The two men moved with speed and precision, their blades clashing in bursts of light and sparks that illuminated the training mat.
Kyle was holding his own—for now—but it was taking everything he had to stay in the fight. Bondara's technique was unfamiliar, his movements sharp and fluid, his footwork weaving intricate patterns that Kyle struggled to track. Each strike came faster than the last, forcing Kyle to rely on instinct and experience just to keep up.
He's better than I thought... Kyle realized grimly.
Bondara's blade swept low, forcing Kyle to hop back. The Twi'lek pressed the advantage, launching a flurry of rapid strikes that hammered against Kyle's defenses. Kyle barely turned each one aside, his muscles burning with the effort.
Experience was the only thing saving him—not skill, not finesse—just raw, hard-earned survival instincts.
Then something shifted.
Kyle's instincts flared—not in warning, but in understanding.
Bondara's patterns—the way his blade flowed between strikes—there were openings. Not many, and they were brief—but they were there.
Kyle bided his time, watching, waiting…
Finally, Bondara lunged—his saber thrusting forward in a sharp, direct strike.
Now!
Kyle threw himself backward with a Force-empowered leap, soaring several meters through the air before landing lightly on his feet. He exhaled, his heart pounding in his chest as he quickly repositioned himself.
Distance. Space. He needed it—just for a moment.
Bondara paused, eyes narrowing slightly in approval. The brief reprieve wouldn't last.
Kyle planted his back foot, grounding himself—and then he reached into the Force.
The energy surged through him, coiling like a spring wound too tight—Force Speed.
In an instant, Kyle shot forward, his blade snapping out in a blur.
Bondara's eyes widened—he barely had time to react. Kyle's strikes came fast and precise, a rapid onslaught of sharp angles and unpredictable patterns. Each swing seemed to chase the last, offering Bondara little room to counter.
For the first time in the duel, Bondara was forced to retreat. His saber twisted and flicked, expertly intercepting Kyle's strikes—but the pressure was relentless.
Kyle pressed harder, his blade dancing between Bondara's defenses—so fast the green of his saber seemed to leave streaks in the air.
Bondara's back foot faltered—just for an instant.
I've got him, Kyle thought.
But before he could exploit the moment, Bondara's presence in the Force surged.
The Twi'lek's free hand shot forward—a powerful Force push blasted Kyle square in the chest.
The world blurred as Kyle's back hit the floor hard, his breath rushing from his lungs. His lightsaber skidded across the mat, rolling out of reach.
Bondara stood tall, his saber still humming in his hand.
"Impressive," Bondara said, voice calm. "But you rely too much on speed."
Kyle grimaced, pushing himself to his feet. His ribs ached, and his lungs still burned from the sudden impact.
"Yeah?" Kyle grunted. He extended his hand, calling his lightsaber back to him with the Force. The weapon flew into his palm with a satisfying snap.
He thumbed it back to life. "Well... guess I'd better mix things up."
Bondara smiled faintly. "That's what I'm counting on."
The Twi'lek raised his blade again, slipping back into his guarded stance.
Kyle's muscles tensed. His breath slowed. He felt the Force stir again—not with urgency this time, but with purpose.
This fight wasn't over.
The next exchange was faster, more deliberate.
Kyle had begun to pick up the nuances of Bondara's bladework—small adjustments in timing, subtle shifts in weight, faint tells in his stance. Each feint and angle began to make sense.
But Bondara was learning too.
The Twi'lek recognized Kyle's style for what it was—the Three Rings of Defense, the foundational guard stance every padawan learned in their early training. But there was more—pieces of Form III, bits of Form IV, and scattered elements of Form V blended in.
It was incomplete—like puzzle pieces that hadn't yet found their proper place—but still effective. Kyle's style wasn't polished, but it was practical, designed for survival, not tradition.
This man's fought to stay alive, Bondara realized. He's no stranger to real combat.
Kyle didn't fight like someone who sparred in temple courtyards—he fought like someone who had been in battles where lives were on the line. His blade didn't just defend—it sought to end the fight whenever possible.
