So named because it is located one thousand, three hundred, and thirteen levels from the core of Coruscant, Level 1313 is distanced from the politics of the upper levels. Overlooking the chasm burrowing further into Coruscant’s core, one can watch freighters transporting their illicit cargo between levels. One misstep would send the careless careening into the bottomless pit, or aid the local gangs in staging “accidents.”

Weathered duracrete forms the retainer along the chasm wall, built in concentric rings that descend down an untold height. Strengthened with solid durasteel braces, maintenance has not been needed this far into Coruscant for a long time. Nevertheless, droids pre-programmed to fill in the cracks and crevices that might form in the walls float on repulsorlifts without drawing attention from the criminal gangs. The gangs themselves are focused on their next smuggling operation or struggle for control over Coruscant’s scum-filled underbelly.

She was a foot taller than him so there wasn’t much she could do to avoid standing out, even among the denizens of the Galaxy’s capital who came from any hundreds of alien races. It didn’t seem that the Governor of Kasiya took much care in general to avoid drawing notice between her striking physical features or the things she wore– though the way Shanree heard it her Second Skin didn’t leave much to the imagination. Truth be told, she put him off. He saw things through the filter of the Force, not in the physical world of the sighted. He saw none of her coy smiles, none of her hazy stares, and certainly nothing of her long lithe figure. Shanree saw in her something that perturbed him, she was like a blackhole collapsing in on itself. She radiated danger like a creature whose plumage advertised the threat they posed. Still, there was something more– something– alluring there still. He didn’t want to examine that emotion too deeply; he was a professional and he was here to do a job.

“You really needn’t have accompanied me, Colonel”, she strolled at a leisurely pace which he was forced to match with his comparatively shorter stride, “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

What she was doing was picking at a sore spot, a light-hearted argument they’d been having on and off since leaving Taldryan space, “I am confident you are, Governor. The Chancellor on the other hand I cannot speak for. He said I was to act as your Close Escort on this trip, and so here I am. Besides, it wouldn’t look right for a Dignitary to be walking around without an entourage of some sort”

Alaisy Tir’eivra tried to project amusement but Shanree saw that his point landed on a sore spot of her own. She changed tactics, “You like to fight, don’t you Agent Argentin? What if I were to demonstrate to you my Teras Kasi.”

Shanree stopped and studied the woman, genuinely caught off-guard, “You practice Teras Kasi?”

“I have a passing acquaintance with the Art”, she cooed playfully. Alaisy looked over both of her shoulders and then gestured, “Come, follow me.”

She walked away, not waiting for him to follow along after her down the corridors and street paths of the Coruscanti neighborhood they were walking in. Had he had any eyes he likely would have watched her deliberate sway as she walked. Alaisy spotted an alley that led between two buildings and into a secluded courtyard behind. The yard was ringed by yet more buildings and various piles of refuse, discarded furniture, and paneling.

“So? Do you want to play with me or not?” She gestured suggestively to the empty space they now occupied.

He chewed the decision over quietly, determining if this violated any orders or crossed any ethical lines, and then answered her with a grin that suggested he didn’t really care, “Sure. Let’s dance.”

She backed away from him, her eyes never leaving his face. He walked towards her, and the center of the yard, studying her in return. Shanree was excited, he always enjoyed a good fight. Alaisy swayed her body with feline grace as her arms cartwheeled into a performative series of Teras Kasi forms before she settled into her fighting stance. Very amused Shanree took a gentle step forward and with practiced ease lowered himself into his own stance. Alaisy snorted with amused disdain. She smiled as she leapt forward lashing out with a double-kick from the waist. He juked away from both strikes without moving his feet, and with no power at all he lightly backhanded her shoulder with an open hand.

Alaisy’s presence in the Force flashed an angry red as she lurched backward, surprised and embarrassed, “What was that? Fight me.”

Shanree returned to his opening stance with no showy movements of his arms or body, “I am. One point to me.”

