Meanwhile, Skywalker had also noticed Solo.
In his understanding, Jedi always wielded lightsabers as their primary weapons. Seeing a Jedi lying on the ground, firing a blaster, shattered his preconceived notions about Jedi combat methods.
"Master, what are you doing? Where's your lightsaber?" he asked, approaching quickly, his voice filled with confusion.
"Lightsaber, lightsaber..." Solo rolled his eyes inwardly, nearly responding with a rhyming retort.
But this was a life-or-death situation, not a time for wordplay.
Forcing down the absurd impulse, he adopted Yoda's cryptic tone and uttered a line he'd once heard: "A Jedi without a lightsaber has no sword in hand, but a sword in heart. Besides, I am no Master, merely a humble Jedi Knight."
With that, he glanced at Skywalker's suddenly elongated face, then turned back to continue firing at the approaching robots.
"Oh," Skywalker managed, clearly not understanding the "profound" statement.
The urgency of the battle left them no time for idle chatter.
Listening to the blaster fire, Solo felt a thrill far more intense than any gunfight in a video game.
*Pew! Pew-pew!*
Each shot was accompanied by the metallic clang of a robot collapsing, the visceral impact far more satisfying than the hum of a lightsaber slicing through metal.
Suddenly, a piercing shriek cut through the din.
Solo whirled around and couldn't help cursing under his breath: "Damn Hutts! Disgusting creatures!"
His gaze locked onto the far side of the arena.
There, a colossal beast was hunting down the "unlucky scout trio."
The Acklay stood over six meters tall, its thick carapace gleaming under the arena lights. It swung its scythe-like forelimbs, leaving deep gouges in the sand with each strike.
Its screech, a grating mix of metal grinding against metal, made even the robots instinctively give way.
Obi-Wan quickly identified its weakness. With a swift slash of his lightsaber, he severed three of its legs, then precisely pierced its skull.
The massive creature crashed to the ground, convulsing briefly before falling still.
But joy is always fleeting.
The Jedi's casualties continued to mount, forcing the survivors to retreat and tighten their defensive perimeter toward the center of the arena.
Just then, Solo's carbine ran out of energy, its barrel scorching hot, almost too hot to hold.
The weapon had been designed for robots, its heat resistance far inferior to the specialized equipment used by the Jedi.
Worse, their defensive circle had shrunk to a critical point. If Solo remained hidden behind the metal wreckage of the B2 super battle droid, the robots would flank him within a minute, completely isolating him from the main group.
Gritting his teeth, he tossed aside the empty carbine and activated the lightsaber at his hip.
The blue blade sprang to life with a familiar hum.
Under normal circumstances, he would have marveled at the tactile sensation of this "science fiction miracle." But now, the lightsaber was merely a tool for survival.
However, blocking with the lightsaber proved far more challenging than he had imagined.
His mind grasped the rhythm, but his body couldn't keep up. Having only recently merged with his physical form, he hadn't fully adapted yet, making each swing stiff and awkward.
Driven by primal survival instincts, his motor nerves gradually began to synchronize with the rhythm.
Blocking blaster bolts was manageable, but reflecting them back at the shooter with the precision of a Jedi Master...
That was a task as daunting as climbing Mount Everest. One misstep could easily result in friendly fire.
Moreover, Solo remembered clearly that the Shi-Cho lightsaber form, which he was using, was primarily designed for broad-spectrum defense, making it inherently weak in precisely deflecting blaster bolts.
In the end, the surviving Jedi formed a small defensive circle.
Just then, the robots abruptly ceased firing and turned their attention toward the stands.
Count Dooku stood there, gesturing for the robots to remain on standby.
Solo quietly assessed the number of robots, his mind unconsciously calculating the odds.
The Separatists still had at least two thousand fully operational units, with over seven hundred more scattered across the arena's sandy floor, reduced to fragmented wreckage.
As for the Jedi, corpses lay everywhere.
Humans, Twi'leks, Zabraks, and other species he couldn't name—some bodies were so mangled by explosions that their original forms were unrecognizable.
"Master Windu!" Count Dooku's voice boomed through the loudspeakers, tinged with mockery. "Your valor will be etched in the annals of the Jedi Order, but now it's over. Surrender, and I may spare your lives."
*Here it comes,* Solo thought with a cold smirk. *The classic surrender speech.*
Everyone knew how this would end, but this ritualistic exchange of words seemed to be a mandatory part of every villain's playbook.
"Dooku!" Master Windu gripped his lightsaber tightly, his furious gaze piercing through the air. "We will never become bargaining chips in your schemes."
