Faction Scales and Sass (DIA)

[Iandre Athlea]

The former Jedi was used to seeing other Padawans spar, but they were never allowed to go this far. What she thought was going to be a show of power was very much that, but there was actual danger here, not just for the two fighters, but even the spectators. Glancing around as more people arrived, she saw Rellik and a girl younger than her go into one of the protected viewing suites.

Feeling the heat of the battle, she turned her attention back to it and felt the change in her Master. He wasn't only struggling with Zara but also his gods. They had spent enough time together, she recognized when this happened. Drawing in a sharp breath, she didn't want to be here suddenly. There was no reason for it.

She could not support both of the fighters, and so she decided not to support either of them. Standing up, she headed for the exit. Iandre just hoped both of them would be alive at the end of this flex of powers.

 

[Laphisto]

Laphisto stood tall, a low-throated snarl still rumbling from deep within his chest. The Force clung heavy around his eyes, flames slowly retreating into his throat as black, ichor-like smoke coiled from the corners of his mouth. He remained still, saber held low, glowing eyes locked on her with unwavering intensity. He heard her speak barely caught only by the twitch of his lone ear. He didn't respond. He didn't need to. While she was down, he held his ground, part of him silently hoping she would stay there that the lesson had been learned, that this didn't need to go further.

When she stirred, he stepped forward, slow and deliberate, a frown beginning to settle across his face. But as she turned and bolted away, he halted. His posture shifted, tension slipping from his shoulders. For a moment, he believed it might be over. A soft snort left his nose as he powered down his saber, the blade vanishing with a hiss. One foot slid back, his body beginning to turn half-turned away, ready to walk off the field.

Then he heard it. The sharp crackle of her saber dragging across stone. A sigh escaped his lips. Head shaking slowly, disappointment drawing tight in his chest, he turned back toward her. Just in time to see the fractured pillar break free, a massive section of the platform tearing loose and tumbling down toward him. The air shifted thick with dust, smoke, and sudden betrayal. His eyes narrowed, body coiling once more in silent preparation. The fight wasn't over. She hadn't run. She had circled. And now the arena itself was collapsing above him.

A deep growl rumbled from Laphisto's chest as he dropped his stance, fingers curling slightly as he reached into the Force. He inhaled sharply then exhaled with force, pulling the surrounding air inward like a vacuum collapsing on itself. Dust, ash, and embers were drawn toward him in a swirling spiral, the temperature dipping for the briefest second before the world snapped forward.He unleashed it.

The shockwave detonated outward from his core with a thunderous crack, an explosion of compressed Force energy and air pressure that rolled in a visible ring. The very air screamed with the release, compressing into a concussive wave dense enough to shake the foundation beneath his feet. Jagged slabs of stone buckled under the blast some split down the center, others shattered midair, reduced to a cloud of razor-sharp fragments. The pillar that had been falling toward him met the wall of pressure and was torn apart, chunks breaking into fist-sized pieces before scattering like spent ammunition across the arena.

But he wasn't done. His hand thrust forward again, palm splayed wide. The fragmented debris, now suspended mid-fall, jerked violently as if caught on invisible strings. One by one, the shards twisted in the air, rotating in tight formation before being slammed downward into the ground like stakes driven by a god's hammer. The arena floor cracked beneath the force, fractures spider-webbing outward in every direction.

For a breath, the storm settled. His eyes darted across the haze, searching through the cloud of falling dust and fire lit smoke for Zara Saga only for instinct to scream a second too late. There was no sound. Just heat. Her saber bit into his face, a sudden arc of golden plasma that cut across his cheek and rolled off the curve of his pauldron. Pain lanced white-hot across his senses as the impact twisted his body half-around, forcing a backward step as his footing recalibrated. But he didn't fall. He didn't even cry out.

His hand rose slowly to his cheek, fingers brushing the point of contact where skin should've been torn. But there was no blood. No wound in the traditional sense. Instead, from the shallow gash on his face, raw Force energy bled into the open air bright and unnatural. Like a rift in reality, it shimmered and danced, threads of crimson, gold, deep blue, and viridian unfurling like a phantom aurora across his face. A scar not of flesh, but of power.

 

[Zara Saga]

Zara didn't land clean.

The explosion of Force energy hit her mid-arc, not fully, but enough. Enough to kill the momentum she needed, to throw her angle wide, to hurl her body sideways like a comet swatted from orbit. Her feet hit the ruined floor with a jarring crack, and she rolled across the stone, sabers skittering briefly from her grip before she snatched them back like burning wires. Her ribs screamed. Her left leg buckled. She didn't care.

She looked up just in time to see the impossible.

