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 Jungle.

A simple design, hot, humid, muddy, and murky, the imported jungle setting has plenty of dangers to be found within its thick growth of plant life. Quicksand, sticky mud, and entangling vines all wait for the ill-prepared combatant. Yet something more causes a chill down your spine.

Within the shadows even more dangers lurk. Deadly creatures such as the Nexu, Acklay, and Gundar hide away in the lush vegetation waiting for their next meal. And even then the periodic roars and thudding ground hint that maybe something even more deadly waits in the jungle's depth.

Kael listened to the whine of the LAAT's engines as the gunners on either side kept an eye on the jungle below. The fact that the transports had to be concerned about what had been left to linger in this new environment said enough about the danger he’d soon be thrown into. He knew his opponent for this match, and likely countless others were being dropped across the entirety of the stadium for the viewers' entertainment.

“One minute to drop,” a member of the Arx security forces commented through the shared comm link.

Kael nodded his armored head at the speaker, moving to stand by the open hatch as they flew lower over the tops of the tree line. He’d been informed of his particular target, Marick Tyris, a former combat master and hero of the Crusades, with too many titles to count, most notably known as The Gray Fang.

“Pretentious, but I suppose he’s earned it,” Kael muttered to himself as he watched dozens of other LAATs dropping combatants into the arena. Though victory was dependent on finding and eliminating his target, nothing was stopping him or Marick from stumbling onto other battles taking place, let alone what horrors awaited them in the bush below.

He felt the shift of the transport as it came to hover over a mildly clear landing below, the site designated by a thrumming beacon of light to indicate the “safe” zone for drop-off. The Arx gunner began to lower a rope line before Kael waved him off and simply stepped out of the LAAT, plummeting below where he fired his jetpack to slow his descent, landing with ease as he swung the Ren Blaster Rifle he carried into his hands and began scanning the immediate surroundings.

Overhead, the LAAT confirmed departure, and the beacon near his landing went dark as they banked and returned to the Coliseum entrance. Kael took a moment to scan the surroundings, letting the targeting system within his helmet do its work to pick up any sign of immediate threat. When satisfied, he looked up, determined the direction of the sun, and set off to follow it.

—-

Marick walked through the underbrush, occasionally clearing his path as needed with one of the many lightsabers he carried. He ensured to use the weapons as quickly and quietly as possible to avoid drawing attention to himself. In his backpack, Biddy chirped a few times, indicating a course correction for him as they set out further and further from the landing zone they’d been dropped at.

With every heartbeat, Marick reached out through the Force to his immediate surroundings. Though the low light of the heavy jungle canopy made it difficult to see effectively, he didn’t have to rely on his natural senses alone to spot an ambush. The connection he felt with so many living elements in the jungle cover was enough to paint an accurate picture of his surroundings without much of his concentration placed on maintaining the effect.

As he took another step, he unconsciously brought his foot down silently, something at the edge of his senses alerting him. Up ahead, the sound of underbrush being blasted apart was followed by the roar of a jetpack blasting through it nearby, followed by the growls of numerous creatures giving chase. Marick took a moment to gather himself as he sensed at least three Nexu attempting to encircle and pin down whatever they were chasing.

—

Kael twisted his body as he wove around another tree and burst through a collection of brush and vines, cutting the thrusters of his pack as he felt the dense foliage threaten to overtake him. He’d been walking for some time, moving with the sky overhead when he’d stumbled into the nest of Nexu like a blasted foundling. They’d been on top of him before he even recognized the threat, the beasts clearly inoculated with something to enrage them. As soon as he extracted himself from their nest, they’d been on his heels ever since.

The Mandalorian got to his feet, backing himself up to place a large tree directly behind him. His helmet's sensors were strained to maximum for any sign of the pack's movement. He shouldered the rifle and took a deep breath. His helmet targeting system flashed a red warning that he responded to in a heartbeat by opening fire. The first Nexu had climbed above, and when it came down, the heavy bolt of his rifle took it between the eyes, sending the heavy feline to the ground beside him, dead in an instant.

