Private Show me what you can do

[Diarch Reign]

​

Location: Ravelin | Reign’s private hanger
Tags: Gavin Vel

---

Whispers had reached the Diarch of a cell of renegade force users. Neither Jedi nor Sith but something else. Rumors of an ancient force sect, known as the Ordu Aspectu. Coupled with reports of force sensitive children and young brotherhood Tiro’s going missing had given Reign reason to suspect that the claims once levied against this group may have base in fact.

The Diarch determined that this would not be a large show of force. He would send only two. Himself and his newly promoted Fist.

Summoning the young warrior to his personal hanger he debriefed him on their mission.

“We are presented with a unique opportunity, my friend. A chance to test the fruits of your training and to secure the safety of our young force sensitives. There is a force sect located on the planet of Alashan, hiding amongst the ruins there.”

He eyed the man in front of him. Two years of training had molded Gavin into a fine instrument, but there was still more work to be done. This would be a test, they were sure to be outnumbered, and these force users were known to wield lightsabers. Gavin would need to master himself or they would both be overwhelmed.

“This will be a challenge for you, but, remember your training. You are strong and together we can conquer any adversary that dares to stand against us.”

 

[Gavin Vel]

Two years had stretched endlessly. Two years hidden away from the world he had once dominated, stripped of the chaos, camaraderie, and bloodletting that had made life at the Academy intoxicating. He missed Naami, more than he allowed himself to admit. Not just a comrade, but a brother in every way that mattered. The one person who challenged him, who kept pace with him, who didn’t flinch when Gavin lost control. They were forged in the same fire, but now the petty war between the Sith and the Diarchy had split them apart like a broken blade.

Petty, but no less real. And despite that pain, Gavin had made his choice. He was Reign’s. If Naami was his brother, Reign had become something greater. A father. A force. The only one who had seen potential in him and forged it into purpose. Gavin owed everything to the Diarch—his survival, his growth, and perhaps most of all, his restraint.

He had spent the last two years in Reign’s shadow, and in that shadow, he had grown sharper. Leaner. Meaner. Isolation had a way of burning the arrogance out of him. At Kor’ethyr, surrounded by lesser acolytes, he had grown bloated with pride—an apex predator in a pond of prey. But Reign was no prey. Under his gaze, Gavin was never enough. Never finished. Always chasing the next lesson, the next scar, the next drop of trust.

And he loved it.

That hunger had never left him. It had only refined itself into a controlled fire, one that burned just beneath the surface.

So when the summons came, Gavin didn’t hesitate. His blood stirred, instinct roaring to life. Was it time at last? Had he proven himself worthy of release?

He entered Reign’s quarters with the quiet assurance of a man who knew his own strength. His hulking frame, broader now than it had been even at his peak, moved with deadly grace. He dropped to one knee—not out of obligation, but out of loyalty.

Then the words came: a test.

Gavin’s head snapped up, and the fire ignited in full. His breath caught with excitement, every nerve alight. He rose to his full, imposing height, towering in his silence as Reign unfurled the map and outlined the operation. Gavin didn’t miss a word. He absorbed it all—terrain, targets, threats. His brain processed it, but his soul was already in motion.

“They will feel the crushing power of the Diarchy,” he said, lips curled in a half-smirk as his eyes flicked over the intelligence feed. His voice was steady, but something feral shimmered beneath it. “You know I never stray from a challenge.”

His grin widened, a wolf before the hunt. Eyes alive, gleaming with anticipation, he cracked his knuckles as if already bracing for impact.

“When do we leave?” he asked, already halfway gone—mind racing toward the battlefield, body aching for release.

Diarch Reign

 

[Diarch Reign]

​

Location: Aboard Reign’s Upsillon Shuttle
Tags: Gavin Vel

---

The Diarch grinned internally at the large man’s excitement. His lust for battle was unsurprising. Throughout the course of this two years he had trained hard but his only companion had been Reign himself, Nocturne, and the Heirs of the Diarchy. While the challenge had been real, it had been life threatening. Scars both internal and external were what his apprentice had to show for his hard work. That changed today, the man would win Glory for himself and for the Diarchy.

