Friendly format hack :)

V: Creed of Ruin

"The dark side will devour those who lack the power to control it. It is a fierce storm of emotion that annihilates anything in its path. It lays waste to the weak and unworthy.

But those who are strong can ride the storm winds to unfathomable heights. They can unlock their true potential; they can sever the chains that bind them; they can dominate the world around them. Only those with the power to control the dark side can ever truly be free."

– Darth Bane

A few more cracks. They seemed to glow.

Weiss clawed her fingers even more, focusing. There was nothing in her hands. The rock was levitating a bit in front of her.

A chip broke off and flew away, but she didn't let it distract her.

She continued crushing it with the Force; a sensation between squeezing something between her palms and operating a hydraulic press – and feeling what the piston arm would feel, if it could.

The rock shattered, a few large pieces and many smaller ones scattering in all directions – except they didn't. At the speed of thought she re-oriented herself, extending the sphere of her focus with the Force, catching the pieces and freezing the explosion in midair.

She opened her eyes. The constellation of pieces in front of her was pretty, its kinetics frozen in time. It was like an art exhibit.

With a smile, she lowered them carefully to the floor, giving herself a rest before moving them all away to be disposed of. It still wasn't easy – she had to focus her attention and use her hand as a conduit – but it was quite doable.

That would be the end of her meditation. She uncurled her legs and rose from her bed, letting herself stand still for a minute to allow her body and mind to transition. It was the time for the day's evening training.

Not bothering to fix her hair, she casually strolled out of her room and down the corridor. Phage's building was dominated by the domed arena, and the other rooms were all functional. Her room was small, but decent and private.

She yawned as she walked, somewhat hoping this session wouldn't be something arduous. Every training period focused on a single theme or type of exercise, but it was always a surprise that wasn't spoiled until it was time to begin. Weiss suspected it was largely a matter of the Sith Lord's mood.

Her spirits jumped after she entered; Phage was seated on the ground in a meditative pose, slightly off center from the middle of the arena. He faced a small pyramidal object that occupied the floor's true nucleus. This was to be an academic and lore session, by far the rarest and the most enjoyable – if only because they didn't leave her utterly exhausted by the end.

She took her place opposite him and equidistant from the object, mimicking his pose as she sat down.

There was silence. His eyes were shut, his breaths steady and controlled.

Weiss studied the object in between them for some time, tracing its geometric sides and sharp edges. Its outer layer was a case of crimson metal, sparsely adorned with arcane symbols and itself molded in the shape of ancient glyphs. The numerous spaces and gaps formed by the carved motifs revealed a smooth crystalline structure underneath, just exposed enough to be visible via slivers of reflected light. The pyramid's front surface was distinguished by its unique design – writing in the ancient Sith script. The letters were bestial and intimating, formed by long vertical strokes surrounded by tertiary ornamentation that differentiated each one.

Weiss broke the silence when the device began to bore her.

"I've been studying those lightsabers. It seems like such an elegant weapon."

His lips formed into a smile, though the rest of his countenance remained unchanged.

"It's a good sign that you are drawn to it. The first weapon of its kind was known as the Forcesaber, created by the ancient Rakata in their quest to enslave the galaxy. It is a lost design that used the same basic idea of energy channeled through a crystal, but it had no power source. It was powered solely by the Dark Side."

He paused, opening his eyes and resting his hands on his legs as his posture relaxed.

"When the first order of Force users, the Je'daii of Tython, discovered the Forcesaber, it split them in two. Some wanted to use the weapon, others were too afraid of the dark side. But none could deny its potency, and so eventually the timid and fearful ones created Forcesabers that took their energy from a powerpack attached by a cord. That design was eventually miniaturized and optimized into the modern lightsaber. Nevertheless, it could be said that the Forcesaber caused the first divide between those who would cower before the power of the Force, and those who would master it instead."

"The first Sith?"

"Not yet. Not technically, at least. But the first Jedi who were willing to take advantage of the dark side, yes. In many ways, the lightsaber parallels the Force – it is a weapon of astonishing power and ability, but one that is just as dangerous to the user if not mastered first. True to its origins, it is a quintessentially Sith weapon. It begs to be controlled, used, to unleash untold slaughter – but it will gladly kill the unworthy who attempt to unlock it. In another one of the proofs of the Sith philosophy, even the Jedi choose the weapon, endlessly trying to master it as a Sith would master the Force."

