I still had to delay a bit. Kiala—sudden as an erection at ninety—caught me practically at the Temple exit and dragged me off for yet another round of procedures, scans, and tests.
Patiently (what was the point of picking a fight?) enduring all the misery dumped on my head, I found out I had about five days left of floundering in the healers' captivity. The tests were deemed acceptable, the wounds were closing up. The healer said nothing about the spiritual side of things, but as far as I could tell, everything was fine there too.
So I needed to hurry. Valkorion wouldn't wait.
After tossing another ten packs of dry rations aboard the ship, I finally set off toward my goal.
I needed to sum up everything I remembered about the fourth moon of the gas giant Yavin.
The first to arrive there was the Sith Dark Lord Naga Sadow, hiding from the Jedi during the Great Hyperspace War. He ordered his followers—the Massassi—to raise enormous temples where the energy of the dark side of the Force would be focused. Hiding from the galaxy, Sadow conducted experiments, creating monsters from the descendants of his crew through Sith magic. Sadow placed himself in stasis, until he was awakened by Freedon Nadd, who took up his teachings and killed his teacher.
Later, sensing the power of the dark side within himself, the fallen Jedi Exar Kun arrived on the moon. During the Great Sith War, Exar Kun made Yavin 4 his last stronghold, draining the life energy of thousands of Massassi to preserve his soul despite his body's death. As a result, he managed to remain as a Force spirit. And it came back to bite Luke Skywalker when he decided to found a Jedi Academy on the moon.
Besides that, it was from Yavin 4 that the Alliance struck the Death Star.
And again, it was on Yavin 4 that Revan's Shadow—twisted, filled with malice and rage, having survived an encounter with an Imperial strike team at the Rakata station known as the Foundry—used the ancient Jedi Master's physical shell to try to resurrect and destroy Vitiate. The first part of the plan succeeded. The Emperor's spirit returned from oblivion and, wearing the mask of Emperor Valkorion, brought both the Republic and the Sith Empire to their knees.
And now I was setting course for that historic little spot.
The remarkable part was that there was no mention of Yavin 4 in either the Jedi Archives or the Holonet. Most likely Dooku—or the Jedi themselves—had deleted information about the planet to stop fallen Jedi pilgrimages.
What could Valkorion need on this planet?
If Rik's personal memories weren't locked, I might have known the answer. But now…
I was almost sure Valkorion was playing with me. What game?
The Emperor had said I needed to prepare before flying to Yavin 4. How exactly?
Was that the point of training Force-users? The Master set vague tasks, and the apprentice carried them out. Or didn't.
Who knows what the benefit of this assignment was supposed to be.
If I could direct the Force fairly skillfully (by my own estimate), I hadn't tried practicing with a lightsaber yet.
I had about twenty hours of flight ahead of me, so I went down to the hold and cleared it out for training.
Tossing the familiar little ball into the air, I ignited the sun-colored blade and took my stance.
***
I finished with blaster deflection after a couple of hours. I can't say it went well—and the numb right side, left arm, and ass wouldn't have let me lie to myself even if I wanted to. I needed to let my body restore sensation in the defeated sections.
At the same time, I decided to start reading the information I'd copied from the Archives. After all, I'd be going to the front soon enough.
As it turned out, besides historical and tactical notes, I'd managed to copy information on a lot of other things. Because of my not-quite-correct copy request, the terminal recorded everything from cross-references too. Now in my spare time I could read in detail about the Imperial dreadnought Rendili StarDrive built, the Zakuulan Eternal Fleet…
Ships of the past interested me little, so I got down to reading about battles.
If I'd hoped that commanders of the past would describe maneuvers and give advice like "What's the first thing you should shoot off an enemy ship so it can't run," I was painfully mistaken.
Most major conflicts between opposing sides were controlled by Force-users. The attack on Darth Malak's Star Forge supported by Bastila Shan's Battle Meditation was proof enough.
It was worth noting here that, in most cases, space battles were won by one of two scenarios. The first: a Jedi (or pro-Republic) sabotage group carried out a strike on the enemy flagship, after which the demoralized enemy either surrendered or was exterminated by the Republic fleet with zeal and numerical superiority.
