Quoted By:
“Yeah, I think I could.” Replying with a friendly grin on your face to show there is no real animosity behind your words. But there is truth in your statement; from what you have seen, you are better than him, to the point where you are not on the same level. In fact, no one sharing your rank has ever been able to equal your skill since your early days in the temple, the closest being Chook, who you humiliated back in your Trial of the Blade.
With a flourish, Padawan Sion swings his blade of pure blue plasma in a circle and brings it to a centre guard; his eyes narrow, and his voice deepens, continuing with the act the pair of you are performing, “Then show me… If you can.”
You throw your right arm out with your hand empty, waiting for the familiar grip of a Lightsaber in its palm. Through the Force, you pull at your full-sized Lightsaber which hangs from your belt, it rises slowly into your waiting grip. With a simple press of a button, a bar of blue plasma springs to life with a hum. Your other Lightsaber, your smaller Shoto blade, hovers right in front of you, and you snatch it out of the air with your left hand and ignite the smaller sword of pure azure light. Assisted by the Force, you throw yourself up into the sky with a powerful jump towards the older Padawan, the air flows through your flapping hair as you glide forwards. Landing a dozen meters from your jump and only a couple from Sion, you break out an exaggerated pose based on a basic Soresu guard.
Like a lightning bolt, you leap forwards at Sion and slice at his form in a mad flurry. Your expertise in Soresu and Makashi discarded, handicapping yourself. Lately, you’ve spent effort and hours to begin your journey into learning Ataru looking to widen your skills, and more than that, it compliments your dual sabres. The force behind your initial blows, granted by the speed of your leap, batters at Sion’s rushed defences, forcing him to step back in retreat. Following those blows up, your small Shoto swipes out, trying to nick his hand or torso, while your longer sword of pure light slices at his feet, forcing him to either continue his retreat or use his single blade to parry away your strikes.
The wild and aggressive Form IV is almost liberating compared to your more practised, virtually passive Soresu and the calm coldness of Makashi that makes up your typical offensive playbook. Sion’s fist whips out, seeming almost like an accident or an unconsciously flailing limb, brushes against your chin. Partially stunned by the punch to your jaw, not by the power of the blow, but more by the surprise. Your offensive dies, and he begins to pummel the weak Ataru defences you conjure up to slow him down, while you try to regain sense of the battle, refusing to fall back to your skill with Soresu.
