Alderaan
"So much has changed, and yet ... so very little." Fine cuisine rested elegantly on the plate before him, while spires of white durasteel stretched toward the heavens.
The same towers that had once crumbled under turbolaser fire at his command were now restored, with people living their lives to the fullest as the calls of Thrants echoed across the grassy plains.
And yet, the once-powerful ruling families had lost much of their authority, with the planet now under the control of House Organa.
Though they had once been bitter enemies during his conquest of the world, old rivalries were now forgotten. Reigniting a feud with a monarchy that had entirely forgotten his existence simply wouldn't do.
"Let them forget... but never yourself." His gaze shifted to the Organa family crest fluttering on banners in the wind as he sipped from a mug of Alderaanian whiskey.
He was not a forgiving man, nor did he overlook transgressions. Yet, he refused to hold the sins of their fathers and grandfathers against them. Petty grudges were beneath him. And so, he decided to let House Organa endure another day. His decision had nothing to do with the rather delightful meal presented on the plate before him.
"They certainly know how to prepare their food." Once clad in black robes, Nox now wore a white tunic adorned with the symbol of Zakuul embroidered along its seams. Golden tapestries draped from his arms, giving him the appearance of a monarch in an unfamiliar land.
His features were now unveiled to the world—aristocratic, with a strong jawline and a perfectly proportioned nose. Once black, star-flecked eyes now shone a crystalline blue. In every sense, he was the epitome of physical perfection. His sleek black hair was swept back, framing his face, while a calm expression rested on his flawless features.
"Hm... a fine dish," he mused, his palate satisfied as the cutlery settled on the plate. Many, captivated by his beauty, watched as he rose gracefully from his chair.
He wandered through the capital city, where the scars of war had long been buried. Yet, in his mind's eye, he could still see the shattered spires, the scattered corpses of the royal parties, and the lifeless bodies of household guards strewn about like grim decorations.
"Hm... good times." Malice gleamed in his eyes as memories of his youngest days resurfaced. He approached a speeder service droid, his hand reaching for its faceplate.
The Force fractured, a twisted void darker than even the infamous Dark Side swirling around the galaxy, flowing from his fingertips and engulfing the droid's head.
"To King's Pass," he commanded. The corrupt power of mechu-deru surged forth, the Force locking into place as he settled comfortably into the spacious passenger bay behind the droid.
"At once, sir," the droid replied, its lenses shifting from a friendly blue to an ominous crimson red. It gripped the yoke of the speeder, which roared out of the capital city and sped toward the mountains.
There was only one reason he would return to this world teeming with enemy factions, old blood or not.
He sought a ship, but not just any ship—only one befitting a former emperor. A vessel of status, a true emblem of wealth and power.
And if the memories of the countless spirits trapped within were reliable, he knew exactly where to find such a prize.
...
He leaned back against the plush seat, his dispassionate eyes following the Thranta gliding across the skies.
"Disgusting creatures," he muttered, his lips twisting into a sneer at their alien appearance. But after a moment's pause, he chuckled. "Though they do taste good."
They passed over a valley of ferns stretching toward the skies. He sat up, his eyes scanning the towering mountains as they slowed and crept through the valley.
For a moment, he wondered if he had been mistaken, if the memories of ghosts he had torn from their souls were unreliable.
"There..." He pointed to a shrouded cave entrance, his demeanor shifting to one of satisfaction. Any lingering doubts vanished like leaves in the wind.
The speeder descended swiftly, entering the tree line before coming to rest a few feet in front of the cave's vine-covered entrance.
Hopping off the vehicle, he waved a hand toward the driver and speeder, erasing all records of the journey with a simple gesture.
"Splendid," he murmured, clasping his hands behind his back as he strolled at a leisurely pace into the gaping mouth of the cave.
...
After several minutes of marching through pitch-black darkness, the cold, sharp stone walls dripping with moisture and echoing with the chittering of unseen creatures, abruptly gave way to durasteel plating. A soft glow revealed a vast hangar, nearly as old as Nox himself.
The ancient lights buzzed faintly, their flickering illumination barely enough to cast a dim glow over the space. Rusted and decrepit droids lay scattered across the hangar floor, long dead and forgotten.
But his attention was drawn to a single astromech unit slumped against the cave entrance, its frame a testament to years of waiting for someone who never returned.