She snarled and launched herself into another attack. Her hands flashed forward like serpents that he lightly swatted away with open palms and little visible effort. After deflecting a combo of hand strikes Shanree used an opening to grab her left wrist unexpectedly and pulled her forward. The unexpected move sent the Governor tumbling to the ground, though he was happy to see her roll over her shoulder and onto her feet confidently.

“Two points to me”, he said to her, keeping his cocky grin off of his face.

The Sith Woman was no longer so amused however and she reached to her belt for the silver cupped-hilt there. Shanree cursed inwardly and quickly reached for one of the Saber hilts over his shoulder. She unclipped her weapon from her belt, and holding it firmly she twirled it around. A strand of metal whipped from the weapon which then leapt to life with a familiar snap-hiss– Shanree heard a faint howl from the exotic weapon he was not familiar with.

He took both of his hilts into hand but did not light his sabers, “Governor… What happened to practicing Teras Kasi?”

She glowed crimson in the Force as she strode toward him, “I grew bored with how limiting Martial Arts can be. Let’s spice this up, Darling.”

This had quickly gotten out of hand. Shanree flipped his saber hilts around in his hands, limbering up his wrists. If she needed some sense knocked into her, Shanree would do what needed doing. Her Lightwhip cracked in the air and then lashed out at him. He caught the whip on one of his Wroshyr Wood hilts, and once it had coiled he pulled hard. Alaisy was not caught off-balance this time and the weapon obeyed the flick of her wrists like it was an extension of her body. It uncoiled from the saber hilt and cracked in the air once more as she wound it up for another attack. Her tail flicked to and fro behind her playfully as if mimicking the deadly weapon she sent against her Escort over and over.

Shanree dodged one attack by juking at the waist again, and another with foot work that made it difficult to anticipate where he would dodge next. He blocked a series of strikes on his saber hilts again, the wood showing no sign of wear from the Light Whip. He cartwheeled at chest height through the air, his body clearing a low sweeping attack she whipped around beneath him. He landed close to her but immediately had to move a foot out of the way as she stomped down where it had been. Her whip lashed him from above, attempting to distract him, but he noticed at the last second the sharp blade protruding from the stiletto of her heel that pierced the ground below them.

She leered down at him hungrily, “You’ll grow tired Agent if you don’t stop jumping all over the place.”

“It gives me time to study your moves, so that we may both grow richer in experience after this...exchange.” In all of the years of war and his many odysseys across the galaxy, Shanree had never come across anyone like her. A trial such as this proved to cut up the chores of guarding and served to keep the blonde-haired Miralukan on his toes. He had to make sure to prevent her pessimistic aura from slowly eating away at his emotions.

It had been a point of frustration for Aphotis that the Colonel kept avoiding her attacks, but what at first seemed like an obstacle now worked in her favor. She would make him dance in this rubbish dump of a courtyard. Tir’eivra could utilize the space so long as he wasn’t able to move in close.

With a clack of her heel and the crunch of crushed duracrete, she shoved her platformed boot forward. A hiss of air expelled from her mask as she built momentum with the lightwhip. Her brows knitted together as she waved the bright, crimson lash low. Then her arm raised over her shoulder and she brought it down hard. Her knee lifted up, and the cord folded into a loop. Alaisy followed through with the sequence perfectly.

A thunderous howl followed. The whip cracked, and windows from looming structures rattled from her sheer power. The Krayt Dragon Pearl produced a monstrous roar as the lash reached supersonic speeds in the tip. Shanree waited, then stepped forward, his jaws clenching, trying to ignore the ear-piercing noise. Her weapon coiled back to her like an ophidian. Curiously, Tir’eivra’s tail rose up aggressively, and her aura brightened.

Argentin wasn’t ready yet, which forced him to hop backward a step.

Besotted’s superheated plasma folded again like a rapid surge in the currents. Using the remaining momentum, she flung it in a long, wide arc from her side towards Shanree’s middle. The very tip of the lash curled up and a flash of light illuminated his sun-tanned skin. Then, the same clattering clap of the loop closed in on itself. The sound rang his ears. In the chaos of dealing with the whip, he realized something; Alaisy was keeping him at bay! She was a Sith—decidedly calm beneath all that chaos.

