Mand’alor the Unifier did not rise imdiately after the challenge was issued; instead, he sat there, probably in contemplation, looking at the Chief before turning towards , finally speaking in a calm but cold voice.
“Clan Farkun invokes the Rite of Challenge,” he announced officially, “As Mand’alor, I cannot deny it. I only ask if the challenger or the challenged has any terms they wish to announce within it.”
The Farkun chieftain straightened, his helted head still looking at as he answered.
“None on my part. I only ask for permission to prepare and permission to borrow. As for the Jedi, he can use everything he has on him, natural or unnatural, doesn't matter.”
And what does that an...? I wanted to ask, but this was not the ti, so I simply nodded in agreent.
"Mhm." The Unifier inclined his head once, “Granted.”
Prepare? Borrow what? I didn’t know, but we will soon find out. Looking to my left, Vila’s nails dug into my sleeve, her lekku twitching in frustration, looking at with eyes that told I would hear this for a few weeks if not more... Standing, she leaned close enough for to feel the heat of her breath on my ear as she tried not to rage.
“This is madness, Kael. Why did you say yes to this...?”
“I felt a push,” I answered in a quiet voice. True enough, there was still no panic in , only a cold certainty that this path was what I was supposed to walk on. “Don't worry, there won't be any deaths.”
“You won’t—” She caught herself before shouting, but her eyes blazed, “Better be not... This is simply nonsense... Damn Mandalorians and their ancient bullshit rules... I thought the Unifier threw these things out!”
“Maybe he couldn't deal with all of it,” I shrugged, “But the Force pulled into accepting it, and Vila, that’s enough.”
"I hate this," she grumbled while HK tilted his head, his photoreceptors flaring up as people began to leave, and we were also escorted out of the chamber.
[Encouraging Observation: Finally, so entertainnt. Statent: If you survive, this will be a character-building experience. If you die, I inherit your saber. Both outcos are efficient.]
“Rustbucket...” Vila hissed, "Shut the fuck up."
The march to the dueling grounds was surprisingly lively. The Unifier's own honor guards flanked us, and as far as I could see, all of the clans and every representative would be there... I even saw small droids speeding away, probably delivering news and broadcasting a secure ssage to gather everyone who held any power to co and see this spectacle.
Stepping into it, the turbolift carried us down, going at least half the speed than usual, probably to give ti for the others while we were descending deeper into the belly of the tower. Vila was still seething beside , her arms crossed, fingers drumming on her forearms while muttering under her breath, probably putting a Dark Side curse on my opponent... Or she was cursing six ways to Coruscant and back... Whichever it was, I didn’t stop her as it was better to let her vent now than watch her explode later. HK, on the other hand, was alive with glee, much more motivated than ever before, and had even forgotten about his previous mory leaks... He was humming, his servos purring like a cat, his head twitching left and right as he delivered one cheerful analysis after another.
[Instructional Statent: Rember, Jedi. Beskar is strong, but not invulnerable. Joint seams, such as elbows, knees, and neck plates, are optimal targets. Suggestion: Sever the hamstrings. Mandalorians beco less intimidating when crawling. You can then dismber them easily.]
“HK.”
[Acknowledgent: You are right. Correction: Sever the arms first. A legless Mandalorian can still shoot its weapons. A disard one is rely amusing.]
“HK...” I repeated, but there was no stopping him.
[Defensive Clarification: I am rely ensuring your survival... my Jedi Master.] Then why did it feel so sarcastic to call Master all of a sudden? [Observation: You atbags always insist on doing things the hard way. Inefficient. Just kill him in one strike.]
"You will never change, isn't that right?" Despite myself, I chuckled, shaking my head. Maybe it broke so of the tension as Vila glared at , but even her lips twitched at the absurdity. Wel... Unlike the Mandalorians around us who remained silent, but were sure to hear what HK was saying... Oops... Well, too late.
Before I could think about that, the turbolift finally stopped and its doors opened into a cavernous space. And I an, cavernous. As in, it was a cavern, underground, the walls still nothing but bare rocks... We were now under the tower, as instead of sunlight, the harsh luns built into the ceiling lit up the place, leaving no shadows beneath us.
The arena was ancient, older than the city above, I was sure of that. It just... felt like that. It slled of history. As for shape, it was a circular stone pit, its walls high and tiered for spectators. Around it, banners of every clan hung from above, rippling in the downdraft of the massive ventilation shafts above it. The floor was marked with burn scars, gouges, and old bloodstains that not even centuries of polishing could erase. This was not only a training field... this had to be sothing important from their past.
