Built from the shell of an ancient foundation, the Arx Colosseum has undergone renovations to allow multiple new configurations for battle. Its spectator setup remains largely the same, with high walls, tall enough for even the most savvy Jedi to find unscalable that lead up to spectator chairs which are divided into nearly organized sections to accommodate several thousand people. At the center, an elongated platform “box” contains a central throne of stone with various seats of smaller scale lined beside it in both directions. Two large holo-projection screens are set up on each side of the Colosseum, offering different angles of the match bia holocam drones.

Today’s setup is known as The Bridges.

High-suspended walkways cross and weave through multiple levels of platforms. Some are solid, metal and duracrete crafting an unmoving foundation. Others are mere rope and wood, swaying with even the most gentle of breezes.

Below the walkways is a void filled with mist, the ground unseen for combatants and spectators alike. Periodic ripples of electrical energy can be seen through the mist, hinting to the deadly nature of the arena floor below.

Malfrost could hear the cheering of the crowd through his Sith helmet, even though the durasteel doors to the arena were still closed. It was the last round of the preliminaries so it wasn’t too surprising that other combatants would be giving it their all and putting on a good show.

His own fights against Anders and Aiden had been invigorating duels; he had been pushed to his very limit each time and whatever the result had been he walked around from each feeling more confident in his skills. He turned his head to look at his partner in crime through this whole tournament so far, his ever-faithful HK droid.

The droid was black as the void, save for its two optical receptors that glowed a soft shade of red. The droid had to be extensively repaired after each round so far but HK looked to be in almost pristine condition; the mechanics they had on staff here at the tournament most of been top notch.

HK held a slugthrower in each of its metallic hands and it turned to face Malfrost as it offered a nod. “Statement: Ready when you are, partner. Let’s go put on a real Rootin'-tootin' show for these people.”

Malfrost chuckled under his helmet and shook his head. It seemed even the skilled mechanics here couldn’t get rid of his droid’s personality. These days though, Malfrost could hardly imagine the droid any other way than the absolute caricature of a Holovid cowboy that it was.

The doors slowly swung open and the muffled cheering of the crowd became a roaring boom as the Marauder stepped into the arena.

He appeared to be standing on a wide metal bridge and as he stepped further into the arena and gazed around him, he noticed that the arena seemed to be nothing but bridges of various width and sturdiness, suspended above a mist filled void.

There was absolutely nowhere to hide and that suited him perfectly fine.

As Malfrost made his way across the bridge, he noticed a figure approaching him from the other side. His eyes narrowed in his helmet as studied his approaching opponent. Human, tall and well built with a decent beard. He didn’t recognize the man’s face but he did recognize the uniform he was wearing and he scoffed under his helmet.

The Envoy Corp, the newest little pet project of the Council.

To Malfrost, the Envoy Corp just represented another way the Council and the Clans were trying to expand their influence and reach across the galaxy. Another layer of bureaucracy in the mess that was the Brotherhood. His main animosity for the organization arose from the fact that their funding had cut into several of his research grants though.

“You hardly look prepared for combat, Envoy.” Malfrost chuckled as they both paused several yards away from each other. Malfrost’s HK stood at the ready behind him and behind his opponent, the Marauder noticed what appeared to be an astromech droid. Between that and the gaudy cape the man was wearing he wondered if his opponent was even taking this seriously.

“Looks can be deceiving, you know? Even the most innocent of looking flowers can often be laced with deadly poison.” The bearded man’s lips curled into a playful and sly smirk as Malfrost frowned beneath his helm; surely this man had to be toying with him, right?

As the camera droids hovered around them, the image on the Holovid screens was almost comical to behold. Even though the bearded man was taller than him, with Malfrost clad in his Sith armor he was a much more imposing figure when compared to his well dressed though lightly armored foe.

The Envoy did have two lightsabers attached to his hips though, surely those weren’t just for show but the thing that really caught Malfrost’s attention were the vambraces the man was wearing. The utilitarian style of them clashed completely with the rest of his outfit and his time training with Mandalorians made it easily recognizable to the battle-hardened Marauder.

