84: Path of Ruin [Star Wars SI] by Rictus

Fic type:oc/si

Reccomended by AsuraMonarch. Just reading the prologue hooked me up. The Mc starts of as a slave and trains to become a Sith. A good Star wars fic that doesn't require a lot of knowledge about the lore.

I have posted two chapters.

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Path of Ruin [Star Wars SI]

Link:https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/path-of-ruin-star-wars-si.541256/reader/

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Prologue

You would become Sith, or die trying. That's what Overseer Iren said when we landed on Korriban.

Guess I should rewind a bit and explain how I got here.

To make a long story short, I don't know how I came to be in Star Wars. I just woke up one day with a shock collar slapped to my neck on some hellish dust ball. Turned out, it was a cortosis mining camp on a Sith-controlled world and I was a slave.

I didn't get any flashes of memory from another life or anything, so I had to ask around carefully about who I was after I regained control of myself. I got some strange looks, but they told me. Turned out I had a different name and homeworld, yet my body was still physically the same. Minus the brand on my face. I had just arrived, burns still fresh.

Aldrex Zare, former citizen of Brentaal IV. It took a while for me to get used to responding to that name. Well, on the rare occasions when it got used. Most times I was just referred to as "slave" or "hey you."

It didn't take long to figure out when in the timeline I was after a Harrower-class dreadnought stopped by for refueling on its way to somewhere else.

Of course, I was terrified out of my mind. I'd jump at shadows or flinch and cower every time someone approached. I didn't sleep for days at a time. Barely nibbled at food.

One of the other slaves, an older Zabrak, tried to reach out to me. But I ran and hid from him. From all of them. This irrational terror (and that's exactly how I see it now) continued for weeks. I dropped weight like it was made of concrete and freaked out at the slightest touch.

By the end of the first month, I was little more than trembling skin, bone, and poorly-developed muscle barely able to do the work I was assigned.

I think the guards were amused, but their supervisor had them force-feed me to keep me alive. A half-dead slave couldn't work, especially a heavy labor slave. I would appreciate his pragmatism months later.

As Yoda once said, fear led to anger. After I regained proper cognizance, I was angry. Angry at my enslavement. Angry at being afraid. Angry at anything and everything. My temper was on a hair-trigger. I wasn't stupid though, so I didn't try to take out said anger on anyone else. I had no desire to feel what it was like to get an electrical shock directly to my spinal cord. Still, the other slaves apparently sensed it and kept away.

I recovered from my terror-induced stupidity and actually took care of myself, exercised when I could. I was never a large man as I stood a few inches shy of six feet tall, but I was stocky. Heavy labor just made me fill out.

Rage fueled me for a while, but I needed to blow off steam before I did something stupid. Directionless anger didn't help me, so I vented on the poor unsuspecting rocks. It worked for a while, until something happened.

I don't remember what it was that set me off that day, but my anger spiked as I was hammering away. Before my eyes, my jackhammer let out a squeal as giant invisible fingers crushed it into scrap.

I was so surprised that I didn't try to resist when the guards found and beat me later for "damaging equipment." To untrained eyes, it looked like I just went at it with a rock. Luckily, none of the camp's personnel were Sith, so they couldn't tell the difference.

I also didn't mind that I wasn't trusted with power tools after that. I was given a pick-ax and told to get back to work.

My accidental use of the Force snapped me out of my months-long rage. I needed to figure out how I did that. I wanted to learn how to use the Force just for the sake of it. It was something to break the monotony.

So I practiced while mining away from the others, using the Force to crush rocks and pick out the bits of cortosis. I got good at it, too. The guards' expressions of confusion when I brought in the largest haul fueled pleasant dreams for days.

I learned quickly, despite my fumbling. Just getting angry wasn't effective. Anger could be used to give me sudden spikes of power, but it gave me tunnel vision. I had more consistent results when I willed something to happen. Effectively, I metaphysically demanded something. And reality eventually complied.

Telekinesis was easy to learn once I figured out the trick. It was moving progressively heavier things that took effort. I thought about trying to practice other abilities, but I didn't think I could do so safely. What if I tried to read someone's thoughts, overpower it, and accidentally cause a brain hemorrhage? I didn't want to take the risk and expose myself yet.

