A Will to Power

The instant Darth Tempus ignited his weapon, the tomb was bathed in crimson. Unlike the elegant blades favored by most Sith, Tempus's lightsaber erupted into the shape of a massive cleaver, its broad crimson energy blade humming with a deeper, harsher tone that echoed through the chamber like the tolling of a funeral bell.

The black hilt fit comfortably in both hands, though he carried it casually in one, its tremendous weight balanced by the Force. Across from him, the three Keepers settled into practiced stances, their traditional lightsabers held with disciplined precision born of decades guarding the forbidden tomb.

None of them immediately attacked. Instead, they circled. Malvek remained directly ahead, his blade held vertically before his face. The Zabrak drifted left, shoulders low, preparing to overwhelm Tempus with brute force. The woman moved right with measured, silent steps, searching for an opening. Tempus merely watched them through the glowing eyeholes of his battered mask.

"You still have time to leave," Malvek warned.

Tempus tilted his head slightly. "An ironic choice of words."

The Zabrak lunged first. He exploded forward with astonishing speed, bringing his lightsaber down in a two-handed overhead strike powerful enough to split durasteel. Tempus pivoted a single step to his right instead of retreating, raising the broad face of his cleaver-like blade to intercept the attack.

The collision showered the chamber with brilliant sparks as the heavier weapon absorbed the blow and shoved it aside. Before the Zabrak could recover, Tempus drove a boot into his chest, launching the larger Sith backward across the ancient clock carved into the floor.

The female Keeper was already moving. She sprang low, her crimson blade sweeping toward Tempus's legs. He vaulted over the attack with surprising agility for a man carrying such an enormous weapon. Twisting in midair, he brought his blade crashing downward. She rolled aside just before the cleaver struck the stone, leaving a glowing scar across the obsidian floor.

Malvek entered the fight at that exact moment. His style lacked the speed of youth but was compensated with flawless timing. Every strike flowed seamlessly into the next, forcing Tempus backward beneath a relentless barrage of disciplined cuts and thrusts.

Their blades met again and again, crimson light flashing across the tomb while the floating hourglasses remained eerily unmoving overhead. The Zabrak rejoined the battle with a furious roar. Now all three attacked together. The chamber erupted into motion. Tempus turned, blocked, spun, and countered with economical precision.

His weapon's unusual shape allowed him to catch opposing blades along its broad edge before wrenching them violently aside. The female Keeper attempted to exploit those moments, darting in with quick, surgical attacks aimed beneath his guard, while Malvek pressured him from the front and the Zabrak relied upon overwhelming strength.

For nearly a minute, no one gained an advantage. Crimson blades carved brilliant arcs through the darkness, illuminating statues whose faces had long ago been erased from history. Sparks rained across the ancient clock beneath their feet. The clash of plasma echoed like thunder inside the circular chamber.

Then Tempus smiled beneath his mask. He had seen enough. As Malvek thrust toward his chest, Tempus intentionally accepted the attack. Rather than stepping away, he moved inside the old Sith's reach. Malvek's blade skimmed harmlessly above Tempus's shoulder as the larger weapon swept upward in a brutal diagonal arc.

The old Keeper barely managed to block, but the sheer force of the impact shattered his stance and drove him to one knee. The Zabrak charged. Tempus never looked at him. Instead, he rotated with the momentum of his previous strike, allowing the massive cleaver blade to continue through its arc.

The crimson edge intercepted the charging Sith's weapon, ripped it from his grasp, and continued onward in a devastating horizontal slash. The Zabrak froze. His expression became one of disbelief. A heartbeat later, his bisected corpse collapsed lifelessly onto the polished stone. Silence lasted only an instant.

The female Sith cried out and attacked with renewed desperation. Her lightsaber became a blur of crimson as she unleashed strike after strike from every conceivable angle, forcing Tempus briefly onto the defensive once more. She fought not for victory now, but for vengeance.

Tempus met every blow with unnerving precision. The Keeper attacked from every angle, her lightsaber flashing high toward his head, low toward his legs, then darting left and right in rapid succession as she sought even the smallest weakness in his defense.

Yet each strike was answered by the broad crimson blade of Tempus's cleaver-like lightsaber, whose unusual shape caught, redirected, or crushed her attacks aside with brutal efficiency. Their weapons became a blur of scarlet light, the relentless rhythm of humming plasma.

Cascading sparks filled the tomb as neither combatant yielded an inch of ground. Their blades blurred together until individual strikes became impossible to distinguish. Finally, she overextended during a spinning attack intended to reach behind his guard. Tempus caught her wrist with his free hand. For the first time, fear entered her eyes.

"You mistake speed for inevitability," he said quietly.

With a violent twist, he broke her balance, released her arm, and brought the broad crimson blade downward in a single decisive stroke. She fell beside the Zabrak without another word. Only Malvek remained. The elderly Keeper slowly rose to his feet, grimly clutching his lightsaber.

Malvek lowered his blade, his expression one of weary disappointment rather than fear. "Every Sith seeks power, Tempus, but there are fixed boundaries even we do not cross. Time is not a weapon. It is the foundation upon which all things stand."

Tempus's mask remained fixed, but the crimson glow of his eyes brightened. "Life itself is the will to power. Nothing lives that does not seek to overcome itself." He took another deliberate step toward the sealed vault.

"You have become everything we feared," lamented Malvek.

"No," Tempus replied calmly. "I have become everything you refused to imagine. Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law. Every Dark Lord before me accepted limits they mistook for wisdom. I intend to discover whether they were simply afraid."

"They were not afraid," Malvek replied. "They understood that some victories cost the future itself."

"Then they lacked ambition," Tempus said. "I do not seek to conquer the galaxy, Malvek. I seek to unmake history and fully sate my basest desires."

Malvek looked around at his fallen companions before drawing a slow breath."You believe this victory proves you worthy."

"It proves I am not your student," stated Tempus.

The old Sith nodded once. "Then come."

There was no rage in Malvek's eyes, no hatred driving his final assault, only the quiet acceptance of a Sith who understood that his duty would end in death. He settled into his stance with calm resolve, his breathing steady and his crimson blade unwavering as he advanced toward Tempus.

Tempus answered in kind, meeting the old Keeper with the same measured confidence, and for a fleeting moment the duel became less a clash of enemies than a final examination between two masters who knew that only one would leave the tomb alive.

Malvek's final assault possessed none of the hesitation of their earlier duel. Every lesson learned across a lifetime flowed through his blade with perfect discipline. Tempus answered with overwhelming power, his heavy cleaver driving Malvek steadily backward across the engraved clock face.

The old Keeper blocked one strike, then another, then a third. On the fourth, his exhausted arms faltered. Tempus's crimson blade smashed through his defense and cut cleanly through the hilt of Malvek's lightsaber. The broken weapon clattered across the floor, its crimson blade vanishing with a hiss.

Malvek looked down at the ruined hilt in his hands. "So..." He managed a weary smile. "...history begins again."

Tempus regarded him. "It begins," he replied, "for me. For you, it is finished."

The cleaver-like blade swept once more. When the crimson glow faded, Malvek lay beside the other two Keepers upon the ancient stone clock. The chamber became still once again. Only the steady hum of Tempus's lightsaber disturbed the silence as he turned from the fallen guardians and faced the sealed vault beyond them.

The Keepers had fulfilled their duty until their final breath, but they had only delayed the inevitable. Beyond that stone door waited the Holocron of Darth Chronos, and with it, the power to challenge not merely the Jedi or the Sith, but time itself.