I shifted into a firm Ataru stance, sweat dripping down my face in rivulets that stung my eyes. My breathing came heavy and ragged, each inhale burning in my chest as it rose and fell with exertion. I was in the middle of a fierce training duel with Mace Windu, and I had spent the last hour having my forms broken down and pushed back with methodical precision.
The training hall's polished floor reflected the glow of our lightsabers humming against each other. The sound was a constant thrum in my ears, punctuated by the sharp crack-hiss of blades meeting and separating.
My muscles screamed in protest. My forearms trembled from the constant impact of parrying Windu's strikes. Each collision sent vibrations up through my wrists, into my elbows, settling as a dull ache in my shoulders.
He's not even trying that hard, I thought, frustration mixing with grudging respect. And he's still dismantling me.
"Padawan Cain, we should stop here," Windu said, his voice calm and measured despite the intensity of our sparring. His breathing was barely elevated, his stance perfect. "I understand you want to progress in your saber forms, but you're not ready yet. I can tell you have improved, and your convictions are stronger, but know when to stop and rest."
I shook my head, droplets of sweat flying from my hair. "Please, let us continue, Master. I feel like I'm close to a breakthrough. Just a little bit more until I hit the realization."
Windu studied me for a long moment, his dark eyes assessing. Then he nodded, a hint of respect showing on his usually stoic face. "Very well, Padawan. Prepare yourself."
Master Windu returned to his Vaapad stance, feet shoulder-width apart, blade held at a diagonal angle, his entire body coiled like a spring ready to release devastating power.
I narrowed my eyes and controlled my breathing, drawing on the Force to center myself. The familiar warmth spread through my chest, down into my limbs, revitalizing tired muscles and sharpening my focus.
Then I launched myself at Windu.
I continued with my fast and precise attacks using Ataru, the acrobatic form that relied on speed and agility over raw power. Each strike had more precision than power behind it, quick jabs aimed at weak points, feints designed to create openings, circular movements meant to keep my opponent off-balance.
But Windu just parried my strikes like they were predictable blaster bolts. His blade moved with minimal effort, each deflection perfectly angled to redirect my momentum without wasting energy. Each strike was pointless in front of him, absorbed into his defense like water flowing around stone.
He's reading me, I realized. Every movement, every intention, he sees it before I even commit. I weaved to his side, using Ataru's mobility to circle around his guard, and aimed for a left-side strike to his ribs. A vulnerable spot, or so I thought.
He just blocked and pushed me off with a casual application of Force-enhanced strength. His power felt incredible, not overwhelming or brutal, but controlled and absolute. Like trying to move a mountain with your bare hands.
Then he blitzed me with incredible speed. Three strikes followed in rapid succession, each one a lesson in Vaapad's philosophy of controlled aggression. One to my left side. It broke through my defense, my blade forced wide, leaving my torso exposed. Another to my right leg. I tried to parry, barely managing to get my saber down in time. The impact sent a shock through my wrist, and my stance became unstable, my weight shifting awkwardly.
Then from above.
The overhead strike sent me to the mat. I dropped to one knee, my lightsaber raised horizontally above my head, defending against the downward pressure as Windu pressed his advantage. The amethyst blade bore down on my golden-yellow one, the energy fields crackling where they met. I could feel the heat radiating from the point of contact, smell the ozone in the air.
My arms trembled. My legs burned. Every muscle in my body screamed for relief. And in this moment, as I struggled to hold on, I started to remember the past few weeks and how intense they had been.
Master Windu was right, I had spent the last few weeks in nonstop training. I never stopped to breathe once, driven by the knowledge of what was coming and the desperate need to be ready.
Master Plo had put me through Jedi Guardian training with great intensity, just as I'd asked. I was starting to learn Form V: Shien/Djem So, the form of power and counterattack. And Tutaminis, the ability to absorb and redirect energy.
Plo made sure to slow me down every now and again when I got too caught up with my training, his calm presence a grounding force when I pushed too hard.
"Padawan," he would say in that modulated voice of his, "strength without rest is not strength at all. It is merely stubbornness wearing the mask of determination."
