Star Wars: From the Clone Wars to Starfaring Heroes

Chapter 296-298 - Controlling the Stars (Part 4)

A sudden wave of intense nausea washed over him, not from the turbulence of the battlefield, but from the unbearable tearing weight of the Force itself.

The Force, which usually flowed in an orderly fashion, was now shattered like a broken mirror, turning into sharp fragments that swirled wildly in Obi-Wan's senses, causing him excruciating pain.

A sharp pain surged in his stomach, and he struggled to extend his consciousness, only to touch upon scattered and distant ripples.

That was his connection to the other Jedi in the Force, now violently severed, leaving only a faint echo.

Through the blurry fragments transmitted by the Force, he seemed to witness the scene of betrayal firsthand.

The clone soldiers raised their rifles and aimed them at their former comrades. The Jedi fell like leaves, their blood staining the warship deck and the planet's surface.

The spare blaster was raised in the hands of the clone soldier, the ARC-170 starfighter turned around and locked onto the tail of the Jedi fighter, the AT-ST walker's cannon muzzle turned towards the friendly position, and the hover tank turret quietly adjusted its angle.

Gunshots rang out, and Jedi fell.

At the same time, the Jedi throughout the entire Milky Way were experiencing this massacre.

Obi-Wan could clearly sense familiar life signals disappearing from the Force, like candle flames being forcibly extinguished.

But at this moment, only one name remained in his mind.

Scout.

This young apprentice is leading a combat patrol in outer space; he is an apprentice who has failed in his duties.

Obi-Wan was able to sense her faint life force within the Force and held it tightly within the depths of his senses.

She was still commanding the fighter squadron in combat, but the connection between the two was intermittent, and her life was like a light in the fog, teetering on the brink of collapse in the chaos.

Regret gripped Obi-Wan's heart in an instant.

He never treated Scout as closely as he did Anakin. When teaching Scout, he simply played the role of a Jedi Master in a conventional manner, lacking the bond between master and disciple.

Anakin, even though he was on the other side of the galaxy, could still clearly sense the other's presence.

“No, no, no…” Obi-Wan whispered, his voice trembling with fear, “Scooter, where are you?!”

He desperately extended his senses, trying to penetrate the chaos of the battlefield and grasp that glimmer of light, but all that remained in his Force was piercing pain and confusion, suffocating him like being devoured by a black snake.

Just as his connection with Scout was about to stabilize, the Intruder-class battleship suddenly appeared in front of the porthole, blocking his view, and the faint connection slipped completely from his perception.

"No!" Obi-Wan cried out, slamming his fist on the cold railing.

……

"Admiral Bontri kept his promise." Jedi Knight Lissah's voice was hoarse as he looked out the porthole at the Separatist fleet.

"How many of our compatriots did we... how many did we save?" Burta Swan's voice trembled. His carefully styled black hair was soaked with sweat, hanging down like wet vines between his eyebrows and eyes. His face was also stained with the dirt left by the battle.

Master Prokhor closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and said in a heavy tone, "It's far from enough."

He sensed Adi Gallia's passing within the Force.

The Jedi Master who planned the entire rescue operation ultimately didn't live to see the very end.

In order to save the remnants of the Jedi, they betrayed the ideals they once upheld, and he and Adi, these "traitors," precisely exemplify the Jedi Order's decline.

Perhaps soon he will follow Adi and be buried with the old order.

Inside the bridge of the USS Hyperion, battle has already broken out.

Prokhor, Burta Swann, and Lisach stood side by side behind the command console, their lightsabers blazing and slicing through the heavy air in the dim, flickering light.

The pulse of the Force flowed between the three, but it could not suppress the despair and anger that filled the air.

The once inseparable clone troopers now surrounded them, brandishing blaster guns and pointing them at these Jedi who had sworn to protect the Republic.

And they were obeying the enemies of the Republic.

The pain of betrayal was branded deep within his soul, but Proco Cong had no time to wallow in it.

The Hyperion was deeply embedded in the vanguard of the Republic. Their retreat had long been cut off. Outnumbered, they had no choice but to fight to the death.