The cut across his cheek, should have drawn blood. Should have hurt. But it didn't bleed. It leaked. Force energy. Raw. Threads of crimson, blue, gold, viridian, colors no wound should ever hold.

Her breath caught.

"…What are you?" she whispered again, more shaken this time.

But she didn't wait for the answer.

Not because she didn't want one, but because she was losing. And fast. Her body felt like a broken wire, sparking, misfiring, dancing on pain and stubborn will. If she slowed down now, even for awe, it was over. So she leaned into the only thing she had left.

Desperation.

Zara surged forward, dragging herself across the pit wall's edge, now nearly unrecognizable. She slipped behind a jagged chunk of arena debris, crouched low. Her saber flickered off again, then back on. She was baiting. Her movements slow now, wounded. She let him see her stagger. Let him hear the rough, rattled breaths, the limp in her stride.

Let him think she was too far gone.

And then, she screamed, raw, furious, all from her gut, then vaulted into the air from behind the debris. But this time, she didn't strike with the sabers.

She threw them.

Both sabers spun through the air, one high, one low, twin wheels of plasma aiming to cross his flanks and center, forcing him to respond.

And behind them came her, unarmed, a blur of motion, one hand drawing tightly into a clenched fist.

And fire.

Pure, bright, tightly-coiled pyrokinesis flared around her knuckles like a blade not made of plasma but hate. She aimed not for a kill, but for his center mass, his torso, just below the ribs.

She wasn't trying to end him. She was trying to crack him. To pull something out.

Whatever that rift in his cheek was, whatever shimmered there, she wanted to see it again.

She wanted to understand.

"Come on, old man," she spat between gasps, "Show me what's really under there."

Spoiler

TLDR Actions: Zara is knocked off balance mid-air by Laphisto's shockwave and crashes hard. After noticing the raw Force energy bleeding from his cheek, she feigns weakness, baiting Laphisto in with a stagger. Then she launches two spinning saber throws at him, one high, one low, before charging behind them unarmed, fist wreathed in tightly-focused fire aimed at his torso, trying to bait another transformation or revelation.

Laphisto​

 

[Laphisto]

Those words struck his ear like a hammer against iron sharp, metallic, jarring. The sound reverberated through his skull, a ping that made his lone ear twitch and pin back against his head. A low snarl still curled in his throat, but it faltered. He felt the wound. Or rather, what should have been a wound. His fingers brushed against the gash across his cheek, expecting blood. There should have been blood. Crimson and warm, proof of pain, proof of life.

But there was none. Instead, raw Force energy bled from the tear in his flesh swirling threads of light and color that pulsed and danced unnaturally in the air: crimson, cobalt, gold, viridian. Living aurora. A storm made flesh. He stared at it in disbelief, eyes widening as if seeing himself for the first time. And then he felt it talons across the inside of his skull. A scrape. A rake. Something ancient and cruel shifting beneath the surface of his thoughts. A gasp escaped him, ragged and sharp, followed by a guttural growl as he clutched at his temples. For a moment he was hunched, teeth bared, chest heaving caught in the war within. Then his head snapped up. He looked at Zara. Not with confusion now, or restraint, or even anger.

He stood upright, rising slowly too slowly. Taller than before. Shoulders square, frame rigid, presence oppressive. The Force pulsed outward from him in waves, thick with pressure, heavy with something other. His shadow stretched strangely against the fractured stone, flickering at the edges like it didn't belong. And though he did not speak… something else was watching through his eyes.

And then he stepped forward.Slow. Methodical. Measured like the swing of a pendulum before the drop of the blade. The air around him seemed to bend with each step, tension rippling out in invisible waves. Smoke still curled from the corners of his mouth, the last vestiges of flame retreating down his throat like the breath of something coiled and waiting.

When Zara's sabers came spinning, crackling, brilliant arcs of plasma cutting through the air his hand rose. Fingers spread, calm, precise. The Force surged outward from him like a tidal pull, seizing the twin blades mid-spin. If he caught them, he didn't hesitate flinging them aside with a flick of contempt, the hilts slamming into the far arena wall in a burst of sparks and sheared stone.

But if even one slipped his grip, the ground answered in his stead. A massive arc of stone erupted behind him, carved from the shattered floor in a seamless half-circle. Another slab rose at his flank. Then another. With each slow step forward, a new segment slammed into place around him stone responding to his will like an extension of his body, forming a cage not to trap her, but to contain him.

As if the battlefield itself feared what he might become. Dust shook loose from the ceiling. The ground shivered under his tread. Every movement was heavy with restraint, yet monstrous in intent. And still, he advanced unhurried, unstoppable. It wasn't until she moved rushed him from the smoke and debris that he stopped mid-stride. His arms fell to his sides. Relaxed. Open. Waiting. A man at ease with violence, or something far worse.

