Chapter Fifteen: Returns
The acolytes surrounded the fallen monstrosity for a closer look as it stewed in its lifelessness. As the pool of green fluid steadily flowed from the creature, the students looked with inquisitive eyes, unsure if it was blood or venom, or whether the two were even separable in such a dastardly beast.
"Did we just do… what I think we did?" Ryloh asked, his torso hunched over as he drew in a series of exhausted breaths.
"We did," Lorrik stated, genuinely astounded. "We killed a terentatek. A creature whose sole purpose was literally to kill Force-users."
"The ancient Sith left us such wonderful gifts," Arlia joked through parsed breaths.
"How many points does this earn you with your god?" Kar'ai asked as she elbowed the neighboring Trandoshan.
"Is no servant to Scorekeeper," Nesk muttered. "But… is satisfied."
"I'd say we've more than proven our strength… all of us," Jresh confidently stated, shooting a glance toward Isorr, who tried his hardest to keep his stance rigid despite suffering the same exhaustion as his peers.
The Zabrak righted his posture, turning his back on the fallen beast. "It's dead. Time to move on."
"He's right," Jresh admitted. "The Academy is in our sights and there nothing more this miserable planet can throw at us."
"Please… please, don't say things like that," Lorrik offered with a heavy sigh.
"If you'd like, we could see where these caves lead. Who knows, there might be a tomb at the end of one of the passages," Jresh joked.
"Is this seriously what it feels like to be on the other end of my snark? I'm so… so sorry everyone," Lorrik muttered as he appeared on the brink of slumping entirely to the ground.
Placing a hand on his companion's shoulder, the Pureblood reassured the Human of their purpose. Setting their eyes to the exposed skies above, they replaced conversations with an unshakable desire to proceed. Moving over to where the edge of the pit began, Jresh steadied himself before lowering his stance and coupling his hands in front of him.
"Come on, I'll give you a boost," Jresh stated.
With a deep breath, Lorrik approached his partner and placed a foot in the palms of the warrior's hands. With a powerful lift, the Pureblood shot the inquisitor upward enough for him to adequately claw himself over the edge and back onto the surrounding plains of Korriban. The acolytes followed with similar measures of success. As Jresh offered his services to Isorr, the Zabrak simply cast one dismissing glance before leaping up unassisted. With a powerful jump, Isorr was able to just barely make it up to the edge. Jresh offered one harsh arch of his brow before doing the same. With the eight acolytes walking upon the cracked terrain once more, they set forth on a determined stride toward the Academy.
The students trudged along, their eyes glazed over with a dulled expression of fatigued determination. They had been beaten and battered, against stone and claw, and their attire showed as much. The acolytes finished off the contents of their beaten canteens, hydrated themselves for the final stretch home. A mountain range laid perpendicular to the horizon, blocking any true view to the Academy, but the tell-tale signs of monuments peaked over its ridges. The hind of bowed heads, hewn from stone and towering over the grounds in front of the Academy, revealed themselves to careful eyes. Heading toward the opening in the range to their left, the acolytes knew they were close to their return. Close to their apprenticeship.
And all eight continued. Their progression now fully within their sights, within their grasps, and none thought to deviate. None thought to cast their fellows aside. None thought to surge forward or drift behind. The eight students had survived together. Thrived together. They intended to arrive together. To see their master's face. To face their master's judgment.
The acolytes marched in silence. Time had lost its meaning. There was no distinguishing seconds, nor minutes, nor hours. So many things had lost their impact, lost their definition. Drive was the only thing that remained within the students, but it was a sufficient motivator to propel their drying husks across the cracked terrain. Finally, after all the toil, after all the sore steps of aching feet, the silence was broken.
