The putrid stench of decay still permeated the room, as if a thousand people had simply died in this spot, and there individual remains continued to decompose to this very day. Little of the temple was known, save that life did not seem to exist within, nor without. The planet itself seemed devoid of life, the minerals and materials necessary seemingly not capable to cohabitate and form any intelligence or sentience. More to the point, the planet seemed a boon to Force Users, as strange as the Berming Triangle where subspace seemed to fold on itself and it was nearly impossible to travel in hyperspace through the system.

Yet this was no ordinary temple, nor was its current occupants. The first figure, a man cloaked in darkness and shrouded by a deep sense of evil, moved with a lightning quickness unknown to any living being, but the other, a man clothed in a simple brown travelling tunic, seemed to move in symbiosis to the others sporadic movement. The darker figure, imposing as he was, drove furiously with his crimson saber, sparks dazzling and lighting the darkly lit temple as the Jedi Knight backed away, his own blade coming up in a defensive posture.

On and on the two figures fought, furious swings met with a calm calculative parry. On and on they danced, there footwork unmatched by any swordsman within the galaxy. With an angry lateral strike, the darker figure drove the Jedi off the stairs, where he tumbled and rolled, using his shoulders to brace the fall and come up five feet from the other assailant. It was within the respite of fighting that the two spoke.

“The Force is strong with you, but I’ve known that from the start.”

Deimos walked leisurely down the steps of the temple, his blade almost lazily swinging at his side. The Jedi tensed, expecting an attack, but it did not come. His eyes narrowed, his mind paranoid, he simply waited, silently listening to what the Sithlord had to say. For all talk of those that self proclaimed themselves Sith, Deimos truly scared him. Not from the sheer tremor of darkside energies that originated from him, but from a deeper understanding of Deimos, from an understanding of...

“It was inevitable,” Deimos concluded the Jedi’s thought, and again their swords met. Angry; meticulous; cold; calculative; strong; timed, there seemed no end to the stalemate that the duel had created. With a forward stab, the Jedi tried to force Deimos back, but a simple flick of the wrist caused him to overextend his blade, and he was rewarded with a cold metallic sensation smashing into his face, driving him off balance and careening in a somersault. Luckily, the expert Jedi managed to avoid the follow through swing, and the somersault saved him from losing his head. Rising once more several feet from Deimos, the conversation continued.

“You know, we aren’t that dissimilar, you and I.”

“I am nothing like you.”

“Oh,” Deimos danced forward, his feet positioned evenly apart, his sword aimed in a higher arc as it came down to bear on the Jedi’s unprotected left shoulder. With a simple adjustment of his posture, the Jedi backed his shoulder, driving his blade upward to beat away at Deimos, before bringing a powerful overhand swing downward against Deimos’ unprotected shoulder. This too was countered by a simple shrug of the shoulder, and both blades became locked. “Think on it,” Deimos hissed, the joy of the revelation thick in the air, “your stance, your swings, your attitude, everything is the same. Can’t you see...” Deimos broke the lock, pushing the Jedi backwards and away from him.

“I see nothing,” came the simple reply. But Deimos was against him already, their swords intertwined as they fought on. Dancing left, then right, the two fighters parried and swung, parried and stabbed, always one step too slow, or one step too quick—there stances, posture, and fighting manoeuvres all too similar.

“What pains me the most,” Deimos admitted, “is how naive you are.”

“Is that so.”

“You can’t see the truth of it. Lightside, Darkside, a balance must be maintained.”

It was too much for the Jedi to not reply to.

“How does this qualify as balance? You seek to destroy the Force, the very foundation of life, of existence, and yet you claim to serve the best interests of the force.”

With a cackle Deimos struck outward, his sword glancing off the Jedi’s blade before he brought it back in a defensive posture against the other’s swing.

“What I seek, you confront, what I do, you will stop.” His cackling continued, “without conflict, there is no growth, if the very foundation of existence stems from growth, then conflict is existence. Were it not for me, you would serve no purpose.” Against they met, but the Jedi’s concentration had waned. Deimos had clearly struck a chord, and the Jedi—while hard pressed to ignore the statement—found the strange revelation to touch base with his own thoughts.

“Justice is the core of existence for a Jedi Knight. We do not serve the Force, nor the Republic, but Justice. Through the Republic, justice is earned.”

“Is that so, a binding government that is willing to put the needs of the many above the needs of the few.” Sparks hissed from the collision of swords. “You prattle on and on about justice, yet the Republic, the Remnant, even the Founders all have one common injustice rooted in their core. That the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”

“The Republic strives to protect as many as possible.”

“Yet fails in its task, since inevitably there are a few that will not survive.”

“You can’t blame the Republic. Every government is flawed, but it’s the government that strives to correct so many injustices that deserves the true loyalty.”

“Then tell me, does the Republic commit justice, or simply balance the scales? Does the Republic seek to truly quantify it’s endeavours, or maintain enough posture of true justice to commit it’s followers to loyalty?”

Again their blades met, the fierceness of the battle escalated by the Jedi’s anger as he battled both body and mind.

“Now you see, that the Republic simply balances justice, not serves it. If some Twi’leks are sold to slavery, it matters not when one looks at the Ithorians who are restoring a planet. If the Twi’leks die, it matters not that their family is without loved ones, a memorial will placate the Republicans heart, and make him feel like he has accomplished something in the name of Justice. Is this Justice, or is this a weak attempt by a weak people to give themselves an illusion of altruism?”

“The Darkside has poisoned your mind. True Justice can never be achieved if you define it as such.” Their blades locked.

“Then your Republic has failed, is doomed to fail. But if the Republic fails, and the Jedi fail, then the system is flawed, and the system deserves to be destroyed—to start new, to start fresh. Join me, and together we will build a Republic that does not balance justice, but serves it.”

“Never.”

Dancing backwards, Deimos avoided several aggravated swings by the Jedi, easily manoeuvring around them. Clearly the Jedi had lost his concentration, and Deimos would strike the last nerve.

“You’re Republic is flawed, the Order is flawed—and I will destroy all that is impure. I will destroy all that you stand for; failure. The Balance must be maintained.”

Suddenly the Jedi was attacking, his flurries and parries angry and hurried, but unpredictable. Deimos stopped a swing to his shoulder, but missed the boot to his hip. He stopped a swing to his hip, but barely ducked the punch to his head. The Jedi’s face had lost it’s icy exterior, and angry bloomed like a mad bull, ready to charge. Then it happened, the Jedi barrelled into Deimos, sending him and the Jedi into a nearby pillar. With an explosion of stars Deimos gasps, unable to draw breath as the air escaped him. Slumping to his knees, he tried to collect himself, the Jedi standing overtop him, saber raised in that final arc that would end his life.

“There is no balance.... there is only the force.”

With a vindictive look on his face, the Jedi swung downward. And with echoes, Deimos’ cackle rang in the air...