"Come on," he muttered, crouching beside the droid's chassis. With a datapad in one hand and a power cell in the other, he opened the droid's back and replaced the worn-out component.
"Bee woop," the astromech chirped weakly as its shattered lenses flickered to life, running on half-drained energy.
"Hello again... I need to borrow something from you." He pressed the datapad against the droid's chassis, connecting remotely to access the embedded key in its circuits.
"Boo." The droid's head tilted slightly in confusion, its attempts to block the transfer overridden by fear of the figure before it. It was powerless to stop the removal of the access key.
"Appreciated," Nox said hoarsely, his voice cracking as he yanked the power cell from the droid's chassis. The action left the droid a half-destroyed wreck, emitting a pitiful whine.
Ignoring the droid, Nox turned his attention to the only pristine object in the long-abandoned hangar.
A silver ship, larger than any fighter. It was more of a political vessel than a warship, yet its immense power could alter the outcome of a war. It stood as the pinnacle of his empire's technological achievement.
With cloaking technology strong enough to evade even the most advanced tracking systems, nuclear missiles, and turbo lasers capable of cutting through a dreadnaught's armored shell, the X-70B luxury shuttle stood as the Imperial Intelligence's greatest asset. Residual power still coursing through its circuits.
"You shouldn't have turned against your emperor... foolish Cypher Nine," his mocking laughter echoed through the abandoned hangar. This vessel had belonged to a specific Imperial agent who once joined the task force to kill him. She was among the first to fall in the battle, and no one had been able to locate where she had hidden her ship. Thus, it remained here, unrecovered, since that fateful day.
"Thank you for your donation... traitorous slag," he sneered, aiming his datapad at the ship. With a tap of his finger the ship's ramp lowered with a groaning hiss, its long-unused hydraulics creaking as they moved.
He glided across the hangar and up the ship's ramp, into the depths of the high-class vessel, darkened by its lack of power.
Seeing through the pitch-black passages as if it were daylight, Nox made his way to the ship's reactor.
"And now... we have..." His fingers initiated the power-up process. A rumbling groan and a burst of static electricity echoed from the chamber before a shunt sounded within the vessel, and the reactor glowed a vibrant blue. "Life."
...
The mountains of King's Pass trembled as an ice-covered lake at the base of the pass fractured violently, splitting apart with explosive force, hurling chunks of ice into the air.
Bursting from beneath the ice lake, the X-70B roared into the air, groaning and tilting to one side from the wear and tear over the years.
Gripping the control yoke tightly, Nox hissed as he fought to keep the ship steady.
"Even in death, you can't stop causing trouble," Nox muttered about Cypher Nine with a grunt, urging the ship higher into the sky.
"This better work," he thought as the sensor range of Alderaan's flight control towers came into view. His hand darted to the button activating the vessel's stealth capabilities.
"Maybe not completely useless," he admitted as the ship's photosensitive plating rendered it a perfect mirage, disappearing into thin air as it ascended through Alderaan's skies and beyond the atmosphere.
Nox cast one last lingering glare at the planet's surface, his thoughts weighed down, before shifting his focus to the endless canopy of stars stretching through the bridge's viewport.
"First stop... repairs..." He sank back into the cushioned pilot's seat, contemplating where in the galaxy he could take the vessel for repairs—a ship so alien and advanced it would instantly draw the Republic's attention and their policing agencies. There were plenty of places to go, but few met the purpose he sought. He didn't just want to head to an isolated location, like an abandoned factory with automated systems to fix the ship instantly. He wanted to see what had become of his galaxy.
Which is why he didn't simply calculate Iokath's current location and jump there.
"Ah, I know," he muttered, initiating the ship's hyperdrive sequence. The vessel turned slowly, aligning itself toward an ancient Sith bastion world.
With a deafening screech, the ship shot out of Alderaan's system, an entrancing blue miasma swirling around its hull.
... CORELLIA ...
"And so ends the corporate monopoly," he thought. Once a thriving world with a bustling population, Corellia had been a utopia sustained by selling ships to the larger galaxy. During the era of the old Sith Empire, the planet had struck a delicate balance between corporate greed and urban growth.
But now... now it was a mere shadow of its former self, completely consumed by the Corellians' inherent lust for power and greed.