The breathing mask hissed softly as Pro Kong slowly raised his lightsaber, the blue blade humming as the energy intensified with his calm as he sank into the Force.

He, Burta, and Lisah formed a defensive circle back to back, and their tacit understanding did not disappear despite the collapse of the situation, even though they all knew this was the final battle.

“Master, you are right,” Lisach said with a hint of self-deprecating ease, “we will end up like martyrs.”

The clone troop opened fire as soon as he finished speaking.

The bursts of energy hissed and weaved through the air like dense raindrops. Burta moved first, his emerald lightsaber dancing in exquisite arcs, precisely deflecting each attack.

Years of training have made her movements flawless, her sword shadows as agile as flowing clouds, as if dancing amidst a hail of bullets, but her slightly trembling arms still betray her fatigue.

Lisach's blue lightsaber was equally swift, parrying left and dodging right, each swing precisely hitting the clone troopers' weapons or armor joints.

Her breathing grew heavier, fine beads of sweat seeped from her scales, and her hand gripping the sword turned white from the effort.

The Force whispered around her, urging her to persevere, but the depletion of her strength was ultimately irreversible.

Proco Gunn sensed his companions' rhythm within the Force, and the three of them perfectly synchronized their attacks and defenses.

Blue, green, and blue lightsabers intertwined to form a tight defensive net, illuminating the smoke-filled bridge. Each swing of the sword left deep burn marks on the metal walls, and the air was filled with the scorching heat of burning energy.

Dozens of clone soldiers fell to the ground one after another, some of them struck in vital areas by lightsabers, and groaned as they fell to the floor.

Some of them emitted a crackling static noise because their armor short-circuited after their weapons were destroyed.

The roar of the blaster was drowned out by the buzzing of the lightsaber, and the crackling sounds of energy colliding with the armor rose and fell incessantly.

The bridge was completely destroyed in the battle.

The pristine walls were covered in burn marks and cuts, the molten durasteel emitted a pungent stench, and the exposed pipes sparked.

The air was filled with a mixture of ozone, scalding hot electronic components, the smell of blood and burnt meat, making one's lungs ache.

The control panel was shattered by the lightsaber, and sparks drifted slowly down in the low-gravity environment, igniting the cables in the corner. Small flames danced in the sweltering air, casting eerie shadows.

White smoke billowed from the floor cracks, was carried by the vortex of the artificial atmosphere, and finally dissipated in the vents.

The smoke stung the eyes and made people's throats tighten, while the sounds of lightsabers and blasters were drowned out by the hum of the ship's damaged systems, the sound of bursting pipes, and the sounds of external impacts.

Suddenly, a sharp pain pierced through the skull, and the Force's warning exploded like lightning.

Prokhor looked out the porthole and saw a nearby Victory-class Star Destroyer launch a full salvo of torpedoes.

The target was not the separatist forces, but the Hyperion.

The flagship shook violently, and the three people clung tightly to the fixed objects around them to avoid being thrown off.

A cracking sound came from the hull, and the atmosphere leaked out rapidly. A strong wind instantly dispersed the smoke inside the bridge and caused the temperature to drop sharply.

This brief loss of balance gave the clone troopers an opportunity. A burst of energy struck Burta precisely in the side of her abdomen, her body jolted violently, and the hum of her lightsaber diminished.

Staggering, another energy beam pierced her chest, causing her to fall straight to her knees before crashing heavily onto the cold deck.

The lightsaber slipped from her hand with a crisp clang, and blood quickly spread beneath her as she breathed her last in the thin air.

A look of grief flashed in Lisach's eyes, but there was no time for mourning.

Her lightsaber drew a wide arc, cutting down the two nearest clone soldiers, but just as she turned to defend herself, burst beams struck her chest, legs, and side in succession.

She gasped, staggered backward, and the lightsaber slipped from her hand, spinning and sliding into the distance. The blue blade flashed a few times before going out completely.

Lisach's body fell forward and remained motionless.

Now only Procon is left alone, with clone soldiers closing in and blasters aimed at his chest.

