A loathsome grinding hammered at my ears, sounding like someone trying to crank a mechanism that had rotted in a damp shed for years. Though, why "sounding like"? That was exactly the case. I would be genuinely surprised if anyone had been here in recent memory.
The main thing was that the slab was slowly crawling upward, and it wasn't causing me excessive trouble. The first two attempts hadn't gone well, but now things were moving smoother; the mechanism seemed to be loosening up. I had to strain, focusing every ounce of my attention on not dropping the heavy stone bastard back down. But it wasn't that difficult.
A bone-chilling wind whistled out of the slowly widening gap. Standing a few meters away, I could feel the temperature plummet against my skin.
Nevertheless, I had to go in. There was no turning back; there was no guarantee I could navigate that corridor again. I had already looked back—everything I had hacked through was rapidly growing back over. On either side lay a bottomless abyss. The only way was forward.
With a final screech, I managed to lift the first slab to its limit. However, an attempt to lift the next one sent black spots dancing before my eyes.
Not my level yet. Damn it, I have a feeling I'll regret more than once that they didn't supply us with cold-weather gear. Even without entering the corridor, I could see the faint mist of my own breath.
Maybe I should just give it up? Better to lose consciousness among the predatory flora than to freeze to death. Or should I try to cut a hole through a different passage? Though judging by the thickness of these slabs, I'd likely starve to death before I dug my way through.
So, despite my fear, I pushed on. As soon as I crossed the threshold, the stone slab fell behind me with a deafening crash, like a distant rockslide.
Forward. Not a step back. The sooner I start, the sooner I finish. Activating my lightsaber and using it as a torch, I marched into the unknown.
My footsteps echoed hollowly through the corridor, vanishing into the distance. My fingers began to numb rapidly, forcing me to switch my sword hand periodically so I could press the other against my body to find some semblance of warmth.
My feet slipped constantly on the ice patches that appeared with increasing frequency. In the flickering light of the blade, I could see hoarfrost sparkling on the walls.
Had I been dressed properly for the weather, I might have stopped to admire it. But right now, I couldn't care less. I had to constantly cycle the Force through my system to keep from freezing alive in this cursed burrow. If not for the Force permeating this place, I'd likely be dead by now; as it was, I managed to hold on.
If my instincts were correct, I had been walking for an hour, but there was no way to verify it. Likely due to the extreme cold, my bracer had stopped showing signs of life, turning into a useless hunk of metal.
When I checked it again, I saw that frost was already covering it in intricate patterns. I could no longer feel my toes. Wiping a hand across my face, I felt the sting of small icicles frozen to my eyebrows.
Irritation grew within me, at myself, at this shitty test, and at those who had devised it.
Curse it! Once again, I had nothing but the path forward. How I loathed my own helplessness! All those grueling training sessions, all that pain, and for what? To have to claw my life out of death's grip on the last dregs of my strength every single time?
The moment I start to believe I am strong enough, a new goddamn wall rises in front of me. I am so sick of climbing, only to reach the top, look toward the clouds, and realize I haven't even begun the ascent, I'm still tramping around at the base!
A surge of rage rolled through my body like a warm wave, bringing a temporary spark of energy. But it didn't last.
A cry of impotent fury shattered the silence of the corridor, reflecting off the walls and fading into the dark.
Once more, I had to move forward, searching for even a glimmer of hope. If I stopped moving now, I would certainly die.
"And who do we have here, screaming like that?"
By pure reflex, I leaped back against the wall and fell into a combat stance. Though, if my fingers hadn't already been curled around the hilt, I doubt I could have even drawn my weapon.
A small creature sat on a rock to the side. He was perhaps a meter and a half tall, maybe a bit more. His red skin was etched with a roadmap of wrinkles. A four-fingered hand deftly held a small flask, which the creature occasionally tipped back.
A dark, light poncho had slipped to one side, enough for me to see the corded bands of muscle covering his body. Ragged cloth trousers, which had clearly seen their best days five years ago, covered his legs but didn't even reach mid-calf. His bare feet rested on the floor as if they couldn't feel the bone-deep cold.
He had a thin, noseless face with a small mouth revealing predator-sharp teeth. His slightly pointed ears twitched in different directions like little sensors scanning the area.
From under half-closed lids, two entirely black eyes with pale white irises watched me.
