They have been waiting for this very moment for their entire lives; not a second earlier or later. Two identically unique gladiators walk down a narrow path with their heads held high. Both, with an identity and swagger of their own, walk down the gallows to a chorus of ruckus and chaos, only to meet at the nexus of truth and war — a secluded circle where only the men who have worked so hard to acquire such an honor can hear the loud sound of silence that interrupts their heavy heart palpitations. To the naked and jejune eyes of the spectators, they are violent performers who are trained to destroy the man who stands across from them whenever they hear the cue of a bell. But for these gladiators, they are truly artists who have eloquently mastered the art of courage, discipline and athleticism. This isn’t merely a war — they are artist who paint awe inspiring moments on the canvas of history as they slide their soles across the unforgiving canvas. This is more than a sport, it’s a science — the sweat science. When men step into that scared-circle, they are submitting themselves to a cataclysmic clash where judgment meets history.