The lightwhip struck parallel to the ground and bundled together. The waves in the cord sometimes shortened and at other times swung high or low, from the side or diagonally. Bit by bit, waves began to well up. Then, fast and chaotic patterns unfolded. Alaisy’s muscles showed through the tight, shimmering suit as strength built up behind her attacks. A twisted amalgamation of Djem-So strength and Juyo unpredictability.

Shanree attempted attacks from her flank, above or below, but she adjusted the flailing as fast as he could maneuver. Staying at the far end of her reach, he batted at the tip with his own Varpeline blades. Even that sounded like a sneer, with its sharp noise.

Agent Argentin needed to reduce her space and break her rhythm. So he mentally prepared himself to change tactics. The square was no longer abandoned, as some heads popped up from around the corners of the alleyways, or were looking down from their balconies to check out the commotion. Shanree picked up on them far before Alaisy cared to notice. The Sith was focused on swinging her lightwhip in a constant, dance-like motion. Now, there was even more reason to get her out of here, lest someone be foolish enough to be cleaved by a wild slash of her weapon.

The Colonel calculated a path through the Force, trying to narrow down a place with as little lifeforce as possible. He retreated several paces and deactivated his exotic, wooden hilts.

“Governor,” he caught her attention with a warm tone in his baritone voice.

“Colonel, what is the meaning of this?” Alaisy peered around, noticing the crowd building around them. “Are you letting a bunch of spectators ruin our bout?” Her aristocratic voice had a vituperative tone to it. With an electronic fizz, the crimson lash was reigned back into her disc-like, guarded hilt. A hiss from her mask pronounced her exasperated sigh. Her tail twitched as she put her hands on her hips and tapped on the ground with her boots.

“Let’s find someplace quieter, if only for your own safety. We wouldn’t want someone in the crowd to take an opportunistic jab at you, Governor of Kasiya.” Shanree emphasized her duty.

Behind her visor, Aphotis’ sharp-lined eyes widened at the realization. She had barely processed her new role yet. Thus far, she had given it only a footnote in her life’s experience. It had been her first day on Kasiya—the same day she survived a blizzard, fought two Jedi, electrocuted a Mandalorian and terminated three police officers—when she received two scrolls from Supreme Chancellor Cassandra Oriana Tyris, commemorating a new, no doubt highly esteemed, societal role. What a return to the Brotherhood it had been. She still had no idea what it required of her, but Shanree was giving her a glimpse.

Obligations, how to tame the monster. Alaisy thought to herself.

“After you, then, Shanree Argentin.” Her smoky voice carried frustration. She peered back and noticed a Bothan following her. A clawed hand stretched out towards the man. The tall Sith channeled her vexation into the Force. With a thump, an invisible power propelled him backwards against the dirt-ridden, rusty wall. “Stay back, filth!” With a prideful fling of her high ponytail she turned her head and looked up, staring daggers at the spectators settled on the balconies.

“Come, before anyone gets any ideas,” Shanree’s voice was more commanding this time.

He bolted taciturnly into the only abandoned passageway. He had hoped its suddenness would catch her attention, and it did. Like a playful loth cat, her head snapped towards where her peripheral vision had glimpsed the movement. Agent Argentin may have, at times, taken liberties with rules and orders, but this Sith really did draw far too much attention. He could hear a cacophony of loud heel taps and ringing metal behind him. He kept going, despite the chill running over his back. Shanree could almost feel her orchestrating something. The alleyway narrowed. There were some trash chutes, a few steaming pipes, and barely a sign of life. Perfect.

The Sith grit her teeth behind the facemask as her tall frame allowed her to make long strides, despite the immense heels. Wicked thoughts played in her head as she kept her sight on the Miraluka, sending whispers into the Force, invoking a deep dread. She realized the new battleground wasn’t laid out in her favor.