I didn't know what surprised me more: the fact that I hadn't noticed him, or that I couldn't sense him through the Force. He wasn't hiding; no, it was as if he was there, but the sensation was blurred, refusing to let me focus on him. Though right now, I was so focused on cycling the Force to stay warm that my surprise remained a distant background thought.
Taking a swig from the flask and letting out a satisfied grunt, the stranger hopped down from the rock.
"Actually, it's rude to ignore your elders when they speak to you. And there's no need to point that dangerous toy at me; you might hurt yourself, and then I'd have to heal you. Who needs that hassle, eh?"
A casual flick of his hand, and the crimson blade slid smoothly back into the hilt. Even in my state, I was shaken. Who did someone have to be to pull that off with a mere wave of a hand?
Faint light filtered through the layer of ice on the walls, allowing me to make out the stranger's silhouette.
This person wasn't in a hurry to kill me; for now, he just wanted to talk.
"You're right, no one, and certainly not me, needs that." Demonstratively hanging the hilt on my belt, I crossed my arms over my chest. "I am Set, and I'm screaming because I've realized the utter futility of existence and the gloom of my impending death."
The stranger actually choked on his drink at my response. Thumping a fist against his chest, he sighed and looked at me.
"Interesting. I am Gerdu; I think that will suffice for you. A pleasure. And what brings you here? No one has appeared here for many years, yet here you come, bringing contradictions with you. And screaming so loud my ears ring."
"What brought me here was the desire to survive."
"And so you are dying now?"
"It happened that way. Believe me, it wasn't in my original plans."
"I believe you. No one plans their death in advance. And why do you want to survive?"
Those black eyes looked straight into me. Two bottomless dark pools that seemed to swallow the surrounding gloom.
"To have my revenge."
"And then what?"
"I don't know..."
I truly hadn't thought about what came after. There hadn't been time, nor much desire.
"Interesting, a boy without a purpose. Don't interrupt; revenge is merely an intermediate result, after which a new cycle of life begins. You will either be able to enter it, or you will become a spineless ghost carried by the Force. So why live? Isn't it better to die here?"
"No. I will survive. I always survive."
"Always, hm? But I feel that you have already died, though you died strangely, not completely. Interesting... Yes, I feel much has happened in the galaxy while I slept. I propose a trade: I help you, and you tell me everything you know. It's likely not much, but it will be enough for me. What do you say? Not the worst bargain."
His mouth pulled back into a predatory grin, revealing two even rows of snow-white, sharp teeth.
"Agreed. Not the worst bargain."
"Excellent. Here, take a swig."
I didn't have much of a choice. The flask smelled pleasantly of a blend of fragrant herbs with a hint of something citrusy. I squeezed my eyes shut and took one long gulp.
The unknown liquid raced down my throat like liquid fire, thawing me out completely. And that wasn't a metaphor. I distinctly felt water dripping from my eyebrows. The thin layer of frost that had already covered my fingers cracked and drained away through my boots.
From the overwhelming sense of calm and relaxation that washed over me, my legs buckled, and I sprawled onto the floor.
"Hah! They told me not to get children drunk. Seems I really did mix it too strong. Can you even speak?"
"Mhm."
My eyelids felt like lead and threatened to close. My body relaxed entirely. It felt as if not a single muscle remained tense.
"Bah, you're well and truly toasted. What am I to do with you now? Well, never mind..."
The events that followed were preserved only in disconnected fragments.
I am picked up and carried somewhere. My body is reflected comically in the ice, stretching and shrinking. The sight triggers something in me, and I begin to howl with laughter. Soon, however, something covers my mouth, leaving me only able to wheeze.
A spacious ice cavern, in the center of which fire appears out of nowhere, and I am laid down beside it. My new acquaintance fiddles with something and, a second later, produces several more of the same flasks.
"A sober man can't understand a drunk, so let's raise the proof."
And he downs a massive portion of the marvelous drink in a single gulp.
We are sitting with our arms around each other, swaying rhythmically and belting out some song—it seems to be a familiar language, but I'm not sure. Then another in a different language, and back to something familiar.
Pacing energetically in circles, Gerdu tells me something about how difficult it is to be a Force Ghost and how much energy it requires. Otherwise, he would never stay in this repulsive place. Here, the ice is coarse, harsh, unpleasant, cold—always trying to get down your collar.
I reasonably wonder: can ghosts even feel anything, let alone drink? To which I only receive a mysterious smile.
"You know, mastering the mysteries of the Force grants abilities that some consider... unnatural. How about another round?"