"I regret this, old friend," Dooku drawled, though his tone carried no genuine remorse.
In the next instant, the robots snapped back into combat stance, their blaster cannons swiveling to target the Jedi within the defensive circle.
The Jedi Knights raised their lightsabers in unison, the blades' radiant glow weaving into a luminous barrier against the sunlight.
Solo crouched slightly, gripping his lightsaber horizontally with both hands, ready for close combat.
*Hurry, Yoda! Where's that little green body of yours?* he thought anxiously. *The cavalry should be here by now!*
Just then, a thunderous roar filled the sky.
"Look!" Amidala shouted, pointing upward.
All eyes turned skyward.
Nine LAAT assault gunships descended in formation, their laser cannons already firing.
The robots immediately shifted their focus, unleashing a barrage of blaster bolts into the air. But the LAAT gunships' armor proved too resilient; the weak shots left only scorch marks on their hulls.
Green laser beams sliced through the robot ranks like blades, reducing them to scrap metal. The light blaster turrets on the gunships' noses maintained a steady stream of fire, suppressing the ground forces.
"Alright, time to evacuate," Solo thought, relief washing over him. The reinforcements had finally arrived.
The gunships circled the arena once, firing rockets at the stands before landing smoothly on the sand.
The hatches opened, and clone troopers poured out, raising their blasters the moment their boots touched the ground. Blue and red blaster bolts crisscrossed the air in a dazzling display.
The surviving Jedi rushed toward the gunships, Solo blending into the crowd as he sprinted forward.
After boarding the LAAT assault gunship, it immediately ascended, rapidly leaving the Petranaki Arena and temporarily putting the battle behind them.
Finally, a chance to catch his breath.
Solo leaned against the cabin wall, relaxed and looked around, then suddenly froze.
Luminara Unduli was on board!
And several Jedi Masters he had only seen in movies: Shaak Ti, Aayla Secura, and Kit Fisto.
In reality, they were even more imposing than on screen.
Shaak Ti wore traditional Togruta attire, her facial markings striking under the cabin lights.
Aayla Secura's blue skin shimmered, her posture as straight as a pine tree.
Even more remarkable, through his Force perception, Solo could clearly sense the "weighty" energy radiating from them—the unique aura accumulated through years of Force training.
The cabin also held over a dozen clone troopers, each a rugged warrior.
They were armed to the teeth, some carrying rocket launchers, while one wielded a Z-6 rotary blaster cannon. The massive six-barreled weapon exuded formidable power, and the trooper's stance rivaled Schwarzenegger's in his action films.
Kit Fisto noticed Solo's gaze and grinned at him.
The Mon Calamari Master's smile was warm and genuine.
Solo couldn't help but return the smile, but soon everyone's attention shifted to the gaping wound on his chest.
A large hole had been blasted through his Jedi robes, the bloodstains now dried into a dark brown crust.
"Sir, are you alright?" a clone trooper approached. "You need medical assistance."
The clone trooper wore a distinctive insignia on his chest armor, indicating his rank as a commander.
Neither Solo nor the original owner of his body were familiar with the Kaminoan military hierarchy, so they could only vaguely discern the officer's status.
"Medical assistance would be welcome, but there's no time for that now," Solo said, shaking his head. He noticed the surrounding Jedi were scrutinizing him, clearly unfamiliar with the name "Solo Victor."
He took the initiative to introduce himself: "I am Solo Victor, Jedi Knight."
As he finished speaking and prepared to nod in acknowledgment, the ship suddenly lurched violently, sending everyone scrambling for their seatbelts.
Steadying himself, Solo turned to the clone commander. "What's happening?"
"Sir, we're approaching Separatist territory. Enemy ships are intercepting us ahead."
Solo let out a soft hum, already anticipating this.
The second act of this "grand war drama" was about to begin.
Through the observation window of the transport ship, a fierce space battle unfolded across the sky.
Several Hailfire-class assault ships clashed with Trade Federation cruisers, laser beams and ion cannon fire erupting in space like dazzling yet deadly fireworks.
Meanwhile, Star Destroyers had breached the defense lines and entered Geonosis's atmosphere. Their hangar bays opened, and countless Clone Troopers and AT-TE walkers rapidly deployed, advancing toward Separatist positions with astonishing speed.
Some cruisers even landed directly on the planet's surface, clearly to deploy SPHA self-propelled heavy artillery. These massive siege weapons, once deployed, could provide devastating fire support.
Transport ships weaved through gaps in the Separatist fleet's fire, continuously unloading Clone Troopers and AT-TE walkers.