Efficient. Dangerous. Practical.
Bondara recognized that Kyle's knowledge was unrefined, but his instincts were sharp. In time, with proper guidance, this man could become formidable.
But not yet.
Eventually, the duel reached its limit.
Bondara drove Kyle to the brink of his stamina—not enough to overwhelm him, but enough to push him to his limit without causing serious injury.
Kyle's blade dipped low—his body exhausted, his muscles burning.
Bondara disengaged and stepped back, lowering his weapon.
"Enough," Bondara said.
Kyle, still breathing heavily, straightened and deactivated his saber. His shirt clung to his sweat-drenched frame, and his ribs still ached from the earlier Force push.
Bondara approached, studying him closely.
"You've got talent," the Twi'lek said at last. "But you're incomplete. There's potential here—plenty of it—but you'll need refinement."
Kyle let out a breathless chuckle. "I'll take that as a compliment."
Bondara's smile returned, thin but genuine. "You should."
Bondara knew Kyle's future was uncertain.
Refined Passage – Bondara's Reflection on Kyle Katarn
Bondara knew Kyle's future was uncertain. The man's skills were impressive, no doubt—but raw. His instincts were sharp, his bladework unorthodox yet effective. Despite lacking the polished refinement the Jedi Order typically demanded, Kyle's hard-earned experience made up for much of what formal training would have provided.
In Bondara's estimation, Kyle's abilities were strong enough to earn him a place in the Order—not as a Padawan, but as a freshly minted Knight. His combat instincts, survival experience, and connection to the Force had forged him into something unconventional but undeniably capable.
Still... there was work to be done.
Refinement. Precision. Control.
Kyle's strength lay in his adaptability—the ability to turn chaos into opportunity. But Bondara knew that such a strength could easily become a weakness without focus. There was an edge to Kyle's style—a dangerous one—like a blade sharpened for war rather than peace. That instinct, while powerful, had to be tempered.
Bondara doubted Kyle would fit neatly into the Jedi mold. His path had been different, his lessons taught through hardship rather than meditation halls. Yet the potential was there—potential to be formidable... or dangerous.
With guidance, Kyle could become a powerful Jedi—one who stood apart from tradition yet still embodied what the Order was meant to represent. Without it... Bondara knew Kyle risked becoming a man who wielded power without understanding it—a man who followed his instincts without learning when to rein them in.
In time, Kyle Katarn could be great.
But whether he would become a Knight worthy of the Jedi Order—or a rogue operating dangerously close to the Dark Side—depended on the steps Kyle chose next.
"We'll see," Bondara muttered to himself as he left the training hall. "We'll see."
The Jedi had many questions for the younger man but they would have to wait for anothet time and place.
Also training him would be complicated.
Bondara had his own apprentice—Darsha Assant—and the Order's rules were clear: no Master could take on a second apprentice.
Still… Bondara thought. If this Kyle Katarn asks questions… I'll give him answers. But only if he asks.
For now, Kyle Katarn was still an unknown.
But Bondara knew one thing: this man had potential.
Bondara informed Kyle that he would report his assessment to the Council.
"Expect your next test tomorrow," Bondara added before departing.
Moments later, the Jedi who had escorted Kyle and Jan earlier returned—this time with Jan in tow.
The guide's expression had shifted; there was now a hint of respect in his eyes. Before the duel, Kyle had been just a man claiming to be a Jedi from an unknown Order. But now? He had proven himself.
The word had spread.
Many of the Jedi who had doubted Kyle—including padawans and knights who dismissed him as a pretender—had witnessed the duel. Even some Masters had been drawn in by the rumors.
Among those watching were Qui-Gon Jinn and his apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi.
Both had stood quietly in the back of the gallery, observing the fight.
"He's not what I expected," Obi-Wan said after a moment.
Qui-Gon stroked his beard thoughtfully. "No… he isn't."
The older Master's eyes lingered on Kyle as he spoke. "But that doesn't mean he isn't exactly what the Force intended."