Once she closed the distance no more than a heartbeat away his arm lashed out, fast and precise, like a striking serpent. Fingers like durasteel talons reached not just with flesh, but with the Force itself. Invisible pressure coiled around her throat, seeking to snare and stop her in mid-motion.

If his grasp missed if she ducked, twisted, or slipped just beyond his reach the Force itself surged in response. A sudden pulse of stasis exploded outward in a tight, calculated burst. It wasn't the wild slam of a brute, but the sharp, exacting application of a predator. Aimed to freeze her in place, to halt the follow-through of her flaming punch before it ever struck home or to suspend her the moment after, caught mid-blow against the armored plates of his chest.

But if both failed if her fire-bladed fist slipped through and connected, or if she evaded entirely he didn't stumble. He didn't reel. He simply snarled, a deep, guttural growl erupting from his chest as smoke bloomed once again from the edges of his mouth, thick and black, curling like ink in water.

And then he spoke. For the first time since sabers had ignited, since the storm had begun, words clawed their way out from his throat. quitly. for they were only for Zara Saga to hear. and when they came His voice was not his own. It scraped the air like gravel across glass, broken and ancient and wrong. The teal-blue haze that once danced in his eyes had been swallowed whole replaced by a smoldering, predatory crimson. Not anger. Not hatred. Something older.

The same blood-deep red as Saurav'ix. "He is what YOU made him to be." The words hit like a curse, laced with venom and accusation, as his saber hissed to life once more at his side. The low, bone-shaking snarl that followed rolled through the pit like distant thunder too deep for any throat to carry. Too wide for one man alone.

But even as the darkness surged, something within him stirred fought back. A flicker of gold broke through the crimson, brief as lightning behind stormclouds. The red faltered. The Force around him shivered. And then came the growl low, guttural, pained. Not from hate… but resistance.

The duality raged within him now. Two titans colliding in a single shell. One voice demanded fury. The other, control. if he had her loked by throat of force stasis it would have been dropped and she was free formw hat ever hold he had on her. now Zara stood before it all, in the eye of the storm. and soon without hesitation he opened his mouth and let out a stream of jet black flame shot outwards. not the same fiery golden orange like before. but a flame so dark it seemed to engulf all light around it

 

[Zara Saga]

Zara never even saw the sabers fall.

One moment they were screaming through the air, golden arcs of light, twin extensions of her rage, and the next, they were gone. Ripped from the sky by something colder than power, something ancient and disdainful. Flung like toys against the far wall. The impact shattered them, hilts breaking apart in a mess of twisted metal and cracked crystal, their blades flickering out in stuttering gasps.

Zara was already mid-leap when it happened. But she didn't stop. Couldn't.

The fire in her hand was all she had left, raw, burning, desperate. She dove toward the silhouette in the haze. Toward the thing she'd called out. The thing that had answered. And then she felt it.

Her breath caught. Literally. Her throat clenched around nothing. She didn't hit him. She didn't even land.

The Force yanked her upward like a puppet on invisible strings, pressure curling around her windpipe, cruel and precise. She gasped. Choked. Her eyes went wide. Her legs kicked once, twice, before falling still. She hovered now, high above the pit, caught in a beam of fractured sunlight, ash swirling around her like snowfall in a dying dream.

Below her: the shattered arena floor. The ruined pillars. The collapsed edge of what once was the dueling ring. All of it twisted and jagged, warped by their battle. By his power.

And standing beneath her… was not Laphisto.

Not anymore.

His voice was not his own. It scraped through her skull like old metal against bone, full of venom and knowing. "He is what YOU made him to be."

She couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. Could barely see. Her vision narrowed. Black crept in at the edges. Her fingers clawed at nothing. Her lungs burned. Her thoughts scattered.

But even through the darkness, she felt it.

Inside him, something monstrous was stirring. Two halves in war. Light and shadow tearing through one another like beasts locked in a cage. And as they clashed within him, her body dropped.

No warning. No easing. She fell like a stone. She didn't scream until after she hit.

A jagged spike of rebar jutted up from the shattered floor beneath her and it pierced her just under her ribs, all the way through her side, wrenching a cry so raw it stopped the air in the room. Blood poured freely, painting the concrete beneath her. She clutched at it instinctively, hands slipping uselessly over torn cloth, scorched armor, ruined flesh.

Her body arched, back bowing with the force of it, and the scream that tore out of her throat was raw and high and human.

Above her, she saw the fire. Not gold. Not orange. Black.

A jet stream of shadow-flame roared from Laphisto's mouth, if it was still Laphisto at all. It poured into the sky, devouring the light, consuming it. The entire arena was lit in inverse now, like an image burned backwards, the world turned to silhouettes and death.