My piloting skills were starting to improve as well under his tutelage. I wasn't as good as Anakin or Master Plo, probably never would be, but I felt like I could at least keep up with them now. I could execute barrel rolls without overcorrecting, could read sensor displays while maintaining formation, could feel the ship responding to my intentions through the Force.
During the nights and my free time, Master Fay and Mother Talzin were showing me new Force techniques that pushed the boundaries of what I thought possible.
Fay was teaching me Force Valor, a power that increased the resolve, accuracy, and speed of oneself and allies. When activated, it felt like liquid fire in my veins, sharpening my senses and quickening my reflexes without the corruption of the dark side.
She was also showing me Force Meld, a technique where a Force-sensitive joined their mind with others, drawing strength from each other and acting with perfect coordination.
"You instinctively display similar techniques already," Fay had said, her ancient eyes warm with approval. "Every time you're with one or all of your friends, you show the same abilities, but in different ways. These lessons will help you understand and control what you already do naturally."
She was right. Whenever me and the others were together, we tended to sync up, not just in the Force, but like we were the same being and yet different ones at the same time. Our movements would mirror each other, our thoughts would align, our strengths would amplify.
The only problem was I could never control when or how it happened. It was instinctive, spontaneous, beyond my conscious direction.
Mother Talzin, meanwhile, reinforced what she was already teaching me about the deeper mysteries of the Force. She showed me how to control and understand the Void realm with the Force lights, that space between spaces where the veil was thin and dangerous things lurked.
"You must control your power," she had said, her voice carrying the weight of hard-won wisdom, "so you will not be a beacon for those in the beyond shadows. Your light is bright, child. Too bright. It draws attention from things that should remain sleeping."
Master Kuro had helped me as well, though her methods were... unconventional.
By "helped," I mean she sent me and Derren into the lower levels of Coruscant without our lightsabers and made us go bounty hunting for the worst of the worst criminals.
It didn't help that she followed us in secret, using the Force to make our training even harder. She would trip us at crucial moments, use the Force to slightly weaken us during fights, create distractions that forced us to adapt on the fly.
Sometimes we weren't even allowed to use the Force at all, just our wits, our training, and whatever we could scavenge or improvise.
It was hell.
But somehow it kept me on my toes and helped me find new ways to solve difficult problems without relying on the Force as a crutch.
"The Force is a tool, not a solution," Kuro had said after one particularly brutal session where we'd barely escaped a gang of Rodian smugglers. "If you cannot survive without it, then you are not truly strong. You are merely dependent."
PRESENT....
I forced myself to focus back on the sparring session. I was still struggling to hold off Windu's overhead strike, my arms trembling with the effort, my knees threatening to buckle.
"Do you yield, Padawan?" Windu asked, his voice calm and without mockery.
I paused for a moment, feeling the weight of his blade pressing down, feeling the exhaustion in every fiber of my being.
Then I breathed deep and reached even deeper into the Force. I calmed myself, letting go of the frustration and the fatigue. I allowed the Force to flow through me, revitalizing my muscles, clearing my mind, sharpening my perception. As my mind cleared and my breathing steadied, I began to see them.
Cracks....
Tiny fractures in the fabric of reality itself, spreading across the world like spiderwebs of light. They appeared on the floor, on the walls, on the training equipment scattered around the hall. And on Master Windu.
I saw his shatterpoints, the critical junctures where the smallest application of force could create cascading effects. A weakness in his stance where his weight was slightly off-center. A moment in his breathing pattern where his focus would naturally waver. A point on his blade where the energy field was infinitesimally thinner.
The shatterpoints glowed in my vision like stars against the night sky, each one a potential path to victory. There, I thought, seeing the pattern. If I can just.... I began to stand slowly, using the Force to reinforce my legs, to steady my arms. I was able to withstand Windu's strike a little better now, the pressure no longer quite so overwhelming.
I stood fully, my golden-yellow lightsaber with its black hue colliding against Windu's deep amethyst saber. The blades crackled and hissed where they met, casting flickering shadows across our faces.
Then I broke the blade lock with a sharp twist and pushed forward. I began to use Djem So.