“What Mandalorian corpse did you have to defile to get those?” Malfrost asked with a mocking chuckle as his hands moved to grasp the hilts of both of his lightsabers and with a swift movement of his thumbs his red blades crackled alive. His Sith helm awash in the red glow of his blades as the crowd let out a cheer.

He held the hilt of the blade in his right hand with a regular grip while holding the hilt in his left hand with a reverse grip as he twisted his body partly to the side. The blade in his right hand moved above his head in a high guard while the blade in his left remained perpendicular to his body. His knees bent slightly as he looked like a predatory ready to pounce.

The Envoy’s smirk remained ever present as he moved to grasp his own lightsabers and with a flick of his wrists, yellow blades sparked to life. He turned his body to the side and pointed one of the yellow blades at Malfrost while keeping the other behind him. With how the Envoy’s feet were positioned, combined with how he held his blade, Malfrost recognized the stance at once and rolled his eyes in his helmet.

So many people really did love Makashi, didn’t they?

“You may think yourself my better but I must warn you, my armored brute…that if you try and take me on you might not live to regret it!” The bearded man held so much swagger and bravado that Malfrost nearly believed it for a moment but the longer he looked at the man the less he believed the words coming out of his mouth.

His stance was fine enough but it wasn’t nearly as well honed as Anders or Aiden had been. Both of his previous foes showed a near mastery of their sabercraft and when they entered a stance it was like watching poetry in motion. This man instead held the stance of someone who knew the fundamentals very well but had never really had to adapt in combat to refine them. Malfrost’s lips curled into a smirk as he gripped his blades harder.

“We’ll see about that you paper pusher.” Malfrost growled before he focused the Force into his legs and sprung forward towards the man with a great leap, covering the distance between them in the blink of an eye.

The armored Marauder had been so focused on his foe though that he hadn’t noticed what the astromech droid had been up to. It had used its welding torch to cut a hole in the bridge just large enough for its owner to jump through and the Envoy proceeded to do just that as he fell through the hole, followed by his droid and landed on another steel bridge about twenty feet below.

Jon broke his fall with a roll but it had still been a bit of bruising landing. He didn’t have time to look behind him though as he took off in a sprint down the bridge. He just had to try and find a way to avoid the armored menace until the bet he placed on himself surviving paid out. Combatants weren't suppose to know who they were fighting but Jon had ways and connections of getting that sort of intel and when he learned he'd be facing Malfrost and that most bookies didn’t have him making it past the three-minute mark, he had placed a bet on himself making it six minutes. If he could just make it that long he would make a small fortune from the minor bet he put in. He figured if he was going to end up in a bacta tank anyway he might as well make some money doing it.

As his droid landed behind him, he heard the sharp crack of a gunshot and his droid Artemis let out a loud whine before its dome shaped head exploded off its body. Jon turned back ever so slight as he noticed Malfrost and his HK droid gazing down through the hole in the bridge.

Malfrost scowled in his helmet, what an utter coward. He could not believe he got such an opponent for the final match of the preliminaries. “Keep him on his toes, HK.” Malfrost commanded his droid, who took a shot at the fleeing man that came dangerously close to blowing Jon’s right foot off as it impacted into the ground just behind him. Malfrost jumped through the hole and by using the Force he landed gracefully and was immediately sprinting at an inhuman pace towards his prey.

There was absolutely no place to, just the way Jon hated it.

He sprinted along the bridge as fast as his legs could carry him, his ‘sabers in his hands unignited. He counted his breaths. Ten seconds had passed since the bell. He had a long way to go to make it to three minutes.

Three minutes. One hundred eighty seconds.

He chanced a look over his shoulder, and grimaced; Xeon was gaining on him, his legs moving faster than any humanoid should naturally be capable of.

Kriffing space wizards and their kriffing space magic, he thought to himself.

Twelves seconds had passed. One hundred sixty eight breaths to go. And, as he now realized to his chagrin, he was going to spend every one of them fighting for his life.

Ok, Trick One had bought him time, but not enough. And where was that damned HK droid anyway? The last thing Jon needed was to be forced into a pincer maneuver.

