Star Wars: Slave Of Darkness

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So...I...I did not mean to write the chapter like I did. I actually made myself sick to my stomach writing this. But since this is a Sith SI...maybe that's right. You've been warned.

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The concussive impact made me stumble back a few steps as my breastplate heated up uncomfortably. When an object creates a light that bright, it gets hot. Thankfully, standard trooper armor provided some protection against that, but that had limits. I'd have to be careful about letting that spot get hit until I could get the armor checked.

Even with my eyes closed, I still had to blink away spots as I reoriented myself. The light had still been blinding through my eyelids. Though my hearing was undamaged thanks to my helmet, I could still hear a persistent ringing. All in all, it went better than I thought it would. I'd been half-expecting to have lost my helmet by now.

My opponent was much worse off. One hand clutched at his now-blinded eyes while the other maintained its grip on his sword. Even with his arm and hood in the way, I could still see blood dribbling down from his ears. With his ruptured eardrums and disrupted internal fluids, his sense of balance would also be off.

However, the blindness would only last for a few seconds before it started fading. If he was military, he was going to know that fact and act accordingly.

Force Jumping back onto the steps, I used telekinesis to prime, detach, and throw three fragmentation grenades from my bandoleer. Normally, it was a really stupid idea to use grenades against a Force Sensitive since most times they can just throw them back at you. This was the exception to that rule.

Between the blindness, deafness, internal fluid disturbance, and a shit ton of pain, he shouldn't be able to concentrate enough to do any fancy tricks. At worst, he'll just bat them away instead of sending them right back at me.

Despite his blindness, it appeared his danger sense was working just fine. Taking his hand away from his eyes, he swept it in front of him. A brief wave of force erupted from him, sending the grenades hurtling out into the darkness, where they detonated harmlessly.

It was an expected result, but I figured I'd try anyways just in case. Never know when you'd get lucky with this stuff.

Sword in hand, I advanced, though cautiously. At most, I had a second or two before Castor's sight started coming back, but he clearly wasn't helpless.

After deflecting the grenades, Castor had settled into a fighting stance. His eyes stared at nothing, waiting for me to move and trigger his danger sense again. His stance was wide, with his right foot slid back and back knee bent. His hands were both gripping his sword, held above his head in a guard position.

While I hadn't practiced enough of the Forms to reliably use more than Shii-Cho, I had taken the time to memorize the opening stances of the others, if only so I could be prepared for it. The one Castor was using now was the alternate opening stance for Form III, Soresu. However, it almost looked like the wide stance was the only thing keeping him standing, as he seemed to teeter from side to side slightly.

With my blade in a two-handed grip, I swung, aiming to slice him from right hip to left shoulder. His own sword descended instantly in a circular block. The moment it caught my weapon, he directed the momentum away, raising both weapons up over his head in an arc. I quickly disengaged before he could complete the maneuver.

While Form III was a great defensive form, it was ideally used against blasters, not blades. Nevertheless, it was still going to be difficult to get by unless he was really inept with it. But I needed to do it somehow and…

And…

And I was being an idiot.

During my joyride on the back of the k'lor'slug, my monster had shattered the stone altar into pieces and gouged out chunks from the dais. Now, I used the Force to throw the chunks at Castor. Hard.

By now, his sight had likely partially returned, but everything should be blurry for him. Despite that, he started deflecting the smaller chunks of rock while dodging the larger ones. However, he still seemed unsteady on his feet.

So I caught the rocks before they finished falling…and threw them back at him from another direction. All he had done was let me get some ammo past him.

The spin Castor did to face the incoming projectiles was ungainly and he suddenly pitched to one side before recovering. As a result, he missed deflecting the first stone, which hit his ribs with a meaty thump, though he stayed on his feet. I heard a crack upon impact, likely a broken bone. Though he managed to deflect the next three, stones number five and six hit him while he tried to deflect number four. The force behind them managed to throw him from his feet.

It was kind of sad. If he had been at his best, he would have easily weathered it, deflecting it indefinitely. With proper usage of Form III, he could likely have outlasted me. Unlike me, he hadn't been physically exerting himself, merely channeling the power from the tomb to power his spells. Meanwhile, I'd been hopping around the room like a explosive jackrabbit.