“We will be outnumbered. Heavily. Do not believe yourself untouchable Gavin. Remember to temper your fire my apprentice. You are destruction weaponized, yet we must maintain order over ourselves”

As the shuttle broke the atmosphere of Alashan the Diarch took stock of the situation. He had no clue what awaited them, what the numbers were, or if they were too late, but regardless these cultists would pay for their transgressions against the citizens of the Diarchy.

“The reports say that this sect has abducted force sensitive children and our young Tiro’s from their missions. Their goal is to achieve immortality through the sacrifice of force sensitives. This can not stand, these are our children, our younger brothers and sisters. And these cultists will face our retribution”

He looked at the hulk of a man again. Sizing him up as the ship landed.

“You have grown much in these last two years my friend. You’ve become my friend and my fist. And I am proud of you. That aside however, I want you to understand me clearly. I want no survivors”

 

[Gavin Vel]

Maybe he shouldn't have, but when Reign mentioned they would be outnumbered, Gavin’s pulse quickened. His first instinct wasn’t fear or caution—it was exhilaration. GLORY. That word rang in his chest like a war drum. It wasn’t just the thrill of combat that called to him, it was the opportunity to prove himself. To remind the galaxy—and the Diarchy—what it meant to be Reign’s apprentice. His shadow. His hammer. His fist.

This mission was more than a task—it was the unveiling. The first step out of exile. The beginning of his return to the stage as the unstoppable force that had once made acolytes cower and masters raise their brows in curiosity. They had forgotten what he was. Now they would remember.

All will fear me, he thought, and his lips curled with satisfaction.

But, as ever, Reign reeled him in. The older man didn’t need to shout or scold; a single phrase was enough to cool the heat.

You're not untouchable.

The words were frustrating, yes—but Gavin wasn’t stupid. He didn’t take offense. He knew better than most the cost of arrogance. He hadn’t survived this long, hadn’t endured Reign’s crucible, by ignoring the lessons hammered into him. He didn’t throw himself into the fire because he thought he couldn’t burn.

He did it because he loved the heat.

“You worry too much,” Gavin said, his voice relaxed, almost teasing. When it was just the two of them, he could afford to let the leash slacken. The mask of the disciplined, obedient blade could slip—just a little. Reign would tolerate that much.

“I’ve absorbed your lessons, Master,” he added, tone shifting to something more grounded. It wasn’t flattery. It was fact. “I know what I am. What I’m capable of. And more importantly, I know what you expect of me.”

He looked over, the smirk rising again. “You’ll see.”

Without ceremony, he dropped into the co-pilot’s seat. The chair groaned under his mass—he was heavier now, thicker with muscle than he had ever been—but he moved with fluid precision. His eyes scanned the controls automatically, fingers hovering for just a second before confirming everything was as it should be. A year ago, he wouldn’t have bothered checking. Now, he did so without even thinking.

Growth—small, but undeniable.

“When am I getting my own ship, anyway?” he muttered, half to himself, half to Reign, as he adjusted a few dials. The question was casual, but it carried an undercurrent of ambition. He was still the student—but not forever.

Reign spoke, detailing the cultists and their blasphemous goals, and Gavin listened—though a different kind of heat stirred now. The idea that members of their ranks could be snatched away without resistance… it grated at him. Not because he cared for them—but because it was pathetic. Weakness was unforgivable. If they were taken, they deserved it.

He said nothing of that to Reign.

“Immortality through ritualistic sacrifice,” he echoed, a bark of incredulous laughter following. “As if the Sith haven’t been chasing that for centuries. If there was a shortcut, we’d have fields of Jedi strung up like crops waiting for harvest.” His sarcasm was sharp, biting, laced with open disdain. “But no—these amateurs cracked the code. Brilliant.”

The corner of his mouth curled, but the mirth died the instant Reign’s voice softened.

I'm proud of you.

His head turned sharply, and for the first time in what felt like years, Gavin’s face wasn’t contorted in anticipation or veiled aggression. There was something else there—something raw. Unfamiliar.

Pride. Directed at him.

It hit harder than expected. He wasn’t sure anyone had ever said those words to him before. Not and meant them. Not without strings or expectations. It made his chest tighten, like something trying to crawl out that he wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

So he buried it.

Straightening his posture, he swallowed the flicker of emotion and masked it behind the cold certainty of his role. His voice was lower now, more resolute.