Cases of any kind of truce, territorial concessions, and the like were practically absent from galactic history. Only the Cold War and the Eternal Empire's invasion could boast anything similar. In other cases, the Republic always found the strength to unwind its enemy across the entire galaxy. Sometimes it looked outright wild. Judge for yourself.
After defeating Malak's Sith at the Battle of the Star Forge, the Republic fleet—despite being significantly inferior in number of warships—not only drove the Sith away, but took their territories for itself. The same thing happened to the Sith Empire.
The historical essays treated the chronology and battles of the First and Second Galactic Wars very superficially. After the First, the Republic and the Empire signed a truce. In favor of Dromund Kaas, Coruscant ceded a number of territories. Then the Second broke out, and after it there was a drift toward rapprochement between the Republic and the Empire against a common enemy—first the Revanites, then the Eternal Empire.
How the conflict with Zakuul ended was described in the essays in very vague terms. The Outlander usurped power in the galaxy; however, later the Republic crushed both him and his allies from the Sith Empire.
Well, there you go. The Outlander, whom I'd considered the Hero of Tython returned from oblivion, turned out to be a usurper? It's a shame that over four thousand years historians reduced that moment to a simple "usurped power."
And how did the Republic manage to come out the victor? Zakuul had the Eternal Fleet—an armada created by unknown sentient machines. And the Sith Empire possessed impressive armed forces as well…
And then it hit me.
Of course. If the Outlander was the Hero of Tython who, one way or another, seized power in Valkorion's Eternal Empire, that would have turned the Order against him. The Eternal Empire did not join the Republic, did it? It did not. Neither did Dromund Kaas.
For millennia, the Jedi had been masters at destroying Light adepts who strayed. No wonder the annals contained slightly less information about the Hero of Tython—just like about Revan—than was necessary. If I hadn't known who killed Vitiate, I would have believed the Archives' records: "The Sith Emperor was slain by a powerful Jedi." Meaning that in the future, after Revan's Shadow was destroyed, the paths of the Hero and the Republic diverged. And so radically that his very name was scrubbed from history. I doubt anyone now could say why.
Back to tactics.
Throughout all history, those gifted in one side of the Force or the other used ordinary sentients as expendable material. A simple soldier on the battlefield mattered little when the clash was between Force adepts.
Of course, there were exceptions—the Mandalorians, for one, or commandos. Those had specialized training.
The Mandalorians had their way with the Republic as they pleased—until Revan took the matter in hand.
The "new Sith" had their way with the Republic as they pleased—until the Jedi Lord Hoth took command.
This list could go on forever.
And then Ruusan happened. The destruction of the Sith marked the end of the Sith–Jedi confrontation. The Jedi relaxed, disarmed, rejected the principles of warriors. They became "keepers of the peace." The army and the fleet were put to the knife. The Judicial Forces took over maintaining law and order.
For a thousand years, the galaxy cultivated seeds of corruption and lawlessness… The Jedi became the Senate's chained dogs.
Of course, measures were taken to revive the fleet. The Katana Fleet, for example—a dreadnought fleet of two hundred Rendili StarDrive ships linked together by a special system that made the ships repeat the actions of their flagship. And as a result of the flagship crew being infected by some kind of filth, the fleet jumped into hyperspace and waved goodbye to the Republic…
After that, everything that happened to the Republic over the last thousand years hardly deserved to be called "war." And hardly deserved much attention.
Of course, technical progress couldn't be denied. Technology developed and improved.
But tactics…
Remember the Battle of Naboo, where the Trade Federation army—and the Gungans—used tactics against each other that were already being used on Earth in Napoleon's time… In a galaxy where people fly in space…
It was savage.
Though… if the USSR had enjoyed a thousand years of peace, if the navy and army were dissolved, could we have withstood Hitler's onslaught in that case?
But looking from the other side—the USSR would never have disarmed, because it was surrounded by ideological and geopolitical enemies. And the Republic after Ruusan had no serious enemies…
Yeah. Hoping I'd find the knowledge of my predecessors in the Archives, I stepped right in it. For the most part, the information I got there had no value for the coming war. Sure, if studied carefully, maybe I could have gleaned a few grains, but it still wasn't it…
So I'd have to act by my own judgment. Though not just me. Thousands of Jedi were building command experience through their own trial and error. Why was I any worse?
