The two lightsaber blades danced along one another chastely; never locking long enough to struggle, crashing and buzzing as their Padawan users darted around one another, letting out a brief flash of light every time they connected.

Thrumming through the air, the two blades gained some respite as the Jedi-to-be made distance between each other after their short, but intense struggle. The air was thick with tension and humid with sweat. The hum of the two lightsabers became the incarnation of the anxiety between them.

Above the arena, in transparent viewing boxes, Jedi of all ranks watched the proceedings; potential Masters paying particular attention to the duelists. This tournament was a Padawan’s proving ground; those who did well and impressed their audience stood a high chance of becoming apprentices to some of the wisest men in the Jedi Order.

The two teenage boys in the arena below were fully aware that they were only one match out of dozens that would take place today, but the context was lost on them. To them, it was one of the most important days of their Jedi lives. They were breathing heavily from their intense battle, but were smiling through it all, because of the challenge they presented to one another. The younger of the two, Terran Cuss, stared across the arena at his opponent and friend, Dorr Fray. Both were shining with sweat but enjoying themselves immensely, despite the pressure they were under. They had trained for much of their lives for the chance to prove they could be Jedi; the experience was nothing short of exhilarating.

A small rip on Terran’s leg, revealing a burn underneath, along with another on his arm told the score on his side, whilst a sear across Dorr’s torso indicated how he was doing. The first to three strikes was the victor.

Dorr had his lightsaber out to his side at a 45-degree angle to his body. His palm was facing downwards to give the ease of a sweeping uppercut; excellent for a strong offensive move or a powerful, potentially disarming block.

Terran held his saber in front of him with both hands, parallel to his torso. The way he held his blade in front of him anticipated attack, for which he was in a more than comfortable position to defend against. The blue glow of his Academy training saber illuminated his face in an ethereal hue, and accented the perspiration on his forehead.

For a long moment, neither of the two did anything; both anticipating the other’s moves. They recalled the battle advice they had been given as younger Jedi and began to move once again; Terran moving with slow steps to the side, using Dorr as his center of movement.

Dorr chose a more direct approach, starting an advance towards Terran, slowly at first but with increasing momentum, until he was almost charging towards his opponent. Terran’s subtle movements, however, had forced Dorr to approach with a slight curve to his movement. As such, his swing, when it eventually came, had further to travel, and thus took fractionally longer.

This split second was all a Jedi ever needed.

The green blade clashed against blue with a thundercrack of anguish from both sabers. Terran’s arm had moved comfortably across his chest to easily deflect the attack, which he was now repelling. With Dorr’s blade momentarily out of harm’s way, Terran swung his training saber towards his friend’s head. Far too easy a move, however, as Terran found his blade swinging through nothing but air.

Dorr, now in a crouched position, pushed an extended hand into Terran’s chest with a sly grin. Slightly shocked, Terran winced as he felt the effortlessly powerful charge of energy leave his friend’s hand and immediately begin forcing him backwards. Pushing back on his feet to try and absorb some of the damage, he was nevertheless lifted off his feet and sent hurtling backwards by the blast of Force energy.

Before his untimely meeting with the wall, Terran hurled his lightsaber out of his hand just before the breath was knocked out of him as his back collided with the cold stone.

The saber, however, remained true, nicking Dorr, his opponent crying out in frustration as the weapon seared him across the neck.

Two all.

---

In the viewing box above, Master Fyo Quen watched with interest. As a Kel-Dor, he had a keen sense of unbiased judgement. To his credit, his impartiality had made him an excellent judge of character and his skill in negotiation was almost unparalleled; his Jedi training, however, had tempered his almost detached sense of justice with a level of compassion; unlike many of his kind, he was not cold to people’s emotions.

Right now, however, he was as impartial as he could possibly be as he watched the two young warriors face off against one another. His elevated position made their battleground appear almost isometric; not unlike a strategy holo-projector used by the Republic army.

Between the two teens, Fyo could see a line of battle. As a trained Jedi, he could see how this battle would, or at least should, be fought. Terran had already impressed him with his use of combat Forms, and a good attempt at a saber throw. Dorr, likewise, had impressed him with his agility and use of the Force. One of them would be his apprentice; it all depended on their final duel. Fyo brought a hand to the bottom of his facemask—the closest thing a Kel-Dor could come to a chin, and contemplated the battle. He sensed much anticipation in both of them, and an eagerness for victory. Hastiness could be their undoing, however, as rash action could lead them straight to defeat. Replacing his right hand with the other behind his back, he directed himself back to viewing the fight; it would be most interesting.