A barrage of firepower poured forth, and his blue lightsaber danced, creating a dazzling light screen that deflected one explosive beam after another.

But the soreness in my arms became more intense, my breathing became shallow and rapid, and my strength was rapidly depleting.

An explosive beam grazed his shoulder, sending a sharp pain through his body. The next shot struck his side, momentarily halting his movements.

The third shot hit him squarely in the chest, the impact causing him to stagger backward.

But he did not fall; he continued to wield his lightsaber, holding the last line of defense.

He lived his entire life as a Jedi, winning countless battles, but now, his time has come.

The final energy beam struck above his heart, and the intense pain nearly suffocated him.

He stood there briefly, feeling life draining from his limbs, before slowly collapsing and collapsing onto the cold deck.

Through his breathing mask, Proko looked at the corpses of Burta and Lisach, the air he inhaled smelling of blood.

Pain, guilt, and regret surged into his heart... for everything he had done, for failing to save more of his compatriots.

But when he exhaled that breath, all his emotions vanished.

The Republic's warships continued firing on the wreckage of the Hyperion, completely disregarding whether there were any survivors on board.

As the flagship lost power, was captured by Sereno's gravitational well, and began its descent toward the planet's surface, Prokon breathed its last.

His life flashed through my mind.

All the battles, identities, friends and enemies, and those unfulfilled dreams and hopes.

In the moment of emptiness, he suddenly understood.

"Master Dooku, you are the most lucid of all," the dying Jedi Master murmured to himself, his gaze fixed through the porthole on the silvery planet Serenno. "You foresaw everything..."

“Raine Bontley… Fighting Hydra…”

He coughed up a mouthful of bloody phlegm, and his consciousness gradually faded.

The old order has collapsed, but the Jedi still exists... saved by forces once considered enemies.

This is a new beginning.

A brand new beginning.

The galaxy burned around him as a Jedi Master's last breath dissipated into the cold universe. In the throne room of Sereno Castle, the heart of Count Dooku's mansion, Jedi Master Mace Windu stood alone, confronting the slippery black serpent within his heart.

He sank into the realm of Vapard, every muscle taut, fighting for survival.

This battle has long since transcended the realm of survival.

Every time the lightsaber whirled, every time it parried the lash of dark energy, it was a fight for democracy, justice, and peace; a fight for the right of ordinary lives to live autonomously; and even more so, a fight for the republic he had dedicated his life to protecting.

Vapard, the seventh lightsaber technique, is named after the predator of the same name on the Sarapin satellite.

Vapardmon is known for its swift tentacle attacks. Most individuals have seven tentacles, some have up to twelve, and the largest recorded individual even had twenty-three.

Faced with this creature, no one can count the number of its tentacles until its very last moment of death... They are faster than the visual senses can capture, so fast that they are impossible to count.

Mace's lightsaber is just like the tentacles of the Vapard Beast.

This sword technique inherits the ferocity of its name source, but it also harbors deadly risks. Immersing oneself in it is tantamount to opening the floodgates of inner darkness.

When using Vapard, Jedi must allow themselves to feel the thrill of battle and embrace the exhilaration of victory, a path that happens to traverse the edge of the dark side.

As the creator of Vapard, Mays Windu is the only person in the world who can fully master it.

At this moment, he is facing Wapard's ultimate test.

Lightning flashed and thunder roared in the throne room, as if a storm had passed.

Mace weaved through the chaos, his amethyst-like lightsaber drawing arcs of purple destruction, precisely deflecting incoming energy beams, each strike capable of cleaving an enemy in two.

Dark energy danced on the smooth obsidian floor, reflecting the fragments of the shattered chandelier overhead, while the howling of a storm filled the entire space.

Vapard's rhythm surged through his blood, and Mace's lightsaber moved as fast as a comet, intercepting streams of dark energy and directing them toward the marble pillar, where they exploded into crackling sparks.

He used the Force to spin his body, each strike was unexpected and unstoppable.

Vapard never rejects the dark side; it dances with the darkness, drawing power from it and then turning it against its enemies.