Glancing at the time indicator, I swore as I noticed I'd spent almost seven hours studying holo-discs. The paralyzed parts of my body had already come back to life, and I went for the second round of training with the spherical droid.
But this time I decided to do it in armor.
First, I needed to understand whether I could wear armor at all—it wasn't exactly light. And I had to study how I would move in it…
I chose Sith armor I'd seen in a Star Wars: The Old Republic trailer. In it, Sith warriors butchered Republic soldiers on Alderaan. The armor even came with a cloak. Mood-appropriate: matte black, with blood-red edging on the sleeves ending around the elbows, and on the lining. "In a black cloak with a blood-red lining…" No, I think it was white in that quote. This one was no worse.
The armor included a fairly comfortable bodysuit, with armor elements secured over it—a breastplate and backplate, greaves, pauldrons… On the utility belt I even found magnetic mounts for a lightsaber. The mask—which was in fact a high-tech helmet with a closed breathing system, a heap of filters and lenses—I decided not to wear yet, but I brought it with me and set it on the workbench in the hold.
Activating the training droid, I began deflecting its stunning shots.
***
The new training session was noticeably easier.
Saturating my body with the Force, I practically turned the armor into my second skin. It clung to me so perfectly, as if it had been made for me. Though, in truth, it simply adjusted itself to its wearer thanks to a modular design.
The more often I used the lightsaber, the more actively muscle memory "remembered" what had been hammered into it over years of training.
A few more hours of practice, and I could deflect almost every shot the droid fired at me. The rest the armor absorbed without much harm.
I regretted bitterly that I hadn't borrowed a sparring droid from the Temple to hone my fencing skills. Alas—after the fight, you don't swing your fists.
Of course, lacking anything better, I practiced familiar sequences in "shadow fighting," but without a real opponent such training was laughable.
After shedding the armor, I asked R3 and learned there were no more than seven hours left in the journey. All ship systems were normal, no course deviation detected.
Satisfied, I took a shower and washed the sweat off after training.
I had no intention of driving myself into exhaustion with training. No telling what Valkorion had prepared on Yavin. Of course, I was unlikely to be fully ready for it, but at least I'd rest before the unknown.
With those thoughts, I passed out.
***
I was awakened by my mechanical assistant's chimes.
R3, noticing I wasn't reacting to its trill over the intercom, rolled down from the bridge to poke me with a manipulator.
Rubbing my eyes, I went straight to the refresher, threw a couple ration bars into myself, and put the armor on again.
In the viewport, a planet was visible, its entire surface covered in green and blue patches.
The droid chirped affirmatively.
"Yavin 4," I confirmed. I'd never seen it before, but now I felt this world like an old acquaintance. Of course my predecessor had been here. I cursed myself for my forgetfulness. Of course. This was where Valkorion's ghost had killed my previous Master.
"Make a couple of passes through the atmosphere," I ordered. "We'll scout and pick a landing site."
The droid chirped affirmatively.
Defender—without overthinking, I'd registered the ship under its model name—dropped from orbit, spiraling lower and lower.
Somewhere around the third pass, I sensed the dark side radiating from a specific point on the planet. The corvette was redirected there at once.
Even from orbit I could have bet my refuge here would be the Great Temple.
The same one where the Rebels would later set up their base, and from where they blew the Death Star to hell in Episode IV.
The same one where my old teacher died, and I found a new one.
The corvette landed not far from the Temple, touching down smoothly on the moon's rain-softened ground.
I checked that my lightsaber was still there, tucked a handheld light into my belt. After a moment's thought, I tucked a blaster into my belt too.
"Wait for me on the ship," I instructed the droid. "Don't let anyone in except me. If I don't return in a couple of days—fly back to Coruscant. Actually," I slapped my palm to my forehead, "let's record a message."
***
The Great Temple's majesty and monumentality from the outside, highlighted by bright midday sunlight, fully matched its interior.
Inside, the Temple was divided into five levels, each corresponding to a step of the ziggurat. From lowest to highest, each of the five levels was smaller and higher than the one before. The layout remained the same everywhere—small cells, chambers, and corridors around a large central space.
If I remember correctly, on the lowest level—the largest by area—the Rebels would later set up a hangar for their fighters. Stepping over the stone floor, I lit my way with the flashlight. If the builders had planned lighting at all, it had long since failed.