"Unidentified vessel, this is Corellia Air Traffic Control. Broadcast identification," came the monotone voice of the controller. Nox rolled his eyes and grunted, irritated by the endless bureaucratic drivel.
"Clear a hangar for my arrival and have a repair crew meet me there." The force grew heavy within the control bridge of the X-70. Across space, on the planet's surface, the man Nox had just mind-controlled went blank, broadcasting landing coordinates along with approval to land.
"Where are you going?" The control tower officer raised an eyebrow as he rose from his chair, his expression blank and nearly unblinking.
...
The X-70 settled down amidst the smog-covered atmosphere, lowering with creaking panels into a lone hangar Nox had gained access to.
Several crews awaited his arrival, looking up at the unfamiliar ship with a mix of confusion and worry. Panels were half hanging off, the landing gear nearly failed as it touched down, and fuel was actively leaking onto the landing pad.
"This is going to be a job and a half," a repairman grumbled as the ramp lowered.
Nox fought the urge to gag at the oppressive smog, a stark contrast to the lush, forested world he had called home for nearly three thousand years. Stepping onto this decayed planet felt like suffocation.
"She looks like she's been through hell," the boss of the repair crew remarked, striding up to Nox and extending a hand in a friendly manner.
"I just got her back. Someone stole her from me," Nox replied with a shrug, his demeanor softening into something more amicable.
"She's a real beauty. I can see why you wanted her back. But from what I can tell, fixing her is going to require some... very delicate work," the boss said, gesturing to a panel that revealed the intricate chaos beneath. Wires and components were so tightly interwoven that repairing them without the shop's blueprints seemed nearly impossible.
With this in mind, Nox handed a datapad to the crew boss.
"The ship's schematics..." His eyes narrowed, and the Force crept into the man's mind like crawling fingers. "Do not clone, copy, or sell these blueprints. Ensure it is restored to prime condition."
"Of course, sir," came the reply as the suggestion took root. The man turned back to his crew and motioned toward the ship.
"I'll leave it to you." With the crew's minds under control, he departed the hangar and stepped out onto Corellia's infested surface.
Disgusted by what this once-proud planet of his empire had become, Nox strode through the smog-filled streets with the commanding presence of a king. He pushed past gangsters and civilians alike, forcing his way through. The lush gardens of old had been replaced with cold steel structures—apartments and factories. It was as dystopian as it was disappointing.
Not wanting to linger and risk doing something these people would regret, Nox made his way to the only thing on Corellia that still held any sense of importance to him—though not out of desire but out of necessity for its existence.
... BoSS HQ ...
The Bureau of Ships and Services loomed high above the surrounding metropolis, a galactic superpower that even empires dared not challenge.
'How a single company controls every hyperlane... every ship in the galaxy is beyond me.' Nox couldn't fathom the foolishness of granting such power to one entity, one capable of toppling empires. Yet, it kept those powers in check. Who would dare challenge an organization that could redirect ships mid-jump into a star? Nobody wanted to cross such a force.
'Mortal foolishness...' Nox thought as he entered the HQ with a satisfied smile. The world inside was a stark contrast to the one outside.
Compared to the smog choking the city beyond, the bright white interior of the foyer was startling. Small potted plants adorned the center of the room, surrounded by cushioned couches facing away from them.
Fewer than five people sat scattered around the space. At the opposite end of the room stood a single reception desk, where a human woman with brown hair and sharp features tapped away at a data terminal, her movements detached and mechanical.
'They live in towers of ivory while humanity outside festers in slums,' Nox mused as he marched slowly across the gleaming floor. Each deliberate footstep echoed, drawing the gazes of the lounging occupants.
"What can I..." The receptionist's voice faltered as her eyes met Nox's. Her features softened, her gaze turned vacant, and all traces of will or expression vanished. "Help you with, sir?" she finished, her tone flat.
"I would like to arrange a meeting with the acting Head... please," Nox said evenly. The probe worked, and the receptionist nodded, her focus shifting back to the data terminal as her fingers flew over its keys.
"I'll arrange a meeting at once... A representative will be by to escort you shortly. Please take a seat." And with that, he turned away, striding towards one of the available couches, where he sat down with crossed legs and interwoven fingers.
