Panaka drew his blaster.
The crack of the bolt wasn't fired at anyone. It was fired straight into the air — the signal.
BANG.
Before the shell even hit the ground, Jaster and Jango Fett descended on jetpacks and yanked Panaka clean from the field, hauling him to the reserved VIP seat among the other Mandalorians.
Down in the arena, Yoda moved first.
The green blade of his lightsaber ignited in a blur of motion, his posture coiled, agile, deceptively small.
Jin-Woo reached sideways. Reality tore open like liquid glass.
From a flash of silvery distortion, the Sentinel Beam emerged from slipspace and slammed into his armored hand with a magnetic thrum, crackling with a fusion of energy and something far more arcane — mana, compressed and deadly.
Yoda moved instantly. He raised one hand and unleashed a concussive [Force Push,] aiming to pin Jin-Woo to the far wall and end it in a single blow.
BOOM—
But the moment the Force connected, Jin-Woo's armor flared with a sharp pulse. A hexagonal energy shield blinked into view, absorbing the brunt of the kinetic blast and anchoring him in place with embedded gravitic stabilizers. The ground beneath his boots cracked, but he didn't move an inch.
Yoda darted forward, green lightsaber flashing in a precise arc, aiming for Jin-Woo's arm joint. A clean disabling cut.
But Jin-Woo met the blade with his bare armored forearm — CLANG — the metal clashing against plasma. Sparks flew.
In the same fluid motion, Jin-Woo twisted, shifting his weight.
His other hand snapped up.
VREEEEEEEEEEN—
The Sentinel Beam unleashed in a brilliant column of annihilation, searing straight toward Yoda.
Yoda's eyes widened. His instincts screamed.
He disengaged, flipping backward, redirecting the beam with a lightning-fast parry of his saber — just barely. The Force around him rippled from the sheer pressure of the blast.
He landed, sliding back across the dirt, breathing calm but sharp.
I cannot block that again, Yoda thought, gaze narrowing. Tutaminis… will fail. That weapon, it is no ordinary energy. Mixed with something else it is… something dark. A bane to Jedi like me.
Across from him, Jin-Woo's thoughts surged.
So… he figured it out. Good. That blade of his won't save him if he mistimes even once.
Inside Jin-Woo's mind, Morgan's voice chimed in — . My husband, the Excalibur Proto you asked for… it's at 95% completion now.
Jin-Woo's thoughts rippled with dry amusement as he replied through their mental link, That's because we slave-drove those backstabbing fairies you dealt with last years.
Hmph, Morgan gave a playful scoff. Traitorous… but now they're useful. They bow without question. I've broken them in.
There was pride there.. The Queen of Lostbelt England, once betrayed by her own, now had full dominion. Courtesy of Jin-Woo's guidance.
Back on the field, Jin-Woo dismissed the Sentinel Beam in a single motion — it vanished back into slipspace with a flicker of energy.
But he didn't stop there.
His right gauntlet clenched, and with a sound like burning coal grinding against obsidian, the armored fist darkened — shadows rippling across its surface, mana infusing it, pooling into it. His entire arm glowed black-red.
Yoda's eyes narrowed. "You dismiss your weapon. For what reason?" he asked, voice low, cautious.
Jin-Woo said nothing. He just raised his hand, palm facing forward — and curled his fingers twice. A gesture. Come.
Yoda's eyes narrowed, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Honorable, so sudden," he murmured, his voice tinged with amusement.
In a blur, Yoda surged forward, his diminutive form propelled by the Force with astonishing speed. His green lightsaber ignited with a snap-hiss, casting a vibrant glow as he launched into the aggressive and acrobatic [Form IV: Ataru]. Spinning, flipping, and leaping, he became a whirlwind of energy, his blade slicing through the air with precision.
Jin-Woo stood his ground, adopting a Wing Chun stance—centered, grounded, and poised. His movements were economical, his arms weaving intricate patterns to deflect Yoda's strikes. Each clash of saber against armor sent sparks flying, illuminating the battleground with bursts of light.
Yoda's Ataru form was relentless, his attacks coming from all angles, but Jin-Woo's Wing Chun techniques allowed him to redirect the energy, maintaining his balance and composure. The two combatants moved in a deadly dance, the rhythm of their battle echoing across the field.
