(A/N: Before the chapter begins, I wish to state one thing.
In Star Wars canon Form 7 or Vaapad, is a form Mace Windu uses. It allows him to draw on the dark side of others, enabling him to make himself stronger. It's much more complicated than that, but that's the jist.
I will be changing it a slight bit, so it doesn't just draw on the Darkside of others, but also their darker emotions, so it can work on Astartes as they do not have the force.
Thank you)
=== Palpatine ===
The dropship shuddered as it broke through the upper layers of Yavin IV's turbulent atmosphere. Red and orange streaks of dawn filtered through the thick clouds, the jungle moon below bristling with the cruel spectacle of war.
Inside the transport's hold, tension hung thick as incense smoke in a temple.
Grandmaster Mace Windu stood at the center, silent and composed, his eyes closed as he breathed through the steady rhythm of meditation. Around him, a circle of Jedi knights and masters, loyal followers, trusted comrades, watched him with a mixture of reverence and dread.
At the edge of the troop hold, swathed in his rich crimson robes, Chancellor Palpatine sat casually in what acted as an office in this transport ship. His pale fingers tapped the desk in front of him, his eyes half-lidded as he regarded Windu and the Jedi gathered behind him. A thin smile curled across his lips, equal parts amusement and venom.
His mind wandered with uncharacteristic abandon, the mask of the kind old politician replaced by the serpentine predator within.
'What a week this has been…' he mused.
The Republic, once so sure of its naval might and legions of clone soldiers, now reeled from the open hammer blows of the Imperium. Entire battlegroups shattered. Fortress worlds razed to blackened cinders in hours as the Imperium walked across planetside defenses like they were ants beneath iron boots.
In every theater, orbit, dirt, or void, the Astartes and their Legions war machines carved bloody swathes through Republic lines. Thousands dead? Try hundreds of thousands. Millions, by the time the reports reached his ears. Entire sectors lost.
And the people were terrified. Perfect. Fear was a tool, and he wielded it better than any living soul.
Palpatine let out a soft, mirthless chuckle as he watched the Grandmaster stand so stoically.
'So sure of yourself, Mace… So convinced that your blade, your will, your faith in the Force, can topple these supersoldiers of the False Emperor.'
The ship jolted as it touched down, internal systems humming louder for a heartbeat. Outside, metal landing ramps hissed open, steam venting out into the thick Yavin morning air.
Palpatine stepped forward to stand beside Windu, a figure of regal poise among the armor-clad clones and robed Jedi. He tilted his head slightly, eyes glittering with that viper's gleam as he regarded the scene beyond the dropship's ramp.
And what a scene it was.
A monstrous slab of ceramite-reinforced plasteel had been dropped into the clearing. A massive dueling ground, its edges engraved with the Imperial Aquila and the sigils of the Black Templars. Towering banners fluttered in the humid breeze, each bearing the grim livery of the Imperium: black, gold, and crimson.
A forest of Astartes stood in grim silence around its edge. Tens of superhuman giants clad in war-plate, each warrior an apex predator forged to kill the galaxy's horrors.
At the far end, like statues come to life, stood Maximus, who rested his massive Thunder hammer against the ground, his eyes fixed on the arena's center. Raxor stood beside him, his heavy bolter resting beside him.
And at the very heart of this monumental slab of metal and stone knelt Sebastian.
He looked like a penitent knight of old, his massive frame bowed low, one knee pressed to the cold metal, his right hand gripping the hilt of his blade. Its enormous tip sank inches deep into the adamantium beneath him.
Palpatine stepped down the ramp slowly. Jedi knights followed him, wary eyes flitting from the rows of watching Astartes to the kneeling champion.
Mace Windu paused at the foot of the ramp. He breathed deep, the Force rolling through him in calm waves that pressed back the fear and tension around him. He studied Sebastian, the mountain of scars, the iron-hard lines carved by centuries of fanatical crusade.
Windu glanced sideways at Palpatine. The Chancellor smiled, the corners of his lips thin and sharp. "A beautiful day for a duel, is it not, Master Windu?" he said, voice like oiled silk.
Windu did not answer him. His eyes locking back on Sebastian. The Grandmaster's hand twitched, subtly flexing around the hilt of his lightsaber.
The clone troopers and Jedi behind Windu could feel the tension he radiated. Some shifted nervously, the clinking of plastoid armor the only sound they dared make as their eyes darted between the towering giants encircling the massive metal arena. The Astartes did not move.
Palpatine stepped forward from the small knot of Jedi and guards. His gaze slid from the kneeling figure at the arena's center to the two giants standing at the far end.