---

In the arena below, the two combatants faced off against one another. They were not afforded the luxury of strategic vision and possible foresight that their audience enjoyed, and therefore needed to take a moment to prepare what would undoubtedly be their last struggle in this duel.

Terran had travelled a fair distance from Dorr’s last move, so there was now about half the arena between them. No room for trickery or deception in this open a space, Terran mused to himself. Both boys understood it was going to be a saber battle that decided victory; pure, and simple.

Dorr was directly ahead of him, not moving but ready to. Closing his eyes, Terran let a serene calm flow over him. Limited though his skill was, he could feel the faint presence of those watching the battle, and could feel his opponent much more strongly, mingled with a sense of anticipation. He cast his mind back to his training, and what he had been taught about saber combat.

Suddenly, the presence of Dorr was stronger, closer in the mind, accompanied by the sound of rapid footsteps. Battle was upon him; Terran couldn’t afford to deliberate any longer.

Letting go of his weapon with his left hand, his right hand held the saber to one side before him, pointing it towards the ground. Re-adjusting his grip on the saber quickly, he placed his palm upwards, his thumb facing down the length of the blade. Now ready, Terran opened his eyes.

Letting go of his weapon with his left hand, his right hand held the saber to one side before him, pointing it towards the ground

Dorr was there, bearing down upon him, his saber out in front of him, ready for a quick, imminent downward strike. Reacting quickly, Terran placed his left foot behind him, pivoting his body but not changing direction. Bringing his other foot back slightly also, he simultaneously brought his saber across his retreating body, elegantly batting away Dorr’s strike. Seizing the moment, he then lunged forward, his right leg bending at the knee, thrusting his saber at his opponent.

Both combatants were fast, so Terran found Dorr’s saber interjected between his body and Terran’s saber. Pushing against it as he began to move towards the hilt of his opponent’s weapon, Terran was forced to break his attack or face defeat.

Pulling apart, Dorr came around in a horizontal spin that Terran deflected with a strong parry. The two sabers bounced off one another with a wince, and the two prospective Jedi swung around, using the rebound of the sabers as counter-balance. After their near 360 degree spin, their sabers collided once more; the combined strength of the strikes stopping any further rebound. Instead, the two weapons locked powerfully, screeching and wailing against each other painfully.
Closing the lock, the two warriors stared at each other through the burning, crackling blades. Both wore looks of utter determination on their faced, enhanced and almost demonised by the shifting pattern of colour the blades shone onto their faces as they locked. Dorr’s slightly superior strength began to push against Terran’s blade, and the other knew that in this struggle, his chances of overpowering his friend with brute strength were slim.

Noticing the bunching of muscles in Dorr’s jaw and hands, Terran saw the beginnings of an opportunity as he remembered one of the earliest Jedi teachings; ‘Never let confidence become overconfidence, or it will be your downfall’. He smiled as the words of that wise Jedi echoed in his mind.

Pulling back on his footwork suddenly, Terran drew away from the saber lock, pushing his saber out to his left side to avoid being sliced in the face when Dorr inevitably came forward. And he did; surprised by the sudden movement, and without a solid force to apply his strength to, he staggered forward, his saber dropping rapidly along the path Terran had created for it.

Sensing his opportunity was upon him, Terran looped his blade first over, and then back under his opponent’s, reversing his palm from facing left to right. Faced with this manoeuvre, Dorr’s hand swung up and away from his body, carried by the inertia exerted on his saber.

Quickly extending his free hand toward Dorr’s outstretched weapon, he concentrated on the hilt and was rewarded with it hurtling from his grip and out of reach, hissing as it automatically deactivated itself. Dorr, still shocked, had little time to react as this took place before; shifting his feet desperately as Terran--knowing his moment was upon him--lunged, he managed to move himself out of the way of what would otherwise been a stab to his lung.

He may have saved himself, but not his stake in the battle, however, as Terran’s saber sliced alongside the side of Dorr’s torso, catching him between chest and arm. Singed fabric fell away from his tunic as the saber burnt the skin underneath, along with Dorr’s victory.

Falling to his knees from exhaustion and exasperation, he felt a presence close to his face. Looking up, he saw his younger friend smiling through panted breaths. In his extended hand was Dorr’s training saber, retrieved from the other side of the room.  Smiling himself, he reached out and took the hilt from Terran, standing as he did so.

“You fought well, Dorr,” he said, the grin fading into a more serious tone, “you’ll make a great Jedi”.

He smiled at Terran, holding his shoulder firmly and meeting his gaze, “Maybe,” he said with a wry smile, “but you’ll make a better one.”

---

Above the two, Fyo Quen’s cheeks rose in as close a thing as he could come to a smile. He had his Padawan.