Quiet returned, as Phage returned to mediation.

Weiss didn't want to just wait until he was ready to continue. "Can I see your lightsaber again?"

Without acknowledging, Phage took his weapon from inside his robe and handed it to her.

She stood and backed away, examining it for a while. Every lightsaber was master crafted, and just holding it gave her a connection to an ancient, weighty past.

Activating it never ceased to impress. The low hum, the way the crimson blade raced to its full length in the blink of eye, yet still slowly enough to watch, to marvel at.

With a flick of her wrist, she began twirling and playing with it, eventually transitioning into parrying and feinting.

Weiss had always been interested in swordplay. She thought it was elegant, sophisticated, and no less than a little romantic. She thoroughly enjoyed fencing, though her father had tried to ruin the sport for her with his insatiable perfectionism. Unfortunately, the nimble, graceful weapons she adored were useless for her plans to become a Huntress. The creatures of Grimm had thick hides and often possessed great bulk; a thin, lissome blade was simply not up to the task. Nor were dignified, careful lunges and stabs; even a severed limb would not halt a Grimm's mindless assault. A small incision was utterly meaningless.

Myrtenaster was her favorite expression of individuality, but she knew she was lucky to be able to use it as a serious weapon. Her semblance harmonized well with the sword, but in truth it was still unnecessary. Weiss fought with her glyphs, using Myrtenaster to aim and direct her power – tasks a wand or even her hand would suffice to do. Its other use was as a humble Dust carrier, once again fueling her powers from the sidelines. Determined to use the blade itself, she had developed a fighting style based on using her semblance for extreme mobility and using her aura to give great strength to the sword's blows. It was effective, but still forced and contrived. Against the more powerful Grimm, the small rapier was simply inadequate.

But a lightsaber…

A lightsaber could slice through almost anything effortlessly, without requiring supernatural strength or perfect positioning. On Remnant it would be a dangerous weapon in its own right, without having to double as a wand or a Dust dispenser.

Even more captivating was how a lightsaber was used. Weiss had watched holovids of various form demonstrations and actual combat with the weapons. To call it sparring was too barbaric, to call it swordplay was underwhelming; it was no less than a breathtaking dance. Even from the other Remnant swordsmen who used supernatural abilities to enhance their movements, Weiss had never imagined such style was possible. The actors capered, twirled, and leapt in fluid polyphony, their every ordained movement putting the most elven fencer to shame. Yet their éclat was murderous, their wide slashes decapitating and their sky borne lunges eviscerating. The dancers surrounded themselves with a light show as deadly as it was intoxicating, radiating death and violence as their glowing blades covered every angle around them in seconds. Even their weapons themselves seemed to embody the nature of the show; the super-heated blades cauterized the limbs, torsos, and necks they flayed and serrated, so that their aftermath was a clean overview of the defeated rather than a macabre butcher's floor of blood.

She had seen single, anachronistic warriors extinguish squadrons of hardened mercenaries and cruel war droids, weaving through floods of projectiles and the bodies producing them with equal grace. Bright tornadoes of impossible acrobatics, they cut through swathes of trained phalanxes and thuggish mobs, leaving only endless cadavers to mark their path. Their divine skill and amazing weapons combined to grant them savage efficiency that could halt conquering armies - they didn't need to justify their swords by integrating ranged weapons or using them to channel other abilities.

Almost immediately, Weiss had fallen in love with the lightsaber.

She felt a wave hit her, just strong enough to knock her from a teetering pose to the floor.

"Always pay attention to your surroundings."

Weiss was annoyed by Phage's way of getting her attention, though she noticed it didn't anger her like it once would have. "Sorry. I got carried away."

"Lost in your thoughts, I could tell. But lightsaber combat is a good thing to be lost in."

She sat down again, handing him back the lightsaber. "It's just...it's still a lot for me. A few months ago I thought Remnant was the only planet in the universe. Now I don't even know if it exists." She looked down. "The lightsaber...it gives me something to relate to, I guess. Something that connects here and there."