Instead, here he was, on the ground getting pummeled by rocks. Not boulders. Rocks. Barely the size of a human hand at largest.

I couldn't really blame him. Most Sith wouldn't be expecting their rivals to detonate flashbangs at point blank range or half of the stupid shit I could think of. A lot of them would expect a righteous contest of physical strength or mastery of the Force.

But it still looked pathetic. Where was the rage? Where was the defiance? The madness? Where was the man who had slaughtered four of his classmates and an overseer simultaneously? Were they just that weak that they fell to this?!

I caught my snarl of disgust before it could show on my face. I took a deep breath and let it out, watching the rocks pummel Castor with an impassive expression.

Was I hesitating for any particular reason? I wasn't enjoying the sight. He was effectively helpless…and being pummeled by rocks.

Alright, maybe it was a bit funny. But I didn't feel a smirk or smile on my face, so it wasn't that funny.

If there was no reason…I might as well get it over with.

I positioned myself over his prone body, which was twisting and turning everyway to try to find some protection. The hail of rocks parted to accommodate me. I raised my sword and prepared to swing. Castor stilled and raised his left arm.

Was he trying to beg for his life?

I saw his eyes, glowing red in the dark. No, there was no fear in them.

Darkened steel descended. My senses screamed at me. Suddenly, his hand wasn't empty. I tried to throw myself back, but I was too late. There was a sound as familiar as a heartbeat.

Psshew

Staggering back, I screamed as I was briefly blinded by red and half of my face burned. My sword dropped to the ground, but I didn't hear the clang as I clutched at my face. My skin was ragged, burning, blazing!

As Castor stood, sword and lightsaber in hand with a smirk on his face, I saw a different kind of red. His mouth moved, but I heard no sound come out.

Through the pain, all I knew was that I wanted him broken. I didn't bother to pick up my sword again. I wanted to rip him apart.

Power flooded through me as the dam broke. The waters of Korriban flowed strong. It was overwhelming…intoxicating…powerful. There were feelings I had no name for, all pouring in at once, though rage still managed to claw its way to the top.

I howled and charged, all caution forgotten. Adrenaline, empowered by the Dark Side, pumped through my veins.

The glowing red blade came first. Awkwardly. Not his dominant hand. He thought it would save him.

I grabbed his arm at the wrist before he could finish the swing and squeezed. The crack of bone did nothing to dull my rage, but his scream and the pain he projected fueled me.

My left hand lashed out, lightning crackling around it, burying itself into his gut. It was soon joined by its counterpart. Castor's screams intensified. Once, twice, thrice…I lost count. I felt nothing, even as the skin on my hands charred black before my eyes.

His sword dropped to the ground from nerveless, spasming fingers as electricity arced through his body, quickly forgotten in his pain. But I was far from done.

Pushing him to the ground once more, I planted a boot on his chest before grabbing each of his arms, one in each hand. And then…

I pulled.

Then I heard everything.

First, came the sound of his shoulders dislocating. It was sort of a popping sound. Not quite like a balloon, but close I think.

Next, the ligaments between his bones were ripped from their moorings. It was a bit muffled by the skin and muscles covering them, but it was clear as a bell. At least until Castor started screaming louder. I think he realized what I was doing. He struggled in my grip, but he couldn't escape.

Lastly, muscle and flesh gave way. It tore away, ragged at the edges. The sound…it wasn't like tearing paper. More like…ripping apart a raw steak. A pork chop, maybe.

The screams stopped as Castor stared at me in horror. Blood rapidly pooled on the stone floor beneath him from the ragged stumps, but his eyes were glued to the limbs I now held separate from his body.

Then all at once, it came crashing down. The blood pounding in my ears slowed and my heartbeat returned to normal. My rage cooled…until I realized what I had done.

I tossed the limbs away like they burned. With a speed that had to be Force enhanced, I took out my second pistol and shot Castor between the eyes, freezing his face in that expression of sheer terror.

Turning away, I vomited, spilling stomach acid onto the dais. As soon as I was done, the strength left my legs, dropping me roughly onto the floor.

Ignoring the blood and bile, I curled up as tight as I could force myself to quell the shaking.

But no matter how much I tried, the cold wouldn't leave. I thought I was ready for all this. I was so, so wrong.

The glowrod at my waist guttered out, leaving me in total darkness.