It was far too tight a space for a lightwhip to be effective here, so she clipped the caged hilt onto her high-waisted belt. Leaving perfectly good, living batteries behind like that was wasteful. Compensation would be required, and she intended on making effective use of the darker surroundings. Her talons reached for the spare lightsaber as she did her best to keep up with Shanree’s brisk pace and avoiding stray objects. She was still weaving her malediction as he decelerated.

“You’re here. Good.”

Emerald light burst from his two Wroshyr hilts, mingling with the barely functioning, dim, amber street lights. He stood still like a gargoyle, while a tailed shadow of Aphotis’ frame crawled over the wall ahead of the black-clad Sith. The whistle of her pressurized mask, the click, clacking of those bladed heels, and the void of her aura made the atmosphere eerie as she turned towards the Miraluka. His heart dropped. He could feel her electric stare, even if he couldn’t see it.

A Crack-hum split the darkness as Alaisy activated her saber.

Yet, the Adept remained patient, steadying his breathing. Her free claw swirled, raking through the Force. She shoved her boot forward. Tail up, following the hand’s motion. Tir’eivra’s hatred and passion concentrated and transformed into dark tendrils. She drew from her Garden of Trepidations, inspiring herself with a flowing river of melancholy. They burrowed into Shanree’s mind. Searching for hope, courage and ghosts of the past. She let her monsters feast, hoping they would chip away at his composure. They coiled around deep-seated fears rooted in his great wisdom and experience.

“You sought to constrict me between these walls? Has it occurred to you that you may be the one trapped here with me?” Aphotis’ modulated voice was lower pitched, echoing between the dense walls of the towering apartments.

Argentin’s mind was a fortress, accustomed to the tricks and deceptions of the Sith. He steadied himself. But he could feel the intensifying, wriggling dread take root in his mind.

Tir’eivra’s grip tightened, her hand high on the hilt. Her slim figure turned toward him with her side. There was a wicked smile in her eyes that Shanree couldn’t see. But her aura and tail showed that menace to him. It made the darkness coil around her more intensely than before. Expanding and contracting more violently. A heavy boot crunched sand and duracrete as she made a grounded step forward.

She radiated a frightening presence in the Force, glowing wickedly green and black in his Force Sight. It sickened him as her presence polluted the Living Force around them. The alleyway was not wide and Shanree doubted whether he could lay across it comfortably. Alaisy was closer to its entrance than he was, bathed in the depths of the shadows cast by the towering duracrete and steel facades to their either side. He was illuminated in the dark by the glow of his two emerald sabers while she slowly walked further in, closer to him, with her red one casting her in an ominous light. Shanree didn’t see that but rather perceived her through the Force as a mass of writhing, tangled tentacles black and oily in appearance and somehow always infinitely turning inwardly. It was unnerving but he focused himself; The Governor had proven herself in thought and deed to lack a clear understanding of the gravity of her new station. Her fearsome countenance in the Force would not stop him from teaching her the importance of her position–of her duties to the Republic which he loved–for that was what he feared most, the failure of another new Republic.

“Meaning no disrespect, Ma’am,” the old Rebel Officer said, putting his mental house back in order. “You have responsibilities now. You are the Governor of a planet; responsible to its people for their welfare. You are an officer of the Republic: responsible for its peace, justice, and security!” Shanree pointed one of his saber tips at her, causing her slow forward stride to cease. “I don’t see that in you.”

Her atmospheric systems hissed in and out with a monotonous regularity for a long moment before she spoke. “Why is it that ‘meaning no disrespect’ always seems to preface some sort of disrespect? Spare me your lecture Colonel Argentin. Fight me, or don’t.”

