The Multiverse Hunter

"Don't focus on the rock, instead focus on everything around you. Push everything down, push it to the ground," Ali continued to guide Drogath, his voice steady yet commanding. The massive warrior stood at the centre of the red desert, his eyes shut tight in concentration. Around him, the air felt heavy, charged with energy, and even the grains of sand seemed to vibrate under his presence.

Drogath's brow furrowed as he applied more Force, and Ali noted the faint circular imprint forming around his feet in the sand. The weight of his energy was no longer concentrated on the single rock in front of him but was beginning to affect his surroundings.

"Good. Put more Force into it, but keep the flow even," Ali instructed, watching carefully for any sign of instability.

Their training stretched on for hours, the blazing twin suns of Korriban casting long shadows across the desert. By now, Ali had taken a seat several meters away, his legs crossed as he observed Drogath's progress. Massive chunks of rock hovered around Ali, trembling slightly in the air but obedient to his control.

VOOM.

Ali suddenly flung both massive rocks toward Drogath with precision and speed.

Reacting instinctively, Drogath redirected his focus, and the rocks slammed into the ground with a deafening thud just inches from him. He smirked, standing tall, sweat glistening on his muscular frame. "I've got it," Drogath said confidently, his deep voice carrying over the sands as he exhaled heavily and sat on one of the fallen rocks, visibly drained but proud.

Ali leaned back slightly, resting on his palms. "It's progress, but don't get cocky. Right now, you still have to think about it. Tomorrow, we'll push further and see if you can maintain this under combat conditions." He stood, dusting himself off as he gestured toward their speeders in the distance. "Let's head back. We're done for today."

The two rode side by side, their speeders kicking up trails of red sand beneath the dimming light of the setting suns. Ali, however, was lost in thought, his mind occupied with the reports he had read in the commander's office.

'There's nothing special about Kaelthar for a world event,' he mused. 'It's a standard planet under the Empire's control—no locals, no real history. Just nature and wild animals, most of which the Empire exterminated when they colonised it.'

His brow furrowed beneath the mask as he recalled the details. 'All they have there is a weapons factory and about two thousand troops, with that number dwindling as more soldiers are reassigned to other fronts. If this is the stage for a world event, then something big is going to happen, I gotta keep my head out for anything that has to do with Kaelthar as I'm the only player on the Sith's side. And when it does, I'll make sure I'm there to win as no matter what I'm taking the Force back with me.'

Ahead, the dark silhouette of the academy began to rise over the horizon.

The next morning, Ali and Drogath began their training earlier than usual. They worked intensely for a few hours before Ali told Drogath a revised regimen to follow independently. Leaving his student to hone his new skills, Ali made his way to the guarded doors of the academy's library.

"I've only got seven hours left," he muttered to himself before stepping through the imposing entrance.

Meanwhile, deep in the Korriban desert, a large black tent stood alone among the dunes. Inside, surrounded by dissected animal carcasses and surgical instruments, an acolyte named Derma watched her master work. Malvok, perched on his hover chair, was meticulously cutting into the remains of a Krath.

"What is it?" Malvok asked, not bothering to look at her.

"Master, tomorrow I will compete in the apprentice tournament," Derma announced confidently, standing tall with her hands clasped behind her back.

Malvok's hands paused mid-air, the surgical knives he had been controlling with the Force coming to rest on a tray. Slowly, he turned to face her, his deep yellow eyes flashing red.

"You are not ready," he said firmly.

Derma clenched her fists but maintained her composure. "I have trained everything you've taught me. My control over the Force is strong. I've mastered every lightsaber form you showed me. I know I'm better than the other acolytes in the academy. So why—" She stopped herself, her frustration breaking through as red flickered in her eyes.

Malvok's gaze hardened, but he didn't lash out. Any other Sith master might have killed her on the spot for such insolence, but he merely regarded her coolly.

"Is it because of my mother?" Derma asked suddenly, her voice quieter but laced with bitterness.

Malvok's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of something behind his eyes. He had known Derma's mother well. Both had been Sith warriors, comrades on the battlefield, before she died at the hands of a Jedi. Derma's father, an Imperial spy, had fled with her to a remote planet, only for a mercenary to hunt them down. The father was killed, but the young girl survived and eventually found her way to Korriban. Malvok had recognised her immediately, the lightsaber at her waist a haunting reminder of her lineage.

"Your mother wouldn't have wanted you to walk the path of the dark side," Malvok said evenly.

"That's why she kept you far from it."

Derma stepped closer, her voice rising. "It's my decision! No matter what, I will get my revenge. It's my right to punish the ones who took everything from me!"

Malvok said nothing as Derma turned and stormed toward the exit.

"Wait," he called out just as she reached the door. She stopped but didn't turn around.

"Tomorrow, if you face Ali… surrender," he said softly.

Derma scoffed, shaking her head before leaving the tent without another word.

The next day, the underground arena was alive with excitement. Acolytes and apprentices filled the stands, their voices echoing off the stone walls as they speculated about the outcomes of the upcoming matches. Sith masters observed their students silently from their elevated seats, their piercing gazes assessing the fighters below.

On the red sands of the arena, sixteen acolytes stood in a line, including Ali and Derma. Each participant exuded confidence, their postures tense with anticipation.

In the stands, Sivara sat beside Drogath, her elegant demeanour contrasting sharply with the massive apprentice who occupied three seats. She waved at Ali, but he merely nodded in acknowledgment, his mask betraying nothing.

"Welcome, everyone," the familiar voice of the arena droid boomed over the noise. "Today, we gather for the annual tournament where acolytes fight to earn the right to become Sith apprentices."

The droid paused as the crowd quieted. "Remember, surrender before you die. Even if you lose, exceptional showcase of strength and skill may still earn you a promotion. Let the tournament begin!"

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