"Your use of the Force is better, stronger… but your control over it in a fight is absolutely terrible. You lose control far too easily, and gaps in your armour appear for me to exploit." Ali's voice was calm but carried a cutting edge of authority as he lifted the telekinetic pressure off Drogath, allowing the giant to rise shakily to his feet.
The red sands of Korriban settled around them, disturbed only by the fading echo of Ali's words.
Drogath stood, panting heavily, the effort evident in every strained breath. The bruises on his arms and legs were visible, though he made no complaint.
Ali's expression remained cool and unreadable, the crimson and black mask resting against his hip like a silent sentinel of authority.
"Come on, let's start training again," Ali commanded, his tone leaving no room for debate. Before Drogath could fully recover, Ali extended his hand, and with a subtle motion, the immense telekinetic pressure returned, pinning Drogath to one knee in the sand.
"Focus," Ali barked sharply, his voice taking on a harsher edge as he circled Drogath like a predator stalking wounded prey. "Concentrate on the Force. Gather it. Shield yourself with it. Use it to protect your body, to strengthen your will. Do not let me break you so easily!"
Drogath, his teeth clenched and his massive hands digging into the sand, growled with effort. The Force swirled around him, chaotic and unruly, as he struggled to stabilise it under Ali's relentless assault. Sweat dripped from his brow, mingling with the dust and blood that clung to his skin.
Ali's piercing gaze never wavered as he monitored Drogath's progress, or lack thereof. He knew what he was doing—pushing Drogath beyond his limits, forcing him to adapt or collapse. There was no place for mediocrity in their world; only the strong survived.
Hours passed, the merciless sun of Korriban sinking toward the horizon, painting the desert skies in hues of blood-red and molten gold. The air was thick with heat, and the sands, scorched by the twin suns, radiated an oppressive warmth.
Ali now sat perched on his speeder, the sleek vehicle humming faintly beneath him. His crimson mask rested lightly in his hand, its gleaming surface reflecting the fading light of day. He tilted it back and forth, inspecting its menacing design, while the wind howled across the open desert, tugging at his dark robes.
To his right, Drogath lay sprawled beside his massive speeder, nursing a flask of water. His bruises and cuts, though painful, were a badge of honour for the day's gruelling session.
The giant's chest rose and fell steadily, his laboured breaths proof of how far he had been pushed. Despite his exhaustion, there was no anger in Drogath's expression—only quiet determination.
Ali's thoughts drifted as his eyes focused on the horizon. 'I should look into Kaelthar,' he mused silently.
'I need information about the situation… I need to test myself against the Jedi.' He turned the mask in his hands so that its malevolent red face stared back at him, its carved markings seeming to pulse with power.
With a final glance at the horizon, Ali snapped out of his thoughts. "Come on. Let's go," he called to Drogath as he started up his speeder. The engine roared to life, sending up a plume of sand as the vehicle surged forward. Drogath followed closely behind, his larger frame casting a shadow over the smaller acolyte as they raced back toward the academy.
By the time the two arrived at the academy, night had fallen. The once-bustling halls had quieted, though the dining area remained a hive of activity. The room was alive with the sounds of cutlery clattering against trays and hushed voices murmuring over shared meals.
At one crowded table, a group of apprentices sat, their laughter cutting through the subdued atmosphere. A blonde human with a long, jagged scar running across his right eye leaned back in his chair, a smirk twisting his features. His mocking voice carried over the din as he addressed a quiet figure seated at the end of the table.
"Hey, Derma, are you going to fight in the next tournament to become an apprentice? Or are you too busy catching rats out in the desert for your master? Hahahaha!" His laughter was loud and grating, soon echoed by the other apprentices at the table.
Derma sat stiffly, her expression tight as she gripped her utensils. The insult bit deep, her fists trembled with barely restrained anger. The fork beside the blonde apprentice's plate began to tremble as well, vibrating faintly before suddenly flying through the air, aimed directly at his left eye.
The blonde apprentice, unfazed, extended his hand. The fork halted inches from his face, caught in the grip of his Force. He smirked, his confidence unshaken. "What was that, Derma? Are you trying to fight me?" His tone was icy now, his Force aura flaring menacingly.
The other apprentices watched with sadistic glee, eager to see how the confrontation would unfold. Across the table, several acolytes lowered their gazes, unwilling to draw attention to themselves. They knew all too well what happened to those who crossed apprentices—many didn't survive the experience.
Derma glared at the blonde, her anger and frustration burning in her gaze. But she remained silent, cursing her own foolishness for giving in to his provocation.
The tension in the room was interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps echoing down the hall. Heads turned as two figures entered the dining area.
"Hey, look!"
"Is that him?"
"You mean Ali? The one who survived Vorrath?"
The murmurs spread like wildfire. All eyes were drawn to the tall human who strode into the room with an air of quiet authority. His acolyte uniform struggled to contain his muscular frame, but it was the crimson mask on his face that truly commanded attention. Its sinister design made him look more like a dark wraith than a man.
Behind him, Drogath loomed, his massive size and fearsome reputation adding to their intimidating presence.
The pair walked calmly to the food dispensers, where they ordered their meals before turning to find a seat.
They approached a table where several acolytes were already seated, chatting nervously. Ali didn't speak; instead, he waited, his body language radiating quiet confidence.
Drogath, however, stepped forward, his towering figure casting a long shadow over the seated acolytes.
"Move," Drogath rumbled, his deep voice reverberating like distant thunder.
The acolytes hesitated, exchanging uncertain glances before hastily gathering their trays and scurrying away. All eyes in the room were on them now, watching the exchange with a mix of curiosity and fear. Ali and Drogath sat down at the now-empty table, unbothered by the stares.
"Ooooh, would you look at that?" A loud, mocking voice broke the silence. "These acolytes think they can do whatever they want!"
The blonde apprentice from earlier rose from his table, his scarred face twisted in amusement as he strutted toward Ali's table. The crowd parted to give him room, sensing an imminent confrontation.
Drogath stood immediately, his imposing bulk blocking the blonde's path. The apprentice sneered, his hand outstretched as his lightsaber flew from his belt into his palm. The red blade ignited with a hiss, casting an ominous glow over the dining hall.
"What do you think you're doing? Move aside, you stupid beast," the blonde snapped.
Drogath growled in response, his hands curling into fists, but before he could act, Ali's voice cut through the tension.
"Drogath, let him talk," Ali commanded, his tone calm but laced with an edge of menace.
Drogath hesitated before stepping aside, though his glare never left the blonde apprentice. The lightsaber deactivated, its hum fading as the apprentice approached Ali.
"There's an order to things here, acolyte," the blonde said smugly, his confidence swelling. "You're challenging hierarchy…"
Ali, still seated, looked up at him with calm detachment. Beneath the mask, his enhanced Force sense allowed him to assess the blonde's power in an instant. He wasn't impressed.
"Since you're so familiar with the way things work," Ali said, his voice darkened by the mask. "How about this?" The room fell silent as everyone strained to hear his next words.
"In one week's time, Drogath here is going to fight you in an official duel… to the death."
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