He extinguished his sabers, covering himself in the darkness of the alleyway. She lifted her red blade defensively, anticipating an attack, and seeking to illuminate the area before her but nothing came and she saw just as much. Her feline eyes flicked one way and then another seeking to pierce the darkness. She could feel him in the Force, he was right where he had been, but her lightsaber did nothing to reveal him. His presence moved slightly, laterally, so she shifted her defensive stance. He moved again, so she did as well. She heard light taps of his foot falls as the SAG Agent began to trot towards her. Shanree took several rapid steps, what little light filled the alley flowed around him so he remained unseen. He jumped at a wall face to her right at the last second, and taking two light steps along it he leapt back at the Governor. The rapid movement of the unseen man meant Alaisy’s guard was facing the wrong direction when his fighting stick saber hilt slammed into her helmet’s clear dome with a hollow thwack.

She staggered backwards, her head swimming. Shanree landed behind her and without hesitation he spun around and delivered a second blow with a backhanded sweep of his other fighting stick. Alaisy’s off-hand went involuntarily to the side of her head as she stumbled to the side and onto a knee. She had enough sense to roll over her shoulder and away from Shanree before his third strike could land. She was unsteady on her feet as she shuffled back into the alleyway for a few moments before she could get her wits together again. Alaisy cursed inwardly– she’d never even seen him, but could sense him standing there at the mouth of the alley. The Force flowed around him, and so too did the light it seemed.

“You aren’t getting it, are you Governor Tir'eivra?” the Force Presence moved towards her. “You aren’t understanding it in your core. I need to see it in your very being, Alaisy! I need to know you are going to fight for Taldryan!”

His voice was devoid of warmth as he growled at her, nearly shouting. She was preparing an acid reply when he moved with suddenness once more. Alaisy balled her fist and commanded the Force to unleash its fury. Lightning arced from the fingers of her left hand, sprayed indiscriminately across the whole of the alley. She couldn’t see what she was lashing out at but she didn’t care. The tendrils of white-blue force energy zapped at the air chaotically. There would be no tricks, no hiding, and no surprises. Shanree stopped bending the light around himself, both of his emerald blades leaping to life in his hands in time to block the lightning.

“There you are!” she laughed gleefully, as she redoubled her efforts into the attack.

The force energy crashed against Shanree’s blades, appearing to him in the Force as black lines wrapped in white flames. He advanced on her, shortening the distance between them, despite her efforts. He stopped when they were barely two meters apart, the roar of her Lightning filling their ears so that they had to shout to be heard.

“How dare you question my loyalty!” Her anger, manifested in the Lightning arcing between them, was ionizing the air so that Shanree’s hairs were starting to stand on end.

“Only your dedication!” He swept his blades out to each side which sent a ripple of the Lightning back upstream. Alaisy caught the blast unexpectedly and was sent flying backwards, collapsing into a heap of debris abandoned in the depths of the alley.

Shanree approached where she lay. He could clearly perceive her laying there as he came closer. Her presence in the Force was vile and alive with righteous indignation and fury, but it was a cooling fury. He wasn’t sure what that meant. Though Alaisy didn’t move, he knew she was not unconscious or in any way out of the fight, but as he approached she did not move. Not even when he was standing at her feet, his sabers held with arms relaxed at his side. She glared up at him.

“Is that what this has become about?” The Governor asked with restraint.

Shanree could see the emotions she was choosing not to express verbally. His eyeless face looked back at her. “It shouldn’t have to have been. You have responsibilities now.”

Her feelings were on full display to him. She wanted to roll her eyes. She wanted to castigate him for lecturing her, but a more reasoned, refined part of her asserted itself instead. After a long moment, filled only by the monotonous hiss of her breathing system, she said only, “I suppose I do.”

Shanree allowed his emerald blades to retract into their hilts. He stowed them both over his shoulder and offered the Governor his hand. She stared at the Colonel’s offer and regarded it, seriously, for several very long moments. She took it and allowed him to help her to her feet. Shanree politely turned away, despite his lack of eyes, as Alaisy dusted herself off. Amused she moved over to him and picked some detritus out of his mussed hair. Embarrassed, he ran his hands over his hair and smoothed it down.

He cleared his throat, the intrusive thoughts from earlier returning. “We should be on our way, Governor.”