As Yoda flipped overhead, aiming a downward slash, Jin-Woo raised his arm, catching the blade on his forearm guard. With a swift motion, he countered, his palm striking toward Yoda's midsection. Yoda twisted in mid-air, narrowly avoiding the blow, and landed gracefully a few meters away.
The crowd watched in awe, the sheer intensity of the duel leaving them breathless. Each move was a testament to the warriors' mastery, their contrasting styles creating a spectacle of martial prowess.
Yoda's breathing was steady, his eyes locked onto Jin-Woo. "Strong, you are," he acknowledged.
Jin-Woo tilted his head ever so slightly. "Keep your eyes on the front, old man."
With a single stomp forward, Jin-Woo launched a brutal mana-infused kick. The wind detonated outward like a compressed shockwave — invisible to the eye, but screaming with force.
Yoda stepped into a redirecting stance, hands raised to channel Tutaminis—But then, his expression shifted.
The Force… wavered. Just for a second.
It's weakening…? No. Not the Force itself — but my link to it… as if dulled.
Realizing the danger, Yoda immediately switched tactics. With the grace of a master, he shifted into Qâsh'Tai, his hands cutting through the air, dispersing the mana-pressure outward in whirling arcs. The shockwave split like smoke around him.
Yoda's thoughts sharpened. So it's true. Not only that beam… even his raw pressure acts as a bane to Jedi.
Across the field, Jin-Woo smirked under the helmet.
He raised his leg again — and this time, kicked multiple times in rapid succession. Blades of compressed mana-laced wind — razor-thin, almost invisible — screamed through the air, hundreds of them.
FWOOOOSH— FWOOOOSH— FWOOOOSH.
Yoda dropped low and spun into Soresu, Form III — the absolute defense. His saber became a green circle of light, deflecting blade after blade, redirecting slashes and pressure strikes with perfect economy of motion. For every ten blades, only one came close. And even that was met by the humming edge of his lightsaber .
The crowd was breathless. Time blurred. For nearly three minutes, neither fighter yielded.
And on the field — it was duel of endurance. One misstep. One broken breath. One flicker of weakness — and it would be over.
Then — Yoda closed his eyes for a blink.
And opened them ablaze. [Force Valor].
The air shimmered around him as his body surged with light-side energy. His muscles coiled tighter, his thoughts burned sharper, and time seemed to slow for him. His body moved with supernatural speed, clarity, and precision — everything in his form now tuned to perfection. Even the gathered Jedi Masters watching from the sidelines felt the edge of it, their own instincts sharpening in response.
Yoda launched forward, walking through the air with effortless grace — feet tapping off invisible steps as he closed the distance with the Armored Man in an instant.
CRACK! Jin-Woo met him head-on, fists snapping forward in Wing Chun counter-flow, intercepting each strike with brutal simplicity. Armored gauntlets clashed with a blade of focused green plasma, and the shockwaves from their impact rippled through the ground.
But Yoda saw it now — the shimmering barrier of Jin-Woo's energy shield… was dimming.
A weakness. An opening.
And Yoda, now a storm wrapped in a Jedi cloak, pushed Force Valor to its limit. His Ataru flared into a dance of war — tighter spins, faster angles, impossible momentum as his lightsaber blurred in blinding arcs.
Jin-Woo met every strike with precision. But the shield… flickered.
Then— CRACKK—BRANGGG—!!
Glass-shattering sound echoed as the barrier around Jin-Woo collapsed in a flicker of broken light.
Yoda's eyes locked on. Now.
He raised his palm, energy condensing. [Force Push].
An invisible wall of compressed pressure slammed into the Armored Man at point-blank range.
And yet— Nothing. A half-second later—instinct screamed through the Force like a thunderclap. DODGE. NOW.
Yoda didn't question it.
He leapt backward, flipping mid-air, just as—
FWWWWWSSSHHHHH—
A blinding beam of light burst through the space where he'd stood.
The ground behind him exploded, vaporized in a single, searing line of energy.
Hovering in Jin-Woo's hand, now unshielded, was no ordinary weapon.
A sword — long, elegant, but… hidden. Its form wrapped in a swirling barrier of compressed wind, the blade invisible to the naked eye. Excalibur Proto.
( invisible air image )
A weapon from another reality, forged in myth . And it had nearly hit Yoda in a single, reactionless strike.