A series of gasps and expressions of joy followed as the group passed the threshold of the surrounding ridge. There it was. In the distance. The Academy. Nestled in the rear of a protective wedge of mountain ranges, the dark prism had finally revealed itself. Beyond the statues. Beyond the tombs. Beyond the excavations. At the foot of the opening, a great many things loomed over the acolytes. A line of towering statues stood to their left and right. The raised, grandiose institution watched over the entirety of the proceedings within its domain. A security checkpoint lay between the students and their destination.
A military grade barrier had been constructed at the threshold of the Academy grounds, manned by Imperial soldiers donning red armor. As the students slowly shuffled toward the entrance, the sentries took careful notice. Upon the eight individuals' approach, a pair of sentries raised their rifles and trained them on the acolytes.
"Halt!" one of the Imperials shouted.
"Out of our way!" Isorr shouted back. The Imperial shot out a warning bolt above the Zabrak's head.
"I said, 'Halt!'" the sentry continued.
"This isn't the time to be testing the person holding a blaster!" Arlia harshly whispered to her partner.
Lorrik raised his hands, flashing his open palms as he stepped forward. "We're from the Academy! We're acolytes! Let us through!"
"Acolytes?" the sentry muttered in disbelief. Turning toward one of his fellows, the Imperials shared hushed whispers with another guard, each still refusing to lower their weapon.
"Don't think you can fool us! Their kind aren't admitted to the Academy!" the other sentry exclaimed. "You're either escaped slaves… or Republic spies!"
Kar'ai balked, mouth agape. "What? That's ridiculous!"
"We've been students of this Academy for years!" Ryloh attempted to explain.
"Everyone remain calm… we can talk through this!" Lorrik said to his allies.
While the Human's attention was focused on the other acolytes, Jresh took a step toward the sentries.
"'Their kind aren't admitted to the Academy'?" Jresh repeated, his voice bitterly cold and his visage following its lead. "Is that what you said?" The sentries hesitantly reaffirmed their rifles upon the approaching Pureblood. "And what of my kind? Surely you recognize the face of a Sith. Of someone who is your better by birth alone? Isn't that what you've been taught? Red skin. Fleshy tendrils. The traits of someone you should needlessly respect and admire. Judge not by one's action or abilities, but by their appearance and bloodline. Isn't that correct?"
"We-" one of the sentries struggled to speak.
"These men and women are every bit my equals, and you would dare to deny them entrance to the place they have spent years shedding their blood, sweat, and tears to appease the whims of those as close minded as yourselves? We are acolytes, and now the apprentices, of Lord Syrosk. I demand that you step aside, and-"
Interrupting the warrior's speech was the firing of another blaster bolt. Quickly, the Pureblood raised his fist, blocking the round with his gauntlet. Jresh remained adamant through the blast, even as it stripped the material from his glove and a layer of charred flesh from his forearm beneath. Ignoring injury and pain, Jresh pressed forward the last few steps needed to close the gap between himself and the sentries. Talking hold of the firing Imperial's weapon, the Pureblood sent a charred backhand across the sentry's facemask, driving him to the ground. As the sentry's partner trembled on the spot, Jresh was already upon him, sweeping him to the ground and cracking his chest plate under his cascading foot.
The other acolytes rushed forward to join their compatriot, but a squad of Imperials were doing the same. Stepping beyond the threshold of the barrier, the eight students saw over ten sentries approaching their position. Stopping an adequate distance away, the Imperials stepped into a line formation, drawing and aiming their blaster rifles toward the intruding acolytes. The students remained utterly still, unwilling to challenge the sentries outright.
Suddenly, a dark figure landed from the skies between the students and the Imperial guards. Kneeling, his head lowered, all attention was drawn to the figure's suffocating black cloak and his extended arm, wielding within its grasp the crimson blade of an ignited lightsaber. The entirety of his torso donned in black armored plates, the only discernible detail were the two curved horns sprouting from the individual's cranium. Slowly raising his head, the figure looked upon the group of battered and tattered acolytes with an atypical smirk.
"Welcome back… my apprentices."