Palpatine raised his chin, voice echoing unnaturally loud in the hush that had fallen over the assembled warriors. "Tell me, Maximus," he called. "Does this bloodletting truly serve your Emperor's peace? Put a stop to this madness!"
For a moment, it seemed the Ultramarine might answer. Maximus tilted his helm slightly, but no words came. Instead, Maximus simply turned his gaze toward the kneeling Black Templar at the center.
Sebastian slowly raised his head. The great slab of his storm shield lay embedded in the ground beside him, his power sword's tip still driven deep into the plasteel deck. His armor was a cathedral of scars, purity seals fluttering like prayer flags. He exhaled, steam rising from the vents of his helmet as he shifted to stand. The priests and serfs who had been attending him, murmuring litanies and sprinkling him with sanctified oils, stepped back, fear and reverence mingling in their eyes.
"Palpatine," Sebastian rasped, his voice filtered through the vox-grill but unmistakably raw. He lifted his blade free from the ground, the edge humming as if eager for blood. "You speak of peace as if you understand it. As if your honeyed tongue could mend what has already been broken." He slowly turned his helm toward the Republic delegation. Clone troopers stiffened under that pitiless, holy gaze; the Jedi felt the Force itself recoil around this black-armored warrior.
He flicked his sword to his side and gestured with one armored gauntlet. The priests and attendants obeyed without question, retreating past the outer ring of Astartes to the safety of their brothers. Only the distant rumble of engines and the crackle of burning incense remained.
Then Sebastian turned fully toward Palpatine and Windu. He reached down, and pulled the storm shield from the floor before it locked to his left arm like a fortress wall. "You will be allowed to speak to my brothers once the Emperor's will is done," Sebastian declared, voice rising with each word until it thundered across the arena. He angled his blade toward the Grandmaster, the point unwavering. "Until then, you will hold your forked tongue and your false words. This is a Death Match. The Emperor Himself will judge which side is worthy of survival."
Sebastian's voice dropped to a final, echoing vow. "I am His sword. I am His wrath. And this day, I shall honor my God through combat, and through my victory."
Windu finally stepped forward, the deep folds of his cloak whispering across the durasteel floor as he dropped them, and drew his lightsaber from his belt. The hilt was worn but immaculate, a thing of elegant design, its emitter flaring to life with a snap-hiss that echoed. The purple blade hummed hungrily in the heavy air, casting an eerie glow across the gleaming metal beneath their feet.
"So be it," Windu said, his voice level, yet carrying the cold finality of a judge's gavel. His eyes locked onto the towering knight before him.
The two warriors stood frozen in the hush that followed, the whole arena watching, clones holding their rifles in white-knuckled grips, Jedi standing in taut readiness, the ring of Astartes still as statues. Even the distant jungle seemed to still its breath.
Sebastian's helm shifted fractionally. He spoke no words, there was nothing left to say. He stepped forward, the weight of each armored footfall echoing like a war drum. No ceremonial salute. No grandiose proclamation. Just the silent promise of death. He began to move to his right, boots scraping over the scarred metal slab, his massive shield angled low, the power sword humming softly as he angled it toward his opponent.
Windu mirrored him, robes rustling as he began to circle the giant. They moved slowly at first, each predator measuring the other.
Mace could feel it already, the endless wellspring of hatred radiating from the Astartes like a furnace. He drew on it, the Vaapad form feeding on that darkness, channeling it through his own calm and letting it strengthen him, sharpen him. The Shatterpoints revealed themselves like glass fracturing under stress, tiny fault lines in Sebastian's armor. The main one was in his helmet, the left lens.
A bead of sweat rolled down Windu's temple. He could feel the Force swirling around him, an ocean of power pouring through his veins. It would be enough… it had to be enough.
And then it began.
Windu struck first, the Force bursting through his limbs like lightning. He lunged in a blur, purple blade slashing low for a weak point at Sebastian's hip joint. The Black Templar twisted impossibly fast for something so massive, pivoting on his armored heel as his storm shield slammed downward with a clang of ceramite and energy fields. Sparks exploded where lightsaber met adamantium, the violet blade skittering aside.
Sebastian's counter was immediate. He surged forward, his power sword swinging in a vicious arc meant to cleave Windu from shoulder to hip. Mace ducked under it, rolling across the deck. He came up inside the giant's reach, jabbing his saber forward with pinpoint precision at a seam in the chest plate. The tip sparked, skidding off thick plating but leaving a shallow scar as Sebastian twisted to his right.
