Komari narrowly dodged a saber blow aimed at his neck. If she hadn't been certain that Master Windu was simply trying to drag her away, she might have thought he was trying to kill her.

  As she stabilized after her dodge, she saw too late the Jedi Master's foot rushing towards her.

  The shock in the stomach cut her short in her breath.

  She crashed to the ground, grimacing, the pain coursing through her body. It wasn't the first time she had ended up on the mat, but each time it had the bitter taste of humiliation. In other words, she was getting her ass kicked to perfection.

  She quickly sat up and took her guard again, determined not to give up. Komari knew that during their first confrontation, Master Windu had wanted to teach him a lesson. the futility of raw violence, and the evidence that there was always something stronger than oneself.

  That day, she had been able to surprise him with her rage, her aggressiveness, her controlled but ferocious attacks.

  But today, it was no longer the same fight. Windu was serious, focused, and fully invested in his art. Through the Force, she could feel the intensity of his mind, a restrained aggressiveness, perfectly controlled, icy in its precision.

  As if she were receiving alternating waves of heat and cold on the back of her neck.

  A shiver ran through her, not of fear, but of excitement. She was measuring herself against a predator. A true master. A Jedi who could, if he really wanted to, cut off his head with a single blow.

  The rain of attacks that followed forced her to move in a circle, trying to break through her guard on the flank. Without success. She barely parried a blow from a purple saber that was aimed at her eyes. No doubt, Windu was arguably the best opponent she had ever faced.

  But as she rolled to the side to dodge another attack, another thought struck her: Would he be able to take on the Sith she'd seen in the Senate?

  She deeply respected Windu's mastery. With the sword, he could hold on. But she had felt, that day, the suffocating darkness of the Force that surrounded this Sith. An overwhelming, almost unholy presence.

  Before Windu could even approach, he would be in danger of being mowed down by an unleashing of power.

  Lost in thought for a moment, Komari did not see the attack coming. Windu's sabre struck her hard in the shoulder.

  She staggered, and a surge of anger immediately rose in her. She nipped him in the bud, took a deep breath, and regained control.

  "Good, Komari. Don't let your anger overwhelm you. Be aware of her, but don't surrender to it," Windu congratulated her, deactivating his saber before calmly hanging it back on his belt.

  Following his advice, Komari gradually calmed down. She was beginning to understand the philosophy of Vaapad.

  It wasn't about repeating katas or learning how to block an attack. No, to reach even the foundations of this form, one had to plunge into a state of constant pressure, where the slightest slackening became a weakness, and the slightest uncontrolled emotion threatened to consume the mind.

  It could not be approached without constant pressure, tension and powerful emotions. We had to learn to dance with the shadow... without ever drowning in it.

  Komari had to face his anger, his frustration, his fear of failure, and above all... this dull rage that she had carried inside her since childhood.

  Anger was part of her, she had always known it. On Nar Shaddaa, she had used it to survive. But here, the Vaapad asked him to do something else, not to stifle this anger, but to channel it, to dance with it, without ever giving in to it.

  The training was tough, physically and mentally, but necessary.

  And it was precisely this kind of ordeal that Komari enjoyed. It reminded her, in a way, of her younger years in Nar Shaddaa, in the dirty, dimly lit weapon rooms, where she had learned to survive.

  "Thanks for the practice, Master," she said, bowing slightly, out of breath.

  Windu nodded. "You've made good progress in the last few weeks. There's still a lot to do, but you're on the right track. ?

  Komari smiled as he wiped the sweat from his brow. "Against all odds, you are a good teacher. Even if I'm sure you take some pleasure in kicking me. ?

  The Jedi Master didn't answer, but she felt through the force his amusement at his little pike. None of them will ever admit it, but he was genuinely beginning to like each other.

  "The last round of the insider competition is about to begin," Windu warned. "I guess your comrades will want your full support. Exceptionally, the Council of First Knowledge has agreed to suspend your punishment so that you can attend the final. ?