Another flash of movement and a second Nexu was on him, having climbed the tree above him, its powerful claws allowing it to move in unexpected ways. It crashed onto the Mandalorian's back and began attempting to tear and claw at him. The two rolled, forcing Kael to let go of the rifle and twist with the Nexu to ensure it couldn’t get to his throat or exposed joints in his armor. He brought his right arm up under the creature and flexed his wrist, punching up as the retractable blade bit into the creature's side, eliciting a howl of pain even as he felt its claws rake down and across the armored visor of his helmet, leaving a fresh set of marks along the metal surface.

He punched up time and again until he felt the warmth of the creature's blood and the last of its cries give way as it collapsed on top of him, pinning him there. He began to shove the creature off even as he heard the growl of the third Nexu stalking towards him. A moment of panic struck as he struggled to extricate himself from the weight of the corpse on top of him, watching as the Nexu’s legs bunched, preparing to pounce onto his defenseless position.

A brilliant light swept out from the side, passing cleanly through the Nexu’s throat. In an instant, the creature's body crumpled as its head slipped forward off its body. The telltale hiss of the lightsaber's deactivation left the surroundings quiet and eerily dark as the hilt of the weapon disappeared back into the brush. Kael wrestled the beast off of himself and knelt, looking out into the thick vegetation trying to catch sight of his rescuer.

He held out his left hand, the magnetic tether triggering the Ren Rifle to slide slowly across the ground before springing up and into his grip. He slowly rose to his feet, keeping the weapon at the ready as he began to back away. As he took one step, then another, he tried to continue moving only to find his foot had caught a vine. Pulling away with a growl of irritation, the vine moved with him. Then another, and another, capturing his legs, then his arm, torso, and throat.

Before he could even trigger his jetpack or draw his blade, he was lifted from his feet and held in the air by the crawling foliage as it encircled and bound him. Below, he watched as a robed figure stepped out, carrying a small BD-Unit in a backpack. When the man drew back his hood, Kael instantly recognized the unnatural beauty and flawless features of the Hapan heritage.

The gray wolf, Marick Tyris Arconae, stood below him, his hand outstretched as though conducting the vines and foliage that encircled the younger man. Marick studied him with an almost calm curiosity and a look of disappointment.

“I expected more out of you,” the Arconan’s words cut through the air as cleanly as his lightsaber had moments before.

“Join the club...” Kael chuckled, his demeanor remaining cool and collected despite his precarious predicament. The Mandalorian had survived worse traps than this. “...but I think you’ll find that I’m full of surprises!”

While he could not reach any of his weapons, Kael was able to clench his fingers into a fist. The subtle motion was enough to activate the flamethrower in his vambrace. A quick, controlled burst of flame lanced through the vines restricting his arm and torso. At the same time, he triggered his jetpack. The flash of flame from the twin exhaust nozzles not only cut through the remaining vines that bound him around the waist, but also sent his armored body spinning in a circle. The trailing fire from the jetpack took care of the remaining vines, but the sudden surge of momentum sent the Weapon Specialist spiral awkwardly in midair before he started to slink down from the treeline like a loose coconut.

Kael swerved wildly through the air before he shut off his jetpack and let gravity retake the reins of his freefall. This allowed him to correct course and touch down in his own version of a three-point landing. Like a titan falling, his boots thudded firmly into the grassy ground as one hand extended out to the side for balance while the other clutched his Ren Blaster Rifle. He drove the rifle’s tip into the dirt like the leg of a tripod for assisted balance.

Nailed it. The Mandalroian grinned behind his helmet's visor as his senses and sensors alike recalibrated to being rightside up.

...just in time to see his robed assailant sprinting towards him with a glowing, crackling lazer sword at his side.

Marick darted forward, no longer concerned for the crunch or crinkle of the forest floor beneath his boots. His lack of detection in his approach could likely be more attributed to the arena's artificial ambiance mixing with the audio from the colosseum crowd than it was his careful footwork. The whole venue was a bit unnerving, if he was being honest. Almost as if the jungle itself had eyes that were following his every movement.

