Wiping a massive structure of metal off the face of the earth, demonstrating a fraction of the Force, and completing the assigned task? I didn't need any convincing. I closed my eyes and plunged into the bottomless depths of the Force, which permeated everything around me. This sensation was like diving into an ocean, a complete merging with it: every detail, every support beam and joint of the metal structures became one.
Confidently raising my hands to shoulder level, I focused the flow of the Force on the factory. The metal screeched, trying to repel the invisible assaults, but my will remained unshakable, and the desire to suppress the resistance grew ever stronger. I slowly clenched my fists, and the walls of the vast structure began to crumple.
Constructions bent and broke under my control. The building turned into a heap of mangled metal and debris, accompanied by gruesome sounds that cut the ear and drowned out the shouts of the living beings inside the factory.
I changed my stance, intensifying the waves of telekinesis. My palms struggled to draw towards each other; simultaneously, the pile of scrap metal was turning into a dense ball. The closer my fingers came together, the more solid this gigantic object became. And the longer the process lasted, the faster I approached my goal, however paradoxical that might sound. Anger and impatience served as my additional sources of the Force, helping to compact the sphere with monstrous speed, albeit at the cost of the intensifying screech.
It took only thirty seconds to compress tens of thousands of tons, leaving not even debris on the smooth surface of the planet. Now, a perfect sphere hovered above the ground – like a giant baseball.
Gathering more energy, I prepared for the final chord. When I had enough power within me, I hurled the sphere into the sky. It flew further and further away, leaving a trail of sparks and light behind it, like a comet leaving its home star to become part of the infinite universe.
Returning to my stance, I strode forward and quickly found the underground passage. Convenient, as running through the factory now made no sense – nothing was left of it, not even the foundation.
Leaping into the underground tunnel, I softened my fall and landed in the most suitable spot. The dim light only slightly illuminated my figure, allowing me to draw my two lightsabers and cross them in a ritualistic gesture.
A second – and two light blades ignited in my hands: scarlet and violet.
The light blades were pointed toward the ground, foretelling where my enemies would have to go. They flooded these catacombs, most preparing for escape or defense. But the truth was that today, none of them were destined to make it to the surface.
I rushed forward with hurricane speed, sweeping away everything in my path. Many guards didn't even have time to understand what was happening as their bodies were pierced by the light blades. With precise and lightning-fast movements, I embodied the very essence of lethality. The energy emanating from me threw enemies back in waves, knocking them to the ground, only for the punishing light to take their lives a moment later.
Breaking through the storm of weaponry, I ran into former soldiers.
Turian soldiers who had decided to join the easy life, preferring to serve as mercenaries. They were distinguished by their discipline and experience, quickly organizing a defense and simultaneously opening fire with all weapons.
Sadly for them, they had chosen the wrong opponent. Their efforts were in vain.
I was a master of the defensive combat form Soresu, the aggressive form Juyo, and had also perfectly mastered the Sith's Shien with a reverse grip on the sabers, which allowed for fast and deadly attacks.
Other styles, though not in their masterful variations, I had learned for use in various combat conditions. After all, to perfect the seventh form of saber combat, I had to study dozens of individual techniques and understand the advantages and disadvantages of all styles. Only in this way could I infuse Juyo with technical complexity and unpredictability.
My technique had become characterized by high mobility, lightning-fast attacks with an emphasis on breaking through enemy defenses, and a virtually impenetrable defense.
After my second chance, I delved into the old and discovered the new, receiving a leap in the Force and in my fencing skills. Thus, I was able to improve my combat with two light blades, taking Jar'Kai as a basis.
The dual-blade fencing style, known as Jar'Kai, was developed based on the sixth form. Fighters trained in this style rarely rely on the Force and dedicate their entire lives to honing their control of two blades. Defense against Force attacks is lacking in this style, and the demands on mastery force its users to train incessantly to achieve perfection.
Adherents of Jar'Kai are often defeated by exhausting tactics and Force techniques. However, this style has its advantages when it comes to speed, the ability to deflect attacks from different angles, and, most importantly, in creating a wall of blades.
Jar'Kai focuses on aggressive attacks with a disregard for defensive blocks. But it is known that the best defense is an offense. All I needed was to attack hundreds of bullets at once.
Bullets whistled around me. A few of them could have ended my life, but I did not fear death. Once, long ago... I even craved it.
In this battle, I allowed the Force to guide me. The two blades descended like a whirlwind upon the hail of bullets, creating dazzling flashes with each contact. The bullets vaporized in the air, and it seemed as if the world was divided into red and violet – the two colors that would bring me victory today.
The enemies tried to use tactics: commands for sequential firing maintained continuous fire. But my legs, as if laughing at their efforts, continued to stride confidently forward.
I needed to wait for the moment... Now!
Intensifying the whirlwind of blades, I performed a Force push and found myself right in their ranks, invading without permission. A mercenary was cut in half with a simple lunge – his energy shield couldn't withstand the laser blade. I cut off the next one's legs, smoothly moving on to end the path of five enemies with a sweeping strike.
One of them held an electric baton, which momentarily stopped the violet blade, but I had a second one. Faster than sound, I severed his head, then parried several attacks in close combat.
I delivered rapid strikes, moving gracefully, as if in a dance. To increase the chances of success, I performed acrobatic elements, striking two enemies at once in a single movement. This was physically exhausting, but the slaughter compensated for the fatigue, fueling me with negative emotions – they left the enemies not a single chance. If I had given in to the Light with its mantras of "take what you're given and don't complain," I would have become a slouched dog, not a cerberus on the battlefield.
Another dash, and a couple dozen shots were deflected aside.
