Chapter 325
**Dagon POV**
I sat alone in the training observation gallery aboard the *Finalizer*, legs crossed, eyes half-closed. The hum of the ship's systems was a distant backdrop to the storm inside my mind.
A thousand years.
Or one hour, depending on how you measured it inside the mind prison combined with the Nox holocron. Either way, the training had been brutal, relentless, and necessary. I had finally learned how to properly defeat a Yuuzhan Vong Hunter — the kind of warrior that had nearly killed me on Tatooine. Thrawn's reports confirmed what I already suspected: the Yuuzhan Vong operated on a strict caste system. The lower castes — the soldiers we had encountered so far — were dangerous enough. But the Hunters were elite, bred and modified for one purpose: to kill anything that used the Force.
The Vong I had faced had almost ended me with a miniature Force storm designed to decimate armies. It took everything I had — and a final, desperate burst of my own lightning — to turn his body to ash. I had died on that plateau. Zule had restarted my heart with her own hands.
I couldn't allow that to happen again.
The mind prison hadn't enhanced my body directly. It had trapped my soul in an endless cycle of combat, forcing me to relive, adapt, and master techniques across simulated lifetimes. The Sith who modified it had intended it as eternal torment — a thousand years of battle with no escape. I had used it three times so far:
- One thousand years mastering the Breathing Techniques.
- One thousand years mastering Force Lightning and Force Walking.
- And now, one thousand years learning how to kill Yuuzhan Vong and advanced healing techniques that went far beyond standard Jedi methods.
Jedi Lord Hoth had once told me I was mortal. He was right. But mortality didn't mean I couldn't be smarter.
I opened my eyes, the scars on my face and chest pulling slightly as I stood. Most of the wounds from Tatooine had finally healed — the burns from the dark lightning now faint silver lines, the puncture marks from the Vong hooks reduced to pale scars. Only the missing left arm remained a permanent reminder, replaced by the sleek prosthetic that Zule still fussed over.
Time to check on the girls' training.
I walked down to the main training hall. The best technique they had managed to master without the mind prison was Water Breathing — the most basic of the advanced forms. It was excellent against armies and most Padawans, Knights, and even a few Masters. In the right hands, it might even threaten a Sith Lord.
The moment I entered, I felt the tension in the air.
Ahsoka and Zule were sparring in the center of the hall. It looked like playful banter on the surface — fast strikes, dodges, and teasing jabs — but Ahsoka's emotions through the bond were blazing with jealousy. During the rescue of Jabba's son, I had thought it would be a simple mission and sent Ahsoka back with the main fleet to the 12th Sector. In the short time Zule and I had been alone, we had grown far more intimate than I had ever been with Ahsoka. Zule had been there when I died on Tatooine. She had brought me back.
We were now engaged — all of us. We had decided to wait until after the war for the official ceremony, but the rings of kyber and beskar were already on their fingers. Still, Ahsoka was struggling with the shift.
Zule was getting tired. She had been holding back, trying not to hurt Ahsoka, but the Togruta's aggression was relentless.
Suddenly Ahsoka unleashed a Force shove. Zule was thrown backward, skidding across the mat.
"Enough," I said sharply.
I extended my hand and used Sith lightning — carefully controlled — to instantly create two bubbles of crackling energy, trapping both of them mid-motion.
"Master, you interrupted the training!" Ahsoka complained, still breathing hard inside her bubble.
"Training is over," I replied firmly.
I released the bubbles. Ahsoka landed lightly, arms crossed and scowling. Zule stumbled slightly but caught herself.
I walked over to Zule first.
"It is just a scratch," she shrugged, trying to play it off.
"Yeah, not really." I extended my arm, channeling Force healing. "You've got two bruised ribs and a hairline fracture on your arm."
Two seconds of focused healing and the injuries were gone.
"There. Good as new."
"Thanks," Zule blushed, her red-orange skin darkening slightly.
"Ahsoka, your turn."
"No, I don't need it."
"Padawan, listen—"
"No. I'm going to the medic."
She stormed off, lekku stiff with frustration.
Zule watched her go, then sighed. "She's hurting."
"I know," I said quietly. "We'll talk to her later. Right now, she needs space."
Stella, who had been observing from the side, stepped closer.
"Dagon, you okay?" she asked, interrupting my thoughts.
"Yeah. Just observing the training. Biologically, they're both predators. Water Breathing is mainly a defensive technique, so combining their natures does make it seem odd."
"Yeah, they've been going at it for three hours now. No breaks."
"Why?" I asked. "They should at least rest."
"I think Ahsoka is trying to claim you as first," Stella said with a small smile. "It's an odd thing with Togrutas. Still, you can pick 'em — a Falleen, Zeltron, Pantoran, and Togruta all being totally okay with harems… but women generally always dreamed of being first."
Suddenly, the tension in the room shifted.
We all turned as Ahsoka's angry footsteps faded down the corridor.
Zule looked at me, a soft understanding in her eyes. "She'll come around. She loves you. We all do."
I pulled Zule into a gentle embrace, kissing the top of her head.
"I know. We'll make this work. All of us."
The training hall fell quiet again, the only sound the distant hum of the ship's engines.
Outside, the war continued.
Inside, the bonds between us — complicated, passionate, and deeply real — grew stronger with every shared moment.
And somewhere in the back of my mind, the memory of a thousand years of brutal training whispered:
*Be smarter.*
*Be ready.*