“Biddy, go,” the half-Hapan murmured as he closed the distance between himself and his opponent. The backpack droid chirped cheerfully before bounding off and dutifully disappearing among the verdure of varied shrubs.

Kael recovered quickly and raised his rifle. The Weapon Specialist did not have time to take aim and instead indiscriminately peppered the air in front of him with a spray of automatic blaster fire.

Marick batted aside the initial volley with his cerulean saber, evenly distributing the augmented grace from the Force through his body before leaping into the air. As he arced over the spray of crimson dashes, he toggled the unique hilt of his new lightsaber—Resonance. Time slowed as the hilt extended to its full length while the blade remained the same fixed length. Sword became spear as his grip on the lightsaber pike added a sudden, extended range to his descending stab. Time resumed its course.

Osik, Kael swore as he was left to account for the Arcanist’s transformed weapon. On the one hand, the Weapon Specialist knew he could use his bulky blaster as a last ditch shield, sacrificing the versatile weapon. On the other, he knew that trying to dodge with its added weight would render him too slow. Making a snap decision, he begrudgingly cast it aside while diving in the opposite direction.

Marick’s saberpike split the empty air that Kael had vacated. The Arconan landed, swiftly pivoted, and then continued his pursuit of the surprisingly evasive Vizslan. Tyris twirled the saberpike in a tight, twisting pattern, then lashed out with a flurry of lightning-quick jabs.

Kael sprung back to his feet out of his sidelong roll and reflexively ducked the first strike. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, he bobbed his helmet left and right to weave through the next few attacks before deflecting the last one with a dismissive sweep of his Mandalorian vambrace. The beskar gauntlet rebuked the sting of Marick’s saberpike and angled it aside, leaving the half-Hapan’s center guard exposed. Kael grinned behind his mask as he lurched forward, snapped off two powerful punches, and then planted a heavy boot into the taller man's chest.

Marick managed to use the shaft of his saberpike to parry the pair of punches, but was caught flat-footed by the kick. He staggered backwards but remained on his feet. The Weapon Specialist used the brief reprieve to draw his beskad, making a quick flourish before dashing forward and taking up the offensive.

Marick twisted his saberpike into protective, concentric coils. His impassive features were as unreadable as Kael’s behind his tinted T-visor. Within moments, however, it became clear that despite his young age, the Weapon Specialist had better form than the Elder Arcanist. It had nothing to do with strength, speed, or conditioning, but was evident in the expert timing and placement of Kael’s swings and slashes. The Vizslan was the better technician, and while he was unable to find a gap in Tyris’ defenses, he similarly left no openings with his own style.

Beskar hissed defiantly against plasma as the Exarch’s defense weathered the Eminents assault. There was no wasted movement from either fighter as the cacophony of clashing blades seemed to stave off any additional wildlife from interrupting the two new apex predators.

“I can see why Itinen trusts you,” Marick commented conversationally. Despite the fact that Kael had him retreating backwards and ceding ground, his tone was casual and carried only as loudly as was required to be heard.

“What do you know about my charge?” Kael snapped, adrenaline pumping with the kind of excitement that only came from a true battle, not the same old simulation. The Arconan did not seem to be sweating or breathing hard. Worst of all, his hair remained perfectly parted and undisturbed through their dueling.

Marick shrugged as he nonchalantly accelerated in an effortless manner to meet each of Kael’s strikes. “I’m the Exarch. It is my job to know things. I also read a lot.”

“How about you read this!?” the Weapon Specialist barked as he balled a fist and fired off a cone of flame at his opponent's smug, stoic face.

Marick skipped backward and calmly extended a hand. Just as the geyser of flame would have engulfed his entire arm, the Force Lord instead redirected the stream of exothermic energy into a nearby boulder. Almost as if he had called the wind itself and bent it to his bidding.

