Star Wars: Slave Of Darkness

His training blades hummed as they cut through the air in a poor imitation of the weapons they were pretending to be.

They were ill-suited for actual combat. The fake blades were hilt-heavy and had no edge to cut with, making them awkward and unwieldy. When he'd first started training with them, he'd hit himself more often than the droids and his forearms had burned as he tried to teach them to get used to the unfamiliar grip and weight.

They certainly weren't like any of the knives, clubs, and pipes he'd used before coming to the academy, but he supposed they worked for training to use actual lightsabers. At least these wouldn't remove limbs with a casual touch if they slipped.

Caleb double-checked the weapons to make sure there weren't any defects. An acolyte who had taken offense to a comment on his lineage had sabotaged the blades he liked to use once and nearly got him killed by a training droid two years ago.

In return, Caleb had broken his arms and legs before pummeling him into a coma. The last he'd heard, the entitled little twat hadn't woken up yet.

Since then, he'd gotten into the habit of inspecting his weapons before each use, something he likely should have been doing to begin with. But then, he'd never had to bother before then as most of what he'd used had been tossed away without a second thought.

The Sith warrior cracked his neck before activating a training droid.

"Select training regimen." It demanded.

"Lord. Form: randomize." He replied.

"Acknowledged. Assume opening stance."

Caleb was already doing just that as it spoke, shifting his right foot back and bringing his right arm above his head, holding one of his blades parallel to the ground. The left bent, positioning his off-hand weapon across his chest.

He didn't wait for the droid to get ready before he darted forward, crossing the gap with a single, powerful leap. The overhead blade thrust forward towards the droid's head, only to be shifted aside with a deft Makashi mid-parry.

Caleb's second blade smacked it away to open his opponent up for another strike from the right. Instead of trying to reposition its weapon, the droid ducked under the returning slash and lashed out with a spin kick at his legs, which he easily hopped over. The droid had switched to Ataru.

While in the air, the acolyte's left foot blurred forward, landing a solid strike against the droid's head and sending it tumbling back. At the same time, he used it as a springboard to backflip in the opposite direction. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he was already moving and pressing the attack.

The droid was just as fast, recovering in the same amount of time as it took him to cross the distance to meet his Juyo double strike with a strong Djem So cross-body block. The imitation lightsabers crackled when the magnetic fields around the "blades" made contact with his opponent's vibroblade and held.

The servos in the droid's arms whined as it quickly turned the hard defense into an attack, pushing his weapons aside while simultaneously trying to cut into his chest with the edge of its blade.

Rather than resist, Caleb followed the momentum, spinning in place and ducking as the droid had earlier. But instead of striking with a kick, he tumbled to its right and brought his main blade to block the automaton's retaliatory swing while his second blade slashed up into its unprotected flank.

It leaped back, though it had taken a light "score" to its side. While it wouldn't have been a debilitating strike on a living opponent, it had been just beneath the armpit of its main "sword-arm," which would inflict "difficulties" on its ability to swing its weapon.

That issue immediately became relevant when its defense was a hair too slow to block Caleb's follow-up strike, which "decapitated" the training droid. On its "death," it deactivated and went limp.

The acolyte cautiously backed away, not taking his eyes off the machine until he got to the control panel. He'd been spooked once before and had been lucky to get away with only a short stay in the medical ward.

His muscles only relaxed when the droid stood up straight and marched back to its charging rack.

A frustrated grunt from the other side of the chamber made him turn his head just in time to hear the sound quickly turn into a scream of victory as Kalista brought her training saber across the droid's waist in a textbook sai tok maneauvre, though one performed with an unusual reverse grip.

In that moment, he felt immensely proud. The victory had been as much his as it was hers.

The willowy Twi'lek woman was ill-suited for most of the classical lightsaber forms. She didn't have the stamina for Ataru or Juyo, the strength for Djem So, or the manual dexterity for Makashi, nor did she have the raw talent to compensate for any of these shortcomings.

The Shien variant of Form V and Niman had been possibilities, but they were poorly suited for the dueling-centric environment of the academy. While Shien had broader applications, she needed to survive the academy first. Once that was done, Kalista could retool her style as she saw fit.

In the end, he decided to drill her on Soresu, the most defensive of the forms. While it was mostly geared for blaster deflection, it was a valid option for lightsaber combat. It wasn't a style that he personally favored, but he couldn't deny its usefulness. With her low stamina, the low-intensity style would allow her to conserve as much energy as possible.

However, defense could only go so far. In the end, he incorporated elements from Shii-Cho and Shien to incorporate offensive options, particularly against multiple opponents.

Kalista had never been a warrior and it showed. Her attacks were hesitant, lacking power and focus. For all the rage that flowed through her, her follow-through would occasionally falter at the last moment.

What she did possess was a fluid grace that allowed her to flow from one move to the next once the steps had been drilled into her muscle memory. Though she had never been entirely open about her past before the academy, he suspected that she had been a dancer.

Progress had been slow and difficult. Sometimes, it almost seemed like her own mind refused to learn the sets. It had taken some prodding on his end for her to put more than token effort into it, but her victory against the training droid showed that it was getting through nevertheless, even with her doubts pulling her back.

The green-skinned Twi'lek gulped in air as she stared at the unmoving droid, as though she was trying to process that she had actually won. Slowly, the lines on her forehead smoothed and the corners of her mouth quirked up. Only a little bit, but it was something.

