"I understand that you will die here, Malak. You have earned your death here, at my hands through your treachery and your ignorance."
Malak scoffed, the metallic echo suddenly being drowned out by the hum of his own blade as he spun it amazingly fast around in one hand. Then, they came together, blades hitting one another with full force. Though Malak was the bigger and the stronger, Revan's own strength came from the Force and flowed easily through his body. They remained locked there for a few moments until Malak pushed himself back. Revan came forward and then darted to one side, evading the deceptive slash of the taller sith lord. They went at it in earnest, blades flashing. The steady hum of the sabers moving and clashing reverberating throughout the metal chamber like some demented choir.
The battle raged on, with Malak seemingly having the advantages with his long arms and long blade, and his amazing agility for being so tall. But in truth he was only barely able to keep pace with Revan, who was seemingly dancing with blade in hand. The latter faught fluidly and without undo pause, creating a myriad dance of death. And though Malak laughed and taunted, it was he who was hard pressed. The dance finally died down when the apprentice found himself backed into a wall. Revan came at him with a swift thrust, but Malak batted the blow aside and flipped back, kicking off the wall and landing on the other platform, much higher. He turned to Revan and laughed his eerie, unnatural laugh.
"You presume to defeat me here? In the very heart of the Star Forge? I cannot be beaten."
Revan watched Malak and came closer with measured steps. "I have always been your better, Malak. Do not forget that so easily in the face of cheap power."
"You fool! I have tapped power you cannot even begin to imagine!" And with that Malak reached out his hand, pointed at one of the nearby tanks. Energy flashed, jumping from his hand to the floating Jedi husk, and then back. The waves crackled around Malak's tall frame, and he laughed moreso.
Seemingly rejuvenated, Malak leapt at his former master, saber flashing, a long red blur. But Revan was anticipating such a bold and arrogant attack, sidestepping and kicking the sith lord to the ground. He then came out Malak as the latter rose, his lightsaber nipping and biting at the other's defenses. The dance began again, with Malak more easily keeping up the rhythm. Several times Revan was forced to duck an uncomfortably close swing, or otherwise take to the defensive. Finally, Revan had Malak close to the edge, the apprentice batting furiosly to keep his balance.
"Your time is up, Malak." Revan spoke in between swings.
"Impossible. You cannot defeat me. I have the power here. I have the advantage!" But his sentence was cut short as Revan drew on the Force, launching Malak several meters into a nearby tank. Struggling to rise, Malak's hand came to touch the cool glass. With an artificially enhanced, yet still primal growl in his throat, Malak once again used that dark power, sapping the life force from this Jedi and regaining strength. He stood and turned to face Revan, eyes ablaze with hate.
"I should have properly killed you when I had the chance!" He fumed, coming forward with his blade a blur of red.
"You never have had the chance." Revan replied heatedly, and met the charge with one of his own. In that moment, they came at one another with full hate bared. Where there had been comraderie and friendship, even mentorship, only pure and flowing emotion remained in the form of mutual hate. It would have been a profound moment to a keen observer, but alas only the near-dead Jedi in the tanks could bear witness to the following display. The strikes, the parries, everything was nothing short of breathtaking. In this following few minutes, the two spoke with blades what words could never impart.
But it came to an end when Malak overextended himself for a downward swing, hoping to batter down his old friend or cleave him in twain. He knew immediately of his fatal mistake as Revan's own blade pierced his chest, the burn of the lightsaber a thousand times hotter than anything he had ever experienced. The wound was made and sealed instantly, and Malak fell back, his eyes staring up at the ceiling but he could not comprehend it, so great was his pain.
Revan stood over his former apprentice and friend, looking down into those fading eyes. Malak moved slightly, but it was a mere twitch. Then, the voice came up to his ears, that enhanced, artificial voice.
"You... You were right. You are my superior, Revan. You... always have been." A cough. Malak's eyes fluttered, and one pale hand came up to clutch feebly at Revan's robes. "Tell me... If our roles had been reversed... If it had been me, and not you to be taken... Would you have hunted me? Would you have destroyed me?"
Revan's face was a mask, but his voice came readily enough. "No, you would have come for me. And I would have defeated you, as I have now."
Malak laughed, a weak gesture. "I do not think... that had I could have overcome so much... I have failed, haven't I? In everything?"
Revan only looked impassively. If he was bothered or hurt by the questions, the sight, he did not show it. "You have failed in your ambitions, Malak. You did not have the ability or the wisdom to see your own mistakes. And for that, you will die."
Malak closed his eyes. "Then I shall die as nothing..." This last word coming out as a metallic hiss.
The battle was ended. And Revan had overcome his wayward apprentice. He looked up, watching the battle rage on outside through the Star Forge's windows. Ships exploding in crimson balls, lasers both red and green crisscrossing the entire view... And then he turned away, cloak trailing behind him. There was still another battle to be fought and won...