The Black Templar backhanded with the shield as he came around, the slab of reinforced adamantium crashing into empty air as Windu flipped over him, landing behind him in a crouch. The Black Templar spun, sword hissing as it carved a wide, lethal arc, Windu's saber flashed up in a parry, violet and blue sparks scattering like a storm of fireflies as the smaller man was able to counter the giant's strength with the Force.
They separated for the briefest heartbeat, then collided again.
Adamantium and plasma shrieked as their blades met, Windu's saber a blazing comet against Sebastian's power sword, each impact sending tremors up Windu's arms despite the Force reinforcing his bones. He drove low, lightsaber stabbing at the knee joint, but Sebastian shifted his leg back with almost casual ease, then smashed his shield forward in a crushing bash. Windu leapt aside just in time, the impact sending shockwaves through the metal deck and leaving a crater where the shield struck.
The Black Templar pressed him relentlessly. He fought like a siege engine made flesh, each swing of his blade a blow meant to cleave through tanks, each shield bash a mobile fortress slamming forward. Windu danced around him in flowing arcs, Vaapad's fluid steps turning the Astartes' brute power against him where possible. He wove through the giant's guard like a serpent, purple blade flicking out to score shallow cuts across the greaves, the pauldron, the gap beneath the armpit, none deep enough to kill, but enough to test the giant's defenses.
Sebastian absorbed the strikes without slowing. With each exchange, he seemed to grow stronger, his movements accelerating as his faith and fury mounted. He turned aside another flurry of thrusts with his shield, then slammed his shoulder forward, catching Windu off balance. The impact sent the Jedi Grandmaster skidding across the arena floor, boots grinding sparks from the metal.
Mace rolled, springing up just in time to duck another crushing hammer blow of the sword. He thrust out a hand, unleashing a shockwave of telekinetic force that staggered Sebastian back a step, but only a step. The Astartes roared, his vox-grille crackling with a litany of praise to the Emperor as he pressed forward, blade singing with raw power.
Mace met it with all his might, actually stopping the blade in its tracks, though the force drove him to a knee.
Sparks rained across the deck as the clash echoed into the trees around the coliseum. Clone troopers leaned forward, eyes wide; the Jedi behind Windu felt the Force twist and shudder with each blow.
Windu's mind kicked into high gear as he saw the shatterpoints, the tiny gaps between shield and sword, the subtle shift of the giant's weight before each blow. But every time he exploited one, Sebastian adjusted, his transhuman reflexes closing the breach, his faith sealing the fracture with iron resolve.
Their blades locked, Windu's saber grinding against the crackling power sword's energy field. They stood inches apart, Windu's eyes boring into the burning lenses of the Black Templar's helm. He could feel the hatred radiating off the giant, but he fed on it, let it pour into Vaapad, into the crystal blade between them.
Sebastian's voice rumbled through his vox like thunder across a battlefield. "You cannot break me, Jedi."
Windu bared his teeth in a cold, tight smile. "I don't need to break you."
The words were a whisper of contempt, lost beneath the clash of power fields and plasma. The Shatterpoints flared in his vision like cracks in a pane of glass once more. All he had to do was strike the right one.
In a heartbeat, Windu turned the full depth of his focus on the towering storm shield braced against him. He felt the layers of ceramite and adamantium, the humming power field, the ancient craftsmanship. He felt where stress and impact had weakened it through the duel. He saw the tiny, hairline fractures running like veins across its reinforced core.
Their blades locked, sparks shrieking from the contact, then Windu twisted, batting Sebastian's sword wide. In the same breath, he thrust his left palm forward, fingers splayed.
A focused wave of telekinetic power exploded from his outstretched hand like a needlepoint. It struck Sebastian's shield with the force of an orbital barrage. There was a thunderclap crack, metal shrieking as the ancient relic buckled, then, with a final tortured screech, the entire slab of ceramite and adamantium shattered, shards and fragments spraying outward like shrapnel.
Sebastian roared as he was thrown backward by the force of the blast. His boots skidded across the metal deck before he crashed onto his back with a seismic clang that rattled the very slab they stood on.
Gasps erupted from the clone troopers and the gathered Jedi. Even the other Astartes behind the lines stiffened, eyes narrowing behind helmets of blue and green.
Windu wasted no breath. He was already moving, his muscles coiling like a panther's. He bent his knees, then surged skyward, propelled by the Force until he seemed to hang above the Black Templar like an avenging spirit. The violet blade of his lightsaber flared brighter than the sun, humming with lethal energy as he brought it arcing down, a blow meant to cleave through ceramite and bone alike.