There was a fire in her belly now. Now, rage was no longer alone in her heart.

"Victory suits you well," Caleb complimented sincerely, though his eyes were focused on something else.

As he spoke, his gaze followed a bead of sweat as it swept down from her forehead. It traced a path down the right side of her face, skirting the edge of her cheekbone before sliding along the delicate line of her jaw.

It dangled precariously for a moment before slowly creeping down her thin neck before disappearing into the folds of her robes. Robes which he noticed were now clinging to her shapely form in a very, very appealing way.

A lot of other acolytes would sneer at where his imagination was going simply due to the subject, but he'd told those same people to go jump in a Sarlacc.

Literally. It got him more fights.

It took Caleb some time to realize that he had been staring at her heaving chest for nearly half a minute. At that realization, he did a mental shrug and spent ten more seconds enjoying the sight. When he finally deigned to raise his eyes, he found that Kalista had arched an eyebrow.

"…You know what I'm thinking," Caleb said blithely, not even trying to make an excuse.

He was blunt about what he liked. And what he liked was apparently stubborn, angry Twi'lek women.

Still out of breath, the Twi'lek just rolled her eyes instead of sending a sharp barb his way like she usually did. She was probably in too much of a good mood anyways.

Her half-smile and good mood were quickly replaced by a frown as her head snapped to the door, her Lekku whipping around at the sudden movement. To his regret, Caleb's own attention shifted as well, though he brightened up almost immediately.

'Ah!' He thought to himself, 'Here comes the other reason why I love keeping her around!'

Even through the closed door, he could sense the ill-intentions and hostility leaking through.

If there was ever an advantage of taking an alien lover over a human lover, it was that it pissed the snobby traditionalist Sith off something fierce. And pissed off Sith were more likely to start some trouble with little provocation.

Already, he could hear his heart beginning to race from anticipation. Out of the corner of the acolyte's eye, he could see Kalista adopt a resigned expression. She knew what was coming.

The door to the training hall open with a hiss to let in a quartet of male acolytes. Three were humans, while the fourth was a Sith Pureblood. Each carried a live blade in their hands.

Caleb didn't know most of them, but he did know one of the humans, if only because he'd given the man a pair of black eyes and a broken jaw a month ago.

Huh. The man was now sporting cybernetics along his jawline and eyebrow. Caleb didn't think he'd hit him that hard. It was difficult to tell sometimes.

It seemed Glassjaw was the ringleader of this little gathering, though not the actual leader.

While he wasn't the brightest star in the galaxy, he wasn't dumb enough to assume a Pureblood would lower themselves to being led by anyone but another Pureblood.

To prove his point, the red-skinned Sith hung to the back of the group, clearly bored and wanting to be somewhere else. Two of the humans had glanced back at him when they walked in.

He would keep an eye on him, but it was possible the Pureblood wouldn't step in unless things went wrong. Or Caleb insulted his lineage.

The acolyte considered it before deciding to refrain for once. It was rare for someone to seek him out for another beating. Who knew, perhaps Glassjaw had gotten better.

"So, did you manage to find all the teeth I knocked out?" Caleb asked casually, as if three of the four men didn't have the express intention of maiming him, "Or did you come looking to lose a few more?"

Glassjaw bristled at the comment. The Pureblood raised an eyeridge, the edges of his mouth quirking up in amusement. Point to the idea of him not wanting to be there. Or just not liking Glassjaw all that much, which was an understandable position.

"And what was your name again? I keep wanting to call you Glassjaw because of…" Caleb trailed off and gestured to his jawline.

"Rathari!" Glassjaw barked as his face went red with fury, "My name is Rathari! I'll make you remember it, low-born trash!"

"Please do!" Caleb laughed, twirling the fake blades in his hands, "Let's see if you can make it stick this time!"

Just as the acolytes were about to tear into each other, the door, which had closed behind them, exploded inwards. An enormous wave of power washed over the room and it was only thanks to some quick Force barriers that most of the acolytes managed to stay in place.

Kalista and two of the humans were knocked from their feet and sent skittering across the floor.

Before anyone could do so much as turn around, something tore through Caleb's defenses and threw him back against the wall with bone-crunching force, pinning him in place. Unprepared for the pain, his eyes slammed shut and he let out a cry of agony.

Cracking open his eyelids, he found the other acolytes in similar states. Only a moment later, he realized something else.

The main training hall had gone silent.

Something massive walked through the doorway, casting an equally large shadow into the room. Caleb didn't recognize the alien as it stepped into the light. It was easily two and a half meters tall and covered in brown, black, and gray fur, over which it only wore a bandolieer.

He was so distracted by its size that he almost missed the fact that it was carrying an Imperial trooper under one arm and a blade in the other. Despite holding them all in place, the creature otherwise ignored them entirely. Setting the soldier down, it immediately headed for…Kalista?

A shaggy hand wrapped around the Twi'lek's neck, bodily picking her up and slamming her against the wall. The beast roared unintelligibly.

The soldier stood up, pausing briefly to dust himself off. A light whine from the man's legs indicated that they were likely prosthetics.

"I don't actually know what he said, but I think he's asking where he can find his associate. I believe you know him as Aldrex?"

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The first book of this fanfic has been completed on Patreon, you can look it up in the collection alongside the second book. You can visit Patreon if you want to read in Advance.

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