Gritting his teeth in frustration, Kael lowered his vambrace, sheathed his beskad, and replaced it with his Westar-35. He started to draw a bead on the Exarch, but was forced to adjust his aim as two new threats registered on his helmet’s HUD. He strafed sideways, narrowly avoiding the pair of lightdaggers that zipped past him.

Hah, you misse— Kael started to laugh before his suit's sensors flared a klaxon warning. He managed to sidestep the first boomeranging lightdagger, but the second managed to score a line of molten metal through the back of his heavy jetpack. Sparks sizzled and crackled as the lightdagger ran amok. The Weapon Specialist was unable to do anything but turn in place to try and get away, frustration flaring through him.

With the damage dealt, both lightdaggers disengaged, retreated and then returned to their respective sheaths on Marick’s belt.

“Or'dinii!” Kael growled. “Do you have any idea how expensive those are?” He decoupled the jetpack from his back and it plunked down into the soft, jungle floor.

Marick did not so much as balk or blink. There was no malice or vitriol in his visage, yet at the same time there was neither regret or remorse. The Elder Arcanist instead used the brief break in the battle to refuel his reserves from the living Force while retracting his saberpike and reverting it into its standard hilt size. He raised the blade high over his head while angling the point straight towards the Vizslan. His toes mirrored the motion while his free hand drifted out to the side.

Kael responded by unloading his Westar while sprinting off into the thick shroud of the treeline. He did not need to rely on the pistol's targeting system and instead leaned into the trandoshan tripler modification to increase its firepower. The Arconan—predictably—batted aside the barrage of blaster bolts as he chased after the fleeing Vizslan.

The Mandalorian rounded the trunk of a thick, towering tree and disappeared from view among the foliage. The low-light camouflage of Kael's armor and the shadowed canopy cover prevented the half-Hapan from spotting him.

Marick paused, but was not quick enough to evade the sudden tendril of fibercord that whipped out from the jungle gloom. The fibercord coiled and tightened around Marick’s wrists with enough pressure to pry his lightsaber hilt free from his grip. Its blade disengaged as it fell to the forest floor.

Kael emerged from the silhouette of the tree trunk, vambrace extended. With a smug smirk of his own hidden behind his visor, he yanked the Exarch forward and down to his knees. Tyris bowed his head forward, his ashen hair falling like a veil over his face.

“This is for my jetpack,” the young bodyguard said coldly as he raised his Westar and fired dispassionately on the seemingly defenseless Arconan.

Marick’s head tilted up, hair parting to reveal his eerily blue eyes. There was no fear or resignation in them as the blaster bolts raced towards him. Just the steeled resolve of the man who had earned every title attributed to him.

Darth Amarok’s lightsaber lifted up by an unseen hand and snapped to life midair. The cerulean blade crackled with energy as it whirled in place, warding each blast from the Weapon Specialist’s Westar. When the salvo finished, Marick’s will directed the telekinetic saber to sever the fibercord line.

Kael growled as he retracted the remaining line, slipped into the cover of the shadows, and readied his Westar while he calculated his next move.

“Biddy!” Marick’s voice called out, the first time Kael had heard him raise his voice.

There was a beep from the bushes as, on cue, a lightsaber hilt shot through the air and landed in Marick’s now freed hand. His fingers closed around the molded hilt as the black-cored blade sprung to life. At the same time, his original lightsaber extended back into its saberpike form as it hovered off to the side, controlled by a dedicated part of the Elder Arcanist’s mind.

“Now that’s just unfair,” Kael grumbled.

Kael backed away attempting to keep as much cover between him and his target, as he twisted between the trees he continued firing when and where he could between the trunks. With his free hand, he unclipped two round spheres from his belt deftly activating the charges and tossing them into the cover of the brambles, vines and foliage first one to his left and then one to his right. He watched as Marick doggedly chased him, the blaster firing barely slowing his momentum.