"It's good for a Sith to find comfort in weapons," Phage said with a slight smile.

"Yeah. That's really how it was, on my planet. Your weapons are very much who you are. And I like swords, rapiers."

She sighed, debating on whether to continue. Normally she wouldn't. But why not? She had nothing to lose. It wasn't like Phage would judge her.

"It took me a while to calm my thoughts down, I guess. Like, really come to terms with where I am so I can actually think and analyze it. So I've been thinking a lot now. The day before I came here, my life was perfect. I wasn't happy, no – but I had so much. I had the entire Schnee Dust Company. It was mine. My inheritance. My entitlement. So much wealth, and power, and just...never having to worry about anything. And sometimes I feel like I threw it all away. I could have done things differently. I could have played the game." She looked around. "It's still surreal I'm here. When I think back to Remnant, and then look around, it's like I still can't believe it, can't process it. And all because of that one day."

"It's possible to over glamorize something we miss."

"And I am. It was terrible in so many ways. And I didn't want that. I know that. I know what I wanted. But you can't blame me for looking back."

"And I'm sure there's not much else to do, for now. What does the Force tell you?"

"It's distracting. I usually just get sad, or mad."

"For the best, perhaps. Intelligent beings love to ruminate in the past. It's evolutionary. When we study our mistakes and our humiliations, maybe we can avoid them in the future. But people do it too much. Living in the past becomes a life of its own."

"Especially if you don't have a future. Or if your future is...mine. It all feels like the same day here. Like living in the present, forever." She looked at him. "I honestly have never thought about where I go from here. Besides some vague notion of going back to Remnant."

"The Path of Power?"

She smiled and looked away. "I'll admit, it is tempting." She enjoyed what she learned. She enjoyed the Dark Side.

"The Dark Side loves to tempt, after all. How does the Dark Side in particular make you feel about Remnant?"

She started to answer, then paused. "You know...when I think of Remnant, it feels, odd. I felt the Force on Remnant. I know that now. But it...it wasn't the Force. Not like here. When I think about it, I feel...strange. Uncomfortable. Like something was...different...that I never noticed before. But I guess it doesn't matter. I think I'd be ok with never going back. I have nothing left there."

"As you know, the first Sith – the first dark Jedi, as they were known then – were cast out for their views. Xendor the first time, then the famous Exiles the second. But they were only the first – name an era and I can list its exiles, endless names who were betrayed by the Jedi, told they had no right to use the Force simply because they saw its full potential."

Phage grinned slyly. "Imagine being the rightful heir of something, only to have it denied you? After all you did? All you achieved? Because it wasn't exactly what others wanted, exactly how others wanted it done, they threw you away."

Weiss smiled.

He continued. "I suppose most of the Sith ended up here, this way. The path of Exile. How else could you find the true nature of life? Would a society, invested in its own lies and structure, tell you? No. You'd have to find it alone."

"And here I am," Weiss said.

"The Sith teachings are forbidden to Jedi, but we study Jedi views as we please. The Jedi know that if they opened themselves to our views, they would find them true. It is no coincidence that countless Jedi over the eons have turned to the Sith, but only a bare handful of Sith have ever turned to the chains of the Jedi. They know this well, which is why they must forbid our teachings, why they must hunt us – as they always have."

"Do the Jedi still exist? Or are they just rhetorical stand-in for everything bad?"

Phage seemed to be caught rather off guard. "I don't know."

"Do the Sith?"

"We do- I do," he corrected.

"...and this is all that's left?" She asked somewhat jokingly, motioning around.

"There is more. Don't worry about that. Perhaps I will show you. Perhaps."

"Perhaps."

"Tell me, Weiss Schnee. What attracts you to the Dark Side? I've told you why you should be attracted to it – or rather, why you should admit you are. But what does it mean to you?"

"It's a tool, I guess. A very useful one."

"And what can this tool give you?"

"Power." She was caught off guard by how quickly and firmly she had answered.

"Is that all?"

"No. Power is a tool itself."

"For what?"

"For victory. To break my chains. For…" She looked around her. "For whatever I want. For freedom."

"The Sith Code. But does the code mean anything else?"