Just then, Shaak Ti's voice rang out: "Pilot, take us to the front lines!"
"Understood, Master," the pilot replied through the internal comms, then executed a sharp turn, sending the assault gunship plummeting toward the ground battlefield.
Moments later, the hatch opened again. The Jedi Masters leaped out first, followed closely by Solo and the other Jedi, with the Clone Troopers quickly following suit.
Upon landing, the Masters scattered like antelopes, each finding a squad to command.
Though they called it "commanding," it was more like "leading the charge."
The Jedi Masters made exaggerated "follow me" gestures, their lightsabers whirling like cyclones as they surged to the front of the formation, clearly intending to engage the robots in close combat.
*These Jedi haven't learned a thing from the Petranaki Arena,* Solo thought bitterly. *Still... the Masters have earned the right to be reckless. Unlike ordinary Jedi like me, who have to rely on survival tactics to stay alive.*
He grumbled in frustration, his chest wound still throbbing faintly. He really didn't want to run around on the battlefield with this injury, let alone charge headfirst into the fire of tens of thousands of robots.
But as he watched the clone troopers around him throw themselves fearlessly into the fray, he gritted his teeth, waved his hand toward the robots, and shouted as loudly as he could, "Alright, let's go! Let's kick these tin cans' asses! Advance!"
*This is madness,* Solo thought. *Pure stupidity.*
He knew it himself.
But perhaps it was the herd mentality, or a subconscious fear of standing out and becoming a target, or maybe just the adrenaline rush from continuous combat. Whatever the reason, he started running, his eyes fixed on the robots ahead, his mind focused on a single thought.
Survive.
Behind Solo was his squad of clone troopers, who had arrived on the same assault gunship, along with three other similar squads.
They quickly merged into the larger attacking force.
The surrounding scene was a living hell.
Countless clone trooper squads surged toward the Separatist positions like a tidal wave, while the robots' rocket launchers fired wildly in all directions, each explosion claiming the lives of several clones.
The robots advanced relentlessly, their blaster fire so dense it was impossible to evade.
Even more terrifying were the colossal spider robots.
Standing over twenty meters tall, each step crushed multiple clones beneath their massive feet. Their slow but precise red laser cannons methodically harvested the lives of the attackers.
Clone troopers in AT-TE walkers maneuvered across the battlefield, unleashing retaliatory fire with all their might.
The main cannons proved particularly effective, each shot obliterating a spider robot.
Solo later learned that these main cannons were actually quite ordinary kinetic energy weapons, with a caliber of approximately seventy-five to eighty millimeters. Yet they were more than sufficient to penetrate the robots' armor.
LAAT assault gunships darted through the air at varying altitudes, sometimes launching rockets from their mass accelerators to strike robot units on the ground, and other times pivoting to intercept Trade Federation starfighters.
A massive shadow swept overhead. Solo looked up to see another AT-TE walker descending, its hatch opening as more clone troopers leaped out.
With these reinforcements, his squad swelled to fifty men. Under the walker's cover, they advanced steadily, firing as they charged, gradually pushing back the robot defenses.
Solo parried incoming blaster bolts with his lightsaber, barely deflecting them as he sprinted forward.
*Just hold on a little longer,* he thought grimly. *The Separatists will have to retreat soon.*
Sure enough, moments later, a distant roar echoed across the battlefield. Separatist spherical spacecraft began to ascend, clearly preparing to evacuate.
The nearest ship had barely lifted off when a blue beam from an SPHA self-propelled heavy artillery struck it.
The artillery piece was truly colossal, nearly forty meters long and as tall as a five-story building, with devastating firepower.
The struck spacecraft hovered briefly in mid-air before a searing plasma stream erupted from its hull. Trailing a thick plume of black smoke, it crashed heavily to the ground, triggering a massive explosion.
"Nice shot!" Solo couldn't help but shout, but danger arrived swiftly.
A robotic rocket tank suddenly swiveled its turret and unleashed a volley of missiles at Solo's squad.
The clone troopers reacted instantly, returning fire.
Two rockets struck the tank directly: one against its frontal armor, the other against its top-mounted ammunition compartment. The tank detonated in a fiery blast.
However, several rockets still landed among the clone troopers. Explosions ripped through the ranks, flames and shockwaves instantly engulfing everything nearby.
Solo's face was scorched by the flames, burning with searing pain. The massive shockwave hurled him violently through the air.
His back slammed hard against the treads of an AT-TE walker. Darkness flooded his vision, and he slipped into unconsciousness.