Methodically, I walked every lower level until I reached the top.
The Great Audience Chamber. In the future, this was where Luke, Han, and Chewbacca would be decorated for destroying the Death Star. Later, this was where Luke would teach new Jedi…
And now, in the middle of dry leaf litter, stirred by gusts of wind slipping through empty window openings, I stood alone.
I felt the Darkness roiling around me. After all, the Temple had been created to focus the dark side.
It clouded the mind, constantly testing the mental shield with which, out of habit, I surrounded myself.
"You are here," Valkorion's ghost appeared from nowhere behind me. Unchanged by the time he'd been absent, he began circling me in measured steps. "Apprentice."
"Yes, Master," I went down on one knee before the Sith. "You commanded; I obeyed."
"I had to command twice," Valkorion said unexpectedly harshly. The dark side suddenly boiled, and I felt the ghost strike with telekinesis. I flew ten meters, maybe, and slammed into the wall behind me. The armor softened the impact, but the blow drove all the air from my lungs. "You are my tool in this world, Rik Dougan." The Sith showed no emotion, but I'd bet he was angry. With a second motion, Vitiate lifted me into the air and pinned me to the wall so hard I felt bones cracking.
"I summoned you into this world, made you significant," Valkorion's voice thundered. "I gave you a reason to live. To live and be the conduit of my will."
"Master…" I rasped.
"You are full of self-importance," the Sith concluded. "It is time to teach you a lesson."
The ghost's grip loosened, and I collapsed to the floor.
Gulping air, I knelt before the ghost.
A monolith of authority—unyielding, authoritarian—towered over me. With no caution at all, he closed his eyes, gathering the power of the dark side around himself.
Like a whirlpool, Darkness roiled around him, and the glow of the ghost grew brighter.
"Thousands of years ago, a Jedi named Revan planned to kill me," he began unexpectedly. "Blinded by his thirst for vengeance, he did not understand that he was acting in my interests, doing what I wanted…"
"He resurrected you," I reminded him.
"Yes." Valkorion opened his eyes. "My spirit was weak after the death of my Voice. Revan staged a slaughter that fed me and gave me strength. I went into Wild Space, where my new Empire was being created. Zakuul. With it, I planned to bring the galaxy to a model state, discard the mistakes and dogmas of the past… But once again, I was betrayed."
I understood Vitiate was stalling. Manipulating the dark side, he had performed some ritual, and now he was simply talking in circles. I don't understand how, but a lightsaber ended up in my hands.
"My own child, Arcann, raised a blade against me at the very moment when my old enemy, my killer, saw clearly and understood the reason for my actions."
"The Hero of Tython took your side?" I said doubtfully.
"He accepted my power—part of my strength," Valkorion admitted. "As the only one worthy in the galaxy, he could have led it to peace and prosperity. But once again"—the air seemed to drop several degrees in an instant—"the Jedi, bound by their dogmas and shortsightedness, turned against him. The Sith, nursing their treachery and betrayal, proved weak against the Republic. My plan, my creation, my Eternal Empire… all of it was destroyed, buried, and forgotten under layers of centuries, trampled by Jedi filth. This must be brought to an end."
Suddenly, I felt something dark moving toward the Temple. The dark side roiling around Valkorion interfered with my ability to identify the threat, but I knew without any deep scan that a hostile force was coming. My finger found the blade activation switch. The half-lit hall filled with yellow glow.
"Curious," Valkorion narrowed his eyes slightly. "So I did wonder where that saber had gone. It belonged to my son, Thexan. The only one of my children wise enough to carry out my will without question."
"But Arcann killed him," I reminded him.
"A sacrifice that was necessary." I thought I saw sympathy flicker in Valkorion's eyes. "Zakuul changed me. Showed me the limits of my understanding, helped me step beyond them. It was Zakuul that gave me a vision of the future, warned me of the danger beyond the galaxy's borders. I did what I had to. I forged a weapon against the invaders, and turned it on those who refused to step past their limitations. Arcann and Vaylin, driven by base desires, turned my child into a crude imitation. They could not keep themselves on the edge between the sides of the Force. And they destroyed the peak of my creation. Zakuul fell. After it—the Sith Empire. And the galaxy sank into stagnation."