I acknowledged that it would be inevitable that I'd be found out. I might as well have a really good trick by the time it happens.

I thought about using my newfound powers to help a slave revolt. But when I started seriously considering it, I couldn't bring myself to care. I wasn't attached to any of the slaves. I didn't really hate the guards that much. But above all, it wasn't pragmatic. Even if it was successful, there were no hyperspace capable vessels on planet. Those came to us. The Sith would simply bombard us from orbit and restart the operation.

The odd thing was that I wasn't angry anymore. I could still get angry, but it wasn't a constant state. If I had to describe my mindset in a word, it would be "detached." I wasn't apathetic, at least towards my own well-being.

So a few more months passed. Then the Sith governor paid his annual visit.

I made up my mind quickly. I gave in to the inevitability and let myself be found. When he and his entourage confronted me, the pride and bluster gave way to surprise as he came upon me meditating while lifting four of my fellow slaves. I set them down and presented my hands for the cuffs.

Then, I was out among the stars for the first time in my life.

But if I am to be Sith, it will be defined by a code of my own choosing.

"There is no passion. There is solely obsession.

There is no knowledge. There is solely conviction.

There is no purpose. There is solely will.

There is nothing. Only me."​

Around fifteen hundred years from now, Darth Ruin will base his resurgent Sith Order upon those words. To him, they represented his views of moral nihilism and solipsism, a madness derived from his narcissism. To me, it is a guideline towards endurance.

A Sith requires an obsession to remain focused. Darth Vader, after losing everything, retained his sanity by obsessing over enforcing order upon a chaotic galaxy when blind rage failed him.

A Sith requires conviction to push forward. Darth Bane toppled the Brotherhood of Darkness single-handed by forging his own path against all odds and sense.

A Sith requires willpower to survive. Darth Sion arose from the dead again and again by simply refusing to die, with little more than bloody-minded determination fueling him.

In the end, my path…Others may guide it, but I alone choose where to walk.

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A/N: I have no idea what prompted me to start this story.

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Chapter 1

Overseer Iren

I couldn't help but sneer as the hopefuls stepped off the shuttle, my facial tendrils twitching slightly at the motion. This was the future of the Sith, apparently. An Empire built on the backs of slaves, and now we attempt to raise them up to be Masters.

They were a motley bunch, to be sure. Only two of the eight were human. None were Imperial.

I let them stand at attention in silence as I reviewed what had been reported about each.

The first was a massive Wookiee brute by the name of Gaarurra. He had been fighting in the gladiator pits of Geonosis for nearly three years before he was noticed by a Sith Lord. Deals had been made and credits exchanged hands to send the beast here. Normally, it would not have even been considered, but we needed to bolster our ranks no matter the source.

I only needed to glance at his two and a half meter height to know that he'd be well-suited for Juggernaut training. Well, if he survived. Of course, he would never rise to prominence even if he did. No Sith would promote him as it would effectively be political suicide. Regardless, I suspect the others will gang up to kill him first.

Next was the Twi'Lek, Kalista. Formerly the pleasure slave of a Republic-aligned crime lord on Tatooine, she "freed" herself by killing him, only to be captured again when Imperial forces raided his hideaway. Her Force Sensitivity was noticed quickly.

The sheer rage in her was simply delightful. Whether she could learn to harness it or not would determine if she survived. If she did, she might make a nice fit as an assassin. Or a bedwarmer. Either one would serve the Empire's needs.

Third was, I believe, the weakest link. A Quarren named Garsh. He had only been on planet for five minutes and he was already starting to look dehydrated. Once I'd seen what species he was, I didn't even bother reading the rest of his file. Korriban was going to kill him before the first task did.

I hope it does. It would save me the trouble.

Fourth and fifth were a pair of Zabrak twins. The male was Terrak and the female Ianna. Born to a household slave on Dromund Kaas, they came into the world with a symbiotic bond with each other. Compared to the others, they were pampered and weak, too reliant on each other. I was not too impressed with them.

Still, Zabrak are renowned for their high pain tolerance, so that may compensate somewhat for their weakness in the Force.