...
Waltzing into an office high atop the BoSS building, Nox was met by a rather pretentious figure.
A man with cybernetic implants lounged in a chair, wearing the expression of someone who had just stepped in bantha dung. He regarded Nox as though he were some kind of insignificant insect.
"And who are you... to walk in here and demand an appointment?" he asked, his tone dripping with authority, as if he were the head of one of the galaxy's most powerful corporations.
Instead of responding immediately, Nox clasped his hands behind his back and strode toward the viewport, gazing down at Corellia and its teeming masses below.
"It must feel nice... having such power while the people below grovel for scraps." Contrary to what the director thought, Nox wasn't mocking or criticizing his efforts. In a way, he admired them.
Nox had risen from the pens of slaves, clawing his way over the corpses of anyone who stood in his path—his master, his allies, his superiors. He had killed the innocent and the guilty alike until he reached the pinnacle of the empire, holding unlimited power. And yet, it was never enough. He always wanted more.
"A different scale entirely... but he's done the same," Nox thought as he turned to the director—not with the gaze of someone seeking help, but with the calculating eyes of a manipulator discovering a new tool.
"I need you to do something for me." He didn't use mind control; he didn't want to. No, he sought domination—to make this insignificant gnat understand their place.
"I think you're..." Red light flared. Torrents of crimson lightning struck the director, his agonized screams echoing from the office and down the hallway.
Guards stormed in, weapons raised and aimed squarely at his back.
"Ignorant gnats." His hand clenched, and with a sickening crack, two necks twisted 180°, blood erupting from their mouths and splattering the insides of their helmets. The crimson liquid seeped through the seams of their masks, dripping onto the floor as their lifeless bodies crumpled.
"Am I mistaken?" Nox asked, his pace slow and deliberate as he rounded the desk where the director writhed on the ground, pain coursing through him. "Really?"
"I don't think so," Nox continued, raising his right hand and pointing at the director. "I believe it is you... who is gravely mistaken... feeble creature."
Waves of malevolent hatred radiated from Nox, scorching the air itself. The director screamed as his skin charred, hair burned away, and his scalp scarred. His right ear burst with an agonizing rupture.
"Yes... yes... it seems I have been mistaken," Nox sneered as another searing fork of red energy lashed the director's skin. Too agonized to plead or weep, the man's tear ducts were burned clean from his face, his charred flesh gaunt and stricken, as if his life had been drained slowly... painfully.
"It was my mistake to think a creature like you could rub two brain cells together to create thought." The lightning stopped just short of ending the man's life—it wouldn't be worth the energy to resurrect this creature.
"Now..." Nox knelt and placed his hand on the side of the director's head. "I'm going to need a couple of things from you."
The force split and surged, the man's skin healing and stitching itself together visibly.
Unholy terror flared in the director's eyes as he found himself completely sound and whole in an instant, as if he hadn't just been struck by the concentrated power of a superstorm.
"Pl...please... I... I'll do anything," the man stammered in fear, his fully healed vocal cords trembling.
"I'm sure you can do anything. And you will do what I say, or I will rip your soul from your body and trap it in a stone that I'll hurl into Corellia's boiling oceans." The man grew weak as faint tendrils of energy, visible to the director's eyes, seeped from his body. His vision dimmed, but a sense of existence lingered. He knew without a shred of doubt that the being towering over him could deliver on his threat.
"But if you obey me—no failures, no betrayals, no cunning schemes—I can give you what you desire most." The director's vitality rushed back into his body as Nox ran his fingers over the director's restored hairline. "I can make it happen, you know. Not just the head of the bureau, but a seat on the board. How about thirty percent of the board's control? I'll kill them all from here, right now. It doesn't matter where they are in the galaxy. No one will ever suspect a thing, and you can sweep in. How does that sound?"
"I... it sounds splendid," the director stammered, groveling as he collapsed to his knees. Nox stood tall above him, and the director wanted nothing more than to leave with his life intact.
"Now... onto business." Thoroughly intimidated, Nox smiled kindly, as though he hadn't just incinerated a man alive for merely irritating him.
"Y...yes, of course." The man rose swiftly and moved to his computer terminal, pounding in his chest as he obeyed every one of Nox's commands.
Before Nox left, he paused, much to the trembling man's horror.