Fifteen breaths. Xeon was close enough behind him that Jon could hear the man’s breath, steady and controlled.

Trick Two. How to stop a raging rancor?

Jon immediately spun on his heel, his lightsabers instantly flashing to light as he thrust them out in front of himself.

Xeon’s eyes widened, and tried to stop himself; sure, his space-wizard reflexes would warn him just in time to stop himself, but all the space-magic in the world won’t stop physics. Xeon’s momentum carried him forward; the sudden switch had caught him off-footed, and Jon wasn’t about to let him regain it.

He twisted his wrist, turning the lightsaber down, and his left vambrace forward; Jon had paid a lot of money for these vambraces on Nar Shaddaa some years back, and they had a few tricks. Like a repulsor blast at an already wrong-footed Sith Lord.

It didn’t so much as knock Xeon off his feet, but it made him stumble backwards half a step, and that was all Jon needed.

The entire exchange had taken four seconds.

Jon knew his strengths and he knew his weaknesses. He wasn’t an almighty Force-wielder. He wasn’t a master with a lightsaber (though his skills with a vibroblade were exceptional if he did say so himself, and he’d been making great strides in applying the theory to his newly acquired ‘sabers).

What he was good at was hitting his opponents where they were weakest.

Jon had done his research. Juyo and Djem So. Xeon’s favored forms. Two highly aggressive fighting styles. Xeon was a master of the overwhelming assault.

So how do you stop the immovable object? You certainly present it with an immovable object and dare it to try. You make it be something other than the unstoppable force. You make it try to play the immovable object.

Jon thrust his ‘sabers forward, one, two, catching a rhythm, forcing Xeon to play the defensive, carefully precise thrusts one after the other, giving the Sith no time for a counter attack.

Judging by the clench in his jaw and scowl in his eyes, Xeon didn’t enjoy this tactic. Good. That meant Trick Two was working.

But it wouldn’t work for long.

Eight more breaths had passed since their exchange of blows had begun. Honestly longer than Jon had expected it to, by far, but he wasn’t going to complain.

Now, he just had to account for--

“Reach for the sky, partner!”

Ah. The HK droid.

Jon felt the Force like a whisper on the back of his neck, and ducked just in time to avoid a blast aimed for the back of his neck. Xeon deflected the blast with casual ease, before turning the swipe into a downward blow.

Jon rolled out of the way; the angry red blade grazed the tip of his ear, and Jon scuttled backwards like some startled insect, as Xeon rapidly regained his forward momentum. And all the while, the HK unit was advancing.

Five more breaths and counting.

Malfrost had been caught off guard when Jon had gone on the offensive. He hadn’t expected such aggression from someone he considered to be more of a diplomat than a warrior. Even as Jon had hammered away at him though, Malfrost noticed that the way he fought with his sabers was distinctly different from others like Anders or Aiden.

They were by no means unrefined strikes; it was clear that Jon had trained and honed his craft rather well but as their blades continued to clash, he noticed that his strikes were guarded even as the Envoy was doing his best to be aggressive to keep him off balance.

Many fighters turned their instincts over to the Force when they fought but Jon seemed unable to do so. Was his connection to the Force weak? That simply made it even more impressive that he was able to keep the armored Marauder on the defensive for as long as he did.

The arrival of HK quickly turned the tide however and with his quirky cowboy nature the droid just had to give his quarry a chance to surrender before taking the shot. This moment gave Jon just enough time to roll out of the way of both the shot and Malfrost’s downward strike, putting a few yards between him and his hunters.

“Not bad. Guess you are more than just a paper pusher. You’ve got a knack for staying alive, don’t you?” Malfrost asked with a chuckle, his expression unknowable beneath his helmet but Jon could hear the grin on his face.

The armored figure clicked two switches on his lightsabers and the ends clamped onto each other, forming a saberstaff. Malfrost swirled the staff over his head, twisting his body slightly, his knees bending as he made ready to pounce once more.

“I won’t let you get the drop on me again though.”

With those words, Malfrost charged forward, closing the gap between him and Jon in an instance. The Envoy raised his two sabers up in a high guard to try and block the strikes, but the blows came rapidly now as he could barely keep up with the Marauder’s flurry of blows.

