35. Mand'alor

===Sebastian===

The Death Watch warrior hurried forward, almost sprinting to stay ahead of the Black Templar, who was close on his heels. As they neared the entrance, more Death Watch soldiers emerged from the underground fortress, swiftly forming a line on either side of the threshold just before Sebastian's target arrived.

Pre Vizsla stepped out, flanked by more Mandalorian warriors. He moved to the center of the half-circle formed by his men, as Sebastian and the Mandalorian leading him halted, the agent still clutching his cauterized arm.

"So, how did you enjoy my little welcoming party?" Pre Vizsla sneered behind his helmet.

"A needless waste of life," Sebastian replied, using the flat of his blade to push aside the Mandalorian standing before him as he advanced.

Sebastian's gaze never left Pre Vizsla as he stood tall, his body radiating a quiet intensity. The air around them seemed to crackle with anticipation.

"You are a coward, Vizsla," Sebastian growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Hiding behind your men, pretending you're something you're not."

Sebastian planted his sword firmly into the dirt and slammed his shield down beside it, his eyes locked on Pre Vizsla. His stance was calm, but every muscle in his body was coiled tight, ready for the fight ahead.

For a long moment, the two stood there in silence, sizing each other up, the tension thick in the air.

Finally, Sebastian broke the silence, his voice cold and steady. "You don't know anything about me," he said, his eyes narrowing beneath his helmet. "But I've seen what you've become."

Pre Vizsla's voice dripped with disdain. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Sebastian slowly turned his gaze toward the surrounding Mandalorians, his expression hardening. His words carried to them like a thunderclap in the quiet. "Look at you," he said, his tone dripping with contempt. "Warriors who once fought for honor, for something greater than yourselves. Now you've become nothing more than hired swords—mercenaries clinging to a past that doesn't exist anymore."

A few of the Mandalorians shifted uncomfortably, exchanging glances, but none dared speak.

"You were supposed to be better than this," Sebastian continued, his voice rising. "You used to be a symbol of strength. A force that stood for something. Now you follow this man, this false leader, blindly, like dogs at the heel of a broken cause."

He swept his gaze across them, the weight of his words landing heavily. "Are you proud of what you've become? Is this what your ancestors fought for? To kneel at the feet of a man like him, hidden away on this Emperor forsake rock?"

There was a flicker of uncertainty among some of the warriors, but Vizsla stepped forward, his voice cold and steady. "You speak as if you know anything of my people, of my way of life. You're a stranger here, and your words mean nothing."

Sebastian turned back to face him, his eyes locked onto the Mandalorian leader. "Maybe. But I know one thing for sure: you're leading them down a path of ruin."

Pre Vizsla sneered behind his helmet. "And what would you know of ruin, outsider? You don't even know who I am."

Sebastian's lips curled into a thin smile. "I know enough."

Vizsla's hand tightened on his weapon. "Enough talk."

Sebastian's optics glinted with cold resolve as he stepped forward, his immense frame dwarfing the smaller Mandalorian leader.

Pre Vizsla's gaze flickered momentarily, a flash of uncertainty crossing his face before he recovered. The black blade hummed to life, a faint glow of light casting sharp shadows across the field as he swung it menacingly.

"I don't need a weapon to crush you, Vizsla," Sebastian growled, his voice steady but filled with a quiet, terrifying power.

The Mandalorian hesitated, his grip tightening on the hilt of the Darksaber. "You think you can fight me without your weapons? Fool."

Without another word, Sebastian charged.

The ground seemed to tremble beneath his heavy boots as he closed the distance between them with lightning speed. Vizsla used his jet pack to lunge forward, swung the Darksaber, aiming for the Astartes' neck, but Sebastian's massive hand shot out, seizing the blade's hilt mid-swing. His grip tightened around the Darksaber as though it were a simple twig.

With a twist of his wrist, he yanked the blade from Vizsla's grasp, sending it flying through the air, where it landed in the dirt several feet away. The Mandalorian leader landed before he staggered back, eyes wide with disbelief.

Sebastian's smile was a predatory thing, a slow curl of amusement on his lips. "Is that all you have?"

Vizsla's hand shot to his sidearm, pulling a blaster from his belt and aiming it directly at Sebastian's chest. He started unloading it into the Astartes, but was shocked when Sebastian stood there, the shots simply doing nothing.

The Black Templar reached out and caught the Mandalorian's wrist with a single, crushing hand, the bones in Vizsla's arm breaking under the immense pressure.

With a growl, Sebastian slammed his fist into the Mandalorian's chest before throwing Vizsla to the ground with enough force to crack the earth beneath them. The surrounding Death Watch warriors stood frozen, unsure whether to step in or watch the spectacle unfold.

Sebastian loomed over Vizsla, who was struggling to rise, but the Astartes simply stood there, waiting. "This is the man you follow? This?" he said loudly, his voice carrying across the battlefield, "A man who can't even hold onto his own weapon?"

Vizsla spat blood into his helmet, seething with anger and humiliation, but he couldn't get back up after the Astartes had shattered his breastbone.

Sebastian took a step back. He raised his voice, addressing the Death Watch soldiers, who now stood silently, watching the brutal display. "Look at him," he said. "This is your leader, the one you've sworn allegiance to? A man who is so weak, so pathetic, he can't even defend himself?"

The warriors shifted uncomfortably, their eyes darting between Sebastian and Vizsla, who was still struggling to get up.

