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Phase 3: You were the Chosen One!
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Part 5
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Death Arena, Nar Shaddaa
The Shadow slipped through Anakin's grasp as if it wasn't there. The arena around it imploded. Frozen sand exploded, flying in all directions, and was thrown away by the Force Skywalker used to crush Padme's killer.
The Shadow kept coming, deflecting, or ignoring the waves of raw Force Anakin used to smash it down. The unchained dragon within Skywalker's heart roared in fury, offended that the Sith refused to die. It was almost all right. Anakin wanted to cut that murderer down himself, to feel flesh and bone split under his blade! The falling Jedi roared in tandem with the raging dragon within him, knowing not if there was a difference between them anymore. He threw himself at the Shadow, swinging to bisect it with all the power of the Force he could muster.
The Force's warning came just in time, yet it was lost within the fury gripping Anakin's mind and the anger that burned through his connection with the source of his power. Blades touched, and Skywalker was sure he would smash through the Shadow's guard, cutting into it. Instead, the Sith deflected, sidestepping the overwhelming slash. Air rippled with the power of Anakin's strike, finding insufficient resistance. He stumbled and instinctively pushed with the Force, trying to shove the Shadow away.
A rough telekinetic blast tore rends into the abused arena, sending showers of bloody sand in all directions. Yet, the Sith remained untouched, with the attack splitting in front of him in two. A cruel blade shot forward, guided by the Shadow. It buried itself in Anakin's side, adding its fire to the inferno already consuming him from within.
Skywalker disregarded the pain. At least he had the Sith where he could get him! Anakin lashed with all the Force power he could muster and did his best to stab him with his lightsaber. However, his arms refused to move. His lightsaber fell from his fingers, robbed of the ability to feel anything. Raw power smashed into a shield that absorbed some of it while deflecting and reflecting the rest. It left the Sith untouched on a small circle of pristine sand. At the same time, everything around him broke, shrieked, and collapsed onto the floor below the arena.
Anakin sensed, instead of seeing the Shadow jump away, while a body collapsed beside him on the ravaged sand.
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For those with the senses to feel it, the Force froze for an instant that felt like an eternity, as if pausing to take a breath. Countless futures came to a sudden, violent end. Prophesies became defunct. The future itself, what should have been, shattered, dying with the Chosen One; all the while, the Dark Side rejoiced.
The moment passed, and time continued to flow as it should.
Jedi and Darksiders alike all over the galaxy felt the change. Those who knew Anakin Skywalker felt his death spread through the force like a mountain crumbling within a lake, sending shockwaves that unraveled fate itself.
In the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, old and new Jedi watched the unfolding tragedy with stunned disbelief.
In the Senate Building, the last Sith Lord from the line of Bane seethed and plagued by venomous hatred. He just watched and experienced years of work unravel. His future Apprentice was no more. The Confederacy was slipping through his fingers, though at least now he knew why. And in this moment, Darth Sidious hated the ancient Sith with a passion that could snuff out the stars themselves.
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"Anakin! You were the Chosen One!" an anguished cry echoed throughout the arena, heard by countless billions across the galaxy.
The self-proclaimed Dark Lord of the Sith landed lightly on an untouched part of the arena, putting the devastation Anakin created between himself and Mace Windu.
Cameras focused on the Hero Without Fear, showing the smoking pieces of his body and his unseeing eyes staring into eternity.
The Age of Heroes was over, and it was denied showing its best at the end.
"Such delicious, Jedi treachery!" The Dark Lord of the Sith taunted. "Shall we give all these people watching what they paid for, Master Jedi, or do you have more treachery to commit first?"
"This ends now. Fight me, Sith! Come prove your mettle!" Windu demanded.
"So be it. Let us give all the good, bloodthirsty people watching us the show they deserve, Jedi!" Vael happily announced as if he didn't just murder hope itself. The Sith strolled around the edge of the ravaged sections as if on a stroll, circling it to meet Windu. "Tell me, Jedi, can you back up your challenge? Can you prove the Jedi of this era aren't a joke like your chosen savior?"
"Your words mean nothing, Sith. The Force is with me!" Windu shot back.
"Is it now? After you caused the death of my bait?" Vael raised his burning blade and pointed at the cage above them, where Padme Amidala's brutalized corpse still bled.
"It is certainly not with you, Sith," Windu countered.
Obi-Wan finally could shove his shock away and staggered to his feet. His heart ached. His connection with the Force was frayed, wounded, and felt like bleeding, where it had an Anakin-shaped hole torn into it. Kenobi glared at the Sith and clutched his lightsaber. His heart cried for justice. He had to avenge his brother!