The Darkness drew closer. It was practically on the other side of the wall. I had been distracted by the Sith's talk and let my guard down. But sensing danger, I immediately flooded my body with the light side, forcing it out of the surrounding space with effort. Gripping the hilt with both hands, I prepared to meet my enemy.
With the roar of a wild animal, a gigantic figure burst through the window frame in a single leap and skidded to a stop beside Vitiate's ghost.
In the sunlight, I could make out the intruder.
Over two meters tall, red-skinned like most of the Sith species. Sharp facial features covered in long facial tendrils. A muscular body wrapped in short clothing. Spines and bony spikes covering exposed parts of his body gleamed predatorily in the sun.
A Massassi. A Sith warrior.
"I have opened knowledge to you that many living Jedi and Sith have already forgotten," the ghost suddenly unleashed Force lightning, which struck me and hurled me several meters. "But you reach for the Light, ignoring your potential. Here, in this place, the Light will not help you. Use the dark side. Teach the Force to be your servant. Stop asking—take what is yours by right." The Sith practically spat the last words. "Or I will replace you."
With a monstrous roar, the Massassi drew a huge axe from behind his back—it had been hanging on a tether—and charged me.
***
I couldn't match him in either strength or speed.
This beast—clearly one of the ancient Sith's alchemical experiments—was made only to kill. A perfect hunter. A trained murderer. And I was his target.
Just as he had warned, Valkorion had decided to replace me. A Jedi body is an excellent vessel for one of the Emperor's followers. Seeing as I'd made him repeat his orders.
The first time he commanded me to obtain a ship after Geonosis. Then—before my trip to the Temple. Either way, the old man was seriously offended by my behavior.
A second before the Massassi's axe, swung in mid-leap, could have split my head, I gathered the Force—more of it, as much as possible—and sent him flying into the nearest wall. The hit landed beautifully. Bones cracked, and blue blood splashed across stone warmed by the midday sun.
Valkorion watched in silence.
"You didn't teach me," I reminded the ghost. "You didn't show me a single dark side technique. How am I supposed to use them?"
The red-skinned one roared and rushed back in. I rolled aside, made several swings with the saber. The blade crossed with the axe, flickered, and went out instantly.
"Cortosis!" I cursed. The hesitation cost me a solid punch to the face.
At the last moment I managed to soften it, but the taste of blood still filled my mouth.
My head rang like a bell, but the Force helped again. Sensing where the next hit would land, I rolled aside and used a Force push again. But this time the Massassi was ready. I remembered the dark side energy coming from him. The warrior "swallowed" my strike and returned it to me with interest.
Once again I flew across the hall.
"I have unlocked your memories of the dark side's paths," the Sith cut in. "They are in your head. Your body is unique. Your gift is priceless!" the Sith's voice thundered. "Use the power and knowledge I gave you—or you will die!"
Another impact against the wall. I slid down like a sack. With difficulty, feeding myself with the last scraps of Force, I rose.
Barely holding the re-ignited lightsaber, I tracked my enemy.
He circled in front of me, his yellow eyes fixed on every move. His skin was smeared with blue blood in places, but it didn't slow him down. On the contrary, I felt him, as best he could, drawing the dark side through himself, kindling rage. Building power. Soon he would rush me.
"You are my right hand in this world," Valkorion rumbled. "The Massassi is just a beast; his power is minimal. How do you plan to put an end to Jedi and Sith if you cannot kill this acolyte? You are a waste of my priceless time," the Sith concluded. For a second he waited for some response. I was too exhausted to do anything. Turning his back to me, Valkorion said, "Pierce his heart. It is time to replace the consciousness in this body."
Sitting with my eyes closed, I sensed the red-skinned one approaching, and in the same instant, as he raised his axe to crush my skull, I suddenly realized that my admiration for this galaxy, my unformed and unfulfilled dreams, would vanish with me into oblivion. Valkorion would replace me like a spent cartridge, just as he had done before with the body's owner. As if in slow motion, I saw Valkorion begin to glow ten meters away. Eyes closed, focused, he paid me absolutely no attention. I don't know why, but I felt he was calling the dark side. It answered, and surged from the depths of Yavin's jungles into this hall. My time in this galaxy was up.
No.
Not today.