But Sebastian was not broken.
With a bellow that rattled the souls of all who heard it, the Black Templar rolled onto one shoulder, his power sword sweeping up in a blazing arc of crackling energy. The two blades met with a titanic crash, the impact rippling out in a shockwave that dented the metal floor beneath them.
Sebastian forced himself to his knees, pushing upward with inhuman strength as their blades locked. Windu pressed down, every fiber of his being focused on driving the lightsaber through his foe's guard. Sparks and arcs of raw energy sprayed between them, washing their faces in searing light.
With a roar, Sebastian surged to his feet, lifting Windu off the floor before shoving him back. The Jedi flipped through the air, landing lightly, robes swirling around him. He hit the ground running, charging forward before the Astartes could reset.
Their blades crashed again. Now there was no cautious circling, no testing. They were two storms colliding in full fury. Windu ducked beneath a horizontal swing that would have taken his head clean off, spinning low, his saber jabbing out to strike at Sebastian's unshielded flank. The power armor deflected some of it, but not all. Sparks flew, a deep gash gouged into the ceramite breastplate, blackened cables and adamantium frame sparking inside.
Sebastian grunted, pain fueling the righteous inferno in his chest. He answered with a brutal headbutt, the iron helm cracking against Windu's brow like a battering ram. Blood spattered across Windu's cheek as he stumbled back, but he did not fall. He spun on his heel, ducked under the follow-up swing, then lashed out with a telekinetic blast to Sebastian's side. The Astartes staggered again, but his power sword carved the air in retaliation, forcing Windu to leap back, the blade passing close enough that it seared the edge of his robes.
Windu was a blur of motion, purple blade weaving a net of lethal arcs. Each strike sought out the gaps in the Astartes' armor: the vulnerable neck seals, the joint lines where massive plates met. Sparks and bits of ceramite rained onto the deck as the Jedi found his marks, shallow wounds, but they added up. Sebastian's armor began to look like a reliquary battered in endless wars.
But the Black Templar fought like a wrathful demi-god, faith blazing brighter than pain. He roared prayers to the Emperor with each swing, his power sword howling with destructive energy. He launched a punishing series of overhead blows, each impact shuddering through Windu's arms as he caught them on his saber, feet slipping back with the bone-rattling force. The deck beneath them cracked and cratered with each missed blow, molten edges smoking in the humid jungle air.
Windu dipped under another swing, his saber carving a shallow slice across Sebastian's exposed side. Before he could capitalize, Sebastian's armored gauntlet crashed into his ribs like a piledriver, sending the Jedi sprawling across the deck. Windu hit hard, coughing blood onto the scarred metal as he rolled back onto his feet.
Before he could gather himself, the Black Templar was on him, armored boots hammering the deck. The power sword came down like the wrath of an angry god, Windu threw himself to the side, the blade cleaving a deep trench in the arena floor. He spun, his lightsaber sweeping low to slice at the Astartes' leg. Sparks flew as it carved a gouge in the greave, but the ceramite held, reinforced plating sparing the giant from losing the limb.
Sebastian pivoted, armored knee smashing forward, Windu caught it with a hasty Force push, deflecting enough of the impact to flip away in time. He landed low, one hand braced on the metal, breath ragged but his eyes blazing.
They circled again, ragged breaths steaming in the jungle's damp heat. The arena around them was a ring of thunderstruck silence, clone troopers, Jedi, and Astartes, staring.
Mace Windu lowered himself into Vaapad's stance once more, lightsaber raised, the Force swirling like a hurricane around him.
Sebastian lifted his battered shield arm and shifted his grip on the power sword, blade burning bright as a star.
Sebastian's armor was scorched, rent in places where Windu's saber had found purchase, vents spewing smoke and ozone from ruptured cooling lines. Windu bled from half a dozen gashes, his tunic torn and scorched. His breaths came in ragged, steady hisses, the only sign that the strain of this battle pressed even him to the very edge.
Sebastian lunged and Windu pivoted around the crushing blow that followed, his saber a blur of violet light. He saw the Shatterpoints blooming in his mind's eye, the subtle flaws in Sebastian's battered grip. He had been waiting for this moment, all his rage, all his darkness, all the churning fury Vaapad demanded.
Sebastian swung wide, an overhead arc meant to end this once and for all. But Windu stepped inside the reach of the massive blade, his free hand slamming into the pommel.
A titanic wave of the Force rippled out from him like an explosion. It crashed through Sebastian's arm, tearing the power sword from his grasp. The blade skittered across the arena floor, sparking as it went, before clattering to a stop far from its master.
