force against a nearby tree, shattering it into a hundred splinters. Kicks were struck against wood and air, and as his form focused and his limbs whipped forth, this terrifying display of martial prowess advanced throughout the land.
Sloppy, far too sloppy. ,Such weak fists would never reach the heavens, let alone the gods. He needed to strike harder, faster, until his hands would grow so large he would be able to drag the gods down their shallow thrones straight into hell along with himself. His weakness flowed with each colossal strike, a testament to his inability and frustration. This would not do at all.
The titan of metal stopped and looked. His form was shallow, his strikes were that of a machine. He was a machine, something created by man for the sake of man. A shallow tool would not be able to vanquish a grander existence that way. If he was to fight those who ruled over man, he should fight as a man. Despite its futility, he drew a deep breath and shifted his stance.
For a moment, the air seemed to tremble around the mass of metal, shaped perfectly into the ultimate body, a silhouette carrying both grace and power that dwarfed the common man of flesh. Grand, and powerful, and yet he simply wasn't enough.
His limbs shot into motion once more, and countless booms overlapped one another. This time, his form and strikes were true, his breath and will were synced. Sloppy, still too sloppy, each strike failed in one way or another, he could not consider any of these perfect, no matter their brilliant quality. His body spun, his kicks split the winds, his fists reflected the moon with such brilliance a man would confuse them for rays of light, but all he could think was this wasn't enough.
But the trees and rocks gave in all the same, and before long his training sundered all the vegetation surrounding him. He stopped and collected himself, observed the results, and spoke.
"Better."