The cortosis-coated axe rebounded off my Force shield. The baffled Massassi stared at the weapon, then at me. I opened my eyes and looked back. The warrior snarled and launched a new attack.
Spinning a vortex of the dark side around myself, letting its scorching power flow through my veins, I focused at my fingertips.
Blue-violet lightning tore through the Massassi's body and flung him across the hall. The beast roared and came at me again. I called my blade into my hand and ignited it. The red-skinned one charged, raising the axe. Rolling aside, I slipped off the line of attack and slashed his right arm with my blade. Turning, I watched it convulse on the floor.
A roar of pain and rage shook the Temple's vaults. Snatching the axe with his left hand, the warrior rushed me. I waited until he was right on top of me, then halted him with the Force. Hanging the enemy in stasis—spending the last scraps of the light side to do it—I placed a hand on him. I felt the Force within him and, reaching its source, began draining it from the Massassi, using it to heal my own injuries.
A couple of minutes later, when the stasis wore off, I dropped the defeated, withered enemy onto the stone floor.
Even that wasn't enough. I hesitated for a second, then, seeing the warrior's body start to move, separated his head from his body with a short stroke of the yellow blade.
Making sure my enemy wouldn't rise again, I turned to face Valkorion.
The ancient Sith watched me with interest.
"Impressive," he said. "But your swordsmanship is depressing."
I felt a mass of the dark side seep into the chamber.
Radiating malice and hatred, it approached Valkorion. The Sith stood proudly over the ghost of a man who bowed before him.
"I swear loyalty to your teachings and your goals," the ghost said obsequiously. "Allow me to tear the soul from this body and serve you…"
"Long ago, your spirit was sealed on this planet," the Sith said. "You languished within these walls until my enemy awakened me. The power I amassed from deaths across the galaxy gave you freedom."
The ghost of a man in ancient armor, with long dark hair tied back, stared at Valkorion in confusion.
"Master, I don't understand…"
"Your skills are great, Exar," Valkorion acknowledged. "But you dared to steal part of my power when Revan resurrected me…"
"All for the sake of serving you, Emperor," panic sounded in the former Jedi's voice.
"Fight him," Valkorion nodded toward me. "He, like you, has caused me trouble. Defeat him—and this body is yours, and you may serve me. Fail—and he will drain your power the same way he drained the last Massassi loyal to you a few minutes ago."
"Master…" Exar Kun hesitated for a moment, then his face twisted with anger. "You will die, boy!"
White-blue lightning burst from his ghostly hands and rushed toward me.
***
My ghostly opponent had once been a remarkably gifted Jedi and his master's finest student. But like Freedon Nadd before him, Kun succumbed to the temptations of the dark side and became a new Sith adept. He fled to Yavin 4, where he destroyed Freedon Nadd's spirit when it started hounding him, and started yet another war with the Republic. He became one of the few Sith powerful enough to preserve his mind apart from his body for an extremely long time. Four thousand years later, Exar's spirit returned and enslaved the mind of one of Luke Skywalker's students. Only through unimaginable effort were the Jedi able to destroy the Sith spirit.
I deflected Exar's lightning with the lightsaber blade. The dark side energy hissed as it was drawn into the sun-colored blade.
The ghost darted around me, again and again hurling either lightning or dark side masses at my mortal body. I deflected the former with the blade; I simply avoided the latter—fortunately, for some reason, the ghost couldn't give them enough speed.
Meanwhile, I desperately tried to think of a way to defeat a Force spirit.
You can't stab a ghost with a blade—he's a ghost.
Maybe with the Force?
As if someone had overheard my thoughts, and the dark side aura that had been suppressing my connection to the Light vanished. It happened so suddenly that even Kun froze for a moment.
That was enough. Taking advantage of the ancient Jedi's confusion, I unleashed the dark side I had accumulated. Flowing through my body, it surged from my fingers in dark-violet discharges.
My lightning punched straight through the ghost. Exar slowed, a grimace of rage flickering over his spectral face. "Aha," I realized. "So the Force can still hurt him."
Valkorion watched all of it without expression. I understood him: essentially, it didn't matter to him who won—me or Kun. Either way, he would get an apprentice strong and skilled enough to oppose the Jedi and Darth Sidious's plans.