Kael waited, taking a few more steps away, drawing the Elder between the Denton and Thermal charges. When he finished the silent countdown in his mind, he dove to the floor of the dense jungle taking what cover he could behind an upturned rootbed at the base of a tree. The explosions ripped through the air, the resulting concussion sending detritus in every direction even as the trees, roots and ground caught fire.

Kael lifted his head, the sensors in his helmet attempting to pierce the destructive haze of smoke and fire. The Mandalorian swore as he watched the Arconan forced to a knee, even as an invisible barrier seemed to envelope him, keeping the flames at bay even as the half-hapan rose back to his feet, his gaze piercing the smoke as they met each other's gaze.

“Kriff it” Kael grumbled as he watched his trap fail miserably, doing little more than singe the Force User’s clothes.

A second later he was on his feet, his hand starting to rise as the sights on the gun came into light with the Arconan. Two brilliant spinning blades cleared the distance between them, raising his left hand; he activated the personal shield generator just in time, deflecting one of the light daggers even as he tried to twist away from the second. He felt the shield shatter even as the first blade bounced away the second wove past him.

Kael smiled a viscous grin as he watched his targets full concentration on the attack, Kael began to squeeze the trigger preparing to put the older man down. He felt a piercing, intense pain as the dagger that had flown past came swinging back in an impossible arc slipping between the shielded plates of his armor and digging through the flesh of his side without penetrating deep enough to strike anything immediately vital.

His shots went wide as a howl of pain exploded from his lungs, he immediately fell back against a nearby tree his hand shaking as he covered the now exposed portion of his side and ribs that had been cauterized by the brilliant energy blade. As steadily as he could he reached for the stimkit on his belt, his hand shaking even as he tried to take in a few deep breaths to steady himself.

Ahead of him the Gray Wolf came walking out of the flames as they parted for him while he kept a steady gaze on the wounded Mandalorian.

The Brotherhood’s Gray Fang was no big game hunter, but he was keenly aware that few things were more dangerous than a wounded, cornered foe. Itinen’s bodyguard had proven to be a resilient, resourceful fighter worthy of defending the Vizslan Consul. Blood was in the air, however, and the planted predators prowling the artificial jungle had taken notice of the shift in power between the two warring, apex threats.

Marick could sense them at the periphery of his awareness through the Force. Kael’s MFTAS system was a bit more precise and pinpointed a pair of four-legged heat signatures lurking in the shadows a safe distance away. Above the treelines as well stalked some kind of avian creature circling patiently on powerful wings.

The beasts would have to wait their turn.

Kael was not finished. Not yet. The young Human’s hand shook as he managed to stick the stimpack's needle into his arm and immediately felt the rush of accelerated adrenaline course through his veins.

Tssahh...that’s the stuff.

Kael pushed himself back to his feet with a grunt that bellied his age. Pain and discomfort became an afterthought. He had one remaining ace in the hole stashed on his belt.

Marick’s saberpike—Resonance—hovered ominously over one shoulder like an aegis as the Exarch advanced carefully. One hand gripped the hilt of his Radiant lightsaber while the other remained free to react to whatever gambit the Mandalorian might have up their sleeve. Kael raised his Westar-35 and fearlessly fired a precise, accurate array of blaster bolts at his menacing opponent. The black-cored blade in Marick’s hand twisted and turned to deflect each volley of crimson dashes with effortless grace.

Just as the Weapons Specialist had expected.

While he maintained the stream of blaster fire, his free hand palmed the Brotherhood-issued Royal Guard Gravity Grenade and primed it.

“Dodge this,” Kael muttered as he threw the cylindrical device hard underhand so that it bounced and then rolled beneath the half-Hapan’s impregnable defense. The combination of the low light and the strobing flashes of multicolored plasma made it hard to track the device. Similarly, no warning klaxon flared through the Force to alert the Elder Arcanist to potential peril until it was too late.

The grenade detonated. Marick jerked forward, magnetically pulled towards the epicenter of the singularity. His body froze mid-swing of his saber. The device had created a miniaturized version of the Ascendent crystal gravity well projector the Children of Mortis used, and Marick was now no better than a snared starfighter.