The sixth was a Nautolaun, Qiv Brellen. Like Garsh, he was from an aquatic species, but it seemed that he was tolerating the local climate better. He had been found serving the Hutts on Nal Hutta as a mechanic. His technical skills were of less interest than his strength in the Force, but it was a good indicator of his intelligence.

However, he is too cowardly to be a proper Sith. But fear can turn to desperation. And desperation perpetrates interesting results.

Now, my potential "problem children." Fittingly, they are the only humans of the group.

The first is Olia Fen. A fallen Jedi. Or rather a fallen Jedi Padawan. Her kind are always…troublesome, as they tend to delve too deeply into the Dark Side, too quickly. She is brash, but powerful and skilled. She claims the Jedi held her back from her true potential. An opinion I can agree with. Due to her origins, she will require less practical training and more philosophy. As it stands, she could likely wipe the floor with the rest of them.

I smothered a smile as I notice that her now-yellow eyes keep darting to my belt, where her lightsaber hangs. I would make this a fair competition, though only in that all the acolytes would have the same resources to work with.

As for the other…

I reached up and massaged one of the tendrils on my chin as I circled the group.

If I had not read the report from Lord Durus, I likely would have dismissed him as nothing but a brute. For a mere cortosis miner, Aldrex Zare has proven himself to be interesting, at the very least. While still a lesser being, I do admit that he has shown the greatest Force potential of the group, demonstrating a high level of skill with telekinesis. The reports indicated that he has had no formal training, so the fact that he was capable of teaching himself to this level was astounding.

Still, I have seen greater students fail.

As the silence drags on, I continued watching them. Both to unnerve them and to gauge their reactions to each other.

Garsh seemed to suffocate in the heat, paying little mind to the others. It seems he may die sooner than I thought. Qiv appeared to want to help in some way, but dared not move. That empathy will have to be driven out of him.

Kalista was regarding everyone with a heated glare, while the twins kept their eyes to the floor. Spineless cowards.

Gaarurra simply stared at me, though I could feel his rage simmering beneath the surface.

Olia seemed to have homed in on the fact that Aldrex would be her greatest competition, though the latter seems to be oblivious to her stare.

Understandably, he instead shot the occasionally glance at the Wookiee. Focusing on the physically largest threat in the room. Smart, but perhaps not wise. Power comes from more than just muscle.

Oddly, I am not sensing much from him other than mild curiosity, which makes me wonder what is going through his head.

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Aldrex

Holy fuck he's huge.

I mean I knew Wookiees were big, but holy shit! The giant furball's about two and a half feet taller than me and probably outweighs me by a factor of two. I come up to his elbow!

He, or I think it's a he, was a remarkably good distraction from both the Overseer and the woman that keeps glaring at me.

Speaking of the Overseer, he's not one I recognize from SWTOR. He's a Sith Pureblood, and the only ones I know of are human. He doesn't have any hair, but his facial tendrils kind of look like a mustache and goatee. He's also got that uniform that all Overseers apparently wear, plus two lightsabers on his belt.

He hadn't spoken yet, just walked around us. Staring.

Finally, he spoke.

"Welcome to Korriban, acolytes," He greeted in a surprisingly pleasant tone. I was half-expecting to get sneered at, "I am Overseer Iren. You have been brought here for one purpose: To become Sith, or die trying. It is my duty to make sure at least one of you survives to fulfill that purpose."

The Sith gestured, "Follow me."

It wasn't much of a walk, just to the first room off the landing pad. In there was a single table with eight short swords on it. I don't mean vibroblades. Sword swords. No electronic parts. There were also eight bags next to each.

"You will be facing a series of trials over the next several years as you train. This can include delving into the tombs, searching for some trinket or sculpture, or it could be something more scholarly, such as translating an ancient text," Iren's yellow eyes panned over each of us, "They can be extremely dangerous. More often than not, an acolyte perishes in pursuit of one of these trials. I do not expect more than one of you to survive to graduate."

He pointed a hand at the table, "For now, these are the only pieces of equipment you will have access to for your first task. Take one of each now."

There was a moment's hesitation as we looked at each other, waiting to see who would move first. Turned out, it was the Wookiee, as he just walked up and grabbed one. I quickly followed suit and examined my weapon.

