The Giant Corporations that Started in Night City

Chapter 353 – The Benefits of Embracing the Dark Side of the Force! Dual Saber Duel!

With a tinge of guilt, Paul said to Raddus, "I'm sorry for making you the Executor's target, but I had no other choice."

Admiral Raddus, however, appeared gracious. He simply waved his hand and chuckled, "Someone has to stay behind and make the sacrifice. The moment we chose to resist the Empire, our fate was sealed."

"It's either overthrow the tyranny of the Galactic Empire, or die trying."

All throughout the starship, raging fires were spreading fast, soon to engulf the bridge as well. Raddus had no time to waste on emotional farewells.

"Listen, there's a light cruiser, the Tantive IV, still docked in the Raddus's hangar. You must get Princess Leia out of here as fast as possible."

"You must deliver the Death Star schematics back to Rebel Command. I'm counting on you."

The Princess Raddus referred to was none other than Leia, daughter of Anakin Skywalker. After Anakin joined the Empire and became Darth Vader, Leia had been hidden away on Alderaan by Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi and raised by Senator Bail Organa.

Now, she had become a key leader in the Rebel Alliance and one of the operatives tasked with stealing the Death Star plans.

"Understood," Paul nodded. He had come here to do something meaningful for the Rebellion—to honor the brave sacrifices made.

With that, Paul left the bridge and headed straight to the lower hangar. Admiral Raddus, meanwhile, remained behind on the burning bridge, resolved to go down with his ship.

At that moment, Rebel crew members were working frantically, uploading the Death Star plans onto a chip no bigger than a card, desperate to escape with the precious data.

But the ship had taken heavy damage. Many corridors were blocked—some by walls of flame, others by hull breaches that tore open grotesque gaps, sucking crew members into the vacuum of space.

After struggling to find a relatively safe route, they finally came upon a potential exit—only to discover the blast doors were jammed shut.

Panic set in. No one wanted to die out here in the desolate fringes of the galaxy, much less be slaughtered helplessly by the Empire.

To make things worse, boarding parties from the Executor had already stormed the ship. Waves of Imperial stormtroopers began ruthlessly executing every Rebel on sight.

When it came to Rebels, the Empire showed no mercy—total annihilation was the only policy.

Just as the Rebel crew prepared to pry open the door and escape with the chip, a chilling red glow emerged from the hallway behind them.

A cloaked figure clad in black power armor stepped forward—none other than the Sith Lord himself: Darth Vader. He had come in person to hunt down the Jedi.

The sound of his deep, mechanical breathing filled the air.

At first, it might've sounded like a man at death's door. But everyone knew full well—this was the most lethal Dark Side Force wielder in the Empire.

At that moment, the crimson blade in Vader's hand was like the scythe of Death itself, its eerie red glow reflecting in the Rebels' terrified eyes. Some collapsed on the spot from sheer fright.

Whenever Darth Vader appeared, no one left alive.

"You know nothing of the Dark Side of the Force."

Vader advanced slowly, deliberately. Against these weaklings, a few strokes would suffice.

The Rebels raised their blasters with trembling hands. They knew it was useless, but what else could they do? Wait to be cut down?

Just as they were about to open fire, the ceiling above them collapsed—and Paul dropped in, wielding a brilliant blue lightsaber.

"A Jedi!"

Hope lit up the Rebels' eyes. Nothing is more comforting than the arrival of a savior in your darkest hour.

Paul didn't waste words. With a single slash, he cut through the jammed blast door and barked, "Go—now!"

Keeping the crew here would only hinder him. Paul had come alone because he was ready to face whatever danger lay ahead.

Darth Vader, a master of the Force, took one look and saw through Paul's essence:

"You're no Jedi. So it's true what Rigg told me—you're a warrior from another galaxy. The energy you use is different from the Force."

Vader was intrigued. He wasn't some dogmatic relic—anything that could make him stronger, he would explore. Even powers from beyond the galaxy, if they were useful.

"Yes. My energy is different—but it's strong enough."

Paul tightened his grip on his saber, eyes locked on Vader. He could feel the overwhelming presence emanating from the Sith Lord.

Their blades—red and blue—flared brilliantly. Two energies from different universes were about to collide.

Despite Paul's aggressive stance, Vader remained calm. He advanced slowly, one hand on his lightsaber, his breathing steady and raspy.

Paul studied him. Vader's movements looked heavy and mechanical—like a freshly assembled droid.

Yet the pressure he radiated was immense. Only true masters carried such weight.

In truth, Vader's labored breathing stemmed from his duel with Obi-Wan years ago. His body had been burned and mutilated, his limbs severed. Only the black suit of life-supporting armor kept him alive.

Even in his maimed state, far from his prime, Vader remained one of the most terrifying forces in the Star Wars universe.

Had it not been for the Dark Side, which gave him even greater power, Vader might have chosen death long ago.

For someone like Vader, losing his limbs and strength was no different from a beautiful woman being permanently disfigured.

As Vader approached, Paul struck first, his blue blade gouging a scorched scar into the corridor wall.

