The relentless assault of his argent blade failed to cease upon Solipsis. A electric cloud of crimson came to twine and crash itself against Rurik's own pale cobalt electric fury, the Imperator sacrificing his skill at the blade in favor of stemming back the tide of Solipsis's dark power away from him. He'd felt the searing embrace of Sith Sorcery upon him once before, be it by the will of
Halketh
or
Kascalion Giedfield
. It seized him in his place and forced him to his knees before, he could not falter, he could not sacrifice the initiative here and now.
The Sith'ari had to
die, else- Fel would perish in his place. Even among the storm, he would press his advantage to its limit. Not a modicum of time to breath and assess, not a moment to center himself in his surroundings. Fel sought to make each passing moment of this clash another moment where Solipsis was all but certain of his impending
doom at the hands of the man of iron.
"You would of made a powerful Sith Lord."
In truth, he would have. The tribulations and suffering Rurik had
endured for decades now would've ensured most any under the same pressure to slip into the clutches of darkness. To many it was the ultimate engine to harness that angst, hatred and forlorn into untampered raw power. But to give oneself to darkness was to lose discipline, to lose freedom of control over ones actions- to concede ones will to the emotional impulses and domineering ambitions that slumbered deep in the subconscious of any.
To be Sith was not a means of gaining control of one's self but a means of submitting to one's weakest and degenerative impulses. To travel that path splintered two ways. To be betrayed or to be redeemed.
Discipline was freedom. Darkness was submission.
"And one far weaker than the man I am." Rurik replied with a coil of venom grasping the words as he said them aloud. His faintly glowing argent eyes never left the demented golden gaze of Solipsis in their violent feast of blades silver and crimson.
"Make sure you do what you say. I'm going to take everything from you, what little left there is that you cherish will be swept away by all that I will do. A deluge is coming Fel. A deluge that you will not be ready for."
The cryptic warning seized his thoughts and in that moment of weakness, the flurry of saber strikes brought the initiative of the bout the way of Solipsis. His resolve snapped at the assault, his blade being one stroke behind Solipsis and the crimson saber bared its superheated teeth into Rurik's Iron Skin, allowing him the means vault back as the blade dug into a split in his armor and seared the tortured flesh beneath. As Solipsis vaulted away to gain distance between himself and his enemies, Rurik joined the flank of his half-brother, Lucien Dooku. It had not been since they trawled through the bloody halls of their once birth world that they fought side by side. Now, here, in the House of Democracy, the Heirs to the Empire battled the scion of darkness.
Violent coils of crimson plasma clashed against Rurik's blade, the Imperator lifting the shard of argent up to absorb the lightning before Dooku and Fel were side by side in melee with Solipsis. While Rurik was resolute in his ability to strike low the parasite before him, his confidence swelled with the Imperial Champion at his flank for all but a split second until it was stuck by the brutal reprisal on park of the Dark Lord.
Just as the tide shifted in their monumentous favor, Lucien bowed under the blow, falling to the floor beneath, his hands severed from his form. Once more, Rurik was now just as he entered.
"You failed me."
"You failed them all,"
"such is the legacy you've been damned to uphold."
Alone.
Another of his ilk fallen in his presence. He was hardly the champion, the protector and Paladin he strived to be for his Empire. He was a monument not to his own triumphs, but a merely survival of his own failure. As if all these tribulations were tests in temptation toward the darkness. To spare him in the hopes of drawing him into the abyss.
Where was Vyrin? His teacher, the paragon of wisdom that held him back from that same trembling spiral. He disappeared from his thoughts and visions long ago, at the fall of Darkness, Kyber Dark. But another spirit intruded his thoughts, the vision of a gilded visage seeped into his thoughts and then he heard that ever familiar voice.
"Do your duty...to them. Or fall as he did."
He held no stock in the Jedi around him. There was only him and the Dark Lord before him. Nothing else mattered. There was moment of innate shock that froze his composure for a moment before he was able to lurch back into the fray with methodical bloodlust in his eyes of pale stone. As Solipsis channeled raw hatred, Rurik would be the unwavering stone that the waves of rage beat against in indifferent concentration. As rapid streams of crimson and cobalt beat against his argent blade, he snatched one hand out,
absorbing the energy from the strike of Lucien's own saber in Kaigann's grasp into the palm of his own gauntleted hand as he sought to veer Solipsis's weapon away from his body with his own silver fury as he aimed to plant his foot into Solipsis's abdomen to deliver a bone crushing kick into the Elder in the hopes of sending them falling down unto a lower level of the vast Senate chamber.
"I will endure. And you...you will die, Sith." Rurik said, his voice of dark distortion strained as his font of power and ability continued to wane in every moment of the titanic clash and even in those wavering moments, he would persist.