"Yes. It refutes the Jedi. It…lays out how you attain power and freedom. It establishes that you don't have to cut yourself off from your emotions. But I think freedom itself is the most important aspect. Freedom as a goal."

"You are not free if you are a slave, even if to your own desires. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"What about to the Force?"

She thought about it. "I think...not every Sith was free."

"Oh?"

"I remember those two you taught me about. Darth Sion and Darth Nihilus. Sion called himself the Lord of Pain, but when that Jedi tricked him into letting go for just a second, he was ended. How can you be a lord of something you can't live without?"

"Mmm. Darth Sion was not the master of pain, pain was the master of him – he was unable to live without it. He was the mirror image of a coddled child who is driven to tears by the merest discomfort; weak and pathetic, without any control of their sensations."

"Darth Nihilus, though... I can barely believe he would consume the populations of entire planets with the Force. It's like a fairy tale to me. "An involuntary shudder went through her body as she thought about it. "But I know it's real, because I feel it in the Force." On Remnant, all of civilization was pushed back and checked by the Grimm, but the Grimm were nothing more than misbehaved toys compared to a being of such power.

"And you are correct. He was so powerful he was a wound in the Force; his mere presence caused suffering and discomfort to all life. And yet, for whom? As with Sion, he called himself the Lord of Hunger, but he switched the words. Nihilus was long dead by the time he reached his pinnacle, devoured by his own gluttony. Overcome by the Dark Side. He had no goals and barely a mind; he existed only to feed himself, like some primordial animal."

"And that's what I have to ask. If that's the goal – power like that...but even Nihilus wasn't powerful enough to stay in control. How can anyone use the Dark Side if it will take over?"

"Will it? The Force is not alive, girl. The Force reflects the emotions of beings in the galaxy; the dark side is their dissatisfied, impassioned set. Greed, lust, envy, hate – these feelings convey with them enticement and power lust, the desire to dominate others. That is what you feel when the dark side tempts you; there is no guiding malevolence.

Darth Nihilus was not consumed by the Force – he was consumed by his own weakness. His deathly rampages did not benefit the Force any more than an exploding star 'benefits' the fabric of space-time.

Instead of looking at the weak and the lost to determine what is possible, look at the strong. The greatest Sith Lords, those who were powerful enough to rule the entire galaxy, ruled the Force itself. Darth Vitiate consumed all life on Nahema and Ziost just as Nihilus could; was he overwhelmed by insanity and his own abilities?"

"No."

"Because he was above them all. He could feed himself with the Force, yet he did not hunger. He mastered the dark side, not the other way around."

"But can we all be Vitiate?"

"No. But we do have closer standards. It is rare to find one who can conquer the Force, and far rarer still to find one worthy to do so. There were once tens of thousands of Jedi in a century, but there are only thirty Sith in a millennia.

The Jedi would have you believe that the Sith are dominated by the Dark Side and our primal emotions, yet the greatest Sith were masters of patience and careful forethought. The Jedi would say that the Sith are bestial, bloodthirsty animals, yet the Sith of the Darth Bane's line concealed themselves for a thousand years, working their way into power with smiles and pageantry. The Force spirit of Marka Ragnos tried to halt the power duel between Naga Sadow and Ludo Kressh, and centuries later he did the same with Exar Kun and Ulic Qel-Droma. Even Vitiate bided his time for more than a thousand years, ignoring the chance to fight in the Great Hyperspace War since he felt the time was not right.

The Sith are masters of the Force, because we are masters of ourselves first. And so, is it not right we serve our own whims?"

"I'm just really worried about that. I can feel the danger. I know it's there."

"But why do you keep coming back to that idea? Why do you think the Force is overpowering? Why do you think you will be consumed?"

"Because so many others were."

Phage was silent for a bit. "You are correct; the dark side does enslave some," he said softly.

"The dark side is not inherently enslaving, but it punishes those unworthy to harness it. A prime, fertile stallion will throw off an unsuitable master and trample them to death. The Force dominates the weak and the misguided. That is why the Jedi are so terrified of it. They know they will fall to it; they know they will be consumed. Only the Sith have access to all of the Force; only the Sith can control it."

He closed his eyes and smiled slightly.

