Anakin vs Vader (sabers only)

Originally posted by DarthAnt66
No shit nightfall!Vader is more powerful than Dooku!Anakin.

I'm not so sure about that. Both during his fight with Dooku, and after he adopted the mantle of Darth Vader, he became more powerful by letting go of his mental chains and embracing the dark side. The only difference is that when he fought Dooku, he was fighting for a cause he was certain he believed in, against an enemy he was certain was evil. Knightfall Vader, by contrast, was unsure if he was doing the right thing, and he had turned on his Jedi brethren, who he had seen as symbols of justice for all of his life. As Palpatine put it, he was still between worlds--mentally vulnerable--which is what lead to his meltdown on Mustafar.

The events of Mustafar, then, as Vader put in in LotS: "ruined his body, but perfected his spirit."

His powers increased regardless, with suited Vader becoming even more powerful.

Suit Vader is so overrated based off vague statements while overlooking his on screen fights and movements. Shame.

I'm not sure how "his power was great now, greater than it had ever been before" or "strengthening his connection to the force" are vague statements lol

Originally posted by Rebel95
I'm not sure how "his power was great now, greater than it had ever been before" or "strengthening his connection to the force" are vague statements lol

Originally posted by Rebel95
I'm not sure how "his power was great now, greater than it had ever been before" or "strengthening his connection to the force" are vague statements lol

Not to mention he has the feats to back up his hyped new status.

Originally posted by Darth Thor
Not to mention he has the feats to back up his hyped new status.

Originally posted by quanchi112
Getting shown up by Ezra and Kanan.

lmao Quanchi is made out of purified salt.

More like he manhandled with 1 arm the guy who beat Maul. Canon.

Power flowed into him, and the weight of his years dropped away.
He lifted his blade, and beckoned.
Skywalker leapt from the balcony. Even as the boy hurtled downward, Dooku felt a new twist in the currents of the Force between them, and he finally understood.
He understood how Skywalker was getting stronger. Why he no longer spoke. How he had become a machine of battle. He understood why Sidious had been so interested in him for so long.
Skywalker was a natural.
There was a thermonuclear furnace where his heart should be, and it was burning through the firewalls of his Jedi training. He held the Force in the clench of a white-hot fist. He was half Sith already, and he didn’t even know it.
This boy had the gift of fury.
And even now, he was holding himself back; even now, as he landed at Dooku’s flank and rained blows upon the Sith Lord’s defenses, even as he drove Dooku backward step after step, Dooku could feel how Skywalker kept his fury banked behind walls of will: walls that were hardened by some uncontrollable dread.
Dread, Dooku surmised, of himself. Of what might happen if he should ever allow that furnace he used for a heart to go supercritical.
Dooku slipped aside from an overhand chop and sprang backward. “I sense great fear in you. You are consumed by it. Hero With No Fear, indeed. You’re a fraud, Skywalker. You are nothing but a posturing child.”
He pointed his lightsaber at the young Jedi like an accusing finger. “Aren’t you a little old to be afraid of the dark?”
Skywalker leapt for him again, and this time Dooku met the boy’s charge easily. They stood nearly toe-to-toe, blades flashing faster than the eye could see, but Skywalker had lost his edge: a simple taunt was all that had been required to shift the focus of his attention from winning the fight to controlling his own emotions. The angrier he got, the more afraid he became, and the fear fed his anger in turn; like the proverbial Corellian multipede, now that he had started thinking about what he was doing, he could no longer walk. Dooku allowed himself to relax; he felt that spirit of playfulness coming over him again as he and Skywalker spun ‘round each other in their lethal dance. Whatever fun was to be had, he should enjoy while he could.
Then Sidious, for some reason, decided to intervene.
“Don’t fear what you’re feeling, Anakin, use it!” he barked in Palpatine’s voice. “Call upon your fury. Focus it, and he cannot stand against you. Rage is your weapon. Strike now! Strike! Kill him!”
Dooku thought blankly, Kill me?
He and Skywalker paused for one single, final instant, blades locked together, staring at each other past a sizzling cross of scarlet against blue, and in that instant Dooku found himself wondering in bewildered astonishment if Sidious had suddenly lost his mind. Didn’t he understand the advice he’d just given?
Whose side was he on, anyway?
And through the cross of their blades he saw in Skywalker’s eyes the promise of hell, and he felt a sickening presentiment that he already knew the answer to that question.
Treachery is the way of the Sith.