Sebastian's gaze swept across the group, his eyes narrowing with deliberate intent. "I am unstoppable. I've faced things that would turn your worst nightmares into reality, and I stand here before you without a scratch. This man," he gestured to Vizsla with contempt, "couldn't last a moment in the presence of true strength. I offer you something better. I offer you a future. A future where you follow me, where you stand with the true power of the Imperium. We could rebuild the Death Watch into something greater than it ever was. But only if you choose to follow a real leader."

There was a long pause, the only sound the distant wind stirring the dust and the soft groan of the Mandalorian leader as he tried to rise.

Sebastian turned back to him. "Beg your Gods for mercy, for I shall have none."

With a single motion, Sebastian grabbed Vizsla by the throat, lifting him effortlessly off the ground. The Mandalorian's feet dangled, kicking helplessly as Sebastian's iron grip crushed the life from him.

"Choose wisely," Sebastian said, his voice cold as he addressed the Death Watch, "or I will do to you what I've done to so many others—erase you from history."

The Black Templar's optics locked onto the Death Watch warriors, the silence of the moment pressing down on all of them.

He tightened his grip, his fingers digging into Vizsla's throat like iron, squeezing the life from him inch by inch.

Without a word, the Black Templar flung Vizsla's body sideways, sending him crashing toward the ground. The Mandalorian leader's neck landed with a sickening crack on the edge of his power sword still lodged deep in the earth where he had placed it earlier.

Vizsla's body jerked, and his hands instinctively reached for his neck, but it was too late. The angle of his fall had sealed his fate. Sebastian stepped forward, his armored boots crushing into the dirt with a heavy, deliberate stomps.

Before Vizsla could react, Sebastian's boot slammed down—this time on his skull. The sound was brutal, the crack of bone echoing across the battlefield as the Mandalorian leader's head was cleaved from his body as Sebastian kicked his head next to the blade, sending it spinning across the ground, coming to a stop several feet away, the lifeless eyes still staring at nothing.

The silence that followed was deafening. Not a single Death Watch warrior moved, their eyes wide in shock. Sebastian straightened, his gaze scanning the group, his expression one of cold triumph.

"You see?" he said, his voice heavy with authority. "This is what happens to those who are weak. To those who dare stand in my way."

He raised his eyes to meet the remaining Mandalorians' stares, his voice firm and commanding. "You've seen the truth. I offer you power, strength, and a future that no one else can. Follow me, and you will know what it is to be truly unstoppable."

The Astartes brought his foot down on the decapitated head of Pre Vizsla, crushing it. Sebastian turned slowly, his broad shoulders sweeping through the stillness. "Choose wisely," he said, his voice carrying like a war cry. "The time for weakness is over. Follow me... or be left behind."

The Death Watch stood frozen, caught between fear and awe, as their former leader's body lay in a crumpled heap on the ground. Sebastian had shown them all who held the true power now.

One of the Death Watch warriors tentatively stepped forward, holding out the Darksaber he had picked up. His hand shook slightly as he extended it toward the Black Templar.

"You are Mand'alor," he said, his voice steady but filled with reverence, before he dropped to one knee, his head bowed low in submission.

Sebastian's gaze lingered on the weapon for a moment, then he took it from his hand, studying the blade with quiet detachment. After a heartbeat, he let the Darksaber roll from his hand into the dirt below.

"The only badge I require is of my chapter," he said, his voice deep and commanding. "You take it and wield it in the name of the Emperor."

The warrior's brow furrowed in confusion under his helmet, and he slowly raised his head, eyes searching him for an explanation. "The Emperor?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sebastian's expression hardened, his eyes narrowing with a measure of grim resolve. "You all have much to learn. Gather the whole of the Death Watch. We depart for Tatooine."

The gathered Mandalorians exchanged uncertain glances, the weight of Sebastian's words settling over them like a heavy storm. They had never heard of the Emperor, but the undeniable power of the Astartes, the sheer force of his presence, had silenced any protest they might have raised.

Sebastian turned, his broad shoulders cutting through the air with a practiced grace. "Do not waste time. We march now."

As the warriors began to move, slowly collecting their fallen comrades and preparing for the journey, one of the more senior members of the Death Watch—an older Mandalorian with a scarred face and a battle-worn helmet—stepped forward, his eyes narrowed.

"You speak of this Emperor as though we should follow him. What do you expect us to believe?" he asked, his voice low but challenging.

Sebastian didn't even glance at the warrior as he spoke. "You will believe in the Emperor, in time. For now, your loyalty lies with me, my Brothers and the Death Watch. As Mand'alor, I will lead you to a power that is beyond anything you've known."

The older warrior stood silent for a moment, as if weighing his options, before he looked toward the others. His gaze was dark, skeptical, but it was clear he was beginning to question what he had believed for so long.

"We are leaving. Now," Sebastian said again, his tone brokering no argument. "Tatooine is where the next phase of our future begins."

As the warriors gathered their gear and made ready, one by one, they began to move toward the shipyard, each step uncertain but unmistakably heading in the direction Sebastian had set. The words of their former leader and the Darksaber were already fading into the past, replaced by a new symbol of strength—and a new future, forged in the name of a power none of them truly understood yet. But as they followed, they knew one thing for certain: they were no longer bound to the past.

They were bound to something greater. To something that promised power, destiny, and perhaps a future far more complicated than any of them had ever imagined.

Sebastian watched them move with a stoic expression, the weight of what was to come settling heavily on his shoulders. He had made his choice, and the Death Watch would follow. Or they would fall.

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