  "Great, thank you very much!" exclaimed Komari, delighted to be able to cheer on her friends. "But if possible, I'd like to stop by the Prison Guard and let him know that I won't be able to be there."

  Windu nodded, seeing no problem with it. "Do what you think is right. But I'm surprised you get along so well with this droid. If I remember correctly, this old model doesn't like anyone. ?

  "That's because you don't know him," Komari replied with a wry smile. "Once you get past the insults, he's a pretty nice guy. Especially if you bring him quality oil. ?

  "Quality oil? But there is nothing like that in the Temple. All droids receive the same standard oil. How did you get some? ?

  Komari shrugged casually. "Oh, nothing too complicated. I stole it from the Organa palace. Did you know that they import their droid oil directly from Alderaan? It is one of the most popular, it seems. ?

  Windu heaved a sigh. He had just heard her confess to him, without the slightest embarrassment, that she had stolen oil from the royal family of Alderande.

  But when he thought about it, he was not fooled. It was almost certain that Prince Bail Organa was complicit. After all, he was always the one who accompanied Komari on his trips back and forth between the Temple and the palace. She would never have been able to bring in whole boxes of oil without her approval and support.

  "Prison guards! Prison guards! Komari said as he rushed into the Temple's paper archives.

  The old droid slowly raised its dented head in its direction, its sensors emitting a plaintive crackle. Her squeaky voice slammed into the silence:

  "Damn kid... Stop bellowing, my hearing sensors are not yet out of order. Why this happy look? Did you finally manage to get fired from the Order? ?

  Komari shook his head with a smirk. Without answering right away, she waved her hand: the bundles of documents that the droid struggled to carry rose into the air and, with a fluid movement, came to be arranged alone in the shelves. The old droid followed her with his eyes, visibly relieved... but not grateful for it.

  "Don't worry, despite all my efforts, they still refuse to let go of me. I just came to warn you that I won't be working with you today. I'm going to attend the final of the great competition of initiates. ?

  The droid hissed mockingly.

  "Oh, so such pitiful beings as you made it to the finals? I already feel sorry for them. They will be eaten alive by real Padawans. ?

  Komari nonchalantly rubbed his nose.

  "I'm not worried. I was the one who trained them. They will make short work of these so-called prodigies. ?

  In response, an ancient encyclopedia more than five thousand years old flew straight to his face. Komari caught her with his fingertips, without even batting an eyelid.

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  "Don't expect too much from them, you little insolent. Even if they learned a few tricks thanks to you, they don't have your instincts, nor... your total lack of common sense. And for what it's worth, I hate this stupid little competition. ?

  Not seeking to prolong the conversation and especially not to endure a new tirade about the degeneration of the Jedi Order, Komari pretended to leave. Then, just before she walked through the door, she stuck her head through the doorway.

  "By the way, I brought you some high-quality oil. It is in the usual place. ?

  She barely had time to retire when another book, this time the Thousand Worst Insults in the Galaxy, crashed into the wall at the exact spot where her head had been a few seconds earlier.

  Since Komari had never wanted to participate in the insider competition, she didn't know the rules or the process.

  She saw it as nothing more than a useless circus, an exercise of ego under the veneer of the beautiful traditions of the Order.

  It was therefore Bail who improvised himself as the teacher of the day. Still fascinated by the Jedi universe, the young prince had obtained his mother's permission to attend the event. He had been one of the few civilians admitted to outside observers—a privilege usually reserved for influential senators or patrons of the Temple, who saw this competition as pleasant entertainment... often at the expense of the young participants.

  "I don't understand why you're so interested..." Komari had grumbled.

  "Because it's fascinating! It's an ancient tradition, a mix of showmanship, talent, and extreme pressure! You should see the faces of the rich senators when a little initiate disarms his opponent in ten seconds! ?