"Send me the details of the board members obstructing you... I will handle them immediately. And remember... what happened today. Rule a company, rule the galaxy—it is meaningless in the presence of a God. Do not... make me return." With that, Nox departed, stepping over the corpses of the fallen guards with an amused snort.
...
"He did it." Telros leaned back as a notice was sent through the higher-ups in the company. Twelve individuals, the most powerful in the galaxy, were simply... gone. Vanished off the face of existence, disappearing from their bedrooms—sometimes two at the same moment across the galaxy.
"How? It's not possible." The only way someone could make two separate people disappear in different places simultaneously, to be in two places at once, was if they were... "A god."
His gulp echoed audibly through the office. The charred desk before him served as a grim reminder of what it meant to cross this deity.
But there was opportunity—he could feel it. This deity had kept its promise, offering him a stepping stone to rise beyond his current position. After all, there was always opportunity in chaos.
"But first, I need to authorize his requests." And he would, without fail. Otherwise, this path to ascension would be offered to someone else.
...
By the time three days had passed, Nox stood before a fully restored X-70B. The ship was now equipped with top-tier credentials within the BoSS network, enabling it to access almost any system with nothing more than a cursory scan and ID check. No Republic vessel would dare detain it without cause, as doing so would risk severe retaliation from the BoSS. To intercept a ship with such credentials was essentially career suicide.
Beside him were three cold boxes filled with crucial data. These contained information about worlds removed from official charts, their locational data rendered obsolete and hidden by the BoSS, such as Iokath and other secretive locations. This data, personally removed from storage and gifted to him upon request, was invaluable. Other boxes held location data on long-lost vessels and hints from dormant transponders, while the final box contained hyperspace lane information restricted from public or high-level access. All of this was handed over by the director-turned-board-member, who not only provided the data but also funded the ship's restoration.
'A Good Deed' The cold boxes were loaded onto the ship by a protocol droid whose memory was scheduled for immediate wiping. With the repair crew long gone and the schematics left behind in his quarters, Nox felt satisfied with the results of his journey to the planet.
"Now, time to leave this place," he muttered as the protocol droid stood outside the X-70, its ramp closing smoothly. The ship started up with a gentle hum instead of the harsh clanking from before.
At his command, the ship lifted gracefully from the landing pad, its sleek plating gleaming under the shifting lights. It ascended out of the hangar and soared through Corellia's smog-laden atmosphere with ease.
With his ship fully repaired, the entire galaxy lay open before him, ready for exploration—and he intended to embrace every opportunity it offered.
...
For the next three months, he roamed away from the core worlds and their bustling lands. A silent phantom drifting from planet to planet, savoring everything they had to offer. He lingered for long stretches, spending little and receiving much. His reintroduction to the galaxy was fraught with the unfamiliar, things he hadn't seen in his three millennia outside the galactic eye.
Yet, the contrasts between then and now were striking. Languages and expressions had evolved, forcing him to relearn. Technologies, though seemingly regressed in some ways, required his adaptation. Civilizations he had once dreamed of visiting had crumbled into the ground or vanished altogether.
Mandalorians had become pacifists, a notion that churned his stomach. Jedi had bound themselves to the Senate, becoming its obedient servants.
The most infuriating, however, were the Sith... the one lurking at the heart of the Republic, hidden away. It wasn't just the Sith that angered him, but what they had become—a force once feared across the galaxy, reduced to mere myths and ghost stories to frighten children.
"But it works for me as well." Once again on Coruscant, despite his wishes. A saucer sloshed with liquid as he sat in a high-end restaurant on the surface, his gaze drifting toward the Jedi Temple in contemplation.
"Few have the foresight to prepare for something they don't believe exists." He downed his drink and placed the saucer on the crystal table before him. "Even fewer, when blindness clouds their vision."
Many assumed the Sith Emperor would loathe the Jedi for their past transgressions. And, in many ways, he did. For their history, their rigid beliefs, and their unyielding ideals. Yet, he had met Jedi he got along with—though just as many he wouldn't hesitate to kill. But that applied to everyone. It wasn't that he cared for the Jedi or their actions; it was precisely his indifference that granted him the detachment to observe the slow decay of their order.