The enemy's anger, hatred, and fear will all become nourishment for his strength.

The clone soldier's white alloy armor gleamed coldly under the eerie light of the broken chandelier, and his eyes behind the mask were empty and lifeless, completely devoid of his former humanity.

These soldiers who once fought alongside him and swore allegiance to the Republic have now become his enemies, seeking to take his life.

"Fire!"

The commander's order had barely been given when Mace took action.

He merged with the black serpent within his heart, transforming into a pure fighting spirit.

"Traitors!" The snake's forked tongue hissed in my ear. "They betrayed the Jedi, they betrayed the Republic! We should have been wary of the Kamino's plot long ago!"

Mace waved his hand to dispel the illusion in his mind, but the black snake immediately coiled around him again.

This is the price Vapard pays: always accompanied by the temptations of the dark side.

His lightsaber wove a dense purple net of light, reflecting the burst of energy back at the clone troop camp, and soldiers fell in droves.

Mace did not hesitate at all; he knew that these men were no longer the brothers they once were.

A surge of dark energy coursed through his body, clinging to his skin like a wildfire, tempting him to completely release his restraints and demand even greater power.

He did not refuse, but chose to harness this power and bring it under his control.

The Force suddenly sounded an alarm, and more clone troop soldiers were surging in, engulfing the corridor like an endless wave.

Mace charged forward, slaying his way through the enemy ranks, completely immersed in the realm of Vapard, his individual consciousness seemingly dissolving into the battle.

Vapard is a conduit for dark energy, which flows between him and his enemies.

He embraced the torrent of darkness, accepted the reality of the Jedi Order's demise, absorbed all his anger and pain into his heart, and then unleashed it like a fountain, transforming it into the deadly sharpness of his lightsaber.

Wapard allows no hesitation or pity; stopping means death.

Other Jedi could only hold their ground against the endless clone troop, but Mace continued to advance, like a shadow in the twilight, unstoppable.

He had already rushed out of the throne room, the black serpent in his heart guiding his steps, and his initial goal of finding Dooku became blurred.

As they raced through the corridors of Sereno Castle, the purple afterimages of lightsabers relentlessly reaped lives. The once elegant and solemn corridors, bearing witness to history, were now splattered with charred marks and corpses.

He had lost track of how long he had been fighting; the line between minutes and hours had long since blurred, and the only meaning lay in the fight itself.

The castle gates exploded in front of him, the hinges were flung off by the Force, and Mace strode onto the terrace, the purple trail of his lightsaber leaving afterimages in the air, his chest rising and falling with his even breathing.

The ground beneath my feet was charred black and littered with corpses, while the castle corridors behind me were engulfed in flames.

Before him lay the tragic state of the fallen republic.

The first rays of dawn climbed the horizon, gilding the hills and spires of Karania with gold, but bringing no warmth whatsoever.

The light illuminated the chaotic sky, thick smoke and the acrid smell of scorching metal filled the air, and the wreckage of countless Republic warships floated in the upper atmosphere like dying behemoths.

Some warships were engulfed in flames, which consumed cabins and corridors.

Some engines stalled and were dragged down to the ground by planetary gravity.

From Mays's position, the bridge of a Tectorodos-class battleship was split in two, tumbling and crashing towards the distant mountains, bursting into a blinding white light.

This Jedi Expeditionary Force, once the hammer of justice and the shield of the Republic, is now in complete decline.

In that brief moment of hesitation, Mace personally strangled the black serpent in his heart.

The energy of the dark side receded from the body, replaced by a deep-seated exhaustion.

The Force returned to his senses with a tremor, transforming into a clear pulse... Not only Sereno, but the entire galaxy was experiencing catastrophe, and the Jedi were dying.

Across the stars and battlefields, countless screams from the Jedi echoed in the Force, each life lost like a ripple on the river of existence.

Mays clearly sensed all of this, and for the first time in his life, he didn't know where to go or what to do.

The Republic is crumbling, the Jedi Order is burning. Dawn has broken, but the light has already died out.