Not being an expert, I was satisfied that there were no cracks in the blade.

Once everyone had gotten their weapons, the Sith continued, "Each of you will now be assigned a different task, which you are expected to complete before setting foot in the academy itself. You have been given three days worth of food and water. It is a two day walk to the academy. I suggest you do not tarry long."

"Now for your assignments. You may leave after you have been briefed," He turned to the Wookiee and I, sneering at the former, "Beast. Zare. Both of you will be venturing into the tomb of Ajunta Pall, though you will have separate tasks."

"A squad of soldiers was assigned to clear out an infestation of k'lor'slugs in the east wing. They have not been heard from in several days and the pests remain. Taking care of that will be your task, beast," The Wookiee's lip curled at the continued insults. Overseer Iren ignored him and looked to me, "As for you, there have been reports of looters in the west wing. Your assignment is to remove them and collect any artifacts that they may have recovered. You are dismissed."

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Chapter 2

"So…what's your name?" I asked as soon as the Wookiee and I were out of earshot of Iren.

The titan next to me said nothing, but turned a curious eye towards me.

"I'd rather not just call you "Wookiee" or "Hey you," I shrugged. I wasn't even going to mention the word beast, since that seemed to piss it off, "I'm Aldrex."

What do I know of Wookiees? Very strong, very tough. Force Sensitive Wookiees are extremely rare and the ones that do exist tend to be on the "holy shit" side of the scale of power. But they are also usually honorable to a fault, even the crazy ones like Hanharr. Once their loyalty is earned, it's damn near ironclad and they will go beyond reason to keep to it.

I want it on my side.

As the furball opened its mouth to reply, I raised a hand to interrupt, "I don't know the language of the people of the trees."

The Wookiee's eyebrows shot up at my use of the literal meaning of the name of its species. Suddenly a bit more animated, it crouched down and used a finger to draw in the sand, spelling out "Gaarurra" in Basic.

"Nod once for male, twice for female. I reckon it's difficult to tell for non-Wookiees unless they know what to look for," I replied. Gaarurra nodded once.

The fact that Gaarurra wasn't fitted with a vox box means that the academy didn't see the expense worth it…or it was an act intended to isolate him. Most apprentices wouldn't bother trying to establish communication, as all they would see was another, albeit very powerful, rival. Why bother talking to someone you were just going to end up murdering?

I would like to think I'm not nearly so short-sighted.

In this period, Wookiees were rarely seen off of Kashyyyk, though they were a known quantity and almost always as slaves. As a result, knowledge of their language would not have been widespread. Who knows how long Garurra went without talking to anyone because no one would make the effort.

I cast an eye back to the landing pad, watching the other acolytes exit and head to their tasks. The yellow-eyed human noticed and sneered at me. I gestured for Gaarurra to keep walking.

"I have a proposal," I started quietly, trying to make sure my voice doesn't carry. I grimaced as I shade my eyes. Damn desert sun, "Simply put, we work together on our tasks."

The Wookiee plodded along in silence, though I could tell he was listening.

"Our skills complement each other. You seem more comfortable with that sword in your hand, indicating that you've had martial training. Meanwhile, I'd be lucky not to slice off a foot," I continued. I've only been here a few minutes, but I think I completely understand Anakin's hatred of sand, "On the other hand, I don't think you've had much chance to use your Force abilities, while I've been experimenting with mine for the past year."

Of course, I lied on the first part. I have had training, but with my hands and a quarterstaff rather than a sword. I could easily pummel someone into unconsciousness with my fists. Just not a Wookiee or a k'lor'slug.

But there was no need to tell Gaarurra that.

"Iren is probably expecting us to kill each other to thin out the herd, so to speak. We work together, we keep something stupid from killing either of us. In that case, he'll just kill the weakest one of the remaining acolytes and we get to live just that much longer," I finished.

Gaarurra looked me in the eye for a long moment before letting out a soft woof.

I interpreted that to mean he agreed. +50 Pragmatic

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The landing pad was constructed at one end of the Valley of the Dark Lords, with the towering citadel that was the academy visible in the distance. On a side note, it's a lot bigger than any game has indicated. There aren't just four big tombs here. No, there are hundreds, maybe thousands of structures, stretching for miles.