He didn't care about them—their whims, wants, shame, or pleasure. To him, they were so insignificant they might as well not exist. After all, a god has no concern for the desires and fears of ants.
But not caring didn't mean he wasn't wary of them. And so, here he was, back on Coruscant, within sight of the Jedi Temple. He had come to see what had become of them.
His eyes fluttered shut as tendrils of shadowed energy crept through the levels of Coruscant. His eyes moved beneath closed lids, seeing everything and everyone through the Force.
"There..." A radiant light, not from the Jedi Temple. "Must be a Jedi Master."
With that, he stepped to the edge of the balcony and casually walked off, to the horror of onlookers. Their screams echoed as he plunged downward, a chuckle escaping his lips.
....
Shiel Kalawa strolled through the lower levels of Coruscant, eager to enjoy some time away from the Jedi Order with her soon-to-be-knighted Padawan, Cole Sinwe.
"Come on, Master, we're going to be colleagues soon enough," the young man said, his tone carrying the warmth of someone speaking to a parent.
"That we are... that we are," she replied, noting how many kept their distance, the less savory types avoiding any interaction.
"Ah, here we are," Cole said, leading them to an underground speeder race. His master raised an eyebrow, and he winced in response.
"Uh... I thought, you know, we might as well place some bets. See that guy there?" He pointed to a Nikto waving to the crowd. "He's won every race since he got here three weeks ago... I'm putting all my savings on him."
Studying the Nikto intently, Shiel shook her head in exasperation, running a down her face.
"Double it."
The two watched the thrilling race as the crowd cheered. Their hair blew wildly as each speeder blitzed past, howling around the predetermined course.
"YEAH!" Cole thrust his hands into the air as the Nikto they had bet on rounded the final corner and claimed first place amidst the roaring crowd.
It was then that Shiel's eyes narrowed. There was a shift in the atmosphere, one her apprentice failed to notice.
She watched the Nikto round the corner, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end as her head snapped around.
There, behind the crowd, upon a pylon, a figure knelt with a rifle in hand.
Before she could react, a bolt of green energy shot from the sniper's barrel, screeching over the crowd and into the track. It struck the coupling of the leading speeder, severing its engine as the vehicle plummeted into the depths of Coruscant, exploding in a fiery death just seconds later.
The crowd fell into stunned silence before chaos erupted. Screams of fear and terror echoed as children, teens, and adults of all species fled in panic.
But Shiel stood firm, her hand steady on Cole's shoulder, directing his gaze to the man rising from the pylon. He gave them a fleeting glance before slinging his rifle over his back and sprinting away.
"On him," Shiel commanded, and they broke into pursuit. Their agile movements carried them over the pylon and up the wall, landing on the rooftop to continue their chase.
"He's fast," Cole muttered, watching the assassin vault several meters into the air, landing effortlessly on a rooftop across a deep chasm between buildings.
They didn't hesitate, leaping after him. As they ran, with Cole in the lead, a creeping dread began to settle in Shiel's gut. The man dropped into an alley below, and just as she was about to call out, Cole followed.
Cursing under her breath, Shiel leapt to the alley's entrance, landing gracefully at the mouth of the alley to cut off the fleeing individual.
"You're under arrest," Cole hissed, his blue saber casting shadows across his face in the dark alley.
In an instant, Shiel ignited her own saber, gripping the hilt with both hands as the man with the rifle darted his eyes between them, deciding who to engage.
"Am I?" he sneered, the words dripping with mockery. Before they could react, he raised the rifle, fired at Shiel, then swung the weapon toward Cole's head.
"Master!" Shiel shouted, deflecting the bolt aimed at her as Cole sidestepped the flying rifle.
Cole's words caught in his throat as Nox closed the distance, seizing his wrist in a vice-like grip.
With his free hand, Nox delivered a solid punch to Cole's jaw, sending the Jedi off balance. Spinning, Nox drove a backward kick into Cole's stomach. Still holding Cole's saber hand, he capitalized on the moment, disarming the Jedi Knight and slashing at his knees in a single fluid motion.
"COLE..." Shiel barely had time to react after blocking. In less than two seconds, the man had disarmed Cole and left him on the ground nursing gashes on his kneecaps.
Her nostrils flared as anger surged through her, her demeanor shifting to sharp and focused rage as she glared at the attacker who had harmed her precious student.