The most amazing thing was that we weren't alone. Sohow, people arrived before we did, already rushing up to the spectator places, shouting in their own tongue, singing so kind of Mandalorian warsong. The only thing I could pick out of it was the chorus.
"Duul! Duul! Duul!"
"Damn," Vila caught my arm as we were led to the preparation area, “Kael, listen to ... You don’t have to do this. There must be another way! We can talk, negotiate—”
“Vila.” I stopped, placing my hand gently over hers, looking into her eyes, which widened at the calmness in mine. “This is the way. I felt it... Trust , please... I can’t explain it. Even with the Ysalamiri above us, I felt it. The Force was pulling here, and if I turn away now, I will regret it forever.”
"Kael... Damn it... I have a bad feeling about this..." Her lips trembled while speaking, shaking her head, “You’re insane...”
“No.” I allowed myself a small smile, “I am a Jedi.”
"..." She just stared at , then cursed again under her breath and shoved toward the entrance. “Fine... Jedi. But if you die, I’m going to resurrect you just so I can kill you myself.”
“Isn't that... Dark Side stuff?” I tried joking, but she wasn't amused.
"I don't care." She snorted, "Just win... or I'm going to bully you."
I couldn't help but think of the mory I had in the Rakatan ruins while I stepped into the arena, the heat of hundreds of eyes pressing down on . It was... the sa yet different. While in that mory, I was surrounded by fear, and then later on, complete madness, killing and maiming... This ti around, I didn't sense any of that. This one was much more... normal. If anything, I could feel my connection to the Force strengthen, as if I managed to get a hold of myself from before I fell into that strange coma. Just then, the opposite gate to hissed open. Whatever preparations Chieftain made were quick and instantly visible as his armor changed from what he was wearing in the eting, making slightly frown.
He was now clad in a more aggressive-looking armor, his black plates lined with crimson lines, covering most of his body, with reinforced joints, including his helt, which gave off a different shine when the light hit it from above us. But that was not all, because I imdiately felt my stomach twist a little as there was a strange contraption strapped to his back. It was a transparent containnt tube, powered by humming cables, connecting to his lower back, ditching his backpack and the ability to fly. He sacrificed it for what was inside, holding a small, reptilian creature that clung to a branch.
Ysalamiri... Of course... Haaah. No wonder he said I could use anything I wanted.
The mont he crossed the threshold to the arena, the Force vanished before . Gone... again. But I wasn't as afraid as he may have thought I would be. After dealing with the Rakatans, I was no longer scared of not directly feeling the Force. I couldn't be... and maybe that is why I am here now. The Force guided here because I still hadn't dealt with it within myself... And this was the opportunity to do so. I heard that Vila shouted sothing from the stands, but her voice was swallowed by the chanting of the spectators.
However... the surprises weren't over, because the Chieftain drew his weapon, answering my earlier question of what he was going to borrow... Because it wasn’t a baton, sword, or a beskad.
With a loud hiss, a black blade of energy ignited from its hilt, its edges glowing white-hot. So... I am going to see what the Darksaber can do, huh? I felt in my stomach how the crowd roared, voices colliding into a storm, as their singing grew louder. Yet, the bigger the reaction was, the calr I felt. It's a weapon... designed by a Jedi. And if that's the case... I have trust in my own lightsaber. Watching , the Farkun chieftain raised the Darksaber in salute, the black blade screaming as it cut the air, giving off a stronger hum than any other saber I had ever heard.
“Face , Jedi. Let Mandalore's blade be the judge between us.”
"If you think the Force is the only thing that makes a Jedi unique, you are mistaken," I answered as my saber leapt into my hand from my belt, and in the mont, I didn't even realize I managed to achieve such a thing... Not just because of the Ysalamiri... but because of the struggles I had with it since I woke up. With a snap-hiss, my own, indigo-colored blade sprang to life, and I could feel the buzz run along my arms... It was... Empowering.
When I finished speaking, he ca at first, as I expected.