With the directions provided by Iren, our trek took about five hours. Or at least it felt like it. Hard to tell time when you don't have a clock. In that time, the skin on my face, arms, and chest were already starting to form blisters. The rags I had been provided with as a slave did little to protect against the sun beating down on me.

Only consolation I have is that Korriban's heat is a dry heat, so I'm not sweating much because it evaporates as soon as it leaves my pores rather than soak my clothing. I hate feeling sweaty.

I don't know how Gaarurra felt because we haven't stopped walking long enough to have a "conversation." I can't imagine that all that hair is comfortable in the heat. Though I do recall that Kashyyyk has swamps, so he might be used to muggy hot climates and find this pleasant. Still, I don't know where he was before Korriban, but I'm not bringing it up in case it was something unpleasant.

Ajunta Pal's tomb was less of an actual mausoleum and more of a crumbing fortress, which actually fits how his ghost described how he died. The tomb didn't look like it was originally built as such, but renovated after his death. It was the only structure built in the center of the Valley, with the rest of the tombs built into the walls. It overshadowed the rest with its immense size. Even the tomb of Marka Ragnos, whose massive statue could be seen even from here.

This was a monument to the First. And no Sith Lord after him dared presume themselves greater by building their tombs upon his domain.

Considering how long he stuck around as a violent ghost, it may very well have been a reasonable precaution.

Thankfully, Revan took care of that issue centuries ago, so the only dangers should be of the mundane variety.

I sighed in relief as we passed into the shadow of the ziggurat, the burning sun finally off my skin. Before venturing inside, we stopped for what felt like the fiftieth water break. Out of six canteens of water, I'd gone through one and a quarter to get here. Iren said the trip to the Academy was two days on foot from the Valley of the Dark Lords, and it took most of an afternoon to get here. Unless I binged on water, I should have enough to get there, but just barely.

Walking into the yawning darkness, my nose scrunched up as a coppery smell mixed with dust hit me. Garurra growled something from behind me.

My eyes adjusted to the gloom as we moved further in. We weren't given any lights to use as we move in, so we'll have to find something.

As we walk, I brushed my fingers around the edges of a scorch mark on the wall. An examination of the rest of the corridor showed more such marks, along with claw marks gouged out of the stone.

"Looks like this is where the fighting started," I remarked, "No bodies though."

Gaarurra huffed his agreement. I think. It might have been something else.

Not much else to do except go deeper, Gaarurra in front. Luckily, someone had dropped glowrods as they had moved in, likely the soldiers.

Each of us picked one up before moving on. The signs of battle only grew worse the further we went. The Imperial squad had started taking losses. Half of an Imperial helmet here. An armored hand there. A lot of blood all over the place. But not enough pieces to make a whole person.

K'lor'slugs likely ate them in the past few days. Snap gulp.

As we crossed through a bigger chamber, something with a lot of teeth screeched and lunged towards my head before finding itself pancaked against a wall with enough force to crater the stone beneath it. Ichor splattered everywhere as the sack of flesh exploded. I lifted my glowrod over it to get a better look.

Oh yeah. That used to be a k'lor'slug. Hatchling by the look of it. As its remains slowly slid off the wall, something clattered to the ground.

Picking it up, I found myself with a single gray metal vambrace. Little beastie must have eaten a soldier's arm.

It was covered in bite marks and stripped of paint by stomach acid, but it was solid and still had straps. After wiping off the goo and dumping a quarter of one of my canteens on it to wash the stomach acid off, I strapped it to my left wrist. At least I had something to put between my face and k'lor'slug teeth for the next time.

Gaarurra and I listened for a moment to make sure we weren't about to be swarmed. When we didn't hear anything, we continued, but not before the Wookiee gave my find a glance and a nod of approval.

At the end of the next chamber, we came upon a grisly sight. I bit back the bile trying to come up my throat.

Nailed to the wall was a male human body at about Gaarurra's chest height, naked as the day he was born. Six metal spikes had been driven through each of his hands and up his arms, keeping him suspended. From the knees down, his legs were simply gone and looked like they had been gnawed off. Blood pooled under him from his collective wounds. The least gruesome thing done to the man was shaving his head and cutting up his face.