At least it works, a distant part of Marick’s mind thought as he made a mental reminder to share that data point with the Fist.

The Exarch remained calm as he assessed the situation. While he could still maintain concentration and take control of his surroundings with telekinetic precision, he had lost sight of his opponent. The corded, wiry tendons of his muscles stretched and strained but to no avail. He tried to amplify his strength, but the technological marvel cared little for the Force’s mystical abilities.

The Force did, however, decide to inform the Elder Arcanist that he should probably dodge what was coming next.

A streak of smoke split from the shadows as the shrill shriek of a micro-rocket pierced through the ambient foley of the jungle. It was aimed perfectly at Marick’s feet. He could have tried to throw up another barrier, but there was no guarantee it would work correctly or quickly enough.

He suddenly felt and remembered the onyx crystal on a chain around his neck. He had wanted to save it for if he made it later into the tournament, but it seemed that there was no other choice. The Force Lord’s eyes glowed an otherworldly bright blue as he bridged his being to the Ethereal Crystal and suffused its energy with his own.

The rocket accelerated unnaturally as it was picked up by the grenade's gravitational pull. Quicker than blinking, it struck the ground, and an ochre ball of flame engulfed the Gravity Grenade’s casing and everything around it in a deadly inferno.

All except for Marick, whose figure became fully translucent as he entered a quasi-ethereal state of being. He had practiced a few times since returning from the Ethereal Realm, but it was still a disorienting sensation nonetheless. He moved slowly, bypassing the laws of physics as he ghosted away from the explosion. When he reached the edge of the blast radius, he stepped back into the material plane and turned to watch the rocket’s red glare fade and the gravitational distortion dissipate.

“Are you karking kidding me!?” a voice called out in frustration from the recesses of the jungle foliage.

Marick frowned, as he saw no trace of his lightsaber pike. It must have been consumed by the flames. Zig was not going to be happy with him, as the Zygerrian tinker had just finished working on this final prototype. Still, his Radiant lightsaber remained in hand, and he idly drew a bead on Kael’s position based on his shout.

Kael unleashed a string of curses in an amalgamation of Mando’a, ​​Huttese, and Basic. This was not what he had signed up for. Was the Brotherhood filled with people like this? He was out of tricks, out of ideas. All that was left was his honor. He would not go quietly.

The Weapons Specialist slowed to a stop and drew his beskad. He turned and waited for Marick to cut a path through the brambles to join him. The half-Hapan emerged after a few moments, still somehow looking no worse for the wear despite his singed cloak and robes.

Kael made a salute with his beskad and assumed a fighting stance. He could feel the stim wearing off, so he had to finish this quickly. Marick, surprisingly, returned the gesture with his lightsaber. Perhaps there was more to the Arconan than he had assumed.

The Mandalorian steeled his nerves and let out a feral battle cry. He darted forward, not with abandon but with determination and intent.

Marick matched his pace, closing the distance between the two in the space of a few heartbeats. Then, his body became a preternatural blurr. Faster than a speeding slugthrower bullet. Faster than any computer or visor system could track.

It was only for a moment. Kael’s carefully timed pommel strike struck only empty air. The Weapons Specialist had intended to follow up the disorienting blow with a flourish, but instead felt a lash of pain spread over his entire midsection. Marick’s lightsaber cut cleanly across his armored torso, scoring the armored plate and biting into the skin it shielded.

The Exarch ended his dash standing on the other side of Kael, their backs now facing one another. Marick did not look back over his shoulder as Kael took a step as if to turn about. The Mandalorian staggered then dropped to the ground clutching at his stomach.

The wound had already cauterized, and was shallow thanks not just to his armor, but to the precise control of Marick’s hit. The Arconan had held back on the follow through swing at the last possible moment, sparing Vizslan's life.

“Itinen is lucky to have found you,” Marick said quietly as he disengaged his lightsaber.