The man prostrated himself, betraying the strength of a portal for the subservience of a mortal. Empyrean understood why, however - A man was a man was a man, and he was far beyond anything a man could comprehend now. More often, mankind no longer referred to him as one of their own, but something greater. Something lesser. Something altogether different from what one could find empathy, or even a reflection of themselves in their justifications and deeds.
Empyrean was the unknowable manifest, that which moved beyond the great filter of Death and returned to spread darkness. Immortal, that which ascended beyond the great equalizer - ensuring nobody thought themselves his equal any longer. Some saw this as a boon, the Sith Emperor who could not die - but others still whispered that he had long outlived his usefulness, as though with his death his strength became waning.
"Credius Nargath.", Empyrean said flatly.
It was all he said before he looked up - his eyes seeing the other Jedi break off from their strike team, through walls and kind. He could not hear them, but he could assume very well what they were trying to do - find a way to stop him. He looked back down to the still kneeling Sith and ushered a command;
"Two have broken off from the Jedi, now running freely through Escobar. Hunt them down."
With that, he walked forward to meet
Ran Serys
and her brood. He stepped not with the strength of a great man, nor the God he had been known to be by rumor. He stepped forward like a man beyond his age, crippled and defunct of whatever power he once held. His body was torn asunder, from hip to shoulder, leaving a massive black cavity where his chest once was - leaving nothing but a swirling smoke at his core. His skin had been faded to a dull grey, breaking apart like porcelain in spots, and his eyes were nothing more than metal orbs carved with infinitesimally complex runes. Even his hair was brittle, stained the color of dried blood.
They ignited their lightsabers as they spoke, as he stepped forward to study them supported only by the staff in his single existing arm. He seemed hunched over, as though his body was failing him even now. In truth, it was - but by the will of his spirit did it persist, forever taking the commands he ushered and obeying. A slave to his power, where once it was a slave to weakness.
"The Force whispers to you what it wants, not what it foresees.", he offered them, waiting for the first to take a step forward.
"Failure has been carved into my flesh, my eyes, my hands, and my heart. Failure of my own, yes, but failure of your master to put me down for good. I yet persist in the cavity of darkness the Force would wish to forget, but I exist still. A slave made King, a King made a God, and I will bring my wraith down upon you and all that stand in my way."
It was then the first of the Jedi lurched forward, followed quickly by the second. These two were now known agents, the aggressors, those who either had no fear or saw pride in taking the first strike at the Sith Emperor. A bounty on his head did that to men, to be known as the man who killed death. There was never a shortage of people who hoped to collect on the uncollectable.
Their second step saw him stand to his full height, not tall like
Darth Carnifex
, but a stature that made his shadow that of a titan. A third step saw the Jedi within striking distance, faster than any man alive could hope to match. The Force gave them such willpower, such speed and excess, to that it's will be done for the good of its ambitions. But faster than any man alive was still slower than the dead that he had become.
His staff ignited, its bone jaw glowing a crimson that made its teeth look like they were coated in the viscera of its kills. Where once no arm existed, the great black cloud in his gut manifested to form another - a hand of smoke and yet unknown fire. The Jedi's strikes were close now, milliseconds from carving dead flesh from dead bone. His eyes spun in their sockets to focus, and with them he sprung.
The first of the two had struck for his leg, but the muscles rippling in his back and neck told Empyrean a different story. He was going for a feint, to twist at the last possible moment and move for his back. It was a practiced motion, something this man had prepared for with years of robust training in the hopes of killing the Sith that struggled yet against his Eden. He would find no purchase in either the leg nor back, as the will of Empyrean bore down on him.
With as little as a glance, his balance was stolen and torn away. He was sent reeling through the air, far enough to break his flight on the durasteel wall of the entrance chamber. He was not dead, but he didn't need to be - his pain would fuel Empyrean's strength, and the more fear these Jedi felt, the stronger he would become. Let them live a breath longer, so that none could stand a chance.
The second Jedi had moved to stab at what he believed was the location of Empyrean's heart. There was, of course, nothing left where he intended to strike, but how was a Jedi to understand to what degree Empyrean had broken the very laws of nature. Kala'anda, the staff he carried, twisted spiked pommel out as Empyrean kicked it from its standing position, letting his wrist hold it as a pivot. It was a spear from this side, the Impervium blade that balanced as much a danger as the force saber on the other side.
With a terrifying precision, Empyrean pushed himself to meet this Jedi. He could see the determination in his eyes, the set of conviction lining the working muscles of his jaw, and the zealotry of his heart in the way it beat. None of these things, however, could stop his Staff as it glided across the lightsaber blade in a narrow deflection, only to find itself breaking through muscle and rib to find its target in a lung. It suddenness of it, the brutality of that strike forced the warrior of light to drop his purifying weapon and desperately grasp at the handle that impaled him.
Empowered by fear and hatred, Empyrean hefted the man to dangle by the spear, letting the other Jedi see that it had broken through to the rear, but only barely as it pushed fabric outwards yet still had not torn it. He had to display the torture he committed, let them see what he was capable of for them to understand to what depths they must reach to face him. They must hate him, must fear him, and must want nothing more than to punish him from the position of selfish revenge to stand a chance.
The Jedi screamed as blood filled his breath, stole precious oxygen from him. To his credit, he only screamed once - then let the Force guide him to a position of peace in spite of pain and display. It forced Empyrean to look at him, unexpectedly respecting that this man had shown a more stalwart and stoic approach to impending doom predicated on torture. There was respect in that, to see a man so perfect in his convictions hold fast to them even when his brain was flooded with every instinct to abandon them.
Empyrean did respect this, but in turn he also was disgusted by it. To so blatantly disrespect him, to doubt his strength compared to his convictions, to think himself better than the Emperor. He snarled at the display, and let the clouded black hand reach up beyond its normal range - forming a void of destruction that precisely stole from the man the thing he held so fast to.
His heart became nothing but a hole in his chest that reached to the back. Where once it stood, protected by his form, now was nothing. In seconds, there would be nothing left behind his eyes as the life left him. Empyrean used the force to clear his spear of the man, annoyed he had allowed himself to strike out of anger than tact. Still, one dead was good enough for him.
"I will be the pen that writes the stories, the playwright to which history will unfold on a stage of my design. The war I make today, will be the foundation of a tomorrow unburdened by the Slave Morality you cling to even now. Strike at me if you must, but know me for what I am..."
"I am the Pale Rider, the Breaker of Chains, the Reaper that will wipe away a rotting galaxy. I am the future."
Tempest Yore
| The Galactic Alliance