Zara couldn't move. Every inch of her screamed. Her blood boiled around the steel in her body. Her mouth was open, but no sound came anymore.

And still she looked up at him. Eyes wide. Shaking. Not with rage. Not with defiance. With something deeper. Shock. Horror. Wonder.

Because what she'd summoned from him… Wasn't a man. It was truth.

And she had no idea if she'd just doomed them both to it.

Her vision blurred. Her breath faltered. The black fire burned above her like judgment.

And Zara lay there, pierced through, suspended between death and revelation, waiting for what would come next.

Laphisto​

 

[Xian Xiao]

Xian was settling into a comfortable seat when she noticed Rellik wasn't doing the same. Blinking her eyes at his words, she nodded mutely and turned her attention back to the fight.

It seemed this was something greater than a simple duel or spar, and she was thankful to be behind the protective windows. She had never seen Merion with his helmet on, so didn't know it was him she was sitting near. If she had, she most certainly would have tried talking to him.

Microphones and acoustics picked up the sounds of the battle. All of the words, grunts, and growls filled the arena, and the speakers set up in the box they were in. Hearing the sounds of the elements most definitely caught her attention. They were as familiar to her as rain was falling on a roof.

Zara gave voice to the unspoken question the teen had as she observed the duel. Laphisto changed before her eyes, became something different, and Xian inched away as she felt the oppression come from him. Feeling this, she wasn't sure if she ever wanted to meet the man. He had complete control of the fight now and a hold on Zara; she couldn't even grasp from her training.

As Zara had asked...now Xian wanted to know. What is he? And then it ended...Sitting down with a sense of shock, Xian could only stare at the ruined floor below them.

 

[Rokul]

Location: Bastion
Tags:

Rokul had stood there and watched. Stoic. Still. Even as the atmosphere was growing more and more dire and parts of the arena was being destroyed, he watched. The destruction and power was on a level he couldn't dream of. It quite simply put into context how little his own strength meant in the Galaxy. He could take a blaster bolt. Even a small explosion to an extent...But he couldn't stand up to any of this. There was much he'd need to train in if he ever wanted to reach that level of growth...

All in all, he only moved when destruction came to the stands. Rushing forward to grab those in the audience he thought would be in the way of destruction and power and to throw them to the side. Those of the DIarchy or Lilstate order. Rokul didn't care who they belonged to, but whilst others might have frozen at the show of pure strength and power, Rokul didn't. There wasn't much in the Galaxy that could scare him. It was his job to stare danger down and take its blows himself.

"Leave. If you're going to stay, find higher ground."

He kept his voice steady as he was finally moving through the arena. Whilst most would probably still be enjoying the spectacle going on, Rokul knew there would be some intimidated by the power. Terrified of it. That's why he was keeping his voice calm. Yelling at people wouldn't help anyone in this moment. It wasn't an incident just yet, but if bystanders in the Arena were caught up in the crossfire, who knows what would happen. He just had to focus an-
​

Her body arched, back bowing with the force of it, and the scream that tore out of her throat was raw and high and human.

The sound echoing through the Arena caused Rokul to stop dead in his tracks. The stoic visage faltering almost instantly as his head snapped in the direction of the fight once more. The colour draining from his face whilst the expression of dread and fear slowly started to come to his visage. Rokul could easily charge into battle and keep moving, no matter what the danger that awaited him. No matter how fearsome the opponent might have been. It was Rokul's main trait. When he got moving, nothing could stop him. Yet in this moment, with that scream, the unstoppable human wrecking machine had frozen in fear.

Dozens of thoughts ran through his mind, trying to come up with something to do. With his hands clenched tightly into fists, and with gritted teeth, Rokul's brain was screaming at his legs to move. To run into the centre of the Arena and do something...but for once in his life, Rokul couldn't move.​

 

[Diarch Rellik]

Theme​

A crimson and black blur descended from above, silent. The arena fell in awe as hushed whispers arose from all corners. Rellik had landed, unfolding himself from his cloak his saber ignited. Emitting as if fueled off of his own emotions. A DEEP GURGLE ripped from Convictions songsteel curved hilt. He pointed it with fiery burning golden eyes at Laphisto with one hand. His eyes that were usually lit as a sunrise or set, now burned as dying stars; rage fueled them. Opening his other palm, his spear instinctually came to him. He slammed his spear into the ground. activating its Force-Locking Haft to force it into place. A warning to Laphisto or better yet, Saurav'ix - to not attack. They both knew the history of this weapon better than most.

"ENOUGH!"

The word was not a plea, it was a command.