“No one will be left alive,” he said.

And with that, his gaze returned forward—focused, lethal, unyielding. The moment was gone. The weapon was ready.

Diarch Reign

 

[Diarch Reign]

​

Location: Alashan
Tags: Gavin Vel

---

There was the confidence again. It was endearing but there was a time and place for it.
As Reign stood to head towards the exit ramp he allowed a little bit of humor to slip out


“You’ll get your own ship when I can trust you won’t crash it into the nearest star”

He said with a small laugh escaping him. Although at his claim of their enemies being amateurs did get a small rise out of him.

“These adversaries are not amateurs Gavin and it would be unwise to underestimate them. This sect has been around since the time of the old republic.”

As he reached the bottom of the exit ramp, he paused. Enticing the enforcer with a challenge.

“The people here are no weak rabble. You may find enemies comparable to the Sith Lords back at the academy. The Jedi masters from the Galactic Alliance. If you lose your focus or composure, you will die.”

He knew the young man would rise to the challenge, and the threat. And even before he reached the bottom of the ramp he could sense them. There were many here. This would be no stroll in the park.

 

[Gavin Vel]

Underestimate. That seemed to be one of Reign’s favorite words—an obsession, almost. Gavin had heard it over and over again in their training sessions, in mission briefings, in those long hours spent dissecting hypothetical threats. Reign wielded the word like a shield, demanding awareness, humility, vigilance.

To Gavin, it always felt like a weight tied to his instincts.

Maybe it was caution. Maybe it was wisdom. But whatever the reason, Reign constantly drilled the idea into him: assume your enemy is smarter, faster, deadlier than they appear. That lesson grated against everything Gavin had built his confidence on. He had lived his life believing he was the apex predator—stronger, more aggressive, more dominant than anyone he faced. Reign was asking him to imagine himself vulnerable. Breakable.

It felt like heresy. But still... he obeyed.

He didn’t have to like it.

“If they’re so organized and such a threat, why do they hide away?” Gavin asked, his tone casual but laced with skepticism as the ship descended into the hangar. He looked out the viewport, eyes narrowing. The structures below were quiet, almost too still. It wasn’t fear that unsettled him—it was the silence before the storm.

He didn’t feel their presence right away—not like Reign did. That kind of sensitivity still eluded him. But after a moment, there it was. The ripple in the Force. Subtle. Slippery. He could tell they were there, somewhere, but they weren’t flaunting it. The strongest of them were cloaked, masked. He knew the type. Cowards hiding in shadows, taught to veil their power like it was shameful.

Gavin scanned the hangar as the ramp lowered. The moment his boots hit the durasteel floor, he felt the weight of attention shift. Dozens of eyes watched their arrival. Whether it was curiosity, fear, or reverence, he couldn’t yet tell—but he liked it. The silence that followed their descent was pregnant with tension.

His robes flowed behind him, jet-black with streaks of deep gold trim that shimmered faintly in the overhead lights. He walked like a storm barely contained. His hand brushed the hilt of his lightsaber—a habit more than anything—but it grounded him. It reminded him of what he was. Of what he could do.

Reign walked ahead with that same calm intensity he always carried, but Gavin’s voice broke through the quiet, thoughtful and unexpected.

“How did we gain access to this planet?” he asked, his gaze sweeping the perimeter. “I read the records—this place was historically sealed, completely insular. They’ve always valued exclusion over engagement. The fact that we’re just… walking in doesn’t raise any alarm bells?”

It wasn’t a challenge. It wasn’t sarcasm. It was genuine curiosity—a rare thing from Gavin Vel. But it was laced with suspicion too. He didn’t like variables he couldn’t account for, and this entire situation reeked of one.

His jaw tightened slightly as he looked to Reign, eyes narrowing.

“Feels like we’re being invited.”

Diarch Reign

 

[Diarch Reign]

​

Location: Alashan
Tags: Gavin Vel

---

Gavin seemed to bristle at the reminder of caution. But it was a lesson one needed to learn. Reign was only alive today because he never took any adversary lightly.

But something Gavin said did make him think.

“I can’t disagree with you. It’s odd that they chose now to resurface. Perhaps they view the Diarchy as weaker than the other factions of the galaxy.”

As he strode towards where he sensed the greatest gathering of people, he answered Gavin’s other question.