THIS IS THE death of Count Dooku:
A starburst of clarity blossoms within Anakin Skywalker’s mind, when he says to himself Oh. I get it, now and discovers that the fear within his heart can be a weapon, too.
It is that simple, and that complex.
And it is final.
Dooku is dead already. The rest is mere detail.
The play is still on; the comedy of lightsabers flashes and snaps and hisses. Dooku & Skywalker, a one-time-only command performance, for an audience of one. Jedi and Sith and Sith and Jedi, spinning, whirling, crashing together, slashing and chopping, parrying, binding, slipping and whipping and ripping the air around them with snarls of power.
And all for nothing, because a nuclear flame has consumed Anakin Skywalker’s Jedi restraint, and fear becomes fury without effort, and fury is a blade that makes his lightsaber into a toy.
The play goes on, but the suspense is over. It has become mere pantomime, as intricate and as meaningless as the space-time curves that guide galactic clusters through a measureless cosmos.
Dooku’s decades of combat experience are irrelevant. His mastery of swordplay is useless. His vast wealth, his political influence, impeccable breeding, immaculate manners, exquisite taste—all the pursuits and points of pride to which he has devoted so much of his time and attention over the long, long years of his life—are now chains hung upon his spirit, bending his neck before the ax.
Even his knowledge of the Force has become a joke.
It is this knowledge that shows him his death, makes him handle it, turn it this way and that in his mind, examine it in detail like a black gemstone so cold it burns. Dooku’s elegant farce has degenerated into bathetic melodrama, and not one shed tear will mark the passing of its hero.
But for Anakin, in the fight there is only terror, and rage.
Only he stands between death and the two men he loves best in all the world, and he can no longer afford to hold anything back. That imaginary dead-star dragon tries its best to freeze away his strength, to whisper to him that Dooku has beaten him before, that Dooku has all the power of the darkness, to remind him how Dooku took his hand, how Dooku could strike down even Obi-Wan himself seemingly without effort and now Anakin is all alone and he will never be a match for any Lord of the Sith—
But Palpatine’s words rage is your weapon have given Anakin permission to unseal the shielding around his furnace heart, and all his fears and all his doubts shrivel in its flame.
When Count Dooku flies at him, blade flashing, Watto’s fist cracks out from Anakin’s childhood to knock the Sith Lord tumbling back.
When with all the power that the dark side can draw from throughout the universe, Dooku hurls a jagged fragment of the durasteel table, Shmi Skywalker’s gentle murmur I knew you would come for me, Anakin smashes it aside.
His head has been filled with the smoke from his smothered heart for far too long; it has been the thunder that darkens his mind. On Aargonar, on Jabiim, in the Tusken camp on Tatooine, that smoke had clouded his mind, had blinded him and left him flailing in the dark, a mindless machine of slaughter; but here, now, within this ship, this microscopic cell of life in the infinite sterile desert of space, his firewalls have opened so that the terror and the rage are out there, in the fight instead of in his head, and Anakin’s mind is clear as a crystal bell.
In that pristine clarity, there is only one thing he must do.
Decide.
So he does.
He decides to win.
He decides that Dooku should lose the same hand he took. Decision is reality, here: his blade moves simultaneously with his will and blue fire vaporizes black Corellian nanosilk and disintegrates flesh and shears bone, and away falls a Sith Lord’s lightsaber hand, trailing smoke that tastes of charred meat and burned hair.

