**Chapter 621**
**Scene 1**
**Concordia – Death Watch Arena**
**Dagon POV**
The underground arena on Concordia was vast, carved deep into the moon's rocky crust. Dim red lighting cast long shadows across the circular fighting pit, where dozens — no, hundreds — of Mandalorians had gathered. Warriors from various clans stood shoulder to shoulder, their armor a patchwork of colors and clan symbols. Some wore the stark white and blue of New Mandalorians who had secretly longed for the old ways. Others bore the red and black of Death Watch loyalists. A few, I noticed, wore the more subtle markings of the Children of the Watch — those who still clung to the ancient Creed.
I had removed all my advanced armor and weapons, leaving only the simple brown robes of a Jedi Temple Guard and a single beskar vibro-sword strapped to my side. The Ysalamiri lizards were already spaced out around the ring's perimeter in reinforced cages, their Force-nullifying bubbles overlapping to create a wide dead zone. Death Watch had clearly known about them and prepared accordingly. The Children of the Watch had likely helped facilitate this.
Two shuttles descended from the cavern ceiling, landing on opposite sides of the arena. The first carried Pre Vizsla, who stepped out flanked by his elite Nite Owls. He moved with arrogant confidence, his helmet tucked under one arm, a smug smile on his face as he surveyed the crowd.
The second shuttle carried Master Yoda and Duchess Satine Kryze. Satine looked deeply concerned, her elegant features tight with worry as she scanned the gathered Mandalorians. Yoda walked calmly beside her, gimer stick tapping softly.
Satine's eyes found mine across the arena. "This is madness," she said quietly to Yoda, though her voice carried just enough for me to hear through the Force. "A blood duel? Here? On my moon? People will die. Mandalorians will turn on Mandalorians. How can you allow this?"
Yoda's ears twitched slightly. "Necessary, it is. The wound must be lanced before it festers further."
Pre Vizsla laughed loudly as he stepped into the ring, his voice booming with arrogance. "So the great Jedi Master Yoda comes to watch a Mandalorian settle his own affairs? How gracious of you. And you — Temple Guard Dagon — you really think you can challenge me? I am Pre Vizsla, leader of Death Watch! I will crush you and take the Darksaber as my birthright. Then Mandalore will finally return to its true glory — not this pacifist weakness Satine has forced upon us!"
Some of the gathered Mandalorians cheered. Others — particularly the Children of the Watch — remained silent, watching with careful intensity.
Satine stepped forward, her voice rising with concern. "Pre, this is not the way! We have moved beyond violence. The New Mandalorians—"
"Silence, Duchess!" Vizsla snapped, pointing at her. "Your so-called peace has made us weak. Today, I will prove that strength still exists among our people. This Jedi pretender will learn what it means to face a true Mandalorian warrior!"
The announcer, a grizzled old Mandalorian in scarred armor, stepped into the center of the ring. "The rules are simple! The winner must either kill the opponent or force them to yield. No outside interference. Begin!"
**Scene 2**
The fight began exactly as one would expect from a Mandalorian blood duel — raw, brutal, and without mercy.
Vizsla activated his jetpack and shot forward, firing his wrist blasters in rapid succession. I dodged with ease, using the breathing techniques I had mastered long ago. No Force was needed here — the Ysalamiri saw to that. My body moved on pure muscle memory and disciplined breathing, sidestepping each shot with minimal effort.
"You call yourself a warrior?" I taunted, my voice calm but loud enough for the entire arena to hear. "Death Watch claims to honor the old ways, yet you raid civilian worlds, kill those who cannot fight back. Where is the honor in that? Where is the hunt? Mandalore the Ultimate did the same — attacked worlds with no challenge, and it led to his downfall. You are no different."
Vizsla snarled and unleashed a barrage of micro-missiles from his gauntlet. I spun, cutting two down mid-air with the beskar vibro-sword before rolling aside from the rest. The explosions rocked the arena floor, sending dust and debris flying.
"Honor?" Vizsla roared, landing heavily and drawing his Darksaber. The black blade ignited with its distinctive hum. "You Jedi know nothing of honor! You hide behind your sorcery and preach peace while conquering the galaxy!"
He lunged, swinging the Darksaber in wide, powerful arcs. I parried each strike with the vibro-sword, the beskar edges clashing with sparks. For thirty minutes, we danced across the ring — Vizsla using every trick his armor provided: flamethrowers, whipcord, shock gauntlets. I dodged them all, never once using the Force, relying purely on breathing forms and honed reflexes.
The crowd grew louder with each exchange. Some Mandalorians cheered for Vizsla. Others began murmuring.
"He fights like one of us," one warrior said.
"No sorcery… he's respecting the Creed," another added.
A Child of the Watch warrior near the front nodded slowly. "This is the Way."
Finally, I saw my opening. As Vizsla overextended with a heavy overhead strike, I slipped inside his guard. My vibro-sword flashed twice — precise, surgical cuts. Vizsla screamed as both his legs were severed at the knees, followed by his dominant arm at the elbow. He collapsed to the ground, the Darksaber clattering from his grasp.
"Finish it!" Vizsla snarled through gritted teeth, blood pooling beneath him. "Kill me, you coward!"
I stood over him, sword lowered but steady. "No. You are a thief and a murderer. You will live with this shame forever."
Bo-Katan Kryze and several Nite Owls stepped forward from the crowd, their armor gleaming. Bo-Katan's voice rang out, filled with outrage. "This is wrong! You are no true Mandalorian! Using tricks and sorcery—"
"Neither are you," I replied calmly, meeting her gaze. "Leave this place."
Bo-Katan hesitated, then motioned to her warriors. They lifted the wounded Vizsla and retreated toward their shuttles, swearing revenge as they departed. Only a couple of hardcore Death Watch loyalists followed her. The majority remained.
The arena fell silent as the remaining Mandalorians slowly lowered their weapons. One by one, they began to kneel or bow their heads.
I raised the recovered Darksaber high, its black blade igniting with a sharp snap-hiss.
"This is the Way," I declared.
"This is the Way!" the Mandalorians replied in unison, their voices echoing through the cavern like thunder.
The Children of the Watch among them stood tallest, pride and hope shining in their eyes. A new chapter for Mandalore had begun.