I quickly realized a horrifying fact as soon as the light from our glowrods shined on him.

He was still alive.

He groaned as his eyes cracked open and his cracked lips parted, "Come to torment me more, you cretins?" He squinted as he focused on me in the dim light, "Wait, no…an acolyte? Thank the stars…"

"Gaarurra, get ready to hold him up," I stated, "I'll try to get him detached. Don't pull on him until I tell you. We need to keep the wounds plugged or he'll just bleed out faster."

The Wookiee hesitantly nodded his assent and placed a hand under each of the man's armpits.

Closing my eyes, I reached out with the Force, grasping the end of each spike. Rather than trying to pull them out, I concentrated on crushing the tips of each so that we could simply pull him away from the wall without causing more harm. The screech of metal being compressed echoed throughout the room.

I hoped that didn't carry too far.

One by one I worked until all twelve were crushed. I nodded to Gaarurra, "Alright, pull him away, then set him down."

I used the Force to hold the spikes in the man's wounds as my companion pulled him gently away from the wall. It wasn't perfect and the sharp metal wriggled a bit, eliciting a groan of pain from him. But we managed it.

I took off my tattered shirt to use as a mat before Gaarurra laid him gently on the ground, trying not to aggravate his injuries. Closer inspection of the man's stumps showed that they had been cauterized, but only around where the artery would be. He must've had some field treatment before he was strung up.

"Can you hear me?" I asked him quietly.

"Yes, my lord," He replied, keeping his voice just as low. He tried to salute, but I stopped him, "Sergeant…Sergeant Cormun, Fifth Infantry platoon Korriban regiment. I'd say "at your service," but I don't think I'll be much help in my current state."

I tore off strips from the parts of the shirt that he wasn't sitting on and some from my pants legs to try and make some makeshift bandages. Didn't need him dying before he can give us the whole story.

"You're part of the squad we were supposed to find," I commented.

Technically a lie. Iren sent Gaarurra to kill the k'lor'slugs. But technically, finding out what happened to the squad could be considered a secondary objective.

"So they did notice," Cormun chuckled, though his eyes were starting to droop. I'm not a medic, but I think he's stable, so he likely just tired now. He probably didn't get a chance to sleep for the past few days, "I'm guessing you're here to finish what we started since we didn't report in," At my nod, he continued, "We couldn't eradicate the slugs conventionally, they bred too fast, growing to fighting size inside of an hour. So we targeted the egg chambers, planted bombs. Didn't have time to set up a remote detonator."

"Did you managed to set it off?" I pressed. I'm not feeling like charging into a k'lor'slug nest. Sure it looked easy in SWTOR, but there are probably a LOT of k'lor'slugs in there.

The soldier slowly shook his head, "We were split. Most of us were firing at the queen to keep her distracted, the rest kept the k'lor'slugs off the demolitionist. But we were flanked."

"By what?" I wanted to ask about the "queen," but I figured that would be something I should already know about. I'm going to assume BIG FUCKING K'LOR'SLUG considering that it took most of the squad just to keep it "distracted."

"Blasted tomb robbers. They snuck in behind us and killed our bomb tech before he could set the timer. I took a bolt in the back. My armor absorbed the hit, but one of those monsters got my…" He gulped and tried not to look down," …got my legs."

"Thank you, Sergeant. Go ahead and rest. We'll see about getting you out of here," I promised. He's a tough sunnovabitch to have survived this long in this condition. It'd be a shame to just leave him. Slap a new pair of legs on him, and he'll be ready to go kick ass. +50 Pragmatic

With a relieved sigh, he did just that. I waited until his breathing evened out to talk, "Well, seems like we should go after the looters first. Don't want a repeat of what happened to the soldiers."

Apparently, I've been making a good impression on Gaarurra since he didn't seem to challenge it.

I glance at the two exits from the chamber. If I didn't get turned around, left is west, "Alright, I'll scout ahead. Could you stay here and make sure a k'lor'slug doesn't eat him?"

Gaarurra woofed in agreement. I think I'm getting the hang of this now.

I fiddled with the settings on the glowrod to dim the lighting before moving deeper into the tomb.