Every strike Windu sent my way, I used Tutaminis to conserve my energy and turn his power back onto him. I would catch his blade at an angle, absorbing the kinetic energy through the Force, then redirect it back at him with my counterattack.
Each strike he sent my way, I deflected back at him with double the power. The technique was exhausting, it required perfect timing, perfect control, perfect understanding of energy flow. But it was just enough to keep me standing toe to toe with him.
Though I knew he was still holding back. A lot.
He could end this whenever he wants, I thought, even as I pressed my attack. He's testing me. Seeing how far I can go.
I was slowly starting to see the cracks in Windu's attacks and defense more clearly now. The shatterpoints were clear as day, glowing brighter as my focus intensified.
But I couldn't land a clean strike on any of them. Every time I aimed for a shatterpoint, Windu would shift his stance or adjust his guard, and the critical juncture would disappear, replaced by a new configuration of weaknesses.
He's adapting faster than I can exploit the openings, I realized. I need something more. I decided at that point to try something dangerous. I reached even deeper into the Force and into myself, past the light I'd been taught to embrace, past the calm center I'd been trained to maintain.
I found my inner anger.
The anger that I'd always had in my past life, the frustration of never having enough money or power, the rage at feeling like I wasn't enough, the bitterness of watching others succeed while I struggled. I'd buried it deep, repressed it, tried to pretend it didn't exist.
But it was still there. Waiting.
I touched it carefully, like touching a live wire. Then I felt it, like a wave of dark energy hit my muscles, flooding them with power. But I didn't let it control me. Instead, I channeled it. I turned it into a current of power flowing through my body, strengthening my strikes, quickening my reflexes, sharpening my focus.
Not to control me, I thought fiercely, but to control the part of me I repress. I strengthened myself with the dark side from within myself, using the darkness of my own emotions without being consumed by it.
And then I began to imagine Master Windu's movements for Vaapad.
I knew I could do nothing compared to his years of training and combat experience with this form. But I felt like I could actually keep up and understand the way he fought, not just imitate it, but comprehend it on a fundamental level.
Vaapad was about accepting the darkness, channeling it, using it as fuel without letting it corrupt you. It was about becoming the eye of the storm, calm and centered while chaos raged around you.
I can do this, I thought. I can blend the light and the dark. I can find true balance.
Windu's eyes widened just slightly at the sudden realization of my change in saber form. Soon, strike for strike, the two of us reflected one another.
It was a storm of fast and powerful strikes, an overwhelming force of unpredictable blade movements. But somehow, me and Windu seemed to know what the other was going to do.
My golden-yellow blade with its black hue clashed against his amethyst saber in a dazzling display of light and shadow. The sound was deafening, a constant crack-hiss-hum that echoed through the training hall.
I could feel the dark side flowing through me, but it was tempered by the light. This is what the Jedi should be, I thought, even as I fought. Not denying the darkness, but understanding it. Not suppressing emotion, but mastering it.
The old Jedi, the ones before the Ruusan Reformation, they understood this. They served the people directly, not through politicians. They studied all aspects of the Force, not just the light. They were warriors and scholars, diplomats and mystics. They understood that true balance meant acknowledging both sides of the Force without being consumed by either.
Five minutes passed since our Vaapad clash had started—five minutes that felt like hours, every second stretched thin by the intensity of our duel.
Then suddenly, Windu stopped his side of the assault. I paused my lightsaber in surprise, my blade still humming, my body still coiled for the next exchange. "What's wrong, Master?"
My breathing was heavy, my robes soaked through with sweat. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, feel the tremor in my hands from the sustained exertion.
"Padawan Cain, you have had your realization," Windu said, his voice carrying a note of something I couldn't quite identify, respect, perhaps, or concern. "I would say you've hit your limit as well."
I raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Master, I feel like I could...." Then I started to wobble.
My legs gave out without warning, the adrenaline and Force-enhancement suddenly draining away. As I was about to fall, Windu caught me with surprising gentleness and helped place me on the benches toward the side of the training hall.
I deactivated my lightsaber, the blade retracting with a soft snap-hiss. The sudden absence of its hum made the training hall seem unnaturally quiet.