A gasp rippled through the crowd, even the other Astartes leaned forward, eyes narrowing behind impassive helms.
But Windu had no time to savor the advantage. He struck forward, saber angled to carve up through the Black Templar's breastplate, but Sebastian lunged into him like a bull.
Then the Jedi felt himself lifted, an armored gauntlet clamped around his throat like a vice of living iron. His lightsaber tumbled from his hand, rolling away across the metal deck. The world tilted crazily as Sebastian forced him backward, boots scraping for purchase. The Black Templar's helm loomed inches from his face, one red eye-lens cracked and flickering.
"Your tricks end here, Witch!" Sebastian's vox-grille rumbled, leaking static like a dying beast. "I will snap your heretic neck and break your corpse at the feet of the Emperor!"
Windu's vision darkened as the giant's fingers squeezed. He could feel the cords of his neck straining, the bones creaking under the impossible force as he reinforced himself with the Force.
His free hand twitched, and the hilt of his fallen saber trembled. It leapt from the deck, spiraled through the air, and smacked into his palm like an iron thunderbolt.
Sebastian felt the shift, but too late.
SNAP-HISS!
The violet blade ignited in an instant. Windu snarled, eyes blazing with savage triumph as he drove the searing plasma through Sebastian's left eye-lens. There was a hideous hiss of vaporized ceramite, then the sound of liquefied machinery and flesh. The Black Templar's vox-grille roared with a bellow that echoed across the arena like the cry of a wounded god.
But Sebastian did not fall.
The massive fingers still clamped Windu's throat like iron bands. The Black Templar slammed him down onto the deck plating once, twice, the impact enough to crater the reinforced metal. Windu's vision blurred, darkness creeping at the edges. But he kept the saber steady, forcing it deeper, deeper, the smell of scorched metal and boiling cerebral fluid filling the air.
At last, Sebastian staggered backward, the massive gauntlet finally slipping from Windu's throat as the purple blade left his eye socket. Windu dropped to one knee, gasping, but he never looked away. The Black Templar swayed. Sparks sprayed from the ruined eye-lens. A low, animalistic growl rattled in his chest, then the giant crashed to his knees with a sound like an ancient bell tolling doom.
The entire arena went dead silent.
Windu dragged himself upright, panting, eyes wide as he took in the sight: the fallen Astartes, head bowed, one armored gauntlet scraping at the deck as if to keep himself from collapsing entirely.
Then, with slow, heavy finality, Sebastian slumped sideways, the impact rattling the metal slab they stood upon. His fingers twitched once. Twice. Then fell still as if he were dead.
A tremor of disbelief rippled through the Jedi lines. Some clone troopers gasped audibly. Palpatine, standing at the edge of the arena, narrowed his eyes with a flicker of dark amusement.
Windu straightened, his breathing slowing. He reached up and thumbed off his lightsaber. His eyes, burning with the power of the Force still coiled around him, swept across the Astartes ranks, from Maximus, impassive as a statue with his thunderhammer resting on the ground, to Raxor, his heavy bolter humming like a slumbering dragon.
"I've won!" Windu shouted, voice amplified by the Force so all could hear. "I have shown the galaxy that even these so-called demi-gods can bleed, and they can die!"
He let the silence stretch out, reveling in the disbelieving glares of the serfs, the priests, the mighty Astartes who dared not intervene. He clipped his saber back to his belt, turned on his heel, and began to walk toward the waiting Jedi delegation.
Step by step, he drew closer to the Republic delegation, until the world was split by a voice like the roar of an ancient lion.
"GET BACK HERE!"
Sebastian's armored gauntlet slammed down on the deck plating.
The Black Templar pushed one knee beneath him, blood and machine oil leaking from the molten ruin where his eye-lens had once glowed.
A chorus of horrified gasps rang out from the Jedi and clones alike as they turned to see the impossible, the fallen knight rising once more.
Sebastian's vox-grille flickered, static pouring through the broken speakers, then his voice erupted, ragged but thunderous.
"WHERE… IN THE EMPEROR'S NAME… DO YOU THINK YOU ARE GOING?"
Windu turned, eyes wide with disbelief, just as the towering silhouette straightened fully. Sebastian's head was canted slightly, the ruin of his helm sparking and steaming, but the red eye on the other side blazed with unyielding hatred.
The Black Templar lifted one finger, pointing at the Jedi Grandmaster.
"I DID NOT SAY WE WERE DONE!"
===
Got you😂
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