The reporter's lens zoomed in sharply, hovering just behind the Jedi Masters' line. The entire crowd watched with baited breath, trying to decipher the swirling distortion cloaked around Jin-Woo's weapon.
"A sword — long, elegant, but… hidden," the Twi'lek reporter murmured aloud, voice echoing on the feed. "Its form… shrouded in a wind barrier? What exactly is the Armored Man wielding?"
From the upper seating gallery, Darth Plagueis — veiled in the identity of Hego Damask II — narrowed his eyes behind his mask. Even he couldn't make out the full form of the weapon.
"…Is that some kind of Jedi artifact of the Old Republic?" Plagueis muttered, half to himself, half to the air around him. "Or something far older?"
Further down the rows, Pre Vizsla leaned toward Jaster Mereel, his voice edged with envy and obsession.
"Do you know this, Jaster? The Armored Man has another weapon. A second relic… besides the black saber I'll take one day."
Jaster didn't look at him, eyes focused on Jin-Woo's stance. "If I did, I'd share it with the Duchess first. Not you."
Jango Fett crossed his arms, visor tilted ever so slightly. "It's covered by wind. Whatever's inside, guessing is pointless. That's something else."
A few seats down, Duchess Satine sat upright, her expression softer, reflective. She didn't blink as the breeze carried strands of her hair.
"My guess is a sword," she said quietly. "Like something pulled from myth. A blade written in silence… not steel."
Bo-Katan scoffed l beside her. "Sister, this isn't the time for your fantasies."
Satine didn't turn. Her eyes remained locked on the armored figure below.
"I'm serious, Bo," she said. "Look at the wind — it bends for him . The Armored Man looks like he's… blessed by the wind itself."
In the Queen's box, Padmé Amidala sat in full regalia . Her hands were folded tightly on her lap as she stared down at the man she knew beneath the mask.
Jin-Woo… you really continue to surprise me.
A voice approached from behind, calm and steady.
"Queen Amidala," said Chancellor Valorum, stopping just behind her with a furrowed brow. "You knew about this? That the Armored Man possesses some kind of relic… something that rivals military-grade Starships ?"
Padmé glanced over her shoulder, her expression composed, but with a slight trace of amusement in her eyes.
"I wish I knew beforehand," she said, turning back to watch the battlefield. "But the Armored Man always finds new ways to surprise us. Even me."
Valorum gave a quiet hum, his eyes narrowing as the wind-shrouded blade in Jin-Woo's hand rippled against the light. "The presence. Of That sword feels like a statement."
Footsteps echoed behind them, and another voice joined the conversation .
"They say heroes have their own signature weapon." Ranulph Tarkin stepped beside Valorum, his military uniform crisp and adorned, his stance formal yet thoughtful.
"The Jedi have their lightsabers," Tarkin continued, gesturing toward the green glow clashing against the invisible blade below. "But the ones who are born from chaos… legends, not knights… they carry myths."
Valorum turned toward him slowly, his brow furrowing with confusion. "Tarkin. You're not one for mysticism. I've never heard you talk like this."
Tarkin smirked , eyes never leaving the battlefield. "Just a theory. . And I'm not delusional."
He folded his arms, watching as the proto-blade shimmered with that same impossible wind barrier. His voice dropped slightly, as if to himself.
"But sometimes… I think reality doesn't get to decide what matters. Sometimes, myths force their way into the real world. Whether we like it or not."
Back on the training ground, the dust had barely settled from the last exchange. The invisible winds still spun wildly around the weapon clutched in Jin-Woo's gauntlet — Excalibur Proto, unseen yet undeniable, its presence bending the air itself.
Yoda stood calmly, green blade held low but steady, his eyes narrowing with a flicker of ancient curiosity.
"Hmm… interesting, that weapon is," he murmured, his voice carrying easily through the charged silence. "A blade it appears… yet more, perhaps. A sword… or not?"
Jin-Woo shifted, the wind shrieking momentarily as the air itself recoiled from the way he moved.
With one smooth motion, he raised the proto-blade in a single-handed stance, elbow bent, the weapon angled as if daring the wind to carve its own shape into it.
"Maybe it's a sword," he replied, voice cold and measured. "Maybe a battle axe. Maybe…"
He tilted his head slightly.
"…a starship. Like a Venator — compressed into my palm, waiting to break reality if I swing it the wrong way."