Faster than any eye could track, Rellik was at Zara's side. He fell to one knee beside her, one of his hand's cupped the back of her head. While the other moved to reach for Zara while his cloak - now detached - held his blade completely level near him.

"You're alright. I've got you." He brushed a part of her unruly hair aside before reaching his arm beneath her knees. A soft smile came over his face and he tried his best using Qâzoi Kyantuska and Battle meditation to make her feel okay and comfortable. "This will hurt but you are tough. - Okay trouble; lets do this." Rellik quickly lifted Zara off of the piece of rebar. His cloak cauterizing her wounds as he did so.

He held her gently with strength, attempting to comfort her pain. She would live, no matter how painful it was... she would live. He held her as someone who knew her. Who had watched her grow into an Archon of the Diarchy from a child.

Tears began to flow down the Diarch's cheeks.

Calmly he walked Zara over to pre-ordained medical staff. In this moment he wished Varis Oakertain was here to make sure she ended up okay, that she knew she was taken care of by the Diarchs personally, but that was a dream. He had to only hope she endured, that she knew.

Once she was taken by medical staff, he slowly turned towards Laphisto. Head turned downwards. Breath so heavy it seemed to intake all of the oxygen within the arena.

His shoulders rolled once, deliberate. The slow movements of a man who had more scars and fought in more wars than most would dare speak of… and who had no wish to fight this one, but he would.

"You've been in his head before," Rellik said quietly, voice edged with sorrow as he remembered the ordeals on Keiv'ara and than again within the crisis of Calladene. "But this time you clawed out and hurt someone I love..." His words were deep, dark, and unlike how Rellik usually spoke. His golden saber pulsed as it returned to his hand and his cloak to his shoulders. All the time his head hung low. Eyes casting a deep shadow. "If I can not kill you Saurav'ix. I will show you a layer of damnation that non have met before."

At his words his spear un-locked and returned to his hands.

Without changing his expression or posture he finally spoke loud enough for the crowd to hear.

"Laphisto of the Lilaste order, I see a family on fire. And I will walk through that flame. Our Archon of the brotherhood challenged you to a duel, she if obviously defeated. If you wish to see blood today, let me face you on her behalf. The Lilaste order honors such traditions. I ask that the Diarchy do the same. We are here to prove our ideas in the crucible of combat. Let us do so with honor. Face me."

As his eyes were still held low, expression unchanged he spoke to Saurav'ix. "Face me one on one without revealing yourself, if you reveal yourself now - you will be cut down by the might of over 25 stars. Face me and you take over those worlds." His last words were laced with a low gurgle similar to his blade. "Face me and know that tonight... I kill gods."

Tags: Laphisto Iandre Athlea Zara Saga Rokul Merion Oreno Xian Xiao

 

[Laphisto]

Saurav'ix stood watching as Diarch Rellik zipped into the arena and whisked Zara Saga away. When the first command from him ring out in the arena he snarled lowly the old god has half of an intent to incinerate the mortal before him and he took a step forwards to challenge him only to stop as he spotted the spear. HIS spear the one this mortal used to strike him down in the temple. Like a wave he snarled lightly. Quietly for only those in the areana to hear. He stopped moving and relaxed into a neutral stance. And he let the man speak. Once Zara was out of the arena and the diarchy turned to address him saurav'ix stepped forwards with a low growl emanating and etching into his words. He stepped forwards getting only a meer four feet away from the diarch. Before speaking lowly.

" You have peeked my interest mortal. I will play your game. And when I defeat you, when your death ends up an accident I will reclaim my spear. And the warden will serve me again. He will pay for his treachery." With a slow sly smirk rising acrossed his face eyes darting over the diarch. Grabbing his saber he ignited the blade and slowly pointed it towards rellik. Blade tip pointed upwards and leaned towards him. A symbol of old kiev'arian honor, to bring blades together before the fight officially began.

If the Diarch accepted the motion he would take a few steps back eyes flashing with a ripple of gold and teal lightning bolts which caused him to shake his head with a snarl. While there was a fight externally there also seemed to be a fight going on internally as well. Laphisto and Dra'ko were wrestling for control, though it was unsure if they were fighting apart or together.


In the back of the arena rellik would notice laphisto's honor guard taking a few steps forwards rifles raised onto to stop a after a few feet. Stopping once Saurav'ix rose the blade to accept the duel though Thier rifles were not aimed at the diarch they were instead aimed at laphisto. And even in the stands Lilaste order soldiers seemed to have gotten a silent order. They were evacuating the crowd. One solder even grabbing Rokul by the shoulder and speaking through his helmet " come with me sir. The arena is being evacuated due to structural damage"

 

[Merion Oreno]

ended...Sitting down with a sense of shock, Xian could only stare at the ruined floor below them.

