Thanks to everyone for reading! Please comment on any characters and universes you’d like to see in the future below the chapters. I can’t guarantee they’ll make it in, but I want to have some fun and fit in the audience's favourites if I can! Thanks again, and a huge thank you to my Patrons! I can’t make this content without support, and I’m super grateful for our supporters! This fanfiction is also available on my Patreon, I’ll always keep it free, so please visit! Our Patrons make this work possible, and if enough patrons want this novel to be a priority, it will be!

 

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Now, on to the chapter!

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“Pre Vizsla, I challenge you for ownership of the Darksaber, and the title of secret Mandalore!”

 

“You?” The Deathwatch commander squinted at Dan, a scowl on his face. “Who are you, to challenge me?”

 

“I am a Mandalorian,” Dan opened his arms wide, face hidden behind his false helm. “All who wish to join, may join, so long as their will is strong. So says the code!”

 

“Indeed,” Vizsla sneered as he raised his sword into an overhand guard. “What is your name, your clan?”

 

“My clan is The Tribe,” Dan stepped forward, breath steady. “And to you, I am only Mandalore!”

 

Dan lunged forward, a feint that brought the Darksaber down in a short arc. Vizsla’s speed was remarkable. Beyond what a human should possess. A twitch of Dan’s feet brought him in a tight curve, around the blade. His fist lashed out, a hammer on the secret Mandalore’s chest plate.

 

A bell rang, the sound of a gong in the spacious chamber. Vizsla flew back,into the gaudy metallic throne behind him. He stumbled a step, before he shook himself. A thin trail of blood dripped from the bottom rim of his helm, ignored as he faced Dan with the Darksaber held high.

 

“What are you?” Vizsla rasped as he circled to the side. “Not even a Wookiee could cause a resonance in the Beskar…”

 

Dan flexed his fist. The force of his blow had mostly been reflected, absorbed by Venom and his own kryptonian physique. Beskar lived up to its reputation.

 

“That noise was unpleasant…” Venom growled in his ear.

 

“I forgot that you’re still weak to sound…” Dan muttered back. “We’ll deal with that once we get home.”

 

“You say that you’re from The Tribe,” Vizsla frowned as he shifted closer. “Those fanatics have long been extinct, unseen for a thousand years.”

 

“The Tribe accepts all foundlings, regardless of age or creed,” Dan laughed as he matched Vizsla’s movements. “We could be all foundlings, yet The Tribe would remain.”

 

Dan wasn’t sure what the real Tribe was up to, but he knew that it remained well hidden, perhaps scattered, until after the Empire’s fall. Their traditionalist ways served his deception, since he would never have to remove his helm. The Tribe represented the most ancient traditions of the Mandalorians, a good match for the regressive Deathwatch.

 

“Foundlings,” Vizsla spat as he charged. “Your kind should be purged!”

 

Dan leaned free of the Darksabers reach, his spine bent as he slipped under the Mandalorian’s guard. One hand clamped on Vizsla’s wrist, an unshakable vice that held the energy sword at bay. The other restrained his enemy's second fist as Dan drove his knee into Vizsla’s chest.

 

“We are all foundlings here,” Dan shook the Mando like a chicken, until the Darksaber fell from his hands. “The Taung that birthed our traditions, Mandalore the First and his Warriors of Shadow, are long extinct.”

 

Dan snatched the black energy blade before it hit the ground. Set in his hand, he tested its balance. Weightless and clean, no resistance against the air. The hilt fit his palm, worn into a perfect shape by countless hands.

 

“Those legends are lies…” Vizsla choked out, hands locked in their attempt to free his neck from Dan’s hand. “The first Mandolorians were the humans of ancient Coruscant, not some alien brute.”

 

“You’re half right,” Dan stared into the man’s eyes. This would be the first person he’d ever killed with his own hands. He delayed the inevitable. “The Taung walked the surface of Coruscant, long before a city ever touched its soil.” He brought the Darksaber in line with Vizsla’s head. “One day, under my rule, the Mandalorians will retake that lost home.”

 

A clean stroke, marred only by the crackle of flesh. Pre Vizsla’s head fell to the ground. Dan dropped the body, eyes on the sword in his hand. He’d taken a life. The man was evil, but it was in his power to take him alive, imprison him for life. His death would serve a greater purpose, but that was a hollow excuse. 

 

Ultron cleared his throat and Dan snapped free of his thoughts. He turned to face the sensors, which had transmitted the fight to the entire Deathwatch. Darksaber raised high, he addressed the audience.

 

“Pre Vizsla is dead, long live Mandalore!”

 

“Well done master,” Ultron cut the transmission and stepped out of the shadows. “A flawless victory that exposed the old king’s weakness.”

 

“Maybe,” Dan shook his head and pushed his discomforts aside. “But we only control a single faction, we’ll need Merlyn to come through if we want to end the civil war.”

 

“I’ve sent instructions in your name as discussed,” The A.I. waved away Dan’s concerns. “In three months time, all members of the Deathwatch will report to the city on Garnib.” Ultron tilted his head. “A vessel is on approach, severely damaged. It will land in less than a minute.” He waved a hand to display a projection.

 

“That’s the Slave One,” Dan smiled. “Merlyn is fashionably late, but it’s good enough.”

 

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“You should have simply allowed me to use my magic from the start,” Merlyn complained, hand pressed to his hat. “This ship of yours is barely deserving of the name…”

 

“YOU’RE MAGIC DESTROYED HER,” Jango struggled with the controls, locked onto the coordinates the Wizard provided. “I expect this master of yours to finance the repairs!”

 

“Of course,” Merlyn rolled his eyes. “I was told you were a man who valued money, don’t you have anything else in your heart?”

 

“I value what money can bring,” Fett snorted as they dropped a dozen metres with a jerk. He stabilised and the vessel landed with an unhealthy crunch. “Power, control, freedom…”

 

Merlyn righted himself, hat in hand. Slave One landed on its back, and Jango never forked over the cash for a propper anti grav.

 

“If that’s what you really value, then I’d advise you to listen to my master well,” Merlyn dusted himself off. “If you join him, no amount of money could buy the things he can provide.”

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Thanks again, and a huge thank you to my Patrons! I can’t make this content without support, and I’m super grateful to all of my supporters! This fanfiction is also available on my Patreon, I’ll always keep it free, so please visit! The Patrons make this work possible, and if enough patrons want this novel to be a priority, it will be! Updates for this series will be at five a week, a chapter part monday-friday, with bonus chapters whenever I can get them written and edited. 

 

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