It was only the Sith pointed at Padme's brutalized body that stopped him from fully snapping and charging the butcher. Obi-Wan's eyes lingered upon the corpse, feeling shame and a profound sense of failure. He looked at the Sith, then at Anakin's still-smoking body. This was what the Sith wanted. This was the nature of this trap. He wanted to break them, to make them fall. Obi-Wan knew that if he went for the Sith now, with all the anger in his heart, he would be lost. Yet, leaving Windu to fight him alone would mean possibly squandering the one best chance they had to end this madness cleanly.
While Obi-Wan's mind struggled between what his heart wanted, what was the right thing to do, and what he had to do, his legs drove him toward the strolling Sith. The murderer looked at him, and the Force screamed in warning.
"This will be a proper duel, Jedi, not an exciting little battle. Wait your turn," the Sith waved a hand.
The Force pulsed. Obi-Wan jumped away, enhancing his leap with all the energy he could muster. A chunk of shattered metal and sand tore their way out of a collapsed section of the arena, held together by the Sith. He hurled them at Kenobi, guiding them his way. They followed Obi-Wan even as he landed. He gathered as much of the Force as possible and sent it at the incoming debris ball. It exploded right into his face, sending him and pieces of brutalized metal flying away while sand fell like rain.
"We have had enough interruptions! We promised you a duel, dear guests and viewers across the galaxy, and a duel you shall watch!" An announcer proclaimed.
Doors built into the arena's walls slid open, allowing a few mercenary platoons armed with repeating blasters to flood a section of the stadium. They aimed their weapons at Obi-Wan, waiting for him to make any hostile move.
Kenobi looked around, sighed, and slowly raised his hands.
Meanwhile, Mace and the Sith walked around the devastated part of the arena, facing against each other on solid ground. They both took combat stances, which were almost perfect mirrors of each other.
"Juyo, Master Jedi?" The Sith laughed. "Most unconventional for one of your kind. Let us see if you are worthy of it!"
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Part 6
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Death Arena, Nar Shaddaa
Mace Windu fought for his life in a blood-soaked arena, watched by countless beings across the galaxy. He sunk deep within Vaapad, moving too fast to see. Most beings sitting on the stands would only see blurs clashing with each other. Two burning blades struck faster than the eye could follow, smashing into each other before moving again, angling for another strike.
Vaapad was the pinnacle of what Form VII Juyo could be. Mace Windu created it not to fight the Sith he believed to be extinct or the rare fallen Dark Jedi but to shore up his weakness, channel, use, and conquer the darkness within his heart.
To use Vaapad, to master it, meant enjoying the combat; you had to throw yourself into a fight in pursuit of victory in a way Jedi were taught they should not, more importantly, that they must not. Most importantly, you had to enjoy the fight, the pursuit of victory; otherwise, you couldn't use Vaapad, and there lay the peril. It meant you had to dance on a blade's edge and dip yourself into the Dark Side without faltering and falling to its allure.
Mace Windu created Vaapad. He was its only living master, and this was its ultimate test. His ultimate test.
Any Force Sensitive watching the battle through the Force would see Mace Windu and the Sith fading, submerging within the shadows cast by the Dark Side, only to emerge stronger and faster. The intensity of their battle increased with every passing second until no living being without the aid of the Force could see anything but the after-effects of their clashes.
Every blow and parry sent shocks through the air, picking up sand and throwing it into waves, further obscuring the sight of all those in the arena. Only later, when trillions across the galaxy watched the duel in slow motion, regular people could fully appreciate what they saw.
For the Force Adepts, the battle was different. It happened fast enough that their enhanced perception could comprehend it, even if they could not properly follow it. It was a clash between a Jedi and a Sith, between the Light and Dark Sides of the Force, or so it seemed. The Force itself rolled like an ocean gripped by a hurricane. It rolled, boiled, and shrieked in pain and glee.
The Dark Side fed from the murderous intent of the Shadow within it. At the same time, the wielder of the amethyst blade somehow channeled that lethal determination, turning it upon its source with deadly precision.
For Obi-Wan, it was like being on the shore of a boiling, poisonous lake, with choking fumes sinking into his skin and filling his lungs. The Force itself was tainted by burning fury, glee, and rage.
Mace Windu showed no Jedi restrain. He was fully committed to the fight, cutting loose in a way Kenobi had never experienced or observed before. Yet, the Sith matched him blow for blow in an unrelenting whirlwind of destruction.
At its core, Vaapad was a channel for darkness. By its very nature and creator's intent, it was meant to flow both ways. Mace accepted the furious speed and power of the Sith Lord and let it flow through him. He did the same with the unfocused rage within the Sith's heart that burned bright and fueled the monster's power.