In his hands, the Darksaber slashed down in an overhead cut, feeling heavy, doing sothing that was looking like sothing out of Form V but not entirely. I slid sideways, my Makashi's footwork carrying a fraction beyond his arc, my indigo blade eting the black one with a sharp crack as I was ready to test the power behind my opponent's attack. The sound was different from usual saber-on-saber clashes. At least, to my ears, it felt less fluid, more violent. This blade was... a bit different from actual lightsabers, I now knew for sure. Around where we locked blades, sparks showered outwards as I redirected the strike past my body, twisting my wrist and countering with a quick riposte toward his exposed side.
He caught it with a swift parry of his own, his leg grinding against the ground as he pivoted on his heel and snapped a knee toward my gut. Huh... Mandalorian martial arts. I didn't expect it, but even with his Ysalamiri, the Force was still part of ... It wasn't actually gone, it was in ... and it could still guide out of its way... Was it... Ah yes. K’tara. If I recall right, it's strikes ant to cripple in close combat. Keeping that in mind, I turned my hip, my free hand catching the blow and pushing him off balance, my saber darting up to threaten his throat, where there was no reinforced plating, almost instantly aiming at his weak point.
But it was too direct, and he rolled his shoulder, and the Darksaber swept low, forcing to give up on counterattacking. I had to hop back as the blade cut a shallow groove into the stone floor where I had stood a mont ago.
“Good,” he growled, circling again, "A Jedi is still a Jedi, it seems..."
"Of course." I nodded, watching his movent.
For the next few seconds, we tested each other multiple tis. Strike, parry, riposte. By the end of it, I was used to how the Chieftain fought with power and a mix of their arts. Most of his cuts ca in broad arcs, backed by the Darksaber’s weight and the strength of his armor, knowing his beskar would deflect my saber, even if reaching him. But... sooner or later, I knew I was going to get through because he fought like a soldier, not a duelist. Yes, he was using overwhelming pressure, sudden knees, elbow strikes, kicks between saber sweeps... But my form was built on reflexes and I was getting into his rhythm... I just needed a few more seconds to finally be able to predict him perfectly and deliver a disarming strike.
I let my movents flow naturally, my strikes be precise and economical, conserving my energy for a prolonged battle, allowing him to exhaust himself with those wild, two-handed swings. I only esponded, a flick here, a twist there, my blade intercepting, diverting, guiding the black edge past with the smallest of efforts. By now, the hum of our sabers filled the arena, louder than the crowd, drowning out the chanting as sparks flew with every clash, as the indigo and black lights clashed multiple tis in quick succession.
Mhm... He was good, brutally good even. But he wasn’t trained with a lightsaber. He swung the Darksaber like a beskad or so kind of sword, relying on weight and its intimidation factor. Maybe, against another Mandalorian, it would be enough. Against …? No. Not even close.
By then, my blade began to slip through his guard more often, my point threatening his chest, his neck, his joints, as HK advised. He was strong, but his style bled all of his energy... just as I expected.
The duel was mine... I could feel it. It was ti to start pushing.
Coming off my passiveness, I interrupted his footwork, going on the attack and surprising him. A slash from the right, blocked by the Darksaber... as expected. Using the montum, I let my blade slide along his weapon, guiding his arms, sending him recoiling without a chance to recover in ti. There it was... the finishing blow. Without hesitation, I began thrusting, aiming directly at the center of his chestplate. I knew that the beskar would stand against my weapon, but that was the goal. I just wanted him to know that the duel was over and I had won...
Then... Just as the tip of my blade was about to make contact, the Force warned . But... It was too late. The indigo blade struck the chestplate, giving off a perfect pressure as I expected him to maybe even fall over... Victory, I thought... Until the impossible happened.
The mont it made contact, my saber, as if it were sick, coughed, flickered, threw sparks, and then fizzled out. It... it just turned off.
I watched in actual horror as a burst of static flared on the chestplate, spreading to my saber, crackling up the length of the indigo beam, crawling into the emitter, killing it. With a sputtering cough, the light vanished, leaving nothing in my hand but the hilt. I honestly froze, blinking my eyes, staring at the Chieftain, who by then recovered and was attacking, laughing.
“You thought you won, Jedi? Fool...!”
The Darksaber shrieked again as he swung it up in a wide arc, and then burning pain exploded in my wrist, from my stretched out hand, traveling up my nervous system, reaching my brain the mont his weapon passed through my flesh... I felt as if I still held my lightsaber... But I could see how the fingers that were holding the curved hilt were falling downwards, disconnected from my hand as it was severed from my wrist...
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