“We were allowed to land. You are right. My theory is that they are after a larger prize than our young. They would have to know the Diarchy would send someone of substantial power to recover our wayward sheep. You or I would advance their goals much more than a child.”

They were approaching the first citadel of the ancient fortress, it was here that two beings clad in grey robes stepped forward. The first one, a Torgruta male stepped forward with his green blade lit saying

“You’ve come to your doom. You are outmatched. Accept your fate and lay down your arms”

His companion, a Bothan female, ignited her lightsaber. The ice blue adding to the green illuminating the room.

“Gavin, these beings are in my way. Please move them.”

Reign said dismissing the threat of the two ahead of them. He had sized them up before they arrived. It was nothing Gavin couldn’t handle.

 

[Gavin Vel]

Gavin listened to Reign as they walked, but his eyes were never still. Every shadow was a potential threat, every shift in the wind a clue. The tension in the air was unmistakable—coiled, expectant. He could feel the weight of unseen eyes pressing down on them. It didn’t make him anxious. It made him grin. The idea that someone believed they could capture them—alive, no less—was laughable.

He would die before he ever let that happen.

And he’d take many with him on the way out.

“How unfortunate for them to believe they could capture us,” Gavin muttered, his voice dry as they moved forward, boots echoing in the tense silence.

As they neared a towering Citadel, Gavin paused to admire it. It was impressive, sure—tall, defiant, and drenched in that manufactured sense of authority. But the real amusement came when two figures stepped out to bar their way.

The Torgruta was first, igniting his green lightsaber with a practiced flair and raising it in a stance that tried too hard to look confident. He was followed closely by a Bothan woman, her blue blade hissing to life with far less ceremony. They were trying to make a statement. It wasn’t working.

At Reign’s orders, Gavin strode forward. He didn’t even look at the pair at first. Instead, he squinted up at the Citadel and raised a hand to shield his eyes from the light. “Not a bad choice,” he said casually, as if they weren’t flanking him with weapons drawn.

“Do you surrender?” the Torgruta asked. His voice tried for command, but it trembled at the edges. It wasn’t fear—not yet—but it was something close. A hopeful kind of doubt. The kind that prayed Gavin might see reason.

Gavin laughed, low and cold, as his hand slid to the hilt of his saber. “No,” he said, voice sharpened like a blade unsheathed. Snap-hiss. His crimson saber flared to life. “Just commenting that this is a nice place to die.”

There wasn’t time to process. A sudden wave of invisible force blasted from Gavin’s outstretched palm, slamming into the Bothan and sending her flying backward, skidding across the stone. His mastery of the Force had grown exponentially in the past two years—tighter, stronger, deadlier. He was a storm, no longer wild but deliberately controlled.

The Torgruta didn’t retreat. He charged, as expected, and Gavin met him with explosive power. Each of Gavin’s strikes forced the Torgruta to retreat, arms shaking under the weight of each brutal impact. Gavin’s offense was relentless. It wasn’t just aggression—it was punishment.

And he moved fast. Too fast for his size. When the Bothan returned to the fight, Gavin didn’t hesitate. After a devastating overhead strike staggered the Torgruta, Gavin surged forward, grabbed the man’s tunic, and—with a grunt and a Force-fueled yank—slammed him into the ground. The impact cracked the pavement and left the Jedi gasping.

He didn’t stay down, but Gavin was already moving.

The Bothan came at him fast—faster than her partner—but she lacked his control. She was panicked. And Gavin knew how to use that. He let her engage, let her think she had rhythm—then reached into her mind.

Fear.

Reign had taught him how to find it, how to twist it. He found the threads of uncertainty, and pulled. Doubt bloomed like rot. Her strikes grew erratic, her breathing ragged. She made a desperate, wide swing.

Gavin sidestepped. One clean strike. Her head fell.

The silence that followed was broken only by the sound of the Torgruta’s cry of anguish as he staggered to his feet. Emotion ruled him now. His blade came screaming toward Gavin with no discipline. No control. Just rage.

It was over in seconds.

Gavin parried once. Twice. Then spun, slipped under a wild swing, and drove his saber deep into the Jedi’s chest. The man gasped—but Gavin wasn’t done. He stepped behind him, grabbed him by the collar, and yanked him upright. With one hand, he turned the man’s face toward the still form of the Bothan.

