===Sebastian===
The ground trembled beneath each thunderous step as Sebastian advanced—an unstoppable monolith sheathed in midnight-black ceramite. His power sword crackled with unrestrained fury, arcs of blue lightning dancing along its edge. In his other hand, his storm shield loomed like a slab of living void, absorbing all light, reflecting only the cold certainty of destruction.
Years of war had sharpened his instincts into something almost precognitive. And those instincts now warned him—this was not the same Jedi he had fought and broken all those years ago. Something had changed.
Windu exhaled slowly, a single breath cutting through the chaos around him. The Force surged through his veins, wrapping him in its silent strength. He could feel the arena writhe with energy—shouts of dying soldiers, flickers of blaster fire, the stench of charred metal and blood.
Time, as it often did in the hands of the Force, bent around him. He saw the Shatterpoints—cracks in fate itself, visible only to him—webbing through the battlefield like hairline fractures in glass. He focused on them, honed in on the jagged thread that ran straight through the black-armored giant before him.
Then Sebastian struck.
The power sword came in low, its arc wide and merciless, a horizontal slash that sang of death. The air hissed as the blade carved through it, seeking to cleave the Jedi clean in half.
But Windu was already in motion.
He drew the Force deep into himself and exploded upward, shattering the stone beneath his feet with the sheer force of his ascent. Twisting mid-air, his robes whipped around him as the blade roared just beneath, missing by mere inches. The strike collided with a ruined column, and the energy discharge shattered it completely, pulverizing droids and clones in a blinding cascade of debris and fire.
Windu landed behind the towering warrior. In a single, precise movement, he thrust the blade toward the exposed seam in Sebastian's left thigh plate with his augmented strength.
Sparks flared. The lightsaber pierced the adamantium composite, then the flesh beneath it.
Sebastian grunted—more from surprise than pain—before he whirled around, faster than something that massive should move. The edge of his shield caught Windu full in the chest.
The blow hit like a meteor.
Windu flew backward, smashing through a cluster of Jedi who had surged forward to assist him. Bodies scattered like dry leaves in a storm. He crashed to the ground with a grunt, coughing blood as he rose to one knee. Only the Force, summoned at the last instant to form a protective barrier had saved him from being crushed outright.
Then—unexpectedly—Sebastian laughed.
A deep, booming sound, warped and resonant through his helmet's vox-grill.
"It's been years since someone actually hurt me," he rumbled, stomping his leg once, testing it despite the damage. "I'm surprised you pierced my armor at all… but you should know—unless you kill me in one stroke, your weapon is meaningless."
He raised the storm shield again as if presenting it to them, almost in mockery.
"A blade that cauterizes the wound it makes," he sneered, voice thick with disdain. "What use is that against a warrior bred for for death like me?"
He threw his head back and laughed again—louder this time, echoing across the shattered arena.
As the laughter died down, the Jedi regrouped, forming a loose half-circle around the giant. Their sabers ignited with defiant hums, eyes hard with resolve.
Sebastian looked at them with something like pity.
"You persist?" he rumbled, his voice like distant thunder. Around them, the arena groaned—walls buckling, towers began collapsing under their own weight. Fire licked at the skies as the Pyro Drakes torched everything.
He stepped forward, slowly and deliberately, the full weight of his indomitable will pressing outward like a shockwave.
A chunk of debris fell from above before he lifted his shield and smashed through it with a single upward strike, the slab splintering into harmless rubble.
"Come then," he growled. "Let's see if any of you are worth my time." He said, allowing the battle joy to take him over once more.
The Jedi charged—sabers flaring, robes trailing like banners of defiance. But defiance alone would not save them.
Sebastian moved.
Not with the sluggish weight one might expect from a warrior entombed in armor, but with terrifying speed. A blur of black steel and raw power, he crashed into the line of Jedi like a living siege engine.
The first to reach him—a young Knight with a green blade—struck high, aiming for Sebastian's helmet. The Black Templar's shield intercepted the blow with a clang that shattered the Jedi's wrists. In the same movement, Sebastian stepped in and drove his power sword through the man's chest. There was a pop of pressure, a flash of blood and steam, and the Jedi screamed once before the blade exploded out his back, obliterating his heart.
Another came in from the flank—twin sabers spinning in a whirlwind of Ataru form. She danced around him, scoring a shallow line across his pauldron.
Sebastian didn't flinch. He backhanded her with his shield. Bone shattered audibly. She flew across the arena like a rag doll, neck twisted at an unnatural angle before she even hit the ground.