The enemies split into two groups; I threw a lightsaber at one. And while it flew, I used a Force push to deal with the turians hiding behind cover. The wave of the Force was so powerful that it not only crushed the barriers and threw the enemies' bodies back, but also tore them apart, freeing their insides from the prison of flesh. That was... fortunate, in its own way.
The light blade returned like a boomerang, and I continued the harvest.
I had to take mental control of some opponents. A whole group. I didn't give the command to their minds, but rather to the part of the brain responsible for physiology. They were aware of their actions but couldn't resist them. Aiming their weapons at their own heads, they committed suicide.
— Don't let him pass! - a cry rang out.
At the end of the path, krogan in heavy armor awaited me. In another situation, I would have gladly fought the brave warriors, ready to fight to their last breath and rejoice not in victory, but in their own iconic end. But I was late. There were only thirty seconds left on the five-minute timer.
I channeled Force lightning into the blades, and drew a cross, sending electrical waves straight at the enemies. Thanks to the light blades, the effect became even more devastating. Only charred remains, mixed with ash, were left of the krogan.
The tunnel was finished.
Checking the program built into my helmet, which served as my additional source of information, I breathed a sigh of relief. The remaining ten seconds were enough to leave the tunnel, which had turned into a morgue for those who had been alive just recently.
On the surface, I was met by a familiar scene, one that hadn't yet faded from memory. Death. I wasn't sure at what point Samara had changed her task from "covering from the roof" to "shredding enemies with biotics somewhere over there," but she was better at the latter.
Analyzing the chronology of the battle, I mentally figured out what happened:
A small group of enemies still managed to get out of the tunnel.
At the retreat point, turrets and barricades had been set up, with elite fighters behind them. The fight was heated, dangerous, but still winnable for the asari.
Justicars are among the strongest fighters, tempered by hundreds of years of battles. Fear old men in a profession where it's customary to die young, especially if those professionals are biotics. Samara is inferior to Aria in power, but Aria is a walking anomaly. Nevertheless, the justicar's strength was sufficient to tear apart the turrets, flesh, and armor of the enemies.
Only two remained alive – two small fry.
— We've cornered her! Cover me, - the turian exaggerated, trying to build up a charge for his energy weapon. A dangerous thing, often malfunctioning at the most inopportune moment and capable of hitting allies. In this case – the second turian trooper, who was confident that victory was in his pocket. It's hard to tell if the beetle-like humanoids are smiling, but the joy in his soul was clearly readable.
If I understood correctly, Samara had only taken cover to reload her weapon.
They, however, decided she was exhausted and would soon die.
Deactivating the violet lightsaber, I freed my hand to use the Force and, walking slowly, headed towards the shooter and the demolitions man. With a swing of my saber and the characteristic hiss of the laser, I gave them a chance to spot me before I got too close – just at the moment when the weapon's charge was almost full.
Out of surprise, the demolitions man shot at me with the very thing his life depended on. Even if I died, they wouldn't be able to handle the justicar now. A failed move.
Sharply raising my hand, I used the Jedi technique – Tutaminis, which allows one to absorb energy for dissipation or subsequent use. This is precisely why the worst thing you can use against me is anything related to electricity or other energy.
This case was exactly that: I absorbed the blue sphere of electromagnetic pulse and, through the Dark Side of the Force, redirected it back at the enemy. But instead of injuring, the blow came out as an incinerating one.
This didn't hit the shooter, but I wasn't aiming for a double kill.
How could I refuse to practice the defensive technique Soresu against an assault rifle, using only one lightsaber? This technique is almost useless in an attack, but at short distances, it's ideal for undermining the enemy's confidence.
Step by step, I approached, blocking the shots with various movements. In the end, the opponent faced a mundane problem – he ran out of ammo. And I had entered the kill zone to use Mou kei.
PROXY, who copied Obi-Wan Kenobi's fighting style, often used this technique.
Mou kei is mostly used by Sith, rarely by Jedi, due to its cruelty: sheer dismemberment of several limbs at once. In my execution, the attack began with both of the turian's legs, smoothly transitioned to his arms, – and only then did his head fly from his shoulders.
Not everyone is capable of performing such a series in one swing.
Lightsabers have no inertia, and contact with physical objects causes repulsion, which significantly increases the demands on mastery. A clumsy execution of Mou kei is more likely to kill the swordsman than his opponent.
— Hm... - Samara hummed thoughtfully a little later, elegantly walking towards me from her cover. She glanced fleetingly at the enemies' bodies, of which little remained that was turian. — In a thousand years, I have seen many amazing things: things that can be explained by neither logic nor faith. Much of today I can try to understand thanks to experience. But compressing tens of tons of iron and throwing the garbage off the planet?
— At seventeen, I was controlling more weight, - I replied grimly, extinguishing the scarlet blade.
— It's frightening to imagine what you were like before... - she responded with surprising emotion, looking in the direction I had come from. Unpleasant sounds were probably drifting from there. — Age is not kind to humans, as I recall from conversations with your race.
— Not exactly. As we age, we accumulate more experience. At twenty-three – my capabilities have doubled, - I estimated, wondering if I could pull down two Star Destroyers at once.
I wonder, is it fair to measure one's Force strength in starships?
— I will have to contact the order...
— Trouble?
— To warn them. I don't want to lose my order because of possible disagreements with...
— Starkiller.
— Mmm. And, if you'll allow it, until I hear back from the head of the order, I would like to temporarily join your team, - she stated with honesty worthy of respect.
The most straightforward spy in the galaxy. I could send her away, but, on second thought, I have nothing to hide except my identity. After all, every year I strive to surpass my past limits, so my enemies will constantly be fed disinformation about my power level. Another reason to agree: a justicar's connections will help simplify contentious moments and, within reasonable limits, bypass laws in asari territories. Even on the Citadel, as long as I don't push it too far.