'I can't feel my body,' Cassian thought, his mind struggling to process the searing pain radiating from every corner of his battered form. His legs buckled as he fell to his knees, his spine mangled and his once-proud frame reduced to trembling helplessness.
'What's that?' Through his darkening vision, blurred and unfocused, he saw only a shadow—a monstrous silhouette that seemed to grow larger as his consciousness ebbed.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOM
Drogath, his massive form like a titan of death, gored Cassian with the horn atop his forehead. The impact sent Cassian's limp body crashing through the thick wall of the arena, shaking the underground chamber to its very foundation. Dust and debris rained down in a cacophony, leaving the crowd stunned in silence, their gasps swallowed by the echoing tremor.
Ali stood from his seat, his gaze sharp, fixed on the gaping hole that Drogath's charge had left in the wall. From the rubble, Drogath emerged, his imposing figure dripping with the blood of his defeated foe. His armour, glowing faintly with purple light, bore the marks of battle but still radiated an untouchable power.
The audience was struck dumb. All eyes followed Drogath's slow, deliberate steps back to the centre of the arena, where he stood tall, his chest rising and falling with deep, victorious breaths. With blood still dripping from his gauntlets and horn, he surveyed the crowd.
Then, with primal energy radiating off him, Drogath spread his massive arms wide and tilted his head back.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
The roar that escaped his lungs was monstrous, feral, and utterly dominating. It echoed through the arena, sending chills down the spines of acolytes and apprentices alike. Many shrank in their seats; others sat frozen, unable to look away from the fearsome display. Even among the Sith masters, whispers spread like wildfire.
From above, Ali watched with pride, a sly smirk concealed beneath his mask. 'He's learning,' Ali thought. 'Let them all know who you are. Let them fear you.'
The droid referee, seemingly unfazed by the carnage, hovered forward and announced loudly, "And the winner is Acolyte Drogath, the Giant of Vorrangar!"
A new wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd. The name—Vorrangar—spread like wildfire, an apt title for the beast of a man now standing victorious.
Drogath removed his helmet and turned his gaze upward, meeting Ali's watchful eyes. Slowly, he raised his massive hands and brought them together, forming the shape of an "A." Ali recognised it instantly. 'He does the symbol every time he learns a new technique from me,' Ali thought, nodding his approval.
Sivara, seated beside Ali, rose gracefully from her seat. Her movement immediately drew the attention of the crowd as she tapped her spoon against her ornate tea cup, silencing the arena.
"In recognition of his exceptional display of strength, power, and his connection to the dark side, I hereby grant Acolyte Drogath the rank of Apprentice. Congratulations, Apprentice Drogath!" Her voice carried authority, resonating across the arena.
The announcement stunned the crowd into momentary silence before breaking into hushed conversations. It was rare—almost unheard of—for an acolyte to be promoted outside the traditional tournament. The favouritism was blatant, yet undeniable after the battle they had just witnessed.
"Why?" Ali asked Sivara, his voice calm but laced with curiosity.
"Since when," Sivara replied, her voice soft but sharp, "does a Sith master need to explain herself to an acolyte?" She leaned closer, her golden feline eyes locking with Ali's as her lips curled into a sly smile. "But perhaps," she added in a whisper, "I'll give you an answer tonight…"
Ali didn't respond, his masked visage betraying nothing. Sivara lingered for a moment, her gaze trailing over him before turning and exiting the arena with the rest of the crowd.
As the stands emptied, leaving only Ali, Drogath, and the droids clearing away Cassian's remains, Ali leapt gracefully from the stands onto the sandy floor of the arena.
"That," Ali began as he approached, his tone both approving and instructive, "was a dominant display of power. Exactly what I wanted from you."
Drogath removed his helmet fully, his glowing eyes meeting Ali's. "I'm just using what you taught me," Drogath replied, his deep voice steady and confident.
"Well," Ali said, crossing his arms, "don't get ahead of yourself. There's still much to improve. He landed a couple of strikes." Ali's gaze drifted upward to the lightsaber embedded in the roof of the arena. Raising his hand, he summoned the weapon to him with the Force.
The crimson blade ignited, bathing both men in its deadly glow. Ali held it aloft for a moment, studying its form. Then, with a flick of his wrist, the blade vanished, spinning in the air before reappearing behind Drogath.
Drogath froze, his instincts kicking in as he activated his Force armour. The faint purple glow covered his body, but Ali's voice cut through the tension.
"Too late," Ali said, deactivating the blade and letting it drop to the sand with a soft thud.
Drogath exhaled deeply, realising just how quick Ali's movements had been. "So fast…" he muttered.
"The one you fought was weak," Ali said, his tone matter-of-fact. "Pathetically so. What you just saw from me? Expect that—and worse—from our enemies. Prepare for it."
Together, the two left the arena, their shadows stretching long behind them.
Later that night, Ali walked through the dimly lit corridors of the academy, the silence wrapping around him like a shroud. His footsteps echoed faintly as he approached a set of large, ornate double doors. He raised his hand and tapped twice, the sound crisp against the stillness.
The doors slid open to reveal a breathtaking view of Korriban's desert, framed by a massive glass wall. The crimson sands stretched endlessly, illuminated by the faint glow of distant moons.
Inside, Sivara waited, seated on a luxurious red bed. She wore a sheer nightgown that clung to her curves, doing little to hide her toned, seductive figure. Her golden brown fur shimmered faintly in the moonlight, and her feline eyes sparkled as she looked up at Ali.
"You came…" Sivara said, her voice low and inviting as she ran her fingers slowly down her neck, her touch lingering on her visible, hardened nipples beneath the gown.
"A man has needs," Ali replied, his voice deep and resonant. "And I'm not one to deny mine." With deliberate movements, he removed his mask and stepped closer, his midnight eyes locked onto hers.
Sivara's heartbeat quickened as Ali neared. Each step sent a thrill through her, a strange and rare mix of anticipation and submission. Ali stripped off his upper uniform, leaving only the tight black shirt that clung to his muscular frame.
He towered over her, his presence commanding, almost suffocating in its intensity. Sivara tilted her head back, her breath hitching as his hand cupped her cheek. His touch was firm yet gentle, his fingers tracing her jawline before sliding down her neck, brushing against the soft fur.
Without warning, Ali pushed her back onto the bed, his strength evident but controlled.
Thud.
Sivara let out a soft gasp as her body sank into the plush mattress, Ali's weight pressing down on her. He leaned in, his dark eyes roaming over her as if memorising every inch. "Never been with a cat-woman before," Ali said, his voice carrying a teasing edge as his lips hovered above hers, their breaths mingling.
"Don't call me that…" Sivara murmured, her tone soft yet filled with heat.
But before she could finish, Ali claimed her mouth in a wild, dominating kiss. Sivara melted under him, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer, her breathless moans muffled against his lips.
His hands found her hardened nipples through the gown, pinching them gently at first before his touch grew rougher, his experience taking over as Sivara arched her back beneath him.
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