Kun hurled a clump of darkness shaped like a broken spearhead. Only by a miracle did I evade. The darkness sank into the wall behind me like acid and began eating the stone. Leaving behind a deep, corroded cavity, it dissolved.
The clash started to resemble mating games. Kun threw lightning, Force masses, small stones. A couple times even trees from the jungle flew into the hall. I calmly absorbed and deflected it all. Feeding myself with the dark side, letting it fortify me, expand my field of mental control, I used every technique I knew against the Sith again and again, testing this and that.
Soot began to cover the hall's walls from lightning and energy bursts. I don't know how much time passed, but the sun had noticeably lowered, filling the hall with blood-red sunset hues.
Kun, apparently, was wearing out. His lightning came less frequently, not as strong and wide. I, meanwhile, pumped dark and light side energy through myself, supporting my tired body by every means available.
Absorbing the dark side energy roiling around me, I suddenly arrived at the thought that the Sith standing before me was nothing but Force energy. Light side or dark side—it didn't matter.
This was the Force.
And only recently I had absorbed—wrung dry—dark side energy out of Exar's warrior…
Valkorion's words clicked in my mind: "He will drain your power the same way he drained the last Massassi loyal to you…"
Trying to test my theory, I directed my dark side technique at Kun's ghost, which was gathering the Force in a far corner.
The ghost screamed in terror as he saw the outline of his figure blur and begin to flow into my hand in thin, pale streams.
"Master!" the ghost howled, reaching toward Valkorion, who stood serenely nearby. I felt an invisible hand stretch from Kun's spirit toward the ancient Sith. Vitiate wrapped himself in an impenetrable wall, and the former Jedi's hand struck it and shattered.
I felt the Force—and with it, energy and knowledge—pouring from the spirit into my body. Rituals of Sith alchemy flashed before my eyes, and Niman saber sequences I'd never seen.
Losing his essence with every passing second, the ghost tried to crash his power down on me, but only wasted his energy. Wrapped in a Force sphere, I only increased the speed of absorption.
Finally, with a soul-tearing scream and shriek, the ghost completely flowed into my body.
The Force swelled inside me. It felt like I had absorbed more than I could physically contain. I needed to release it, to give part of the ghost back. But I understood that if I did, the spirit would be able to attack me.
"You can," Valkorion appeared beside me. "You are stronger than him. Absorb. Process his energy. Let it flow through you, strengthen your bones and muscles. His knowledge is yours now. Assimilate it, remember it, absorb it…"
My body began convulsing. Thin threads of the dark side seemed to leak out of it. The body couldn't withstand such power. Swaying, I fell full-length to the floor, throwing the saber aside at the last moment, barely managing to catch myself with my hands. I tried to rise, pushing off the floor, but froze—swaying on my hands and one knee.
My mental cocoon began to crack. It was like I had fallen into boiling water.
I dropped.
Yes, I killed the Massassi.
I defeated the ghost.
But I couldn't make use of the victory.
Dark energy was tearing me apart. I felt a thin stream of blood running from the corner of my mouth. Drops fell to the floor in strange circles, layering over one another. The circles swam before my eyes.
"You must!" For the first time since we met, Valkorion showed any emotion at all. Anger and rage, but still. "Use his power!"
I couldn't release Kun's energy, but I couldn't absorb his knowledge into myself fast enough either. The Darkness threatened to tear me open.
And if I couldn't swallow all that Force soon, my liver would decorate the walls of the Great Audience Chamber. The Darkness would destroy my body…
"For fuck's sake. What a goddamn idiot I am."
The Force was ripping my body to pieces because it couldn't digest the fallen Jedi's accumulated energy. So why hadn't I routed the Force into restoring my body?
In the next instant, obeying my mental command, the Force—rather than reinforcing the mental cocoon around my body and holding back the power trying to burst out—restructured itself to rebuild damaged organs and tissues.
I pumped my body full of the Force, regenerating damaged sections again and again. No longer trapped inside me, the Force seeped freely through arms, legs, and torso, renewing cells and tissues. Cycling the Force through myself repeatedly, I reduced its explosive potential. But the moment I healed my organism, Kun's spirit power broke through the renewed body and damaged it again.
And again I healed myself. Again. And again. And—
Losing track of time and my sense of space, I blacked out.