"Darth Plagueis once wondered why the ancient Sith were so powerful, despite Bane's claims that their numbers diluted the power of the dark side. But Plagueis saw the Force as the Jedi did, as a self-balancing god that had to be carefully appeased and flirtatiously stroked. He sought to eventually 'overthrow the Force' – his words, not mine – and yet in the interim he taught that one had to let the Dark Side guide and direct them, judge and sentence them."

He tilted his head slightly up and his smile widened, though his eyes remained closed.

"The ancient Sith were powerful because they were Sith. They took what they wanted; they kneeled to no one. Not to beings, not to restrictions and codes…not to the Force.

There are so many ideas about the Force. Many from the Sith. And almost all of them wrong."

He motioned to the device in front of them.

"As you study the teachings and holocrons of many Sith, even this one, you will find they represent the personal values and desires of the individuals who created them. Those aspirations and dreams may not be yours. Many Sith sought power itself, in various forms, above all else. Others dedicated themselves to finding immortality. Still others devoted themselves to the study of the dark side, even worshipping it. They will all say their ways, their goals and philosophies, are the only way to be a true Sith. But you don't have to do those things if you don't want to.

While it is true that most Sith fell along predictable paths – and not without good reason – other Sith chose radically different lives. Darth Vectivus only cared for his family and mining business; he lived a peaceful, civilian life, allowing his apprentice to discreetly kill him when he felt the time was right. Darth Vader might have followed a similar course, had he actually managed to save the wife he loved. And how many of the greatest Sith – from Exar Kun to Revan to Darth Krayt – wanted to bring order to the galaxy for its own good, so its denizens could be happy and free of needless suffering?"

Weiss loosely folded her arms together, pondering this.

"Granted, the most reserved among them were misguided about certain things, or perhaps they simply lacked ambition. But tell me, who was more successful: the countless Sith who sacrificed themselves for power they could never achieve, or Vectivus, living gently and happily with his friends and family?"

"Vectivus, I guess," she said quietly.

"I would agree."

"So that's the trick to not being consumed by the Dark Side? Actually knowing what you want? And being satisfied when you get it?"

Phage chuckled. "Maybe. I imagine the Dark Side could quickly fill a void, especially a big one."

He raised his hands and clasped them together in front of his chest.

"But in any case, for there to be freedom, there must first be power." An almost playful grin appeared on his face. "Now, you're going to teach me."

Her eyes squinted a bit in confusion.

"…?"

"Your father's business. Schnee Mining or something, wasn't it?"

"The Schnee Dust Company…"

"Imagine you were running it, and you wanted to optimize it and make it as strong as possible. What would you do?"

"I..." The sudden topic of conversation took her back. "I guess I would do what my father was doing." She hated to say that.

"Which was?"

"Being ruthless. Manipulating people. Bribing the ones he could bribe, scaring the ones he couldn't. Forcing competitors out by any means necessary. Making sure nothing ever came back to him."

"I see." He didn't seem to notice the anger in her voice, or he just didn't care.

"Is there any one thing you could do that would make things dramatically more efficient?"

She looked around the floor, as if trying to find a way out.

Then she took a deep breath.

"I would enslave the Faunus."

She bit her lip as soon as she said it. She felt embarrassed to give voice to the idea; it simply wasn't proper. On Remnant, Jacques would have surely beaten her for risking such a huge public relations debacle if anyone outside of the family had heard.

Yet it was true. That was how she would make the company even more efficient, even more heartless.

What would Blake think?

"But, I wouldn't do that," she added. "It's not who I am."

"That's fine, but I asked what you would do if you were only concerned with the company's well-being. Is that your answer?"

"Yes." Her response was quick, but guilt-laden.

His fingers fiddled, running themselves along each other in patterns as he studied the walls in thought.

"Isn't there a government? A kingdom, yes? How would the state react to your plan?"

"Oh, it wouldn't happen. Atlas wouldn't let it." Even her father wouldn't get away with slavery…she hoped.

"So what would you have to do?"

She cocked her head, silently asking him to explain.

"In order to bring your plan to fruition, I mean. If this Atlas government is in the way, what would you have to do?"

Her mouth quickly opened, but she didn't say anything, looking back over the holocron instead. She guessed where this discussion was headed.