"Vaapad is very physically and mentally exhausting," Windu said, sitting beside me. "You surprised me, Padawan. I don't remember teaching you that saber form."
I nodded, still catching my breath. "You didn't, Master. As we were sparring, I started to dive deep into the Force and myself. I was able to see your shatterpoints so clearly, every weakness, every critical juncture. But touching them was the hard part. Then I realized I wasn't using all of me. So I reached deep inside myself to the part of me I've repressed so hard."
"Your inner darkness," Windu said, his voice neutral but his eyes sharp.
"Yes," I admitted. "I tapped into it, but I turned it into a current of power in my body. Not to control me, but to control the part of me I repress. That way I can strengthen myself with the dark side from within myself and use the darkness of others without being consumed by it."
Windu was silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable.
"That is a very dangerous thing to do, Padawan," he finally said. "Not only using Vaapad without proper guidance and instruction, you could have fallen to the dark side. But..." He paused, studying me. "It's not too dissimilar to how I use the saber form myself. Though there's something different about your approach. Something I've never seen before."
I know that very well, Windu, I thought. You're one of the strongest fighters in the entire Order, compared to the old and new eras. I studied you in my world almost religiously.
In my past life, I'd watched every scene with Mace Windu dozens of times, analyzing his fighting style, his philosophy, his approach to the Force. He was the only prominent Black Jedi in the entire series with significant screen time and feats. Besides Anakin and Luke, I'd felt like I could relate to him the most, someone who walked the line between light and dark, who understood that true strength came from acknowledging both sides of yourself.
But I had to remember not to get caught up in my memories of these characters. They were living, breathing people with their own lives and stories, not just fictional constructs from a movie I'd watched.
"Cain?"
I focused back on Master Windu. "Yes?"
"Are you okay? You were in deep thought."
"Yes, Master. Sorry, I have a tendency to do that." I shook my head, trying to clear the fog of exhaustion and memory. "What did you say?"
"I said it was dangerous for you to use this lightsaber form without proper training and instruction from me," Windu repeated patiently. "But considering you used it so naturally, along with being able to fully use shatterpoint, I believe this is a sign from the Force."
"What type of sign, Master?"
"A sign to teach you Vaapad properly," Windu said, his voice carrying weight. "I believe if it is you, the lightsaber form can grow into something even more than it is now."
I stared at Master Windu with confusion. "What do you mean, Master?"
"I mean, Padawan Cain, when you used it, I felt like you were forming into the eye of a powerful storm." His dark eyes seemed to look through me, seeing something I couldn't quite grasp. "It felt different from my Vaapad, not so much one's dark side being channeled, but a balance of light slowly mixing into it. Like you were creating something new. Something unprecedented."
He leaned forward slightly. "Don't you also train in Jar'Kai as well?"
I nodded. "Yes, Master."
Master Windu's expression became thoughtful. "Can you imagine using Jar'Kai and Vaapad together?"
My eyes widened. I had thought about it at one point, the idea of wielding two lightsabers in the Vaapad style, creating a whirlwind of controlled aggression, but I didn't know if I would have the skills to pull it off.
"Do you think I can actually do that, Master?"
"Yes, I do," Windu said with conviction. "I can't say I can use Vaapad as well with two lightsabers as I do with one. But you, with your abilities, your shatterpoint sight, your natural affinity for balance, your unique approach to the Force, I believe you can evolve it into something more than just that."
He's right, I thought, excitement building despite my exhaustion. I should start trying to use other inspirations to grow my saber styles.
I'd always liked the concept of the sword styles from the Mushoku Tensei series in my past life—Sword God Style, Water God Style, and North God Style. Each one represented a different philosophy of combat, a different approach to conflict.
If I could adapt those concepts to lightsaber forms, blend them with what I'm learning here...
Sword God Style could fit with Ataru and Vaapad, aggressive, overwhelming, relentless. Water God Style could blend with Soresu and Makashi, defensive, flowing, redirecting force. North God Style could work with Djem So and Shien, powerful, decisive, turning defense into offense.
I just need to see if aura is an actual thing here like in that universe, I thought. Or find out how to use the Force in a similar way. But that shouldn't be hard, considering mana and Force magick aren't too different.