Anakin made his right hand—his black-gloved hand of durasteel and electrodrivers—into a fist.
“It’s just—it’s not . . . easy, that’s all. I have—I’ve been a Jedi for so long—”
Sidious offered an appalling smile. “There is a place within you, my boy, a place as briskly clean as ice on a mountaintop, cool and remote. Find that high place, and look down within yourself; breathe that clean, icy air as you regard your guilt and shame. Do not deny them; observe them. Take your horror in your hands and look at it. Examine it as a phenomenon. Smell it. Taste it. Come to know it as only you can, for it is yours, and it is precious.”
As the shadow beside him spoke, its words became true. From a remote, frozen distance that was at the same time more extravagantly, hotly intimate than he could have ever dreamed, Anakin handled his emotions. He dissected them. He reassembled them and pulled them apart again. He still felt them—if anything, they burned hotter than before—but they no longer had the power to cloud his mind.
“You have found it, my boy: I can feel you there. That cold distance—that mountaintop within yourself—that is the first key to the power of the Sith.”
Anakin opened his eyes and turned his gaze fully upon the grotesque features of Darth Sidious.
He didn’t even blink.
As he looked upon that mask of corruption, the revulsion he felt was real, and it was powerful, and it was—
Interesting.
Anakin lifted his hand of durasteel and electrodrivers and cupped it, staring into its palm as though he held there the fear that had haunted his dreams for his whole life, and it was no larger than the piece of shuura he’d once stolen from Padmé’s plate.
On the mountain peak within himself, he weighed Padmé’s life against the Jedi Order. It was no contest.
He said, “Yes.”
“Yes to what, my boy?”
“Yes, I want your knowledge.”
“Good. Good!”
“I want your power. I want the power to stop death.”
“That power only my Master truly achieved, but together we will find it. The Force is strong with you, my boy. You can do anything.”
“The Jedi betrayed you,” Anakin said. “The Jedi betrayed both of us.”
“As you say. Are you ready?”
“I am,” he said, and meant it. “I give myself to you. I pledge myself to the ways of the Sith. Take me as your apprentice. Teach me. Lead me. Be my Master.”
Sidious raised the hood of his robe and draped it to shadow the ruin of his face. Kneel before me, Anakin Skywalker.”
Anakin dropped to one knee. He lowered his head.
“It is your will to join your destiny forever with the Order of the Sith Lords?”
There was no hesitation. “Yes.”
Darth Sidious laid a pale hand on Anakin’s brow. “Then it is done. You are now one with the Order of the Dark Lords of the Sith. From this day forward, the truth of you, my apprentice, now and forevermore, will be Darth . . .”
A pause; a questioning in the Force—
An answer, dark as the gap between galaxies—
He heard Sidious say it: his new name.
Vader. A pair of syllables that meant him.
Vader, he said to himself. Vader.
“Thank you, my Master.”
“Every single Jedi, including your friend Obi-Wan Kenobi, have been revealed as enemies of the Republic now. You understand that, don’t you?”
“Yes, my Master.”
“The Jedi are relentless. If they are not destroyed to the last being, there will be civil war without end. To sterilize the Jedi Temple will be your first task. Do what must be done, Lord Vader.”
“I always have, my Master.”
“Do not hesitate. Show no mercy. Leave no living creature behind. Only then will you be strong enough with the dark side to save Padmé.”
“What of the other Jedi?”
“Leave them to me. After you have finished at the Temple, your second task will be the Separatist leadership, in their ‘secret bunker’ on Mustafar. When you have killed them all, the Sith will rule the galaxy once more, and we shall have peace. Forever.
“Rise, Darth Vader.”
The Sith Lord who once had been a Jedi hero called Anakin Skywalker stood, drawing himself up to his full height, but he looked not outward upon his new Master, nor upon the planet-city beyond, nor out into the galaxy that they would soon rule. He instead turned his gaze inward: he unlocked the furnace gate within his heart and stepped forth to regard with new eyes the cold freezing dread of the dead-star dragon that had haunted his life.
I am Darth Vader, he said within himself. The dragon tried again to whisper of failure, and weakness, and inevitable death, but with one hand the Sith Lord caught it, crushed away its voice; it tried to rise then, to coil and rear and strike, but the Sith Lord laid his other hand upon it and broke its power with a single effortless twist.
I am Darth Vader, he repeated as he ground the dragon’s corpse to dust beneath his mental heel, as he watched the dragon’s dust and ashes scatter before the blast from his furnace heart, and you—
You are nothing at all.
He had become, finally, what they all called him.
The Hero With No Fear.

Darth Vader stood on the command bridge of the Mustafar control center, hand of durasteel clasping hand of flesh behind him, and gazed up through the transparisteel view wall at the galaxy he would one day rule.
He paid no attention to the litter of corpses around his feet.
He could feel his power growing, indeed. He had the measure of his “Master” already; not long after Palpatine shared the secret of Darth Plagueis’ discovery, their relationship would undergo a sudden . . . transformation.
A fatal transformation.
Everything was proceeding according to plan.