  The competition, he explained, took place in three distinct phases, which were supposed to gradually sort out the best elements. In theory, every initiate, whether they lost or not, could later be chosen by a Jedi Master. In practice... Victory attracted more and more attention.

  The first phase, often disorganized, pitted all the voluntary initiates against each other in brief duels, under the supervision of referees. There was everything: lightsaber prodigies, clumsy students, nervous people who forgot their techniques as soon as the fight began. It was sometimes closer to choreographed chaos than to a real tournament.

  The second phase made it possible to close ranks. Only the winners of the first round advanced, and faced each other again in a series of elimination rounds. The level went up a notch, mistakes were paid for more.

  But it was the third phase that really captivated the spectators. The initiates still in the running no longer faced their peers, but... of the Padawans. And not just any apprentices: often apprentices on the verge of becoming Jedi Knights.

  Formidable opponents.

  It was extremely rare for an initiate to win at this stage, but every blow struck, every well-placed defense, was carefully watched by the Masters sitting high up in the stands. A remarkable performance, even without a win, could be enough to change a destiny.

  So far, all of Komari's comrades had made it to the third phase.

  A rather impressive collective feat...

  and which, in spite of herself, inflated Komari's ego a little.

  "Even Lilou?" she asked with an raised eyebrow.

  "Yes, but..." Bail had hesitated. "Let's just say she was a little lucky. A lot of rolling. And his opponent got his feet caught in his head. ?

  Komari burst out laughing.

  "I like that!"

  Komari watched his little troop of broken arms and misfits with ill-concealed tenderness.

  A wide smile stretched her lips, revealing her canines, a little longer than average.

  "Pssst, Lilou..." Are you sure that his species is not carnivorous? She's got some hell of a tooth," Tobias whispered, looking worried.

  "I've never seen her eat anything other than roots. And no, they're not carnivore teeth," Zang replied instead. "If you want to know everything, she has pretty much the same teeth as Master Yoda and Master Yaddle."

  "What? So is it a herbivore? Lilou wondered.

  "You're dreaming! She complains all the time that she can't eat rat meat! Who eats rat meat, seriously? Tobias exclaimed, disgusted.

  "Silence!" growled Tola, frowning, exasperated by their chatter.

  The initiates, who had not taken their eyes off Komari, swallowed when they saw the evil smile she wore. She had heard everything, of course.

  "I'm going to watch each of your battles... and I will judge every mistake. ?

  A shiver ran through the little troop. Komari was visibly relishing their reaction.

  "But I'll give you a piece of advice." She took a more serious tone. "Don't think about competition. Fight as if it were me in front of you. Forget the rules. Use everything you have up your sleeve, all the dirty tricks I taught you, all the dirty tricks. ?

  She inhaled slowly, almost solemnly.

  "And above all... Have fun. ?

  Then she turned on her heel to join Bail, not without giving them a last wink.

  Tobias, his mouth half-open, cast an anxious glance at his comrades.

  "Only she finds it funny..." ?

  Komari fully understood the enthusiasm of Bail Organa and the other senators present for the competition. There was something fascinating about seeing young fighters battle it out with lightsabers, engaging in duels of rare intensity, mixing speed, acrobatics and raw power.

  The use of the Force changed everything. These teenagers were not simple fencers. Thanks to their abilities, they could execute movements that no one else could: gravity-defying pirouettes, prodigious leaps, superhuman fluidity. At this level, the fight became almost a violent, but hypnotic dance.

  Until now, Komari had never paid much attention to the initiates of the other clans. The latent hostility she felt emanating from them, every time she met their eyes, had not encouraged her to get to know each other. But as the clashes continued, she discovered that there were some unexpected gems in the opposing ranks.

  Then came the turn of his comrades.

  To his great pride, they applied his advice to the letter: they fought fierce, hard fights, without ever trying to appear elegant. Zang and Lilou, in particular, surprised everyone by managing to inflict several hits on their opponents, who were much more experienced.