“This is the price of challenging the Diarchy,” Gavin growled, the hum of his blade a cruel lullaby.

He leaned close. “This is the future of your Order.”

Then, with no further words, he ended it.

The saber hissed off. Gavin clipped it back to his belt, rolled his shoulders, and turned back toward Reign without missing a beat.

“Seems your theory was correct,” he said, as if the violence behind him was nothing more than a footnote. “They want to capture us.”

Diarch Reign

 

[Diarch Reign]

​

Location: Alashan
Tags: Gavin Vel

---

Reign watched with the practiced eye of a teacher as Gavin tore through his opponents. The results of his training were evident and Reign had to be especially proud of the use of Force Fear on the bothan. His ability to integrate more advanced force powers into his combat was impressive, his power had grown substantially in the two years he had been under the Diarch's tutelage.

Then came the final moment of the brief duel, as Gavin had shown the Torgruta the folly of standing against the Diarchy. An outsider may have thought it extreme, but the Diarch knew better. Each battle was a statement, each duel a war of ideology, and every victory a lesson to their enemies. The Diarchy was founded within the Dark Side, but not ruled by it. Statements and examples of the sort Gavin just displayed were welcome, for fear is the death of resistance. But, it was to be used precisely. The Diarchy would never have a Death Star, would never be world killers. It was the fear of the Jedi, of the Sith, their enemies, that they wished to use. Not of the every day people.

As Gavin returned to his side, agreeing with his original assessment, Reign spoke as he began to move forward.

"The challenge will only grow from here I'm sure. These two were sent to test us. With as easy as you dispatched them, our enemy knows they have found their ultimate prize."

He walked past the fallen, stopping to collect their lightsabers. He tossed them both to Gavin.

"A trophy, let these remind you of the power you can bring to bare"

As he entered the citadel fully, Reign reached out with his senses, looking for the young members of the brotherhood that had been abducted. Locking in on their faint signature he turned left.

"It seems your training has worked dividends my friend. I am impressed"

This would be the highest form of praise Reign could give his apprentice, pride in his work and the ability to have impressed his master. Yet as Reign walked, the feeling of danger crept up his spine. It seemed before long even the Diarch would need to get his hands dirty.

 

[Gavin Vel]

Gavin caught the sabers midair, one in each hand, their hilts still warm from use. His fingers wrapped around them like they were always meant to be there—trophies, yes, but also proof. Proof that the past two years hadn't been a waste. Proof that the blood, isolation, and discipline had made him into something more.

He clipped them to his belt without ceremony, letting them hang as visible warnings.

"A test," he said with a low scoff, voice still edged with the battle's residue. "Then whoever sent them misjudged the syllabus."

He fell into step beside Reign, his movements calm but his pulse still thundering beneath the surface. The praise had landed harder than the Torgruta ever had. Impressed. Not just satisfied, not just acknowledging effort—impressed. It stirred something in Gavin that felt a little too close to pride, but not the loud, reckless kind he once flaunted. This was quieter. Sharper. Earned.

He let it sit in his chest for a moment.

"Feels good to be back in the fire," he said, eyes forward, scanning the halls as they entered the Citadel. "I used to think the Academy was freedom. That all the chaos and competition made me strong."

His hand brushed against the saber hilt on his hip—his own—before tapping one of the new ones hanging beside it.

"But this? Now I'm dangerous. You didn't just train me to fight—you taught me to make them doubt. To make them hesitate."

A pause followed as the energy shifted. Gavin felt it too. Something just beneath the surface. A warning.

His tone lowered.

"Whatever's ahead, I'm ready. Just say the word, Master—I'll break them, or burn them. Whatever it takes."

Diarch Reign

 

[Diarch Reign]

​

Location: Alashan
Tags: Gavin Vel

---

Further into the bowels of enemy territory they walked. Gavin's assessment of the enemy brought a chuckle from the Diarch.

"It would seem we may be "Overkill" for this type of mission. But some things require direct intervention I take this abduction of our people as a personal slight"

Reign continued stretching out with the force, not only was he tracking where he needed to go, but he was pouring his power out for any to sense. Let them know the gravity of their error.