But Vader calmly blocked it with one hand and counterattacked swiftly, forcing Paul back with precise, clean strikes.

From that brief exchange, Vader confirmed his suspicions: "You really don't know any Jedi techniques."

Paul had decent swordsmanship and could mimic Force-based styles. But in front of a true master like Vader, his techniques were far too raw.

Vader, a man who had mastered both the Light and Dark sides, was untouchable in Force-based combat.

"Fine. Let's go another round!"

Paul launched another offensive—this time using techniques from the Fremen and Sardaukar corps. He did far better in this round of exchanges.

But even with spice-enhanced strength, Paul was no match for Vader's immense Dark Side-fueled power.

If this kept up, Paul would be worn down and lose.

After a few more clashes, Vader abruptly changed form—stabbing several times in quick succession, nearly slashing Paul's eyes.

After all, Darth Vader wasn't just Anyone—he was a Force warrior fated to shape the galaxy. Paul's true strength lay in his Voice and prescience.

He could block Vader's attacks, but landing a hit was another matter entirely.

Vader's movements may have seemed slow, but his timing and angles were flawless—always targeting the opponent's weakest point.

Especially when it came to deflections—he would parry, then launch sudden thrusts or deceptive tempo strikes to keep Paul on the back foot.

Paul knew he couldn't keep up this exchange much longer, so he seized an opening mid-attack and fired off a blast from his palm.

Before arriving, he'd taken a new device from the supply depot—something like Iron Man's repulsor, mounted in his palm.

But it didn't fire lasers—it released plasma lightning contained in a force field.

Ball lightning.

As the orange bolts erupted toward Vader, he instinctively raised his blade to deflect it—but the moment his lightsaber met the plasma, it was engulfed in blinding electricity.

Lightning arced across the corridor.

Yet suddenly, a transparent shield flared to life around Vader's body, allowing him to remain completely unharmed in the storm.

It was a Force Barrier. At Vader's level, he had long since mastered such techniques—akin to projecting a defensive aura.

Even point-blank, the ball lightning had no effect.

The massive voltage fried the ship's power system, and now only the red and blue glow of their sabers remained in the corridor. Paul and Vader stood off once more.

Seeing Vader walk out unscathed, Paul frowned. That move had taken down countless enemies before.

He never expected Vader to tank it without a scratch.

"Interesting technique," Vader said calmly.

Not angry at all, he actually seemed intrigued—then offered Paul a proposition:

"You should join the Galactic Empire. Serve the Emperor. I promise, through the Dark Side of the Force, you will gain power beyond anything you've ever imagined."

Faced with Darth Vader's attempt to recruit him, Paul remained unmoved.

He was the sole heir of the most powerful house in the Dune universe—wealthy, influential, and now a key figure in a major victory. His accomplishments had already positioned him for a top-tier promotion. With just a few more years of seasoning, he could very well ascend to the upper ranks of the Universal Megacorp.

So why on earth would someone like him go play "barbarian Sith Lord" in the Empire?

What kind of lunatic gives up a promising future to serve under an authoritarian regime?

Unlike Vader, Paul wasn't someone who'd been crushed by oppressive superiors or denied the chance to rise through the ranks.

"Sorry," Paul replied flatly. "The benefits and resources I want aren't something the Galactic Empire can offer. And I have no need for your so-called Dark Side power."

He rejected Vader's offer without hesitation.

"Young man," Vader replied, his tone still measured, "don't throw away your future out of spite. I'm trying to guide you to the true path."

That was exactly how Palpatine had once lured him into the Empire—leading to the birth of the Sith Lord now known as Darth Vader.

Only those who had tasted the benefits of the Dark Side truly understood its intoxicating power.

For someone who had once lost his limbs and his strength, only to rise again more powerful than ever, cutting down his fellow Jedi like they were nothing—Vader was living proof of what the Dark Side could offer.

If Paul were to embrace it, he too could become an even greater warrior than he already was.

"Heh. I'm not worthy of your 'generosity,'" Paul sneered.

With his right hand gripping his lightsaber, a hard-light mantis blade sprang from a mechanism on his left wrist. Paul once again took up a fighting stance, ready to face Vader's relentless approach.

Seeing Paul's strange, advanced weaponry, Vader no longer showed surprise. He was now focused on capturing Paul alive—once interrogated, all mysteries would come to light.

Meanwhile, the Rebel crew behind Paul had successfully boarded the Tantive IV. Without a moment's hesitation, they launched the ship and made their escape.

As soon as Vader sensed the cruiser pulling away, he realized the Death Star plans had already been taken—and that Paul had stayed behind specifically to delay him.

Yet Vader remained composed, as if everything was still within his grasp:

"You think they can escape? Once I finish with you, I'll chase them down and execute every last one."

"Then let's see you try!" Paul snapped.

No longer playing defensively, he launched a full-force assault, relying on his precognition to predict Vader's evasions and counters.

In that instant, blue, red, and white sabers danced through the darkness, scorching the corridor walls with high-temperature gashes.