  When Lilou landed a well-placed kick to her opponent's crotch, Komari applauded with both hands, laughing.

  "Well done!" she said in a low voice, visibly delighted that her teaching was bearing fruit.

  Next to her, Bail grimaced, instinctively sharing the pain of the fallen padawan. In the crowd, several Jedi, initiated as knights, had the same synchronized reaction, a thrill of pure empathy.

  Komari, on the other hand, did not expect her students to win these duels. That was not the goal. Facing a padawan on the doorstep of the title of knight was the assurance of losing but also of learning.

  When it was Tola's turn, Komari straightened up slightly. This time, she was counting on not missing any of the fight.

  Tola was one of the best of their little gang... right after her, of course.

  Watching Tola's opponent enter the arena, Komari frowned. An unpleasant sensation went up the back of his neck, accompanied by an insidious whisper in a corner of his mind.

  "He's dangerous."

  The voice was clear, cold. It came neither from the outside, nor from his conscious thoughts. It was that voice that spoke to him sometimes, when danger loomed on the horizon. She didn't know where she came from, or if she belonged to anyone other than herself. But until now, she had never been wrong.

  "Beware of Xanatos..." ?

  The name echoed in his head, charged with a strange gravity. Komari tightened his posture, his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the young padawan who was advancing.

  He was rather tall, muscular without excess, with brown hair slicked back and eyes of an icy blue. But it was neither his build nor his apparent mastery that caught Komari's attention. It was arrogance.

  He exuded a cold, almost contemptuous confidence, a thinly veiled disdain for everything around him. Even the regulation salute he addressed to Tola seemed to be executed with polite condescension, as if he were wasting his time.

  "His name is Xanatos. His master is Qui-Gon Jinn. Bail whispered, remaining at his side. "And Qui-Gon was Master Dooku's student."

  Komari did not answer. But rolled his eyes as Tola responded to the padawan's greeting. She considered this kind of thing to be superfluous cosmetic.

  When the referee gave the signal, Tola immediately assumed a low posture, sabre tilted diagonally, legs bent, ready to leap. Opposite, Xanatos deliberately opened his guard, exposing his chest, arms relaxed, in a provocative posture.

  An invitation.

  A trap, Komari thought... but a sloppy trap. He underestimated his opponent.

  The smile that stretched her lips revealed her canines, longer than average.

  You're going to regret it, pretty heart.

  Tola jumped up.

  The attack was so fast that even Komari widened his eyes. His saber burst forth in a brutal arc, aiming at Xanatos' left flank.

  The Padawan took a step back, barely dodging, but the plasma brushed against his tunic, causing it to sizzle. Before he had even rebalanced, Tola unleashed a series of frantic shots, short and precise.

  Xanatos had to bend his knees, pivot, and retreat again. The little initiate forced him to descend to her level, to defend his feet and legs, to lose the advantage of his height. She was hitting low, always moving, never where he expected to find her.

  Then, in a perfectly coordinated movement, she pretended to aim at his ankles again... before leaping into the air, propelled by the Force, and delivering a violent kick to the face.

  A cry of astonishment ran through the crowd.

  Xanatos stepped back, stumbled, but managed to catch himself with a roll. Blood was dripping from his nose. His gaze had hardened, and the fury it now contained betrayed wounded pride.

  "He took it badly," whispered Bail.

  Komari, on the other hand, just smiled.

  But Tola did not wait. As Xanatos sat up, she raised a hand and unleashed a powerful thrust of Force. The padawan had just enough time to erect a counter-wave, the two streams cancelling each other out in a dull rumble.

  In this moment of precarious equilibrium, Tola rushed again. She feigned a low strike, aiming for the shins... then, pivoting with disconcerting agility, she redirected her attack towards Xanatos' left shoulder.

  Touchdown.

  An audible signal sounds, confirming the point.

  Silence fell for a moment in the stands.

  Komari sat up, his arms still crossed, a proud smile on his face. You are a credit to your teacher, my friend...