Mays looked down and saw that the expected AT-TE artillery had not appeared. All the armored units had been destroyed, and metal debris was scattered in the stone garden that Dooku had carefully tended.

The corpses of clone soldiers covered the ground, their white armor resembling shrouds, while on top of the carcasses, soulless combat robots steadily advanced.

He used all his strength to keep the lightsaber from slipping from his hand, and his gaze swept across the battlefield, counting three C-9799 landing craft.

The large wings cast long shadows as thousands of combat robots marched toward the castle, escorted by anti-gravity tanks on both sides.

A slow and polite round of applause suddenly broke out.

Mace whirled around, his purple lightsaber instantly unsheathed, pointing directly at the source of the sound.

Count Dooku stood at the top of the stairs, just outside the range of the lightsaber, clapping leisurely with an approving smile on his face.

“Master Windu,” Dooku’s voice carried a hint of mockery, “is truly astonishing. Your mastery of the dark side is beyond my reach.”

Mace took a deep breath and said coldly, "I will never become like you, Dooku."

The applause stopped abruptly. Dooku gripped the hilt of his curved lightsaber, his eyes suddenly sharpening: "Don't worry, you have no chance of becoming me."

This greatest duelist in the history of the Jedi Temple strikes with the swiftness of a viper.

Mays could clearly see the dark phantom swirling behind Dooku; this was supposed to be a duel that would go down in history.

The clash between two top lightsaber masters is enough to be remembered by both the Jedi and the Sith.

Dooku chose to strike when Mace was exhausted, but even so, Mace caught the attack with the speed he had honed throughout his life.

The two swords clashed, unleashing a dazzling light, and energy hissed in the air.

Dooku's movements were impeccable, every posture was extremely precise, and every attack was concise and clean, showcasing Macashi's elegance.

Even though he was exhausted, Mace's lightsaber still carried the immense power of Vapard, each strike attempting to repel Dooku's darkness.

For a fleeting moment, the two were evenly matched.

Mays' attack was like a hammer blow, pressing down on Dooku's defense and forcing him to retreat step by step, approaching the edge of the terrace.

But Dooku's swordsmanship was too exquisite; he could always evade attacks by the slightest margin and then turn the tide of battle with a precise counterattack.

Dark energy transformed into lightning that tore through the air. Dooku raised his left hand, and the dark energy rushed straight towards him.

Mays steadily absorbed the energy with the blade of her sword, then charged forward, applying continuous pressure.

Just then, the Force suddenly sounded a sharp alarm... Danger was coming from behind.

Instinct drove Mace to spin around, his lightsaber swirling back to intercept a crimson burst of energy, deflecting it toward the stone ground and leaving a scorched, molten mark.

He caught a glimpse of a massive figure, as robust as a bear, but before he could get a good look, he had to turn around immediately to deal with Dooku.

But that momentary distraction was enough to be fatal.

Dooku seized the opportunity, his silver and red lightsaber thrusting forward fiercely. Mace felt a burning sensation pierce through his ribs, and his breath caught in his throat for a moment.

Immediately afterwards, the second sword pierced his side abdomen, and the intense pain made his body tremble.

He tried to raise his lightsaber to retaliate, but Dooku had already moved to his side and slashed down with his final sword... In a dizzying moment, Mace felt the ground beneath his feet suddenly disappear.

The lone Jedi Master crashed heavily onto the stairs, tumbling all the way to the bottom.

He looked up at the faintly lit sky, when a huge shadow loomed over him, and six crimson eyes mercilessly scanned his broken body.

Mays recognized the figure...

Admiral Trench, the "Old Spider" of the Andor system, a name that always evokes fear in meetings between the Jedi and Republic navies.

“Don’t be afraid, Jedi Master.” The old spider’s mandibles clicked, his voice carrying an eerie calm. “Your order may have an uncertain future, but at least it has survived. The future is up to them to choose.”

As the shadow slowly receded, Mace Windu's lifeless eyes gazed at the sky.

The fire still burns there, and the remnants of the republic fall from the burning sky, heralding the end of an era.

(End of this chapter)