"I would have to take over Atlas," she said slowly.

"Hmm." His eyes continued to move around the room, making an obvious display of thinking.

"Aren't there other Kingdoms on Remnant? Would they allow Atlas to enslave a race of sentients?"

"No. They would probably start a war."

"So, tell me. What would you have to do in order to be unhindered?"

"I would have to take over all of Remnant."

"And if Remnant was attached to the wider galaxy, instead of isolated?"

"I would have to take over the whole galaxy." It was obvious he was enjoying this silly chain of logic.

"I see." He allowed himself to wear a full smile, and she could tell he was holding back mild laughter.

Then he subdued himself, resuming a stoic pose.

"This example was extreme, but the point is that power and freedom are inextricably linked together. You cannot have one without the other.

I should make a distinction here. Freedom is not only the ability to do what you want. Freedom is the ability to do anything. That is why Darth Sidious was greater than Darth Vectivus. Do not mistake freedom for merely being able to do what you want at the moment, especially if you know your goals are not ambitious. That is not freedom. That is working within an allowance of freedom.

The only meaningful freedom is absolute freedom, and it follows that the only meaningful power is absolute as well. Freedom less than absolute is merely a feudal grant of permissions, and power less than absolute is merely a delegation of responsibility."

She wasn't really following him, immersed in thoughts about home. But she picked up just enough to try and say something relevant.

"On Remnant, we have a saying. Absolute power corrupts absolutely."

He stared at her with a completely blank, almost dumbfounded, expression for several seconds.

She shriveled under his gaze, her own expression encompassing embarrassment, stage fright, and everything in between. "S...sorry?"

He burst out laughing.

Weiss leaned back, visibly unnerved. She had never seen Darth Phage laugh before.

"You foolish girl!" he stammered eventually. "Can't you see your little adage is self-refuting?" Eventually he composed himself, save for a few stray chuckles.

"Define corruption for me."

"Uh…I guess corruption is when people with authority abuse their power for their own self-interest."

"Mmm." He rocked his head back and forth. "Good enough."

He stretched and yawned.

"An addition to your definition would be that corruption undermines the goals and responsibilities of whatever organization we're talking about. The implication here, which you should find obvious, is that the personal ambitions and desires of officials don't align well with the goals of the overall institution they serve. Would you agree?"

She nodded.

"In an autocracy, the ruler's goals and ambitions are one and the same as those of the state. The state exists to serve his will; it is an expression of his consciousness, an incorporeal body to further his personal reach. There is no disagreement or conflict between the ruler's desires and that of the state, and so there can be no conflict of interest. By definition, an absolute ruler cannot be corrupt. It is a logical impossibility. Do you understand?"

Another nod.

"By contrast, we can imagine what kind of systems will be corrupt. Take a triumvirate, for example. Three beings who share power. Even if the state exists only to serve their whims, any one of them will always have different desires than the other two. Corruption – although in this case it will be more clearly manifest as squabbling and infighting – is inevitable.

We can see that spreading the power spreads the corruption and inefficiency. If we follow this trend to its extreme case, we arrive at a scenario of absolute equality between beings. Here, there will be absolute corruption. Every being has his own wishes, but none are strong enough to overrule another. They will never get anything done, but still, they will try. They will barter and make deals and alliances with each other, drowning the state in bickering and madness as each secret group tries to backstab and outmaneuver the next. The state will inevitability evolve into a hierarchy, or perhaps break into smaller states along the more severe lines of disagreement, which will then evolve into separate hierarchies."

"Cynical."

"But is it wrong?"

"Usually civilization cracks down on that."

"Ah, the return of force to the equation. So, an entity powerful enough to crush this opposition deserves to?"

"I guess we always end up at the same place, don't we?" She came off as more sarcastic than she meant to. "And the Sith seem just as barbaric as everyone else."

"Hmm?"

"Sith succession. That apprentices have to kill their masters. Like...that's harsh."

"Tell me about the kids you met in your schooling before you went to Beacon. The students in your private academies."

"What about them?"

"Describe them. What were they like? What most stands out to you about them?"

"They were snobby and arrogant. Just awful to be around." She knew some of that had rubbed off on her as well, but she didn't see a reason to mention it.