Malfrost was channeling the Force, his blows coming rapidly and forcefully as if he were in some kind of battle trance. Jon had seen the type before but with the armored warrior in front of him it was different. Most gave themselves over completely to bloodlust, their frenzied blows wild and undisciplined. Malfrost’s strikes, while ferocious and unrelenting, were nevertheless precise and controlled.

The crowd roared at the spectacle as Malfrost continued to hammer away at Jon. The Envoy’s guard had been broken on several occasions but he had managed to avoid any fatal blows. The beskar vambraces were a true blessing as a blow from Malfrost’s saberstaff had connected with each of them at least once. Jon had the sturdy material to thank for still having his hands.

How many minutes had it been since the fight started? At least three or four, right? Jon began to wonder if he would be able to make it long enough to win his bet or not. Just another minute or two was all he needed, but he was covered in sweat and out of breath and Malfrost seemed completely unphased and comfortable as the blows continued to hammer down on the Envoy.

Jon needed to do something to create some distance between him and the Marauder and he needed to do it quickly. All the while, the HK droid stood at the ready with slugthrowers in hand a few yards behind Malfrost, ready to act should Jon try to escape or run.

How the kriff was he going to wiggle out of this one?

Jon waited until he caught the rhythm of Malfrost’s strikes -- not an easy thing, with them coming faster and faster, but not impossible for a skilled swordsman -- he was going to have to time this right down to the second if he didn’t want to lose an arm.

Nonetheless, the opening came. Jon thrust his right hand forward, saber tip aimed for Malfrost’s throat. The saber was casually batted aside, but Jon expected that.

A gout of flame erupted from his wrist. Malfrost’s eyes widened as his clothes caught flame, and he dashed backwards.

“Partner!” the HK droid screeched, spinning on Jon. “Die, varmint!”

Jon raised his lightsaber at the incoming blaster fire; it was more luck than anything that he deflected the most lethal blaster bolts, and one nonetheless grazed him in the leg.

He cried out in pain as he felt his flesh burning, and stumbled backwards. Maybe it was luck, good or bad, or the will of the Force (which Jon was still coming to grips with) that he stumbled over the edge of the bridge, sending him tumbling down into the abyss below.

The wind roared around Jon, drowning out whatever Malfrost and his HK said in response to that. Instinct took over as he fired off his grappling line, catching it on the edge of a bridge.

His arm nearly tore out of its socket as the line went taught, and he used the momentum to swing over the abyss below, and sent himself rolling clumsily onto the lowermost bridge.

“Ah, Kriff! Kriffing hell, kark!”

Jon swore as he clutched his scorched leg to himself, his nearly-dislocated arm aching horribly, and every part of him felt like it’d been drummed on by a gundark.

“Ok, ok, that bought me a little--”

Something crashed into the bridge a few dozen meters from Jon. He looked up to see a Malfrost, his clothes scorched and tattered, and his eyes wild with rage. Despite, that, his form was tight, controlled, but coiled with restrained power.

This was something Jon hadn’t seen up close before. It was the full extent of a Marauder’s rage.

Jon stumbled to his feet, leaning heavily on his good leg. He scrambled for his lightsabers, only to realize he’d dropped them over the abyss.

Jon was out of tricks and out of places to run. In his condition, he didn’t think he could run even if he wanted to. Malfrost was charging at him now, red ‘sabers scorching the bridge beneath him.

A beeping came from Jon’s comm.

“Artemis?” he asked. “What is -- it has? That’s great!”

Malfrost was feet away from Jon when he raised his hands, and yelled: “I FORFEIT!”

Malfrost stumbled to a halt, a look on his face like he didn’t quite register what Jon had said.

“W-what?”

“I give up. You win. Great fight!”

Jon stood and stumbled down the bridge, already thinking how he would spend those credits.

“But you-- that’s-- we’re not--”

“Call me if you ever wanna go again some time!” he said as he walked passed the flustered, furious Sith Lord.

Malfrost looked like he might actually strike Jon at that, but he held himself, seeming to remember the rules of the tournament.

Jon smirked. “See you around, Champion.”