The atmosphere surrounding the field was thick with the tension of an inevitable clash. The battlefield stretched before Jakob Monn, King of the Golden Eternal Kingdom, as the wind howled through the open expanse. The sky was ominous, with dark clouds swirling above, the storm clouds reflecting the chaos on the ground below. Jakob stood at the edge of the clearing, staring across at his opponent—a man whose reputation had become a terror across countless battlefields: Commander Valerian, leader of the Dominion’s military forces.
Jakob had heard the stories. Valerian was no mere soldier; he was a general-killer, a man who had defeated entire armies with only a handful of men by his side, and each time, the method was the same—single combat. The Dominion commander had faced and killed several of the best, their heads hanging on his belt as trophies of his victories. Now, he had called out Jakob to a duel, to settle the fate of Wyrmfen once and for all. And Jakob had accepted.
The two men stood across from each other on the barren battlefield, their forces arrayed around them in a tense silence, awaiting the outcome. Jakob’s hand rested lightly on the hilt of his lightsaber, a simple weapon that had been forged in his youth. The yellow blade had been a symbol of his strength, something deeply personal, an item that had no true name except for the one Jakob had given it. It was a part of him, and it was the only weapon he needed today.
Across from him, Valerian stood tall, his black armor gleaming with an almost ethereal darkness. His black blade hummed with an eerie glow, the weapon as much a symbol of his feared reputation as anything else. The sight of it made the air itself feel heavier, as though it had its own malevolent presence. Jakob’s eyes narrowed as he sized up his opponent. Valerian’s gaze was unwavering, filled with a cold confidence that came from decades of victories. There was no doubt in Jakob’s mind that this would be a fight for the ages.
“Monn,” Valerian called, his voice calm but laced with mockery. “I’ve fought generals and kings alike. You should feel honored to be my next conquest. I won’t let you take the Kingdom, no matter how strong you believe yourself to be.”
Jakob’s face was impassive as he replied, “Then I suppose you will learn what it means to face true power.”
Without another word, Valerian surged forward, his black lightsaber cutting through the air in a lethal arc. Jakob was ready. The yellow blade of his saber flickered to life, and with a swift motion, he parried Valerian’s strike, the clash of energy and metal reverberating through the air. Jakob took a step back, eyes locked on his opponent, calculating, waiting for an opening.
Valerian was fast. His attacks were unrelenting, aiming to break through Jakob’s defenses. Each strike was like a hammer, forcing Jakob to retreat step by step. The Dominion commander’s movements were quick and brutal, and Jakob found himself constantly on the defensive, deflecting and parrying in rapid succession.
But Jakob was no stranger to this style of combat. He had trained for years, honing his reflexes, his precision, his mind. He knew that he couldn’t afford to waste time. Every motion, every blade, every breath had to count.
In the heat of the battle, Jakob felt the familiar hum of his lightsaber in his hand. But then, as Valerian’s black blade descended again, Jakob sensed something deeper—a power within himself that was more than mere skill. A pull that seemed to call him forward.
His hand moved instinctively, raising his other hand just as the next strike came. From the depths of his memory, he reached out, and the two other lightsabers—the yellow blades, long hidden beneath his armor—ignited at once, hovering to life beside him. The two sabers flared with their own golden brilliance, their blades humming as they began to circle Jakob. The force, mystical and unknown, held them in place, drawn by Jakob’s will.
Valerian paused, his eyes wide as the two extra sabers floated into position, the light of the blades reflecting off his dark armor. The sight was impossible—there was no understanding for what Jakob had just done. Two additional lightsabers, moving without any physical guidance? It wasn’t supposed to be possible.
For the first time in the battle, Commander Valerian hesitated.
Jakob took the moment of uncertainty to strike. His single yellow blade slashed low, while one of the floating blades swept high, coming in from Valerian’s side. The third saber pressed forward with deadly accuracy, cutting at Valerian’s other flank. He had no time to react to the onslaught.
But Valerian wasn’t out yet. With a roar, he twisted, his black saber cutting through the air to intercept the floating blades. For a moment, it seemed like he might have regained control, but Jakob’s yellow blade was already upon him, pushing forward with relentless force.
The two swordsmen collided again, their sabers flashing in the stormy twilight. Jakob’s form had changed; he was no longer simply defending. The yellow blades—his blades—moved as if they were extensions of his own body, circling, deflecting, attacking from all angles.
Valerian’s confidence quickly crumbled as he was pushed back, unable to keep up with the precision and ferocity of the three blades surrounding him. His black saber was a blur of frantic parries, but Jakob’s onslaught was unrelenting.
Jakob moved in for the final blow. His blades came down in unison, one after another—each one cutting through the air with the weight of his will. Valerian’s own strike was feeble in comparison.
Jakob’s yellow blade landed first, parrying Valerian’s defense, and the second blade sliced across his opponent’s chest, knocking the air from his lungs. The third saber descended from above, a deadly arc that met Valerian’s neck.
There was a sickening sound as the blade made contact, and Valerian’s head was severed cleanly from his shoulders. It rolled away from his body, his black lightsaber falling with a thud to the ground, its ominous hum silenced.
Jakob stood over the fallen commander, his three yellow blades still glowing as the wind stirred around him. He remained motionless for a long moment, the weight of what had just occurred settling in.
The battle was over.
His Knights moved in, standing at attention as Jakob deactivated his sabers one by one, returning them to their resting place at his side. The storm above had started to settle, the fury of the skies easing just as the storm of battle had.
Jakob turned to face his men, his expression as calm as the horizon that stretched beyond them. “Prepare to move forward,” he said quietly, his voice cutting through the silence. “The Dominion will not stop until they are broken. We will not yield.”
As the soldiers around him began to move, Jakob allowed himself one last glance at Valerian’s lifeless body. The man who had been feared across the battlefield, the man who had killed so many generals—had fallen, defeated by the King himself.
End of Chapter Six
YOU ARE READING
Eternal. (A Star Wars Story.)
Science Fiction"They stood with us, side by side, Fighting through battles as the nights got colder. Their blades once lit up the battlefield, And their voices were strong-but now, it's quiet. I can still remember the way they laughed, The way they'd charge into t...