"Do you think they deserved to inherit the power and wealth their families' possessed?"

"No. Not at all."

Phage relaxed. "From what you've told me, your world is one of oligarchy and nepotism. Ruling families and elites preside over governance of both statecraft and economics, and their actions are mostly guided by self-interest and competition with those of similar stature. It is quite a common arrangement in the galaxy.

Power and fortune have an interesting way of clotting and becoming hereditary. A visionary individual may rise to great heights by his own excellence, only to pass his attainments onto children who have done nothing on their own for it. In the case of political power, one who rises to a throne by his caliber and ability will often become dull after decades of power. Many discerning, upstart rulers of great quality turned into worthless despots by their end.

The Sith are very different, Weiss. The Sith are true meritocrats. The Sith understand that being worthy of power is not a singular test to be passed only once – it is a constant state of being. A Sith Lord must always be worthy of the power he possesses – if he falters, he will be struck down and replaced, and rightfully so. Do you see their wisdom?"

"I guess so. I mean…I was raised around everything you described; I saw it all firsthand. Especially after Beacon fell. Before I just assumed they all knew what they were doing…but then I saw for a fact they didn't. My father put the entire ruling class of Atlas into a single room so I could see just incompetent they really were.

And who was the one who was dragged out and disinherited afterwards? Me. The only one who knew anything about the situation in Vale, the only one who was even there when it happened. Well, besides Ironwood, but he agreed."

"Ironwood?"

"Just some general." She shook her head. "I'm getting off track. The point is, I understand what you're saying. I really do. But…succession by murder? It's just…"

"I understand that it may seem harsh or even 'barbaric,' as you put it, but you have to remember that we are not ordinary beings. We have mastery and dominance over the Force, and with it, rightful dominion over the material world as well. It is not a mantle that can be taken or conferred lightly. The misguided, the corrupt, the weak- they do not deserve it."

Weiss looked away. "So...you killed your master?"

"Yes."

The room was silent.

"So much of the Sith way must be felt, rather than simply heard," Phage said. "You can't really comprehend otherwise." He gestured his hand at the red pyramid in front of them. "Read the inscription on this holocron," he ordered.

Weiss squinted as she tried to comprehend the scratch like lettering. She had been studying the ancient Sith language for some time, but most of the words here were too advanced for her.

"I can't read it," she admitted.

"Can you at least tell me the creator?"

Looking back over the object, her eyes focused for several seconds on the lettering at the very bottom, engraved on the structure's frame below the unintelligible frontal motifs.

"It is the holocron of Darth Ruin."

"Good. Since you can't read his words, activate it with the Force and find them."

Holocrons were all unique. Some would activate when a Force user merely glanced towards them, others would require mental digging before the gatekeeper would emerge.

Weiss took a deep breath. The object radiated with the Dark Side, and she had to prepare herself to delve into it.

She held her hands out in front of her, palms facing the holocron. She closed her eyes and focused, levitating the archaic structure from the ground as she tried to open it. She quickly found she would only be strong enough to unlock the first layer – but it had what she was looking for.

The inscriptions glowed bright red as her mind passed over them; infernal energy seemed to drip and run out of them. She didn't see it, but she felt it nonetheless.

The holocron's power threatened to overwhelm her. The surge of emotions was such a change from the conservation they had just been having.

Her first attempt to explore was rebuffed. She grimaced from the backlash - the holocron pushing back against a user it considered beneath it. That made her mad. Maybe that was the point.

She reached into the Dark Side. She was angry at the holocron, just like she was angry at Beacon, at her father, at Atlas, at herself, at everything, deep down. It wasn't an exploration anymore; it was a war. And she broke through.

Sudden emotions rippled through her mind: the same primal feelings and attendant, derived higher thoughts that the relic's creator had felt when he first composed the words.

After organizing the information that rushed into her mind, she recited the phrases. She experienced them on an intimate level as she spoke, and they came out of her mouth as if from her own soul.

"There is no passion…there is solely obsession."

She started to shiver.

"There is no knowledge…there is solely conviction."

The words wanted to rush out in a tide of euphoric gibberish. She had to struggle to hold back the power seeping through her and speak in a conscious, steady manner.