"I didn't think Jedi were allowed to get angry," he sneered. His stance was unfamiliar yet carried traces of Makashi, if she wasn't mistaken. His left leg slid back half a foot, his right planted forward for balance, and his right arm extended at an angle of 95°.
What she didn't realize was that this was the lightsaber form of Tulak Hord, the greatest duelist in the history of the Sith Order.
'He's been trained,' she thought, her anger spiking again. It was a setup, with her apprentice lying immobilized behind the man now wielding his blade. 'A runaway Jedi, perhaps.'
She heard Cole's faint whimper from where she stood and felt a flicker of relief at his survival. But she steeled herself a moment later—she still had an opponent to face, and no time worry.
"It was us you wanted, wasn't it... not the pod racer?" Her suspicions were neither confirmed nor denied as the man simply studied her. "Very well, we'll interrogate you once you're in custody."
She lunged forward with a thrust, officially starting their duel.
'Definitely aided by the Force.' With reflexes only a Jedi could possess, Shiel observed the young man's head tilt slightly as he shifted his stance and sidestepped away.
She halted and pivoted just as Nox's borrowed saber rose, slashing diagonally toward her torso.
'Strong too.' A slash to the left, a block to the right, followed by a spinning slash aimed at her lower abdomen. It quickly became clear he was mocking her. He wasn't truly defending with the saber—just stepping aside, leaning back, or casually knocking her strikes away with the back of his hand.
'I was mistaken... this is no wayward apprentice.' She retreated, reassessing their brief exchange.
No wasted movements, complete confidence, not even attempting to block. The effortless grace in his steps made it obvious—he was no novice.
'A knight or a master, then.' Her scowl deepened as she felt the shift in the alley. Her opponent lowered himself forward, preparing to launch an offensive.
"Try not to get dismembered," he growled, lurching forward with his bladed arm raised.
What she initially thought was a jab to the neck shifted as his wrist rotated downward. The blade came slashing diagonally, its arc threatening to spill her guts.
"It's definitely Makashi," she thought, recognizing the elegant form she'd only seen once before—with Count Dooku. She deflected the downward strike, angling the blade away to her right.
"No... even Dooku didn't wield his blade with such ease." His wrist rotated smoothly, his arm bent over his stomach, and the blade spun in his grip as he thrust forward.
Her teeth clenched as she blocked the stab, but her vision blurred when Nox's forehead smashed into her nose.
Disappointed beyond belief, Nox didn't give the Jedi Master a chance to collect herself.
"This is the Order's standard now… utterly pathetic," he muttered, his humor fading with each exchange. He never fully committed, yet the master found herself barely able to defend.
As his amusement faded, his bladework shifted once more. His feet danced to a new rhythm, the blade twisting back and forth violently with minimal flicks of his wrists.
Shiel's arms wavered as Nox's blue blade became a blur, each graze threatening to dislodge her lightsaber from her grip.
Finally, a grazing strike pushed her arm slightly farther than usual. Nox stepped in, his free hand grabbing Shiel's saber hand, and moved clean into her guard until they were less than half an arm's length apart.
"Please." She knew she was defeated, her eyes widening at the sudden shift in their duel. She hadn't lasted more than twenty seconds in total. And now, here she was, at the mercy of a man who was a far greater duelist than she could have ever anticipated.
She looked up at him with wide eyes, a split second passing as if in consideration.
"Is this what has become of you?" With the saber of her own student in hand, Nox raised it and plunged it directly through the center of her head, killing her instantly.
"MASTER, NOOO!" Cole's cry echoed as Nox turned back to him, a grasping gesture dragging the rifle he had used to kill the pod racer earlier. As he approached the fallen young man, Cole looked up at him with nothing but utter contempt and hatred.
"A shame you'll never have a chance to experience the power of such raw emotion." Nox didn't give Cole the chance to speak. He simply raised the rifle to Cole's forehead and pulled the trigger.
"A pity." He slung the rifle over his shoulder, clipped the saber to his tunic's belt, and with a crouch, leapt up and out of the alley.
...CHAPTER COMPLETE...
hey guys i hoped you liked this chapter . if anyone has any supporting comments , ideas or thoughts please feel free to make them known , i want to hear everyones feedback . until next chapter