"True fire, true combat, tempers us in a way that academia never can. However, the loss of our friends at the academy is the one thing I regret about this conflict that has arisen with the Sith."

He paused for just a moment before continuing

"But the academy was chaos, and you are proof of what more can be accomplished with order.. Discipline and Order made you what you are today. You are dangerous, in exactly the way you've said. The ability to sew doubt, to cause hesitation. That will win you battles, that will win us the war. Where the others doubt, we have purpose. Certainty. That is why we will prevail."

Entering into a small room, Reign paused, looking for an exit.

"You will have plenty of opportunity I do not think.."

He was cut off as another grey clad figure descended from the ceiling, saber igniting as he fell. Swinging in a downward slash at the Diarch.

Moving quickly, Reign stepped forward and caught his opponents saber hand, using the force to augment his strength he crushed the bones of his attacker's hand, causing him to drop the blade.

Reign caught the falling lightsaber and stabbed the purple blade into the man's chest.

At that moment, three more blades sprung to life. Reaching out Reign sensed that all three of these were stronger than the first two combined. Igniting his own blood-orange blade the Diarch spoke again to Gavin

"Here's the real welcoming committee. These three are all on a higher level than the two you fought earlier. Work with me and they shall fall"

 

[Gavin Vel]

Gavin listened as his master spoke, his senses splitting between the environment around them and the weight of Reign’s words. When the Academy was mentioned, his mind betrayed him, wandering without permission to Naamino. To Naami. Reign might see the Academy as useful allies—assets to the Diarchy—but Gavin saw something more in his old comrade. A brother. A bond forged not in lectures or hierarchies, but in battle. They had met Reign together. They had faced him together. Their duel with the Diarch had marked the beginning of something that still burned in Gavin’s blood.

They had stayed in touch—if one could call it that. Nyx and Safira were bonded, their connection serving as a fragile thread between the two men. Through the beasts, they had exchanged brief messages, flickers of memory, raw emotion carried like echoes across the distance. But as time passed, the messages grew fewer, thinner, fading into silence like smoke in the wind.

It hurt. In ways Gavin could not quite explain. The ache sat low in his chest, unfamiliar and unwelcome.

His thoughts were suddenly ripped away as danger struck from above.

A shadow dropped from the ceiling.

Gavin moved, reaching for his saber, but cursed under his breath. He had allowed himself to drift—lost focus—and now he was reacting rather than acting. A mistake. One he would not repeat.

Fortunately, Reign was not so easily distracted. Gavin turned in time to witness his master intercept the attacker with brutal efficiency. A wrist was caught, bones cracked beneath a single twist, and the enemy’s own weapon was driven into his chest in a flash of light and a hiss of flesh meeting plasma.

It was over in seconds.

Before the body even hit the floor, three more sabers hissed to life. . Yellow. Green.

Gavin grinned, his own blade springing to life with a growl. The familiar hum filled the air as he stepped forward with deadly purpose.

“Three souls march to their death and don’t even know it,” he said, voice low, almost amused.

These were no amateurs. That much was obvious the moment they moved. They were coordinated, sharper. Two of them pressed Reign in tandem, while the third came directly for Gavin. But they didn’t fight in isolation—one of Reign’s opponents continuously reached across the space between to test Gavin’s defenses, slipping in jabs and strikes in an effort to divide his focus.

It nearly worked.

His saber barely intercepted the first cross-strike in time. Sparks danced across the floor.

In another life, that tactic might have ended him.

Not today.

Gavin pivoted, channeling the Force into a short, explosive burst. His primary opponent was thrown back, staggering. With the immediate pressure lifted, he turned on the interloper, one of the two currently engaged with Reign.

Let his master deal with one alone and end him quickly to even the battlefield.

Who said he didn’t understand tactics?

Diarch Reign

 

[Diarch Reign]

​

Location: Alashan
Tags: Gavin Vel

---

So they had learned. Reign had a barely concealed smirk on his face as the two opponents pressed down upon him. Let them come, he thought. His blade had not tasted action since the duel with Empyrean, and he longed for combat. His apprentice was not the only one who's blood boiled at the thought.

As they came, two yellow sabers fighting in tandem, the Diarch noticed that one seemed to be prodding Gavin while trying to keep the Diarch on the back foot. A tactic that almost had Reign worried as Gavin barely moved to block the blade in time. However, as he pivoted and hurled his main opponent away, a vicious laugh escaped from the Diarch.

