Power of Beskar

The phantom descended, landing with a jarring thump in the village square, kicking up dust and scattering a flock of birds that had been perched on a nearby tree. The air remained thick with an oppressive silence as Krayt and Ryla stepped out, their figures casting long, ominous shadows across the cobblestone path.

Zer'Vel, his back to them, shifted his grip on the Sith warrior, tightening the pressure around his throat. A strangled gasp escaped the victim's lips before he went limp, his lifeless eyes staring vacantly at the heavens. The bounty hunter turned, his helmet glinting in the sunlight. His eyes, visible only as two orbs behind the visor, met Krayt's with a cold, calculating gaze.

"Well, well," Zer'Vel boomed, his voice amplified by his helmet. "Looks like someone's come to play."

"We've come to end your little game," Krayt growled, igniting his double-bladed lightsaber, the crimson blades humming with malevolent energy.

Ryla, her heart pounding in her chest, reached for the lightsaber of the fallen Sith warrior, her fingers brushing against the cold metal. She ignited it, the red blade a beacon of defiance against the oppressive darkness. The raw, unbridled anger that had been simmering inside her for years, fueled by her past as a slave on Ryloth, erupted through her, giving her a surge of primal power.

"It's too late for that," Zer'Vel sneered, his voice laced with a dark amusement. "I already won."

He lunged forward, his beskar armor deflecting the blades of Krayt and Ryla with ease. The impact of his strikes sent both Sith reeling, sending waves of pain coursing through their bodies. Krayt felt a surge of fury, his mind filled with images of stolen Sith relics, the Jedi smirking with their newfound power. He let out a guttural scream, his anger a tangible force, and launched himself at Zer'Vel.

Zer'Vel caught Krayt's attack, his hand a vice around the Sith warrior's throat. He lifted him off the ground, his strength almost supernatural.

"I've killed hundreds of your kind," Zer'Vel hissed, his voice cold and menacing. "You're nothing to me."

He tightened his grip, cutting off Krayt's air supply. The young Sith Lord fought against him, but Zer'Vel's grip was like iron. He felt his lungs burning, his vision blurring. He could see Ryla, who had regained her footing, trying to break through Zer'Vel's defenses with her lightsaber, but the Mandalorian's armor was too strong.

Krayt's mind raced. He was going to die, choked to death by a bounty hunter, an indignity too profound to bear. He had to do something, anything. He poured all his remaining energy into the Force, channeling his fury, his desperation, his pure, unadulterated rage.

The air around him crackled with energy. He felt a sudden surge of power, a wave of Force energy that swept through him, momentarily overcoming the pressure on his throat. Zer'Vel stumbled, surprised by the sudden shift in power.

Krayt, his eyes burning brighter than ever, ripped free from Zer'Vel's grasp. He landed heavily, but he was alive. He sprang to his feet, his body buzzing with the energy of the Force.

His lightsaber buzzed, whirring with a renewed intensity as he launched himself at the bounty hunter. He pushed his body to its limits, his anger fueling his movements. He sliced through the air, his blades a blur of red amidst the sunlight.

Zer'Vel, caught off guard, struggled to deflect the onslaught. Krayt's attack was relentless, fueled by a raw fury unlike anything he had ever experienced. He landed a blow, slicing through the bounty hunter's arm, sending a spray of blood and metal spraying into the air. Zer'Vel roared in pain, his grip on Ryla's neck loosening.

Ryla, seizing her opportunity, unleashed a blast of energy from her gauntlet, striking Zer'Vel in the back, effectively paralyzing him. She scrambled back to her feet, her eyes wide with adrenaline.

Krayt, his anger reaching its peak, pressed his attack. He moved with an almost inhuman speed, his blades dancing in a deadly ballet. He ripped through Zer'Vel's armor, tearing it from his chest, exposing the fabric beneath. He thrust his lightsaber into the bounty hunter's heart, the blade sinking deep into his flesh.

Zer'Vel let out a guttural roar, his eyes filled with a mixture of rage and disbelief. He slumped to the ground, his legs severed at the knee by Krayt's earlier strike. His body twitched, his eyes burning with fading defiance, before going still.

Krayt stood over the fallen bounty hunter, his breathing ragged, his body trembling with the aftermath of the battle. He felt a surge of satisfaction, tinged with a cold emptiness. He had won, but there was no joy in victory. He had just become a monster, a reflection of the brutality he had fought against. He looked at Ryla, her eyes filled with a strange mixture of awe and fear.

"Ryla," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "Are you alright?"

Ryla nodded, her hand still trembling as she deactivated her gauntlet. "I think so," she said, her voice a mere whisper. "We… we did it."

The silence that descended upon them was heavy, filled with the weight of what they had just done. For a moment, they stood there, two young souls drenched in the blood of a fallen enemy, wondering where they would go from , a planet known for its vibrant cities and lush landscapes, had become a battlefield, its peace shattered by the clash of lightsabers. The echoes of the fight faded, leaving behind a scene of devastation and silence. Darth Krayt, the young Sith apprentice, stood tall amidst the wreckage, his double-bladed lightsaber humming softly in his hand. His crimson eyes scanned the scene, his gaze settling on the fallen figure of Zer'Vel, the Mandalorian.

Zer'Vel, his blue and gold armor dented and his face obscured by the visor of his helmet, lay sprawled on the ground, his life force ebbing away. He had been a formidable opponent, but Krayt, fueled by his passionate desire to prove himself and a potent yearning for something more, had managed to overcome Zer'Vel's prowess.

Ryla stood beside Krayt, her eyes wide with excitement. Her slender frame was a stark contrast to the Sith Lord's imposing figure. She spun the lightsaber she had taken from one of the fallen sith warriors, a sleek black weapon with a silver hilt.

'Never thought I'd be handling a lightsaber, let alone one from a Sith,' Ryla said, her voice a mix of awe and amusement. She had never wielded a lightsaber, but the weapon felt strangely familiar in her hands. Her fingers danced around the hilt, feeling its power thrum through her.

Krayt, ever the pragmatist, pointed to the belt of a fallen Sith warrior. 'You'll need a way to carry that, Ryla. Better than letting it dangle about,' he advised. Ryla, ever quick, unbuckled the belt of a dead sith warrior's armor and fastened it around her lithe waist, securing the lightsaber to it.

'I've never met a Sith who was so...enthusiastic about battling,well I've never really met any Sith at all' Ryla said, a sly smile playing on her lips. 'I'd say this victory is as much about your desire for a challenge as it is about your skill.'

Krayt grunted, a blush coloring his pale skin. 'Desire...? Maybe...but I am no stranger to combat. Besides, I promised you a path to power, didn't I? You'll learn from me,' he said, his voice hardening slightly.

Ryla, her eyes sparkling with mischief, replied, 'I wouldn't mind learning something about the Force...'

Krayt's gaze softened, and a hint of a smile touched his lips. He saw in Ryla a reflection of his own ambition, a hunger for power. He knew he could teach her, mold her into a formidable warrior, a force to be reckoned with. But beneath that ambition, he saw a vulnerability, a yearning for connection that mirrored his own. He had been drawn to Ryla, not just by her strength but by her spirit, her love of the dark side's allure.

He knew the dangers of letting his personal feelings interfere with his training. He had witnessed enough of his master's unbridled passion for power to know how dangerous it could be.

'I can teach you, Ryla. But you must be disciplined. The path to power is long and arduous,but with the power of the sith it can be short and easy,and intoxicating at times.'