The Governor’s fluctuating aura made it difficult for Shanree to size her up. The blonde-haired man’s stillness was set into motion as his fingers loosened from his wooden hilt—an open sign of his primary Ataru discipline. He moved to face the Sith with his side and brought one Wroshyyr lightsaber up. With a hiss, Aphotis exhaled and inclined her head towards him as she recognized his polite reciprocation of her respect.

If there was anything to be gained from this battle, it would have to be knowledge and reason. The tall Sith wondered what made Agent Argentin tick. Why would someone like him defend a person such as she? Was he cut from the same cloth? Someone who only learned to relate to someone else while they were knee-deep in the struggle for survival? Even as the stakes were upped beyond a mere sparring session? She would find out. It was necessary to push herself past his comfort zone. Alaisy wasn’t going to trust anyone to guard her so easily.

Respect did not mean fair play. It may have been the Miraluka’s choice of battlefield, but she would even the odds as she clenched her free hand into a fist. With the seemingly simple motion, she unleashed her horrors upon him in dark waves through the Force. She then shifted her offhand onto the lower part of her lightsaber hilt, latex gloves snapping as her two-handed grip tightened.

Fears assaulted Shanree’s trained mind like incoming artillery fire on a reinforced bunker. It battered the mental walls he had built for himself. Further cracks began to form as the dread triggered flashbacks of his comrades following his commands, hoping to come out of the fray alive, relying on him with almost blind vigor. Flickers of the purges enacted by the Empire made his heart sink. His energy drained away with his emotions. Flushed and crushed. Spirits of the fallen seeped through the walls, hunting for him and his soldiers. Her monsters chomped away at his trauma. Trauma that he thought would never haunt him again. The trepidation made him more aware of his advancing age.

Shanree shook his head, biting his tongue to snap out of his nightmare. Alaisy’s aura was bright crimson, surging towards him, then ebbing again, much like a Djem-So practitioner would do. He treaded forward aggressively, trying to shake it off. Before his feet reached the blemished duracrete, he felt a great void. His first step was endless. He hesitated.

“Something the matter?” Alaisy’s mocking tone was tinged with curiosity as she genuinely pondered at what nerves she had struck. It would be delightful to find out after this was over.

Electric blue eyes formed into a malicious grin behind the Sith’s domed facemask. With a hiss of air, Aphotis pushed herself off of the ground. She placed all of her strength behind a wide-angled swing.

The Force screamed at Shanree. Time as he perceived it slowed to a crawl as he pulled himself loose from her terrifying affliction. His experience collected the fragmented pieces of memory, puzzling them back together into his composure like a beautiful symphony. His first instinct was to shield himself with his emerald blades, but better judgment prevailed. He ducked away, bending his knees to set himself off from the ground and used a metal box to leap into a jittery somersault.

Using his momentum, he focused on that same container and sent ripples through the Force as he hurled it at her like a common projectile. Alaisy’s eyes went wide. The Sith stepped forward and slashed the durasteel in twain with her saber. As it split, part of the sharp metal hurled by her waist. It scraped her side and ripped through her second skin, the sharp edge going just deep enough to scratch her porcelain skin underneath. She grit her teeth and stumbled, both from the cut into her alchemical suit and the kinetic energy.

“Three,” Shanree’s voice sounded more serious than before.

The pain was one thing, but his comment scratched her pride. Aphotis emanated fury. Her left claw let go of her hilt and clutched at her waist. She refocused and made a mental note that he wasn’t against using cheap tricks either. She summoned vexation from the abyss of her thoughts. Just her physical strength would not be enough. Her stance transmuted into something much more raw and animalistic. She raised her lightsaber and held it horizontally above her war plume-like ponytail. Vigor from the Force was channeled into her grip and the rest of her body.

Shanree knew he struck a chord and already felt more like himself as Tir’eivra’s aura burst into bristling flames. He could make out the Juyo discipline from Alaisy’s posture, with no obfuscation left in place thanks to her heightened anger. Disturbingly, it was as if she twisted the Force and willed it into herself. It worried him, for his own safety, but also the Governor’s well-being.