The battle now one on one, Reign drove forward. The more physical and aggressive version of Form V that Reign had become known for came into play. Amplifying his already substantial strength by using the force he came crashing down on his opponent.

Yet his adversary was no weakling, he kept pace, at least at first. Until a saber lock earned him a headbutt from Reign. Not one to rely solely on the blade when he had honed his body to lethal precision.

 

[Gavin Vel]

The fight narrowed—just for a breath—to one on one. Gavin knew he had to capitalize on it. That sliver of space he’d carved out was precious, and if he didn’t end this opponent fast, it would vanish. With a primal roar, Gavin brought his lightsaber crashing down in a brutal arc, each strike radiating the unrestrained power that had once defined him.

Reign had taught him control. Patience. The importance of reading an opponent before committing to a path. And Gavin had learned—he had grown. But there were moments when sheer ferocity was not just useful—it was necessary. This was one of those moments.

His towering frame moved with speed unnatural for its size, driven by the Force, muscles surging with coiled aggression. Each swing of his saber came down like a hammer, forcing his opponent to retreat step after step, struggling to keep up with the relentless pace.

But Gavin felt the shift. The other one—the pest he had thrown—was back.

As the interloper's blade came down toward him from behind, Gavin turned with instinctual precision and caught it with his bare hand. Pain flared across his palm but he didn’t flinch. His fingers clamped down, and with a savage grunt, he crushed the wrist. Bone cracked under the pressure.

Then Gavin spun, using the man's own broken arm as a shield. The original duelist, already mid-swing, couldn't pull back in time. His blade sliced clean through the limb, the severed arm falling limp in Gavin’s grasp.

Gavin stared at it for a moment, amused.

With a guttural yell, he drove his boot into the chest of the screaming, one-armed man, sending him hurtling across the room like a broken doll. The impact cracked the far wall, and the man lay groaning—alive, but soon to regret it.

His partner, stunned by the display, froze in place for just a second. That was all it took for Gavin to turn toward him, calm and composed, twirling the dismembered arm in his hand like a toy.

With a flick, he caught the fallen blue lightsaber. The severed limb was discarded, flung carelessly across the chamber with a wet thud.

"Are you starting to realize your folly?" Gavin asked, voice confident, every syllable dripping with certainty as he now held two sabers—red in one hand, blue in the other. He spun them with a practiced elegance, a dangerous calm settling over his features.

“Maybe you’re wishing you’d taken a different path. Something quieter. Something that didn’t end with you here, across from me.”

He laughed. Low, dark, cold.

Then he surged forward, sabers igniting the room with brilliant color, and brought the full weight of his wrath crashing down onto his final opponent.


Diarch Reign

 

[Diarch Reign]

​

Location: Alashan
Tags: Gavin Vel

---

The Diarch was aware of the battle around him, he had earned his reputation not only as a duelist but a battlefield commander. So as his apprentice brutally attacked his opponent, Reign had a moment to think.

The headbutt had stunned his adversary, so the Diarch watched briefly while his apprentice worked. He saw the previously indisposed opponent return to the fray, only to be brutalized by the young man. At this, Reign allowed a cold smile. He did not revel in the slaughter as some others did, but he could enjoy a master class of aggression.

His attention was quickly diverted however, when his opponent returned. Yellow blade a stunning blur of movement. But it was for naught, the Diarch was A MASTER of form V, his staunch defense not allowing an opening for the force user, until at last, Reign found his own space. A quick jab to his opponent’s nose had given him the ground to come forward with a crushing attack.

Swiping his blade in a vertical slash
not reckless, not wild, but measured a prelude to something far more devastating. With the Force flooding his limbs, he leapt high into the air, cape trailing like the shadow of judgment. At the apex of his rise, he twisted into a torque of momentum and precision, his saber catching the light as it wound behind him.

Then came the Sundering Fall.

He dropped like a falling star, blade angled in a brutal arc, one designed not merely to cut, but to crush. The strike carried his full weight, It came with the finality of a hammer against stone.

The enemy had no chance, with gravity and the force enhancing his strength, he cleaved right through the defense. A small line appearing in his enemy before he fell apart.