'Zonakin' is a lie, there is only Knightfall Vader and he is capable of slaughtering Dooku tier combatants. Furthermore, this was the power he lost when he burned on Mustafar.

Originally posted by AncientPower
Furthermore, this was the power he lost when he burned on Mustafar.

This is where Disney Canon differs with Stover. Vader grew more powerful post suit as per Disney. He only lost some potential, but had more actualised power than ever.

I don't care about Disney Canon, you either take Legends Vader or Canon Vader, considering I'm debating the Stover trilogy you can guess as to which one I'm referring to.

This is how it feels to be Anakin Skywalker, forever:
The first dawn of light in your universe brings pain.
The light burns you. It will always burn you. Part of you will always lie upon black glass sand beside a lake of fire while flames chew upon your flesh.
You can hear yourself breathing. It comes hard, and harsh, and it scrapes nerves already raw, but you cannot stop it. You can never stop it. You cannot even slow it down. You don’t even have lungs anymore.
Mechanisms hardwired into your chest breathe for you. They will pump oxygen into your bloodstream forever.
"Lord Vader? Lord Vader, can you hear me?"
And you can’t, not in the way you once did. Sensors in the shell that prisons your head trickle meaning directly into your brain.
You open your scorched-pale eyes; optical sensors integrate light and shadow into a hideous simulacrum of the world around you.
Or perhaps the simulacrum is perfect, and it is the world that is hideous.
Padmé? Are you here? Are you all right? you try to say, but another voice speaks for you, out from the vocabulator that serves you for burned-away lips and tongue and throat.
“Padmé? Are you here? Are you all right?”
I’m very sorry, Lord Vader. I’m afraid she died. It seems in your anger, you killed her.
This burns hotter than the lava had.
“No . . . no, it is not possible!”
You loved her. You will always love her. You could never will her death.
Never.
But you remember . . .
You remember all of it.
You remember the dragon that you brought Vader forth from your heart to slay. You remember the cold venom in Vader’s blood. You remember the furnace of Vader’s fury, and the black hatred of seizing her throat to silence her lying mouth—
And there is one blazing moment in which you finally understand that there was no dragon. That there was no Vader. That there was only you. Only Anakin Skywalker.
That it was all you. Is you.
Only you.
You did it.
You killed her.
You killed her because, finally, when you could have saved her, when you could have gone away with her, when you could have been thinking about her, you were thinking about yourself . . .
It is in this blazing moment that you finally understand the trap of the dark side, the final cruelty of the Sith—
Because now your self is all you will ever have.
And you rage and scream and reach through the Force to crush the shadow who has destroyed you, but you are so far less now than what you were, you are more than half machine, you are like a painter gone blind, a composer gone deaf, you can remember where the power was but the power you can touch is only a memory, and so with all your world-destroying fury it is only droids around you that implode, and equipment, and the table on which you were strapped shatters, and in the end, you cannot touch the shadow.
In the end, you do not even want to.
In the end, the shadow is all you have left.
Because the shadow understands you, the shadow forgives you, the shadow gathers you unto itself—
And within your furnace heart, you burn in your own flame.
This is how it feels to be Anakin Skywalker.
Forever . . .

Yes, kill him! He is weak, broken! Kill him and take your rightful place at my side!
- Darth Sidious, The Force Unleashed

Lord Vader was a broken shadow of his former self, I knew that one day you would replace him.
- Darth Sidious, The Force Unleashed

Originally posted by AncientPower
I don't care about Disney Canon, you either take Legends Vader or Canon Vader, considering I'm debating the Stover trilogy you can guess as to which one I'm referring to.

Well given the OP doesn't mention Legends and board rules has Canon as the default, I'm entitled to point out the faults in citing Legend sources.

Also Stover's ROTS is canon wherever it doesn't contradict and aligns with Canon.

So you could say it stands on the border of Legends and Canon.

Originally posted by AncientPower
I don't care about Disney Canon, you either take Legends Vader or Canon Vader, considering I'm debating the Stover trilogy you can guess as to which one I'm referring to.

There are stark contrasts between Vader in Canon and in Legends, differences I can only surmise would be obvious to you Thor. Oh and the novels were canon-by-affiliation in the old system. Disney Canon has very strict definitions of where it draws the line.

Board standards typically assume a Legends incarnation of a character unless specifically noted otherwise. Some obvious exceptions exist, but this is the EU forum.