Thanks to his precognitive edge, Paul could place each strike precisely where Vader was about to move—interrupting his rhythm and even landing during his usual parry timings.

Vader was forced into full defensive mode—no longer able to seize the counterattack initiative.

Frustrated, Vader attempted a Force Choke to capture Paul—he was, after all, a swordsman with powerful control techniques. But Paul's own energy field neutralized the attempt, just as Vader had previously blocked Paul's plasma blast.

That's why Paul didn't bother using the Voice or other mental manipulation abilities—both sides had defenses too strong for that.

If their mystical powers canceled each other out, then it would all come down to the blade!

Vader hurled his lightsaber like a boomerang, but Paul bent backward at an extreme angle to avoid it. As the saber curved back to its master via Force pull, Paul sidestepped and used the brief opening to launch a furious assault with his dual blades.

His agile footwork and rapid strikes overwhelmed Vader with a barrage of slashes.

This kind of aggressive offensive left Vader no choice but to stay focused on parrying.

Paul had entered his "Third Eye" mode, channeling his precognitive ability to target Vader's weak spots with pinpoint accuracy.

If Vader hadn't been a seasoned grandmaster of lightsaber combat, capable of reacting purely by instinct, Paul's attacks would've already carved him apart.

But Vader, even stripped of his old strength, stood his ground.

Then Paul heard it—the first hint of irregularity in Vader's breathing.

That was his plan all along.

As the saying goes, youth outlasts age in battle. Paul, being in his prime, had a clear advantage in stamina. Instead of passively letting Vader wear him down, he had chosen to push Vader into exerting energy first.

Though Vader was on the defensive, his footwork remained calm and methodical. He parried with ease, his tempo unshaken.

Such was the prowess of a true lightsaber master. When fully committed to defense, not even Paul's dual-wielding style could force an opening.

Vader, aware of Paul's swordsmanship, chose to wait patiently—conserving strength until the right moment to strike.

"This old bastard's something else…" Paul cursed inwardly.

The more composed an opponent, the harder they were to deal with. If Vader had been overeager or impulsive, Paul might've found an opening to exploit.

But Vader offered him nothing.

Paul was forced to reevaluate his approach—or risk being on the receiving end of a deadly counterattack.

The corridor was lit only by the savage glow of three blades flashing through the dark.

Every clash left fresh gouges in the walls around them.

Vader parried effortlessly, almost like he was sparring with a disciple.

In terms of raw energy and physique, Paul was equal—if not superior—to Vader. But his swordsmanship still lagged a step behind.

Both were chosen ones in their respective universes, but Vader was literally the "Chosen One" destined to balance the Force.

That gave him a kind of invincible narrative armor.

And with the added edge of fighting on home turf, it was no surprise Paul couldn't overpower him.

Their strength was evenly matched, but in skill, it was like a rookie master going up against a seasoned pro.

Paul might've been a top-tier fighter—but in Vader's eyes, he was still a low-rank challenger.

If not for Paul's youth and the fact that Vader was no longer in his prime, this duel would've ended already.

"Had your fun yet? My turn."

With that, Vader batted Paul's blade aside and launched his counterattack.

He had already adapted to Paul's attack patterns and found the rhythm in his swordplay.

In one swift motion, Vader sidestepped Paul's incoming strike and flicked his red blade upward, slicing through the mantis blade mechanism on Paul's wrist.

If not for Paul's precognitive dodge, his entire hand would've been severed.

A cold sweat broke out over Paul's back. Looking at the ruined device, he finally realized just how vast the gap was between him and Vader.

If Vader could destroy the blade this time, he could take Paul's arm the next.

"You… do you possess some form of precognitive power?" Vader asked.

He had expected that blow to take Paul's arm clean off. Instead, he'd only managed to destroy the weapon.

Just a split-second off—but the result had been drastically different.

And Paul had no right to be dodging so many of Vader's strikes—not with his level of swordsmanship.

It was like fighting someone who'd already seen the answer key.

Vader, with his exceptional Force sense, often predicted his opponents' moves with ease. That's why it didn't take him long to realize Paul likely had precognition too.

"You're full of surprises," he said, voice tinged with genuine excitement. "The more I see, the more intrigued I become."

If he could obtain Paul's precognitive abilities, there would be no one in the galaxy left who could challenge him.

Raising his lightsaber again, Vader slowly advanced and extended his offer once more:

"You still have a chance to join the Empire. As a master of the Force, I can guide you—help you unlock your true potential."

Paul didn't even hesitate. He batted Vader's saber aside with his hard-light blade and met his gaze with unwavering determination.

"In your dreams!"

Rejected again, Vader didn't lose his temper. He nodded slightly and said with chilling calm:

"Very well. Then I'll cut off your limbs and reduce you to a cripple."

"But don't worry. Even without arms or legs, as long as you embrace the Dark Side, you can fight again."

"Until then—you'll be nothing but a broken shell."

With those words, the two clashed once more.

This time, it was Paul who was forced on the defensive—no longer the aggressor from moments before.

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