Now I am the one talking about Qui-Gon's ideas, which I had read about in the archives.
The red alien breaks into a dance, performing something unimaginable, spinning like a top across the entire cave.
A hypothesis is proposed that this is all a Force vision, as such surrealism cannot exist in reality. We agree together that right now, it absolutely doesn't matter, and we take a long swig from the flask.
I angrily recount the cruel treatment by the Masters and everything going on in the galaxy. Tipping back another flask, we conclude that the world is indeed shit, but one has to live somehow, and it's better to live than to dissolve into the Force.
Someone screams right into my ear about what an exceptional wretch Darth Bane was. To just show up at a renegade Jedi's place and kill him for nothing. And then to imprison his spirit in this place. It took many years for the cage to weaken even a little.
We are walking somewhere through an icy corridor together.
My new friend cups my head with his hand and presses his fingers to my forehead. A second of pain, and the world twists into a point and goes dark. The last thing I caught was:
"A good sit-down, young dark adept. Perhaps we shall meet again."
******
I came to, lying in a spacious chamber. A warm breeze faintly stirred a lock of hair falling over my face.
Shaking my head, I tried to understand what was real and what had been the delirium of my dying mind. Drinking with a ghost, imagine that. I'm not sure even the Emperor could boast of such a thing.
In truth, it didn't matter if it was a fantasy or reality. The fact was that I had somehow escaped the ice trap.
Only, where had I been dropped this time, and where was my gear? I couldn't feel the presence of my lightsaber, which I hadn't exactly bonded with, but could distinguish in the Force from others. But there was something else here.
Turning my head, I stood up abruptly and looked around. Right next to me lay a skull, heavily eaten away by time. A tattered cloak concealed the remains of bones.
But the thing was, that wasn't the only corpse on the floor. The entire space was littered with bodies. Some were preserved quite well; others were halfway decomposed.
Apparently, it wasn't just our exams that involved a student cull of at least fifty percent. It seemed to be a tradition passed down through generations.
But it wasn't reflections on the problems of Sith upbringing that concerned me at this moment. I felt something. A call was coming from a far corner of the room, where there seemed to be more corpses than elsewhere.
As I walked, I had plenty of opportunity to admire what lay beneath my feet. Black cloaks, nearly all with the same pattern. Grey metal masks that once covered faces now simply lay on the floor. Among them was an incredible variety. It seemed to me that no two were the same, as if each of the dead had possessed their own.
I won't even speak of the variety of remains. I encountered all sorts of skulls: elongated, flattened, with three eye sockets, with horns. There was everything here.
I don't know how many bodies were here, but certainly no fewer than fifty. And all had died in combat.
Here and there, lightsaber hilts glinted. Long slashes were visible on some of the cloaks.
Out of curiosity, I even pulled one of the blades to me using the Force. Listening to the Force and sensing no threat, I decided to activate it. After all, I needed a new weapon, so why not this? The red blade flared for a second, illuminating the surroundings in crimson light, but it immediately flickered and died; sparks ran along the hilt, and that was it.
Disappointing, but to be expected. Too many years had passed. I'd have to figure something else out. But first, I had to deal with the strangeness that wouldn't leave me be.
With every step, the call grew stronger. Trying not to step on bones unnecessarily, I used the Force to push aside the remains that prevented me from seeing the source of this strange disturbance.
Moving yet another body, I saw a hilt that captured all my attention.
A slightly curved hilt, somewhat reminiscent of the ones I'd seen in holorecords of Count Dooku when studying Form II techniques. Except it was a completely matte, dark-grey color.
The thing that beckoned me was inside!
Extending my hand, I lifted the blade into the air with the Force. Slowly rotating clockwise, it began to shed its unnecessary parts. We had been taught the basic components of construction so we could repair our blades if they broke on the battlefield.
Slowly and carefully, I extracted what was mine. I could feel it distinctly through the Force. A moment later, all the parts settled slowly onto the floor.
Only the heart of any lightsaber, a kyber crystal, remained spinning before my eyes. An impenetrable black, so dark it stood out even against the dim wall. My crystal.
Before my mind's eye, every saber design I'd ever seen flashed by, slowly assembling into something whole, something that would truly be mine.
And for some reason, I didn't doubt that I could build it right here. I needed my lightsaber, not the one the Emperor or the Grand Inquisitor would give me, but mine. One that would serve only my goals and ideals.
