A number of small sounds competed for dominance in the hold. The sterile hum of air conditioning, the hissing intakes of breath wheezing from the Darksider's mouth as he felt liquid hatred surge through his veins, the silken 'thrum' of the orange and azure lightsaber blades. Each sound mixed together into the background, a canvas upon which was painted the intense silence of concentration. Manji's face relaxed, the brief flare of sorrow and anguish he'd felt at watching one of the crewmen crushed to death smoothed away by the reassuring light of the Force, a calm ocean in which he drifted, detached and yet aware.
He could feel
the contrast between his own aura and that of the Darksider; while he floated in a relaxed, carefree ocean, the Sith struggled ferociously against the rage and fury of the black sea in which he dwelled. Waves threatened to pull the Sith into an undertow of hate, but each time he burst through them unbowed, seemingly strengthened by their crushing embrace. A smile crept onto the Jedi Master's features as he reached out, senses giving him the key to his opponent's destruction.
Macron growled angrily, his tangerine blade bobbing up and down as he quivered in anticipation of the kill. The pleasure he would derive from this kill was greater than he'd felt for some time; not only would he defeat a facsimile of the man he had yet to defeat in his own universe, but he'd crush the life out of another pathetic servant of the Light. Then the Sith spotted the smile lingering on the fake Manji's features.
A wordless scream tore from Macron's throat as the sight snapped the thin line of his patience. Barreling forwards, the Sith sent a ferocious horizontal swipe at his opponent's throat that was barely parried by the azure blade, Manji's weapon dancing back and forth to knock away each successive strike. Every attack from the Sith was punctuated by a grunting scream as Macron pushed all of his hatred and rage into his muscles, forcing the Jedi inexorably back across the hold. As the Sith continued to batter away at the Jedi, Manji found his arms weakening under the onslaught. Suddenly he rolled to one side under a vertical slash from the Sith, Macron's blade carving through a durasteel crate as though it were made of feathers.
Darting backwards, away from the Sith, Manji felt the smile return to his features. The veins in Macron's face were pulsating as the Dark Side wreaked havoc on his system in payment for the power it gave him; the corruption it had already visited on him was well hidden under the tattoos, but there nevertheless.
" the Master thought. "Tsukiko, Dyrra... forgive me, but I must stop this monster here. There is no death... there is the Force.
A slew of insults scuttled from between Macron's teeth as the Sith advanced, tangerine blade rising to deliver the final strike that would end this conflict. Taking up a Makashi
stance once again, the Jedi prepared himself as his foe moved closer. Then, as Macron slashed downwards, the Master dropped his saber and stepped forwards, into the cut.
The bottom of the tangerine saber cut shockingly into the Jedi's flesh, sizzling, scorching noises rising upwards as Macron struggled, his arms pushed back towards him- he had no momentum with which to complete the blow. Reaching out, Manji leaned forward as he grabbed the Sith by the collar of his robes, his eyes still twinkling merrily as his other hand pressed against the Sith's chest, fingers outspread.
"I will die here. But you... you will never awaken."
Macron screamed in fury as he felt the cold, icy streams of the Force pouring into his body through the Jedi's palm, entwining around his organs and enclosing them in fists of ice. A screaming wind seemed to surround the two warriors as the Force poured from the Jedi and into the Sith, taking with it the last of the Kyataran's strength and endurance. As his body began to shut down, Macron retained enough strength to shrug Manji away, the Jedi seemingly exhausted by such an intensive use of the Force. The tangerine blade went up then slashed across again, hacking Manji's head from his body, but it was too late; even as the head bounced away into the corner of the cargo hold, the Sith felt his heart constricting and slowing. With the Jedi's death there was nobody to control the strands of the Force that raged through Macron's body, and they went about their purpose without hesitation.
Dropping to his knees, Macron let out a choking cough as his lungs collapsed, Manji's use of Morichro
ruining the Sith's body from the inside. Staring up at the lights of the Miner's Brother with a last, choking gasp, his eyes wide and bloodshot, the Sith expired.