A Master stepped forward now, older, more skilled. His saber was a blue bolt of vengeance, his movements precise. He dove in, cutting low toward Sebastian's injured leg. The blade made contact, sizzling against the damaged thigh.
Sebastian roared his bloodsong as he whirled around.
With both hands, he brought his sword down in a brutal overhead arc. The Jedi barely raised his saber in time to block it—but it didn't matter. The power sword shattered the saber, cleaving clean through it and into the Master's clavicle. The blade stopped only when it reached the ground beneath the master.
Blood sprayed across the stone floor.
"Is this all you've got?" Sebastian bellowed, kicking the twitching body aside like refuse. His armor was now streaked with gore—his shield bloody, his sword caked in the remains of different Jedi.
The survivors hesitated.
And in that heartbeat of doubt, Sebastian lunged again.
He smashed one in the head with the butt of his heavy bolt pistol in his off-hand, smashing the Jedi into the ground.
Another Jedi screamed, lashing out with the Force—Sebastian's armor flared, countering the push as a purity seal burned.
He then holstered the weapon, leaving his off hand free.
He then crushed another's neck with a squeeze and threw the limp body into another oncoming Jedi, knocking both to the floor in a tangle of limbs.
A saber struck his back—another grazed his leg. Minor wounds. Minor threats as they bounced off his armor.
He whirled and swept his blade horizontally, decapitating the first and cleaving the second diagonally from hip to shoulder in one fluid strike. The bodies collapsed, twitching. The smell of burning flesh and blood thickened the air.
The arena was a slaughterhouse.
Through the carnage, one Jedi still stood tall—gritting his teeth, blood on his robes but fire in his eyes as he recovered.
Mace Windu.
He walked forward slowly, stepping over bodies—some groaning, some still, most already fading into the Force.
"You're done," Windu said, his voice calm, cold, cutting through the heat of battle like his violet saber as the force surged around him.
Sebastian turned to face him, his laugh low, like gravel grinding under tank treads.
"No," the Black Templar said, voice metallic and soaked in bloodlust. "we're just getting started."
Then they charged.
The arena shook as their blades met again—violet fire and crackling lightning clashing with the fury of gods. Sparks flew, stone shattered, blood sprayed anew as Mace reinforced his lightsaber and body with the force, able to keep up with the Black Templar.
Their sabers clashed in a storm of fury—Sebastian's brutal, earth-shaking swings crashing into Mace's precise, relentless counters. Each impact sent shockwaves through the collapsing arena, chunks of stone raining around them like meteors. Blades screamed as they met again and again, the space between them becoming a blur of violet and blue lightning.
But Mace felt it—the edge.
The Shatterpoint.
Not in Sebastian's armor, nor his stance, but in the Force itself. In the perfect convergence of power, timing, and purpose. The Force screamed through his veins, boiling behind his eyes. Windu let go—not into chaos, but into clarity.
With a roar that shook the air itself, he dropped his saber—and thrust both hands forward.
"HAAAAAA!!"
The Force exploded from him like a supernova.
A sphere of invisible might, dense and focused into a single point, detonated against Sebastian's shield. Time slowed—just for a heartbeat—as the Templar's shield cracked under the sheer weight of the blast. His armor buckled, sparks flying from overloaded servos, and then—
BOOM.
The Black Templar was launched backwards.
He flew like a cannon shell, tearing through clones, Mandalorians, and doids without discrimination. He flew through the stone, smashing through broken pillars, and crashed into the far wall of the arena with an earth-shaking impact. Stone crumbled. Dust filled the air in a choking wave. For a moment, all was still.
Mace stood, chest heaving, his robes shredded and soaked in sweat and blood. His saber snapped back to his hand with a sharp hiss as he took a single step forward.
Through the haze and ruin, a distant rumble came—a grinding metallic growl from deep within the rubble.
Then, movement.
Stone shifter outward as Sebastian began to rise.
Smoke curled from vents in his armor. Half his shield was gone, slagged from the blast. His power sword sputtered, its energy field flickering like a dying star.
But his eyes, one visible now through a cracked optic, burned with savage joy.
"You…" he rasped, blood on his lips. "…you finally made me feel it."
He stood, strong and defiant, steam rolling off him like smoke from a war engine.
"Playtime's over," Sebastian growled, his voice like cracking granite.
The words echoed across the ruined arena, low, cold and final through the battles that still raged. He began to walk forward—slowly, deliberately—each step pounding into the blood-soaked stone like a war drum. His armor hissed and sparked, scorched black even through its obsidian hue, one of his optics was torn away to reveal one furious, bloodshot eye glaring beneath a steel brow.
