Amir was waiting for an opening.
As he maintained his defense, he was also applying a bit of technique. Each time he clashed blades with his opponents, he did so at the point where their lightsaber strikes exerted the most force. It wasn't just to irritate them—it was also to redirect the path of their sabers when their power was at its weakest.
Obi-Wan used to do the same—deflecting attacks in such a way that they were redirected right back onto his enemies.
Amir was trying to replicate that. With two enemies pressing him, attacking one would open himself up to the other. So the only option was to create an opportunity within his defense.
With every contact of the blades, Amir used the Force to subtly draw in their energy blades, striking at specific angles to guide their lightsabers exactly where he wanted them.
At first, he struggled—disrupting his own rhythm and failing to get any real results—but he adapted fast.
During one particular exchange, Fifth Brother saw Amir block his blade from a strange angle, then suddenly roll aside. In that moment, he felt his lightsaber slip from his control. Following the path of his own weapon, he was horrified to see it veer off as if it had come alive—betraying him—and instead collided with the attack from the Grand Inquisitor.
Zzzzt! A piercing hiss rang out. Fifth Brother ignored the Grand Inquisitor's murderous glare as he suddenly realized: until now, their coordinated attacks had kept Amir completely on the defensive, unable to go on the offensive. But now, Amir had just redirected his blade to counter the Grand Inquisitor's—leaving himself a window!
Sure enough, Amir seized the chance. With a sharp motion, the green blade of his lightsaber spun back around and slashed at Fifth Brother's wrist.
Fifth Brother reeled back in shock. There was no time to block—he quickly withdrew his hands and leapt backward.
Amir's green blade only nicked the circular hilt guard of his saber, failing to sever it.
Then Amir's eyes flashed. As Fifth Brother landed from his leap, Amir thrust his right hand forward—sending a powerful, invisible blast of Force energy straight at him.
Mid-leap and airborne, Fifth Brother felt like he was standing on an ocean with no ground beneath his feet—only to be struck by a tidal wave. He was flung backward violently, soaring over ten meters before crashing hard into the floor. His lightsaber flew from his grasp, skidding across the ground—barely missing the shielded hangar entrance that led into open space.
The Grand Inquisitor didn't wait for Amir to make another move. He immediately stepped in and struck with his own saber, forcing Amir back into combat.
But now, something odd struck the Grand Inquisitor: fighting Amir alone actually felt easier. At least this way, he didn't have a foolish teammate trying to stab him by mistake.
Fifth Brother felt equally wronged. Why was this Jedi always targeting him? Always slashing at his saber, his wrist—ugh. He already knew the bald Pau'an would be mocking him for weeks after this, and might even rat him out to higher-ups.
Just thinking of that terrifying figure made Fifth Brother shiver. He scrambled to his feet and ran toward where his lightsaber had landed.
Meanwhile, Gideon was rushing toward the hangar with a squad of stormtroopers and about a dozen combat droids.
This operation could not fail. If it did, years of work, his future, even his life—it would all be for nothing.
He thought of that shadowy figure's promise: as long as he continued researching the secrets of Force-sensitive individuals in secret, developing a stable method for mass production, he would be rewarded. No matter the results, he would be appointed governor of an entire sector.
He quickened his pace. With the Inquisitors stalling Amir, and his own forces blocking the exit, there was no way the Jedi could escape. Even if all the test subjects were wiped out by that rampaging space slug, even if the lab's data was lost—it wouldn't matter, so long as Amir was captured. That was all that mattered.
Boom! Another tremor rocked the ship. But this time, Gideon heard the distinct sound of droids collapsing behind him.
These shoddy machines… even made from organic material, they were still as dumb as any other robot. They must be improved next time.
But as the crashing continued, Gideon sensed something was wrong. He spun around—and under the dim, flickering lights, he saw a pile of destroyed combat droids behind him. These towering war machines, made of solid alloy, had been crushed like ragdolls—as if by a far greater force.
The nearby stormtroopers panicked, sweeping their blasters around.
Then, from the end of the hallway, a shirtless boy emerged, walking with heavy, dragging steps. His body oozed with blood-red pus. His face was raw and flayed, completely hairless, and covered in scabbed-over black blood.
But beneath the grotesque exterior was a visibly strong physique.
He looked weak, though—barely moving forward one step at a time.
And with each step, the destruction in the corridor continued. Even the damaged droids still lying on the floor were slowly crumbling further.
Crack! Crack! To the troopers' horror, their blasters started to collapse inward, emitting a sound of strained metal under immense pressure.
Gideon began to struggle for air. All these droids—gone, without a sound. Wiped out like paper dolls.
The troopers near him began slamming their armor in panic—the very armor meant to protect them was now caving in, turning into a death trap.
Gideon ignored them. He swallowed hard and began backing away.
032!
Why was he here? Wasn't he supposed to be on the verge of death—reliant on the medical pod to survive?
How was he this strong?
He backed up until he hit the corridor wall, staring in helpless terror as the monster approached.
032 stopped before Gideon, cloudy eyes staring right at him.
Gideon felt a chill run through his entire being—as if his life was about to freeze solid in the next second. He gasped for breath.
BOOM!! Another violent jolt. It nearly knocked 032 over—but Gideon didn't dare move. He had seen what this thing had done to stormtroopers and droids alike.
The ship was shaking harder now—more frequently. And Gideon had a sinking feeling the source of it was directly beneath him.
032 steadied himself. Though he had no eyebrows left, he furrowed where they should've been—clearly annoyed. His gaze darted around, and then settled once more on Gideon.
He raised his decayed hand and placed it gently on Gideon's head.
Instantly, Gideon's mind was pulled into a whirlpool. He was drowning in it—visions of his past life flashing around him.
Am I going to die? The thought crept in. He wanted to resist, but no strength came. Deep down, something whispered: Let go. Fall into the vortex. It's over. No more ambition, no more struggle.
Suddenly—he snapped out of it. Gasping, Gideon opened his eyes and found himself collapsed on the floor. 032 was gone.
But the violent tremors continued. The space slug outside was now furious, slamming into the ship harder and harder with each blow.
Gideon knew—the shields were almost depleted. A few more hits, and the hull would start to break apart. It was already too late to reach the hangar.
He had lost all hope.
Staggering to his feet, he began limping down a corridor, sealing every valve behind him as he went. If the outer shell broke, the sealed doors might buy him a bit more time...
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🌌 Star Wars: Relics of the Past
📢 The Force Calls! 📢
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Uncover ancient Jedi relics before the galaxy does.
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