All in all, he only moved when destruction came to the stands. Rushing forward to grab those in the audience he thought would be in the way of destruction and power and to throw them to the side. Those of the DIarchy or Lilstate order. Rokul didn't care who they belonged to, but whilst others might have frozen at the show of pure strength and power, Rokul didn't. There wasn't much in the Galaxy that could scare him. It was his job to stare danger down and take its blows himself.

"Leave. If you're going to stay, find higher ground."

The scope and spillover of this fight was such that the Brotherhood spectators were largely hustling or being hustled out of the seats nearest the arena. Huge chunks of rock were the least of their worries.

"Xian," said Merion urgently — she'd frozen and might recognize his voice. "Everyone's backing up into.the cheap seats if they're staying at all. Whatever's got ahold of Laphisto, when it hits the Diarch I don't think it'll care about collateral damage."

Excitement had waned. He was in no mood to risk his hundred-thousand-and-first death today.

 

[Zara Saga]

Zara didn't register the voices at first. Not the roar of the crowd, not the sudden arrival of Rellik like a streak of wrath across the sky, not even the strange gurgling hum of his saber as it ignited beside her.

All she could feel was the rebar in her side.

It burned. It pulsed. It sang in her bones, each heartbeat thudding against the jagged metal like it was trying to escape through the wound. Her fingers slipped along her side, wet and hot and red. Her breath came in short, gasping stutters, like her body wasn't sure whether to fight or fold.

Her head lolled, eyes blinking rapidly against the smoke and black flame still curling in the sky above. She saw him, or it, still standing in the center of the Arena. Laphisto. Or Saurav'ix. Or some unholy mix of both. The thing that had thrown her like she weighed nothing. The thing that had spoken in a voice that didn't belong in this world.

And in that moment, despite the pain, despite the steel in her gut, despite everything, Zara wanted to get back up.

She gritted her teeth, blood dripping from her lips, one trembling arm trying to brace against the stone. Her body convulsed with the effort.

"No… I'm not done," she wheezed. "I called him out… this is my fight…"

And then she felt him.

Rellik.

His presence washed over her like a tide, steady and commanding. She barely registered the sabers and spears and his cloak, kneeling beside her, strong hands catching her head, brushing her hair back, his voice somehow cutting through the haze and the agony.

Her hand found his cloak and clutched at it, trembling, smearing it with blood. "He's... he's not him anymore," she whispered, wild-eyed. "He's broke, Rellik. He.. he..."

But the words died in her throat as he lifted her from the rebar.

She screamed.

It wasn't a war cry. It wasn't brave. It was raw, pitiful, a sound that tore her apart from the inside. Her fingers dug into his shoulder, and her legs kicked weakly in protest. But she didn't beg to stop. Didn't tell him to wait. She just held on.

And then he held her, not like a soldier, not like a symbol, but like family. Her head fell into his chest, eyes squeezed shut against the pain. She could feel the tears on his cheeks as she bled against him.

The medical team rushed in. She was barely aware of them. Hands were on her. Numbing agents. Biofoam. Field clamps. A stretcher.

"No! Don't... don't take me out," she gasped, trying to push up again. "I have to help him, Rellik, he's still in there, I saw it, I saw it, he's fighting...."

But her arms gave out. One of the medics pressed a stabilizer to her neck, and painkillers hissed into her bloodstream like cold rain.

"No... no, I can't..."

They restrained her gently but firmly, strapping her down as she thrashed weakly, tears streaming down her face now too, not from fear, not entirely from pain.

But because she couldn't stand by and watch.

Because for all the rage, all the pride, all the defiance… she loved them. All of them.

And now they were breaking.

"I'm not leaving him," she rasped, voice cracking.

Her eyes fluttered. Blood still bubbled at her lips.

And then her head slumped back as the drugs overtook her, and Zara's world went dark once more, this time not in fire, but in silence.

Ouch​

 

[Xian Xiao]

The shocked girl hadn't ever experienced anything remotely close to this. Her system didn't know how to respond or react. It was only when Merion spoke next to her that she started coming out of the dazed state. Seeing the arena beginning to empty and more than a few people trying to flee brought her to her feet.

"Diarch seemed to think we would be safe up here. With the damage done to the stadium, I'm not so sure that's still the case. What do you suggest?"

He was right, Laphisto or whatever he was...would not care. More than one person also seemed to be in as much shock as she had been.

"What about the others?"

Merion Oreno

 

[Diarch Rellik]

Through the clearing fiery black smog of the earlier attack. Rellik stood with Conviction low in his right hand, spear balanced in the other, neither yet raised. It disgusted him partially to honor Saurav'ix before the battle. It seemed he was not alone, Lilaste order honor guard were sighted in on their leader. Rifles raised ready to kill.