The shield, or what was left of it, hung from his forearm in molten ruins. His power sword crackled feebly in his hand, its energy field twitching like a dying thing—but it was still alive. And so was he.
Mace stood his ground.
Violet light hummed in his hand, the saber casting his grim face in ghostly fire. He breathed in—not just air, but the Force. It flooded him, infinite, endless. The pain in his ribs, the cuts on his arms, the weight of dozens dead—he carried it all and channeled it.
This wasn't just a duel now.
It was war in its purest form.
Sebastian broke into a sprint.
Mace moved.
They collided like stars.
The Templar swung with two hands, putting the last of his rage into a decapitating strike—but Mace ducked, twisting, his saber slicing upward in a blur that nearly took the Black Templar's arm off. Sparks and blood flew. The giant roared, backhanding Mace with his free fist. The Jedi stumbled, skidding across the ground—but rolled to his feet instantly.
They came at each other again.
Sebastian roared, stabbing forward. Mace caught the thrust, blade slipping under the sword's edge and twisting it aside before driving his boot into the Astartes' wounded thigh.
The Templar barely felt it.
He headbutted Mace with his exposed faceplate. There was a sickening crack as blood sprayed from Windu's nose, and the Jedi was thrown back again.
This time, Sebastian didn't let him go.
He charged—slammed into Mace shoulder-first, sending them both crashing into the remains of a collapsed pillar. Stone shattered. Windu coughed blood but kept his saber up, slashing across Sebastian's torso at point-blank.
Something changed at that moment.
Sebastian's fury—until now tempered by control, by ritual, by the warrior's code of the Black Templars—snapped. His broken shield dropped from his arm with a heavy clang, and his sparking sword hit the ground beside it, forgotten. He no longer needed weapons.
He was the weapon.
Veins bulged under pale and scarred skin. His muscles swelled, tendons locking into place like hydraulic pistons. Every servo in his armor roared to life as he drew upon the full, inhuman strength of an Astartes unchained. The stone beneath his boots cracked from the pressure as he charged forward.
Faster than Windu could react.
A punch to the ribs caved them in. Windu's scream caught in his throat as he was lifted from the ground, flung like a doll into a jagged slab of broken wall. He hit hard, bones grinding, only the Force saving him from immediate death. But there was no time to recover.
Sebastian was already there, throwing his right fist into the man's chest.
He then grabbed Mace by the arm and swung him like a hammer, smashing him into the ground, then up into a crumbling column, then down again. The arena trembled with each impact. Blood sprayed across broken stone. The Jedi Master's vision blurred, his grip weakening, his body screaming in pain.
Sebastian bellowed, eyes wild with bloodlust.
"IS THIS ALL? IS THIS YOUR BEST?!"
Windu summoned the Force desperately, throwing up a barrier a split second before Sebastian's boot came down where his head had been. The shield shattered from the blow, the air itself cracking with the sound of the impact. Mace rolled away, barely alive, dragging his saber into his hand.
He tried to rise.
A mistake.
The Black Templar threw a haymaker with all the strength a Space Marine born for war could muster.
The punch hit like a god's hammer.
Windu's Force shield collapsed, shattering with a sound like glass breaking across dimensions.
His body was launched—not thrown, but hurled like a missile across the battlefield, trailing blood and shredded robes, crashing through one of the far arena walls in an explosion of dust and rubble. His body didn't move after that.
Silence.
From the dust and flame, Yoda stepped forth.
He looked upon the blood-soaked, ruined battlefield. Saw Mace's broken body. The dead. The carnage.
Then he looked at Sebastian.
The Black Templar stood among the dead and dying, his armor smoking, one eye gleaming beneath his fractured helm. Blood caked his mouth, his fists, his chest. And yet—he smiled. A savage, unrepentant grin. A warrior's grin.
Yoda did not speak. He simply lifted his hand.
And the Force screamed.
The earth split.
Sebastian barely had time to brace before an invisible blast of pure kinetic Force slammed into him. It didn't push—it ripped. The Astartes was flung from the ground like a missile, his massive form smashing through the air, thrown clean across the battlefield. He tore through shattered pillars and flaming debris before crashing into the remains of a distant tower, vanishing in a plume of fire and smoke as he was thrown from the colosseum.
Silence returned.
Yoda slowly stepped toward Mace, lifting his battered body gently from the wreckage with the Force, cradling him like a wounded child.
"Rest now, you will," he whispered, sorrow and fury laced behind his words.
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