"Padawan Cain?"
Oh wow, I was doing it again.
"Sorry, Master," I said with a small grin on my face. "I was thinking of ways to improve Vaapad with Jar'Kai."
Windu placed a soft hand on my shoulder, the gesture surprisingly paternal. "You are fine, Padawan. But for right now, go and rest. Also, let your master know about your progress and ideas. I believe his insight will be vital to helping you develop this new approach."
I bowed slightly, wincing at the protest from my sore muscles. "Thank you, Master Windu. I will do that. Have a good night."
"You as well, Padawan."
I stood carefully, testing my legs to make sure they would support me, then made my way toward the door. As it hissed open, I glanced back to see Windu still sitting on the bench, his expression contemplative.
As the door hissed closed behind Cain, Windu stood in the sparring hall by himself, reflecting on the duel and what he had felt. He grows so much, Windu thought, staring at the spot where they'd fought. But something is holding him back. Does he not realize it himself?
His self-doubt and overthinking are what's stopping him from reaching his full potential. No, it doesn't seem like a simple issue of just self-doubt and overthinking. A possible inferiority complex may be the cause as well. But why? What drives a child so talented, so gifted, to feel inadequate?
And that feeling....Windu closed his eyes, reaching into the Force, trying to recapture what he'd sensed during their duel.
It felt like I was looking into the eye of a forming storm. The storm's outside was the raging dark side, powerful and uncontrollable, chaotic and destructive. But the eye... it was so calm. So peaceful.
I felt a bright light there. It felt so bright, like it could engulf everything around it. Not consume, but illuminate and transform. It wasn't the light side as the Jedi teach it, serene, detached, passive. And it wasn't the dark side as the Sith embrace it, passionate, possessive, destructive.
It was something else. Something... balanced.
Windu opened his eyes, staring at his own reflection in the polished floor. The ancient Jedi understood this, he thought. Before the Ruusan Reformation, before we became servants of the Republic, before we codified the Force into rigid categories of light and dark.
They studied all aspects of the Force. They served the people directly, not through politicians. They understood that true balance meant acknowledging both sides without being consumed by either.
Is that what Cain is rediscovering? Is he somehow tapping into that ancient wisdom?
Windu activated his lightsaber, the amethyst blade humming to life. He moved through a series of Vaapad forms, feeling the familiar flow of controlled aggression, the dance between light and dark that defined his fighting style.
But even I don't fully balance it, he admitted to himself. I channel the darkness, use it as fuel, but I'm always fighting against it. Always maintaining control through sheer will.
Cain wasn't fighting against it. He was... integrating it. Making it part of himself without letting it define him.
How is that possible?
Windu deactivated his saber and sat back down on the bench, his mind racing. Padawan Cain, what are you? he wondered. And more importantly, what are you becoming?
If you're not the Chosen One, and the Council believes Anakin Skywalker holds that title—then what does that make you?
A new kind of Jedi? A bridge between the old ways and the new? Something the Force is creating to prepare us for what's coming?
Windu thought of the growing darkness he'd sensed in the Force over the past few years. The shadows that seemed to be gathering, the sense of impending conflict that kept him awake at night.
The Sith are out there, he thought. Somewhere. And when they finally reveal themselves, will the Jedi be ready? Will our rigid adherence to the light side be enough?
Or will we need something more? Someone who can walk between the light and the dark without falling to either?
Windu stood and made his way toward the door, his mind still churning with questions. I need to watch him carefully, he decided. Not with suspicion, but with understanding. He may be the key to something we don't yet comprehend.
The Force works in mysterious ways. And Cain may be one of its greatest mysteries. As he left the training hall, Windu couldn't shake the image from his mind, the eye of the storm, calm and bright, surrounded by chaos but untouched by it.
That's what the Jedi should be, he thought. Not denying the darkness, but standing firm in the light even when surrounded by shadow. Maybe Cain will teach us that lesson. Maybe he'll remind us of what we've forgotten.
Or maybe he'll create something entirely new. The door hissed shut behind him, leaving the training hall empty and silent, the echoes of their duel still lingering in the Force like ripples on a pond.