His heart ached, he needed to subdue his friend and help him come back to reality. He could not let pre-emptive measures prevail. While working out ways to pacify Saurav'ix his spear raised.

the Warden willed it, the spear twitched, vibrating faintly in response to the dark god's challenge. It had not forgotten its former master. And it remembered the betrayal. Hand still clasped around it, without a chance to do otherwise. The spear chimed against Laphistos broadsaber. A ball of sparkling light shining where they met.

Rellik's cloak flared, lifting him backward with unnatural grace, a brief Force Dash placing him as far away from Saurav'ix as he had gotten from him. His eyes never left Saurav'ix. He watched the gold and teal streaks cross his eyes. He knew Dra'ko and Laphisto were fighting still.

"You've taken his body," he said, voice calm

Rellik lowered into a Makashi stance, blade extended, spear reversed. "Now let us see if you have his footing."

- If Saurav'ix advanced, Rellik would meet him in classic Makashi: precise footwork, narrow blade angles, and single-point parries designed to frustrate brute strength.

- If the god held position, Rellik's spear would reach out in a beginning flurry of strikes. Opening the combat and testing the reaction of the Evil God.

The Diarch was poised and ready to begin. His mind flaring with everything he had seen already from the combat between Laphisto and Zara. Now it would be unburdened by morals. It would be death or freedom. The continuation of the Lilaste order and the Diarchy.

Laphisto

 

[Merion Oreno]

Diarch seemed to think we would be safe up here. With the damage done to the stadium, I'm not so sure that's still the case. What do you suggest?"

He was right, Laphisto or whatever he was...would not care. More than one person also seemed to be in as much shock as she had been.

"What about the others?"

"I think this has already escalated since the Diarch said that. I don't blame anyone for wanting to watch. I think whoever's leaving has already left or been shuttled out."

His helmet was still recording, he realized. Maybe he'd be less cavalier about this tape than the last one.

"I want to stay, maybe just back up there by the door in the high seats. I've never seen Masters fight and mean it, not ever."

 

[Xian Xiao]

Once Xian started coming out of her shocked state, thoughts returned to her mind. Paying attention to Merion, she nodded.

"I can keep us safe if needed."

While she had only really used her elemental skills as offensive tactics, they could be used defensively as well. Staying as close to her crush as she could, the teen wanted this to keep them both safe. That was her reasoning, at least.

"I haven't either. This is going to turn out badly for one of them."

Merion Oreno

 

[Laphisto]

Saurav'ix recoiled the instant the broadsaber clanged against the spear. A hiss of displeasure followed, the sound low and predatory more beast than man. Sparks danced where ancient weapons met, and for a moment, it looked as if the god remembered that wound all too well. But he did not charge. He stepped back once. Then again. Slow, deliberate. Gauging.

His crimson eyes locked onto Rellik like twin furnaces, blazing with contempt and something more recognition. This man had struck him before. Had defied him when others knelt. The spear still bore his name, yet now it answered another. The insult alone was enough to make his lips curl into a sneer. Then the spear came.

Blades clashed broadsaber against haft Saurav'ix moved like a tempest harnessed in mortal flesh. He caught the flurry, warded it off, each strike heavier than it should've been, each deflection cracking the air like stone grating over steel. But Rellik's style was too precise for brute force to break through. And so Saurav'ix stepped again backwards, yielding ground but never submission. On the second retreat, he exhaled not a breath, but a growl, guttural and seething. Then he struck not with steel, but with earth.

With a roar, he flung his free hand forward, the Force erupting from his palm like a shockwave. The arena trembled as a jagged tide of stone tore free from the ground. Unlike the earthen pillars Laphisto had conjured in restraint, these were brutal shattered, cracked, sharpened to cruel points. They didn't rise as walls. They launched as missiles meant not to push, but to impale.

No sooner had the jagged earthen barrage ripped across the arena than Saurav'ix shifted, inhaling deeply shoulders rolling as smoke curled from his lips. He exhaled, but not toward Rellik. A jet of fire erupted far to the left, arcing into the sky like a dragon's breath unleashed in rage. It wasn't meant to hit it was misdirection.

The fire condensed mid-air, swirling violently into a seething sphere of malevolent energy. Not natural flame, but something older, hungrier its surface rippling like thick, black ichor, ink bleeding into water, devouring all light that touched it. Within its molten heart, shapes twisted, as if spirits screamed in silence.

