Balun's gaze lingered on
Michael Angellus
as the other Apprentice stepped forward to tackle the training course. Something about the setup tugged at memories long buried beneath years of hardship and change—memories of the New Jedi Order Temple on Coruscant, where he and Nouqai Veil had once trained side by side. First as bright-eyed Initiates, then as Padawans carving their path beneath the watchful gaze of their Masters. Fifteen years of structured living—every day meticulously measured between combat drills, meditation, and long lectures on the Jedi Code, the Three Pillars, and the guiding principles of the Jedi Path.
Even though the Order of Shiraya brought its flavour of philosophy and updated practices, the skeleton of the training remained familiar. The language may have changed, the instructors different, but Balun could still feel the rhythm of his past life beating beneath the surface of this place.
He said nothing, arms folded loosely across his chest as he watched Michael move. The larger man tackled the course with quiet confidence, determined but not brash. Every movement seemed considered, balanced between strength and restraint. There was no showboating, no puffed chest or exaggerated gestures for the sake of an audience. Just focus and forward momentum.
Balun found himself nodding in approval. This wasn't the type of student he'd grown used to clashing with in his youth—no posturing ego or loud-mouthed tryhard angling to be top of the class. No, Michael had a kind of grounded presence to him, the kind Balun respected. He wasn't looking to impress—he was simply doing the work.
And that spoke volumes.
By the time Michael reached the end of the course, Balun was already clapping. Not a sarcastic golf clap, not a reluctant pat of the hands—but a full, open show of genuine respect. They were peers now, students under the same Mentor, and that meant something. Teamwork wasn't optional in the field. Trust was earned, and camaraderie had to start somewhere.
"Well done, Muscles," Balun called out with a grin, voice light but sincere.
"That was solid work."
He stepped forward as Michael cleared the course, rolling his shoulders once and casting a quick glance toward the balancing beams ahead. Familiar ground. He took a breath, centred himself, and then launched into motion.
His steps were swift, confident—each footfall placed with precision as he moved across the first beam. He didn't pause to analyse the course or hesitate when he reached the second, which wobbled beneath him with just enough give to throw off anyone overthinking it. But Balun wasn't thinking—he was moving. Not recklessly, but instinctively.
He let the Force wash over him—not summoned in a flare of power, but felt in the subtle way the world aligned with his breath and motion. It was there in the sway of the beam beneath his boots, in the quiet clarity that settled over his mind like a soft mist. He didn't need to control it. He just needed to trust it. And so he moved, not with the deliberate calculation of a student on a test, but with the grace of someone who had walked far more dangerous lines before.
The next challenge loomed ahead—an array of stone pillars, each spaced just far enough apart to demand precision and agility. Unlike the balancing beams, this wasn't about grounding or careful footing. This was about momentum, instinct, and elevation. And here, the Force would no longer be a subtle presence in the background—it would become how he soared.
Balun exhaled, eyes narrowing slightly as he studied the course. This was familiar territory. In the teachings of the Jedi, the technique had many names—
Force Jump,
Force Leap—but to Balun, it was simply a product of deeper mastery within the
Alter branch of the Force. He had spent years sharpening this skill not through classroom drills, but on battlefields where hesitation meant death. Where brute strength failed him, the Force became his equaliser—his edge against Sith adversaries who towered over him in strength and cruelty alike.
He gathered his focus, drawing on the energy flowing through his body. With a sudden burst of kinetic grace, Balun launched himself skyward, the Force coiling like a spring within his legs and erupting outward in a controlled release. He cleared the first pillar entirely, boots landing square on the second with the practised confidence of someone who had made far more dangerous jumps before.
There was no pause, no hesitation. One foot found its mark, then the next, as he darted across the series of stone columns with measured precision. His movement was fluid, almost rhythmic—an interplay of power and control, honed instinct and quiet discipline. When he landed at the far end, both feet touched down with barely a sound. The rush of the leap faded, and Balun let his aura gently settle around him again, his connection to the Force easing into something more passive. He exhaled slowly, grounding himself with a few quiet breaths as he approached the third stage of the course.
Yet before continuing, a thought crossed his mind—one that made his brow furrow slightly in curiosity.
His eyes flicked toward
Ala Quin
, a grin already tugging at the corner of his mouth as he raised his voice to call out across the course.
"Apologies, Ala, but—quick question. Would it count as cheating if I used Altus Sopor to slip past the droids?"
There was humour in his tone, but the question was genuine. He'd used the technique before—an advanced skill that allowed a Force-sensitive to dim their presence so thoroughly they became virtually invisible to those attuned to the Force. It had served him well in stealth operations against Sith Lords during the war, allowing him to navigate perilous encounters without triggering an alarm. But droids? That was uncharted territory.
He chuckled softly, already suspecting what her answer would be. Still, the idea lingered in his mind—testing the limits of a technique, pushing the edge of its usefulness. That, more than clearing the course, was where Balun found challenge and growth.
