The bitter mist of Umbara clung to every surface, smothering the jungle in a damp, unnatural silence. Captain Rex crouched beside the burned husk of a gunship, eyes fixed on the glowing silhouette ahead.

General Pong Krell stood tall, four arms spread like the wings of a predator, his twin double-bladed lightsabers ignited—crimson and blazing.

"You were warned, Captain," Krell sneered, voice resonating with something darker than pride. "The strong rise, the weak obey. That is the natural order."

"And you betrayed the Republic!" Rex shouted.

Suddenly, from behind the haze, a new figure stepped forward—hood down, robes tattered by battle, blue blade in hand.

General Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Krell’s eyes narrowed. “Kenobi... late, as always.”

“I thought I smelled the stench of treason,” Obi-Wan said calmly. “You’ve done a poor job hiding it under all that bluster.”

Krell roared, charging—blades spinning, power surging.

Obi-Wan met him head-on.

The clash of lightsabers split the mist. Red and green blades collided in violent arcs as the two Jedi Masters dueled across shattered trenches and fallen trees. Krell fought like a storm—raw strength and fury—while Obi-Wan danced between strikes, elegant, precise.

"You could’ve been a true leader!" Obi-Wan shouted between parries. "But you chose fear!"

"I chose clarity!" Krell snarled, slamming Obi-Wan backward with a massive Force shove. "The Jedi have lost! You cling to a rotting order!"

Obi-Wan flipped through the air, landing on a crumbled rock face. “Then I’d rather fall with it than rise with the Sith.”

Rex and the remaining clones watched from cover, helpless, awestruck. The duel was a blur—Krell hammering with all four arms, Obi-Wan adapting with brilliance and sheer will.

Then Krell made a mistake.

He overcommitted—lunging with both sabers. Obi-Wan sidestepped and swept low. One saber went flying. Then another.

In a final, fluid motion, Obi-Wan slid forward and pressed his blade to Krell’s throat.

“It’s over,” he said.




How it should have happened