Then with a flick of his clawed hand, Saurav'ix hurled it forward. The fireball tore through the air with a soundless fury no crackle, no explosion only the absence of noise, a void that seemed to drag reality inward with it. A weapon not forged to wound, but to erase. As the smoke trailed from his mouth, the old god's voice followed gravel grinding over bone, carried not by wind, but by weight.

"You are broken,Torn from the essence you call the Force. A fractured soul clinging to breath. What hope do you have against me?" His words were poison, spat with contempt. "You carry the cure to your affliction it rests in your hands in the soul of my creation. and yet you do not reach for it. Why, mortal? Is it pride? Fear? Or perhaps..." His speech faltered suddenly, mouth hanging open mid-sentence as if the words had caught in his throat. He staggered not physically, but spiritually like a man biting into a memory laced with ash.

A flicker sparked in his gaze Veridian green, defiant and sharp. It wasn't Saurav'ix who had hesitated. It was Laphisto fighting back. The god snarled, voice breaking for the first time, snarled in frustration. "Perhaps if you wer- are stronger..." But the rest never came. The arena trembled. The pressure in the air shifted a war of wills playing out behind those crimson eyes.

Diarch Rellik

 

[Diarch Rellik]

The first clash cracked like ancient steel beneath the twin suns of Bastion. The Warden's spear rang out and Rellik pressed forward. Precision. Pressure. Punishment. Each motion surgical, elegant, Saurav'ix's strength met each blow with divine weight, and still Rellik advanced. Dancing at tight angles, creating narrow windows, probing the fault lines in the old god's form. Not to kill. To expose.

With one last thrust Saurav'ix took several steps backward. Rellik stood with his spear pointing outward, a trap for his enemy to hit aside and come for an attack down his center. Yet, he did not take the bait. He roared out with guttural viciousness. His fist pushed out, the Diarch twirled his spear behind his shoulder and braced himself with his blade. A shockwave of hatred and stone that roared across the arena like tectonic wrath came from his opponent. Rellik's form blurred, not from retreat, but rotation. His cloak flared, body tucked, blade extended. Soresu's mastery ignited. A full-bodied spiral tore through the oncoming wave, golden light meeting every shard in a violent 360-degree defense. Conviction shrieked as it shattered projectile after projectile, its hum drowned by the crackling of stone against saber.

He pivoted on one foot, completing the spin in perfect control. Only then did he stop. Spear resting in reverse in his hand across his back. Bringing his blade vertically to his chest and than diagonally down near his feet. Again regaining the Makashi stance. So far he has gotten away with only relying on his blade work to keep himself safe.

As his attention turned upward, he saw the coagulation of black flame. Lava like heat conforming into something greater. Swallowing all light around the Diarch. His breath slowed. His fingers tightened. A ripple shimmered around him, at first like heat distortion. Then, it bloomed. A dome of Force-born golden light, refracting in strange patterns as the flame began bending around it. For a moment it seemed to be bouncing off with a calm and balanced Rellik within its embers.

Yet, the barrier faulted. As most of the attack flooded the arena around him, heat scorched across his skin. His cloak left his shoulders and began patting itself down, the Diarch looked directly into Saurav'ix's eyes. Face riddled with anger and teeth clenched pain. His tunic now in flames, he ripped it off. Showing the deep burns already sustained from his father across his pec, shoulder, and down his right arm.

The Diarch breathed heavy, standing like a monstrous animal. From the scar left by Darth Prazutis above his eye down his cheek, to where his belt wrapped around him. The man had what one could only deem as a thousand small scars and one large one down his chest across from his burn marks.

"You are broken,Torn from the essence you call the Force. A fractured soul clinging to breath. What hope do you have against me?"
"Perhaps if you wer- are stronger..."

He was not wrong. The blade of Prazutis had sucked the very essence of the force out of Rellik. Leeching his power to take it as his own. The Diarch had been struggling and working his way through this problem but it was clear his force bubble broke due to this reason. It was damning.

Rellik extended his senses, Through the chaos of war. He had heard his friends voice. Laphisto believed in him. Knew he was stronger than Saurav'ix... trusted him to win.

He didn't speak. Not aloud. Not with words but through Battle Meditation, he projected attempting to enter the mans mind. The nights under heavy enemy fire laughing, The shared victories. The whispered burdens of command between friends. He opened those emotions like a wound. It was not perfect and he could feel Saurav'ix denying him but still he attempted.

Yet he did not leave himself defenseless, taking the spear of the Warden - he threw it past Saurav'ix in a high arc and took the fighting stance of La Poste di falcone. Saber raised high above his head as he closed his eye to begin feeling the force between himself and Laphisto.

When the man attacked, if able to break through the mental manipulation, Rellik would be ready to defend his upper chest with his blade and call the spear back to him. Forcing Saurav'ix to defend from both sides.

Laphisto