I hope this is what we've been waiting for. It took me ten drafts, so I hope it can live up to some of your expectations. Anyway, I'll leave you to it. Enjoy.
The hangar was quiet now.
The Falcon had vanished into the upper atmosphere, its engines leaving only a fading echo and the scorched scent of ion wash behind. Snow and ash drifted through the broken shielding, painting the ruined chamber in shades of white and gray.
Kai stood in the center of the hangar, lightsaber still dormant at his side, his breath steady despite the chill in the air.
Then—
The sound of heavy boots. Mechanized breathing.
Darth Vader stepped from the shadows.
The Sith Lord moved with slow, deliberate power, cloak trailing like liquid shadow. His armor gleamed under the harsh lights, black against the frost-covered walls, a living monument to menace and pain. The red lens of his mask stared down Kai with unblinking cold.
Kai didn't move.
He tried to speak first, his voice steady but loud enough to carry.
"You don't have to do this."
Silence. Just the sound of Vader's breathing.
Kai took a half-step forward, cautiously.
"I've felt the storm you carry. The conflict. You weren't always—"
With a flick of his hand, Vader cut him off.
The Force slammed into Kai like a tidal wave—cold and crushing. His feet skidded across the frozen durasteel as he was yanked forward, boots scraping and cloak whipping behind him.
He gritted his teeth, arms straining as he fought back.
It was like trying to stand against a collapsing star.
"No," Kai growled, digging into the Force with everything he had. His body trembled, but he slowed—inch by inch—until the pull broke.
He staggered to a halt, panting, sweat beading at his brow despite the cold.
Vader tilted his head, annoyed. A frustration echoed outward like a strike of thunder.
Without warning, he lunged.
His crimson saber snapped to life with a scream of heat and rage.
Kai barely had time to draw. His own blade ignited in a flash of violet, meeting Vader's strike with a shattering clang of plasma against plasma.
The force of it sent Kai stumbling back, but he rolled with it, regaining his stance.
The red blade hovered inches from his face. Its glow danced in his eyes.
Vader stood still, one armoured hand clenched tight around the hilt.
"Who are you?" the Dark Lord asked at last, his voice deep and mechanical—cut from the void.
Kai straightened.
He didn't falter.
"Kai Saxon," he said. "Son of no master. Student of the Force."
His saber flared, its hue caught between dusk and fire.
"I don't belong to your war."
Vader remained silent a beat longer.
And then, he raised his blade once more.
Vader struck again—low and wide—his blade sweeping in a long arc meant to break balance rather than cut.
Kai danced back, boots sliding over frost-slick durasteel. He pivoted, bringing his saber around in a tight defensive circle, parrying the blow with a flare of violet light. Sparks hissed into the air where plasma met steel. He countered quickly, darting in with a flash of speed, but Vader shifted only slightly, catching the strike on his own blade with contemptuous ease.
There was no anger in the Sith Lord's movements—only cold efficiency.
He advanced slowly, step by step, like a mountain falling forward.
Kai was a whirlwind by comparison—leaning on speed, on his refined balance, on his subtle mastery of the Force. He spun away from each strike, redirected momentum, rolled beneath a crushing overhead blow and came up behind Vader with a precise slash meant for the exposed back of the knee—
CLANG.
Vader turned just enough. The violet saber skidded off the durasteel plating with a snarl of sparks. No damage.
Kai dropped low and swept with his foot. Vader didn't even stumble. The blow struck and simply stopped, like trying to trip a boulder.
"You're holding back," Kai said through gritted teeth, ducking a punishing downward cleave that carved into the hangar floor.
Vader didn't answer.
He lifted his left hand—and Kai barely had time to move before crates behind him detonated, hurled by the Force. He leapt, twisting midair, using the debris as a springboard. The Force flowed through his limbs, lending grace and speed. He landed on a narrow support strut above, balancing for a breathless second—
Vader looked up.
Kai felt it before he saw it—like pressure building in the air.
Snap.
The strut folded like paper. Kai dropped, but twisted midfall, saber-first, driving down toward the black-armoured figure.
Vader caught the blow one-handed.
Their blades locked—red and violet colliding, the light pulsing against the walls. The hangar filled with the scream of straining plasma. Vader held him there, not moving, not shifting—just watching him struggle with that blank, unknowable mask.
Kai grunted, sweat dripping down his brow. "Is this a test to you?" he growled. "Or are you just bored?"
Vader shoved him back—an effortless gesture.
Kai rolled, sprang upright, and circled again, his saber held loosely now. Breathing harder. Mind sharpening.
He couldn't overpower him.
But that was never the point.
Kai let the Force move through him—not in crashing waves, but like wind and thread. He shifted tactics: feints and redirection, carefully placed footwork, unpredictable strikes aimed at joints and blind spots.
He weaved, not fought.
Vader watched with growing intensity, his strikes coming a shade faster, a little heavier.
The game was ending.
Kai could feel it in the air—like thunderclouds drawing in.
And yet… he smiled.
He could feel him now. Not just the warrior—but the presence behind the mask. A storm of pain. Of power. Of something buried beneath all the hatred, coiled and waiting.
"You feel familiar," Kai murmured, circling again. "Not your voice. Something beneath it."
Vader stilled for a moment.
And then, at last, he stepped forward with purpose.
This time—no restraint.
The air turned molten as the Dark Lord bore down, saber blazing red-hot, slamming against Kai's defense in blow after blow like hammer on anvil.
Kai's instincts screamed. His arms buckled under the weight. Every block felt like catching a meteor.
He knew the real fight had begun.