Like lightning, Alaisy thundered towards the Miraluka. Her power and heavy boots almost cracked through the weathered duracrete. Shanree had to push himself past his physical limits to even react in time. He reached into the Force to get that edge he needed. But her swings came from all angles. He batted one away, empowered by a whirling motion of his body. He ducked from another. His varpeline-crystal blades screeched as emerald clashed against crimson. He twisted his body and bounced off the walls to keep moving. Argentin wanted to push off with his feet, but the surface disappeared.

Like a Hammerhead-class Cruiser, Aphotis struck so hard and fast that her empowered, follow-up kick burst through the wall itself. Shanree leapt after her, hoping that the surprise of breaking into a kitchen would expose her back. A ferocious, horizontal slash welcomed him as he raised his Wroshyyr-wood lightsabers in front of him. His arms trembled as the sheer strength propelled him back, knocking pots and pans over in his flight. Three tables further, his nimble feet caught on to the edge of the counter and broke his fall.

The Sith didn’t immediately pounce after him, but unclipped a throwable canister. Between the sounds of the crumbling wall Shanree could hear a metal clang and then a spraying sound. With a loud whistle and a hiss, Aphotis began inhaling from her own oxygen supply. The Adept, meanwhile, got back onto his feet and put two and two together to make...four. Dioxis. Another atrocious disregard she had for her environment.

Alaisy’s tail twitched as she saw some of the staff running out. Bait. Upon hearing the click-clacking of her heels towards the personnel, Shanree got out from between the islands and leapt at the tall woman. Both emerald sabers caught the blow as she expected his frantic reaction. A flurry of wild slashes followed. Sparks and buzzing filled the cramped kitchen as gas enveloped the area further.

The Miraluka needed to even the odds again. Eventually, the giant woman was going to run out of steam. Not that his own use of Ataru was helping him much in these tight spaces. The attacks weren’t just fast, or heavy hitting, but they also struck with pinpoint accuracy. Both of them had to constantly remain on the offensive. He may have had the upper hand on body contact, and thrice the amount of small victories, but one of her blows could finish his long career for good. Either way, he had no intention of finding out if she was the merciful type.

Inhaling became increasingly difficult as breathable air seemed to be in low supply. He needed to keep his focus on the battle itself. Opening himself up by calling upon the Force seemed like a fool's errand.

Despite being able to breathe her own air, Tir’eivra felt her heart pounding in her chest as the dark side pushed her far beyond natural limits. Muscles began to cramp and nerve endings burned. Not to mention her constant twisting and turning kept opening her wound. At this point she hungered for a small win, even if she collapsed afterward.

Shanree summoned his courage, swapping to a reversed grip, sliding his hands lower on the hilt. He spun forward with short, punch-like attacks. They were easily batted away by the unrelenting onslaught of her single blade. He wasn’t focused on getting through with his lightsaber attacks, but his superior martial arts came more into reach when he used his secondary discipline, Shien.

Closer.

Almost there.

Argentin wanted to flick his wrists as the strain became unbearable. An overwhelming bombardment drove him back again. The crimson blade nicked by his Wroshyyr hilt as he fell back. If it wasn’t alchemically imbued she would’ve split it in two, or worse. His reversed grip exposed his hands. He could’ve lost them. He began to doubt and tumbled back over a stool as he backpedaled. Something changed.

The Sith’s aura disappeared almost completely.

“We are d-,” Alaisy made one step forward and collapsed in front of Shanree.

One moment the new Governor had torn down walls, and now this?

At first, the Adept thought it was a trick. But his view through the Force left no doubt. Aphotis had burned through her reserves. Yet she had done all this without truly losing control. He respected her for that, despite being the cause of his ghostly traumas resurfacing.

He would get her somewhere safe, as soon as he could get a breath of fresh air. Pans, pots and plates scattered as he stumbled away.