I sat in the very center of the hall, in a small patch of light. The only source of light filtered through a small opening in the ceiling. Several meters up, the remains of a ladder were visible, which someone had apparently hacked off while ascending. But all that would come later.
Sinking into a light meditation, I began to assemble my blade. The Force guided me. I easily felt which part to take and from where. Individually, these hilts were nothing more than broken swords, but many contained individual components that would serve me.
The remains of the sabers drifted into the air, slowly rotating as they shed parts that flowed toward me, forming a small, spinning ring around me.
Something shifted in my consciousness. It felt as if before, I had been trying to do the work of a jeweler using a carpenter's tools. Too coarse, too sloppy, too barbaric. I needed to act more subtly—why try to move a massive stone with your hands if you can use a lever? Why meticulously control every minute action in the Force when it is enough simply to maintain focus and let the Force do the work?
These seemingly obvious things only became clear to me now. It was as if I was looking at the world from a different angle.
At some point, the feeling came that everything necessary had been gathered; all that remained was to connect and slightly adjust. As if a blueprint had been unfurled before me, I acted methodically, step by step. No unnecessary emotions, only total concentration on the process.
The parts snapped into place like building blocks. Through the Force, it felt right, yes, exactly as intended. In some places, a component needed a slight bend; here, it needed a squeeze, not too hard so as not to damage it, just half a millimeter, no more.
And finally, the last element. The black crystal, which had been spinning at my chest, clicked into its designated spot.
Without opening my eyes, I reached out and felt the warm metal heating my palm.
A hum of a higher frequency accompanied the activation of my new weapon.
I didn't need to look at the hilt to know its appearance down to the last detail.
A long hilt, slightly curved, tailored specifically for my hand. The dark-grey casing, made from several separate parts, had a slight ribbing in places so my fingers wouldn't slip. Its shape wasn't the standard cylinder but was slightly elongated, more like a traditional sword. The hilt ended in a small crossguard protruding forward. I didn't know what material formed the base, but I felt it could withstand one or even two lightsaber strikes.
And from above, a black blade erupted. The blade didn't look like those used now, either. Likely, this peculiarity was due to the parts being several centuries old. But the result satisfied me completely. This was My sword, and to me, it was perfect.
The blade was slightly flattened and curved at the tip, enhancing the resemblance to a real sword even further. The blade itself was over a meter long, surrounded by a faint glow at the edges. I stared at my creation as if mesmerized until my eyes began to ache.
Only then did I manage to shake off the joyful trance. Now it was time to get out of here; I was sure I would have time to admire my creation and test it in battle later.
Leaping several meters into the air, I grabbed the bottom rung. The ladder groaned in protest. Well, I shouldn't linger.
Using the Force to skip several rungs at a time, I climbed to the very top.
As soon as my hands touched the cool stone edge of the hole in the floor, or ceiling, depending on your perspective, the ladder collapsed downward with a savage crash. Well, it was good that it waited for me to finish first.
Clambering over the edge, I found myself in a spacious room where one of the corridors led to... a balcony, apparently, or whatever this was.
A quiet beep on my arm drew my attention. My bracer, which had shown no signs of life until now, was blinking insistently with an incoming message.
"Greetings to the survivors," the director's mask watched me from the hologram. "You took to destroying your comrades so quickly, I'm even a little surprised. At this moment, one-third of all participants have been eliminated. As such, the zone is too vast for those remaining. In five minutes, carpet bombing of the peripheral sectors will begin. I am certain everyone there will die. Have a good evening, my dear talents."
A glance out the window confirmed that something was wrong. In this sky, it was hard to tell the time of day, but evening and day could be distinguished. And right now, it certainly wasn't the former.
Stepping onto the balcony, I saw something strange. The landscape of half the island had already undergone significant changes. The zone I had trekked through from the shore to the foot of the mountain had been turned into a scorched wasteland.
Where there were once trees, there was now a slurry of wood debris and earth. Large craters, visible even from here, pockmarked the entire visible expanse.
But it wasn't just the coastal zone; several kilometers into the island's interior looked as though they had become active combat zones.
And for some reason, I was certain this hadn't happened all at once. Just how long had I been gone?!
That, incidentally, could be checked, if my finicky tech would work. Thank the Force, the bracer didn't seem inclined to shut down.
Right, let's see... list of received messages. Next to the "Received" line was a date with the suffix "7 days."
Mother of... I've been gone for over a week!
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