Mace accepted the power of the Dark Side flowing into and through the Sith Lord, let it pass through the very core of his being, then guided it out, making it burst forth and turn it all upon the enemy of all that was good in the galaxy. He reflected all the power and fury of the Sith back into its origin point like a lightsaber blade reflects a blaster bolt.
Until recently, Windu feared the darkness within himself. It was mere weeks ago when he returned to his home world due to the ongoing war and faced that darkness. He understood it and himself in a way he hadn't before. On Haruun Kal, Mace reached an understanding, which allowed him to complete and fully master the technique he created.
The darkness and the Dark Side were not to be feared. It was fear that gave them power, and Windu was not afraid. Fear was no mastery over him, though he didn't have power over it either. That was the understanding that completed Vaapad. It allowed him to become a proper open channel for the Dark Side, its fury, fear, and anger. Windu was like one part of a super-conductive loop, channeling the Dark Side without letting it properly affect him.
The Dark Lord of the Sith was the other end of the equation. Cold flames, red and purple, disintegrated anything and everything around them. Sand became ash and dust. The very metal below it and their feet creaked as their battle moved across the arena, leaving utter devastation in its wake.
They were connected, Jedi and Sith, bound into a loop of battle. There was no fatigue. No wounds appeared upon their bodies, even as the arena burned around them, consumed by cold flames. They were in an impasse, the fury of the Sith feeding and sustaining the Jedi before reflecting back upon its origin to rejuvenate and keep the dreaded shadow going.
Vaapad wasn't Mace Windu's only gift. If it was, the fight might have gone forever. The Sith was enjoying himself. He was entirely consumed by the joy of battle, proving that mastery of Juyo and decades of experience could stalemate the master of Vaapad.
Mace left the Force to guide his body, making the fight effortless for his mind. He could see what the Sith would do, just as the Sith could see his own movements. They were striking, parrying, or evading so fast that doing anything but relying on their combat precognition would mean instant death.
The Jedi's mind raced. It flowed through the channel, binding them, following the source of the dark power now holding them into a self-sustaining loop. He was looking for the Sith Lord's Shatterpoint, trying to feel it through the constant onslaught that threatened to shatter reality itself around them.
Windu found the core of the Sith, the truth of who and what he was, and all the faultlines stemming from it. They stretched into the future, tangling like willowy branches into potential futures. He went for the deepest rend, which was like a sore, weeping wound into the Force itself. Astonishingly, it led him to a man kneeling upon the mangled body of a Togruta woman. She was dead, yet her presence in the Force left a slowly dissipating echo the man was clinging to as if his life depended on it.
Whoever the woman was, she was no Sith. Yet, there was no mistaking the man for anything but the one Mace was fighting. However, here and now, his presence in the Force was different. It was twisted and mutilated; it was wounded and in pain. Fear, despair, and rage dominated its whole being.
'Who are you?' Mace idly wondered while trying to figure out how this was the Sith's Shatterpoint and how he could use it to smite it down.
The kneeling man turned, and a pair of eyes that were nothing less than two pools of endless malice fixed him in place.
"Me?" The Sith roared. "I am the husband of a murdered wife! I am the father of an unborn daughter! And I will have my vengeance in this life or the next!"
Mace threw everything he could, all he was, into this memory, doing his best to draw it to the forefront of the Sith's mind. Was this how he fell? It didn't matter. This was the Sith's Shatterpoing, and it would be his end!
Suddenly, Windu could feel the end of the battle approaching. The Sith could sense it, too, a moment after a surge of fear, pain, and loss blazed through its very being.
This was it! This was the edge Mace needed! He turned the fear into a weapon, smashing the Sith with it through the channel of Vaapad, linking them. They were no longer evenly matched. The Shadow faltered, and now the Jedi was advancing, raining hammer blows upon the Sith, which he was hard-pressed to counter.
They moved back into a part of the arena already ruined by their battle. The Sith had to expend power and attention there to keep his footing stable. His fear made him hesitate and falter.
This was the end! The resolution of the Shatterpoint of the Sith! The Shatterpoint of the Dark Side itself!
The Shadow faltered. Mace was moving as fast as he did a moment before, while the Sith wasn't. With a flick of the wrist, he aimed his burning blade at the enemy's hands, ready to slice through them and the lightsaber hilt they held.
Windu could see the Shatterpoint resolve in front of his eyes in slow motion. He was within it, within the eye of the storm. He saw the Sith stiffen above the body of the murdered woman, barely holding on to the edge of rage-induced madness. It was the fear and pain of that loss that drove him over the edge and into the clutches of the Dark Side! It had to be! That same fear and the echo of the loss would be his end, just like it ended whoever the Sith Lord used to be when he fell.
