Still... one thing was clear.
He was my only hope.
My only chance.
Zevon
Nothingness.
Nothing but barren, moist slate and muddy, ashen dust. A drenched floor that stretched out for kilometers.
Clusters of cold, unfeeling graves littered the edge of the lifeless landscape, each the tomb of plundered hopes and forgotten legacy.
The few openings to the planet's crust had been drowned in gurgling, acidic pools, disintegrating the wails of the departed before they could ever reach the surface.
"Pew!" "Pew!"
Immersed in the wet wasteland, Burst and I set our scopes on the makeshift targets we'd scattered around the area.
The rounds echoed across the plains, distant obelisks swallowing the blaster's screams.
"Why do you even want this?" Burst asked suddenly, leaning his blaster over his shoulder. "You were just getting good with the saber."
"It's... just a useful skill. It's not like I see myself using one too often." I muttered seriously, instinctively gripping the lightsaber at my belt even as I steadied my shooting hand. "And I'm still a long way from good."
'I'm not too bad with a lightsaber.'
I wondered when I'd be able to say that without lying.
Of course the forms made sense. Their ideal applications, the theory behind each movement... everything had clicked after just one or two reviews of a holocron.
Executing, however, perfecting my movements...
I still had a long way to go.
...How long? Ten years?
I scowled.
...A hundred?
"So what?" the hardened soldier grunted.
"So what?!" I barked back, squinting hard at Burst. "So I finally reach my goal, so I finally become..."
"Who cares about being good? With a blade or blaster." he scoffed, ranting over me. "You think then things will get easier? That everything will suddenly feel right?"
"Pew! Pew! Pew!"
Three shots, three scorchmarks branded into the metal target, all dead center.
All perfect.
And yet, Burst shook his head, as if he'd hoped for any other outcome.
"Ahhh..."
A sigh, and a pleading look that briefly shook my resolve.
"Kid, take it from me. Being good... it doesn't feel good."
"It's not the same." I sighed, denial flushing through my body. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bring your mind there."
We stood in silence, the wet dust compacting into rock beneath our feet.
"Sorry. No, I did it myself. To tell you the truth, my mind's always there." Burst rambled. "...It's not your fault."
He sighed, smacking his helmet a few times before reaching down to grip my wrist.
"Let's focus on the work at hand."
He elevated my arm slightly, tested my stability with a strong shake.
"The blaster emits a plasma, just like your magic sword... both are an extension of yourself, but this one's a bit different."
YOU ARE READING
The Weakest Jedi
Fanfiction*OC version of The Weakest Jedi.* The story of a young boy and his foolish dream. Born into the hellish underworld of Coruscant, Zevon was found by the Jedi at a young age and welcomed into the order. There's a slight problem, though... Zevon's forc...
Chapter 44 - Empty Table, Empty Horizon
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