"There is no purpose…there is solely will."

Nearing the end, she paused to prepare herself.

"There is nothing. There is…"

Her mouth relaxed and her eyelids tightened. She felt some of the color leave her face as emotion fully washed over her.

"Only me."

"The Creed of Ruin," Phage supplied.

Weiss stayed still, held in a trance. She was immersed in the tide, bathed in it. Finally, she tore herself away and lowered the holocron to the floor. The Sith lettering faded inert once more.

"I suppose it's better you couldn't read them," Phage said. "Far better to experience them, to feel the emotions of the one who first uttered them. Tell me, what did you feel?"

"I felt…euphoria. Absolution. "

"Self-actualization. Empowerment," he provided.

"Yes. But…" Her face constricted as she tried to find words. "I felt…utter self-assurance. There was nihilism, but it wasn't empty. It was full. Full of…me."

She craned her neck, eying the holocron with a sideways gaze.

"My worldview…I was aware of everything else but- it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Nothing but me. It was like I was the only thing in the universe. I could do whatever I wanted. Nothing could affect me, nothing could interrupt me, nothing could stop me."

"Total, absolute freedom. You see how it all comes together now? The Sith Code, the individualism, the political philosophy?"

"I do. But it's still hard to get over," she said, shaking herself back to lucidity. "Too much indoctrination, I guess. I can't help but feel that only living for my own power is...wrong."

"Wanting power is nothing to be ashamed of," he said calmly. "But you are not entitled to it. Victory must be earned. Do you deserve it?"

"I think so. I was always the best."

"How so? Why do think you were always better than the others?"

"It's just that, I, well…" She didn't really know how to answer that.

"Remember, I am not some peer to be flattered and befriended. Tell me how you really feel."

"I…I was just better than they are. My semblance is much more powerful, and to be honest I'm a better fighter. I'm smarter; I'm more studious and disciplined; I knew more about just about everything than they do. At Beacon it was always some sort of party. They were always laughing at dumb things and making stupid jokes and just being children. Honestly, it was pathetic."

"Did you ever engage in any of these…festivities?"

"I-I mean, I had to fit in," she hesitantly admitted. "And yes, I did have fun and laugh at jokes sometimes. But it was all the time for them. They were never serious, unless it was in the middle of a fight and even then…" Her teeth clenched at the thought of Yang Xiao Long's constant 'comedy.'

Suddenly, she started laughing. This far away from Remnant, things hit differently.

"Dust, I sound…ugh, what if it's true? Maybe I really am a-"

"Ice queen?" Phage said with a grin.

She looked up, letting her mouth hang open between surprise and embarrassment. "W-Why did I ever tell you about that? Why?"

"At least you have some self-awareness," he said, without any hint of jeering. "What about your heritage? Did you ever think yourself superior just by merit of your bloodline?"

"No. I never thought I was better than anyone else just because I'm a Schnee. I mean, I'm proud of who I am, but, not like that. My father has dragged our name through the mud anyway, it's almost disgraceful now.

But…people would never see me for who I am, they would only be nice to me or praise me because of my name. I started to accept that instead. It wasn't something I wanted, I just…took what I was given."

"I see. So what about your sister? Is she better than you in the areas you've described as relevant?"

Weiss sighed. "I guess she is."

"Hmm," he murmured, leading into a long pause. "Doesn't it feel good to get these thoughts out in the open?"

"I looked up to my sister. A lot. She was one of the only people who really wanted me to succeed, who always pushed me to be better.

She was a lot like you, actually. She would make me train until I couldn't stand, or until the Grimm she summoned overwhelmed me. A lot of days I would end up just exhausted on the ground, looking up at her. It was her way of making me strong. She was free from my father…I always wanted to be like her."

He let out a grunt of acknowledgement, but didn't respond otherwise.

"Hey."

"Hmm?"

She looked away uncomfortably, debating whether she really wanted to ask.

"Am I…arrogant? I mean, the things I said about myself. Are they wrong? Am I exaggerating my abilities?"

"I don't see the combat abilities you talk about."

"Yeah, I know," she said. "But...you know."

He smiled. "I see the potential."

She smiled. That was enough.