The purple blade moved slowly through the air, aimed true.
Cold, controlled rage burst forth from the Sith, consuming the loop before shattering it when it simply froze, seemingly dying out. It was replaced by a deadly, frigid determination that burned worse than the hottest flames.
Mace Windu saw the truth of this Sith. He chained his rage and boiling fury and somehow stopped the madness about to consume him because letting himself fall further would have made him a mundane monster. Falling completely into the sweet embrace of the Dark Side wouldn't have allowed him to achieve his vengeance.
Time sped up as suddenly as it slowed down. The Sith managed to spread his fingers even as cold, controlled anger filled his whole being, making him appear like a shadow of a man driven by the Dark Side itself.
The loop was broken, robbing the Jedi from the boundless torrent of power flowing through him.
Mace's blade hit the back of the open hand, and instead of cutting through it, the blade flickered as when slamming into something too tough to burn through, yet with no field to hold it in place.
The swing continued, sending Windu off balance and straight into a pulse of cold rage that caught him off guard and threw him away.
The Jedi Master surged back to his feet, feeling much weaker than he was a moment ago. He watched the Sith make a sharp gesture, and his left armored glove flew away from his arm, smoking and showing a faintly glowing rend into it. Yet, there was no mark on the man's pale skin. The Sith looked at his hand, then at Wndu.
"You were a worthy opponent, Jedi. I congratulate you for your achievements! It has been a long time since I fought such a duel, much less something so new and different," There was admiration in the Sith's voice.
His very form within the Force was different. It was not a burning inferno or the wound Mace perceived. Instead, it was frigid, like the surface of a frozen lake, with something colder, deadlier, and ancient-looking from below the ice.
In the brief moments of peace, after the loop shattered, Windu could feel the bloodthirsty joy of the crowd watching them. Awe and admiration, mixed with healthy fear, clawed at his bond with the Force, feeding the Dark Side.
The Sith calmly walked towards him, shifting into a Makashi stance.
Mace took his own stance, feeling unease at the current circumstances. The battle had to be over! The Shatterpoint was about to resolve itself!
Windu slowly approached the Sith, focusing more on his gift and following the Shatterpoints tangled within the enemy's very soul.
It was too late, that Windu figured it out. The Sith was coming at him, striking with fluid, sharp motions. He wasn't drinking deeply from the Dark Side, allowing Vaapad to shine! Impossibly, the Sith wasn't using the Dark Side at all!
This time, it was Windu who had to fall back while searching for an opening to exploit. Part of his mind kept following the Shatterpoint he used, delving deeper into it, pushing for its resolution. The Jedi faltered, with his attention divided. He wasn't as in tune with the Force as he was while Vaapad connected him and the Sith. He was even less in tune with the enemy and his every move.
With each strike Mace parried and each step he felt back, he saw flashes from the past. Though they all centered around the same Sith, they made no sense – they were pictures without context. How did they connect with the dead woman and the Sith's fall to the Dark Side?! How was that the Shatterpoint of the Sith!?
It took more of Windu to parry each new attack. He had to draw as much power as possible to keep up with the Sith's relentless advance, and he was tiring fast. The sheer intensity of their battle, while bound by Vaapad, took much of him. He had never channeled so much raw energy, much less for so long. Every cell within Mace's body burned with the strain of keeping up. With every moment he kept channeling as much power as possible to survive, his endurance waned.
The cold, calm determination fueling the Sith's onslaught, combined with something from the constant stream of pictures flashing before Windu's eyes, made something click within his mind.
'He denied the Dark Side!' Mace's mind screamed at him. He saw the Sith kneeling above the dead woman, saw the furious flames burning hot enough to engulf the whole galaxy suddenly die out, smothered under comprehension, thirst for vengeance and determination.
This is right there. That was the Sith's, the Dark Side's Shatterpoint, which happened long ago. This Sith didn't fall into the abyss offered by the Dark Side, no matter what it offered, all because doing so would have made him a less effective monster. If he had fallen completely then and there… Windu finally understood even as he faltered, for his body could no longer keep up.
The Shatterpoint of the Sith. That of the Dark Side and the Republic, back then and now. This Sith chose not to embrace the release offered by the Dark Side to be sure he would achieve his vengeance in this life or the next.
The Sith's bloodthirsty blade battered the Jedi's lightsaber aside, opening him up for a follow-up strike. Windu was too slow to react, for his body was spent. Fiery pain exploded through his shoulder, and he could no longer sense his right arm. Mace stumbled back, futilely grasping for the Force, only to catch a mirage of the power he had a heartbeat ago.
The crimson blade came back, and it was the last thing Mace Windu, the Blademaster of the Jedi Order, ever saw.