"Why don't you lower the battery output? That blade's temperature is at least fifty percent higher than normal. I feel like it could melt beskar. Are you sure your hilt can handle it?"
"I don't plan on slicing anything near the hilt. Worst case, I'll upgrade the emitter with beskar when I get the chance."
"Stop being stubborn, Padawan. In theory, it works," Obi-Wan said with exasperation.
Most of the materials Amir had used came from the ship's own stock—expensive, high-grade components. In fact, these parts were practically currency across the galaxy.
No issue using them as currency… but using them in a lightsaber was, technically speaking, overkill.
The result was a lightsaber with much higher energy output than expected, which raised the bar considerably for the control systems. Even though everything theoretically worked, it still made Obi-Wan nervous.
But theory was theory, and Amir wasn't bothered by it anymore.
Now it was time to work on the outer casing. Amir glanced over at Obi-Wan's lightsaber for inspiration.
In front of him was a pile of lightweight, high-tensile alloys. He selected the pieces he thought were best and began sketching his design.
There was no forge on the ship—this wasn't a dewback barbecue joint where he could melt metal with an engine exhaust.
He'd have to finish the schematics and then find a local blacksmith tomorrow to forge the parts.
Seeing that his own part in the process was done, Obi-Wan slipped off to bed.
Once Amir had completed the designs for all four segments of the casing, his excitement finally began to settle. He figured every Padawan probably felt the same when building their first lightsaber.
Back in his room, Amir eventually drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, Amir located a repair shop near the port that had a furnace. He handed over the designs and alloy pieces.
After parting with a few metal scraps as payment, he received the four casing segments.
He rushed back to the Voyager and carefully joined the internal core to the outer parts.
For someone as mechanically gifted as Amir, assembling the final pieces posed no challenge at all.
Using the Force, he levitated the four segments and slowly rotated them until they clicked together with a precise mechanical lock, forming a seamless hilt.
"You'd better test that outside," Obi-Wan called out from the sofa.
"I think it'll be fine, Master," Amir replied, though he still walked outside the ship.
He snuck over to a secluded corner of the docking area, glanced around to make sure no one was watching, double-checked the shield generator on his wrist, and finally pressed the ignition switch.
With a snap-hiss, a green blade sprang to life—its soft glow casting light, its hum resonating low and steady.
Near the emitter were two symmetrical guard wings, shielding the blade's outlet and housing the blade intensity controls. The grip section featured crosshatched grooves for better friction. Slightly above was the ignition switch, embedded smoothly into the cylindrical design. This section was slightly thicker than the top, and the pommel was gear-shaped with a domed cap.
Overall, the saber had a smooth design—less angular than Obi-Wan's—and fit Amir's hand perfectly.
He gave it a few experimental swings and smiled.
"It really is different," Amir thought, focusing on the feel. The difference wasn't just in the grip—it was in the connection through the Force.
With the Force flowing through him, the Kyber crystal inside the saber felt alive, as if breathing with him. The blade's hum was like a whisper in response.
And the blade itself—it was denser, sharper, more precise.
Holding it felt like having a trusted companion by his side.
Obi-Wan had been watching from near the ship. He finally spoke.
"A lightsaber isn't just a weapon. It's a part of a Jedi. With it, you can face any danger."
Deactivating the blade, Amir turned toward his teacher. "I already feel it, Master."
"Sigh, if only my last Padawan had half your intuition," Obi-Wan muttered, arms crossed. "From today onward, we'll begin lightsaber sparring. How's your Form I coming along?"
Amir chuckled awkwardly. Between all the traveling lately, he hadn't exactly been practicing.
But better late than never.
Or rather—there was no better time to begin than now.
"Let's head back to your hut. This city is too full of distractions for proper training," Amir said, catching sight of yet another tempting restaurant. The struggle against desire was real.
"Of course."
They boarded the Voyager. Wolf had gone out exploring—he'd said he wanted to visit a moisture farm on the outskirts to prepare for his dream of becoming a farmer someday.
They'd just let him wander Mos Eisley for now. He didn't have a plan anyway.
Maybe he'd stumble upon something worthwhile—if so, Amir wouldn't mind giving him a free ride there.
Back at the familiar stone hut, Amir and Obi-Wan stood face-to-face on a flat slab of rock, sabers in hand.
As he ignited his blade, Amir adopted the standard Form I opening stance.
"Come at me with everything you've got," Obi-Wan said, raising his right hand above his head, blade pointing forward, while extending his left hand straight out.
This was the opening stance of Form III—the style Obi-Wan had mastered. It focused on pure defense, waiting for the opponent to expose a weakness before striking back.
In the hands of a true master, Form III could generate a near-impenetrable shield of saber strikes, blocking everything from blaster bolts to other lightsabers.
Obi-Wan had famously used it against General Grievous—who wielded four lightsabers at high speed—and still managed to hold his ground and sever the cyborg's arms one by one.
Amir had no need to worry about hurting his teacher. All he had to do was fight with everything he'd learned so far.
Form I was relatively simple—focused on broad, powerful strikes rather than complex flourishes.
The training session began with Amir launching into his first attack.
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