"Great Ziro, the Corellians have Ryloth under blockade. Our convoy can't get close."
"Noted." Ziro flicked a hand impatiently. "Don't pull back yet. Keep watching. Wait for an opening."
"Yes, Great Ziro."
Ziro didn't have a fancy proverb for it, but he understood the reality perfectly: if one piece falls, the next one is exposed. The moment he received the Zygerrian slavers' plea for help from Ryloth, he dispatched reinforcements.
But faced with the Corellian Defense Force Navy's blockade net, his captains didn't have the nerve to punch through. They could only loiter at a distance and stare.
It was driving Ziro up the wall. To the Zygerrians, Ryloth was just a hunting ground. To Black Sun, Twi'lek slave girls were a mint—an endless river of credits. Ziro absolutely did not want the slavers driven off Ryloth.
Ryloth had to be reinforced.
At that moment, a Black Sun veteran at Ziro's side suggested, "Great Ziro, cut the head off the beast. Why not find a way to kill that Max Vizsla?"
"You?" Ziro shot the Falleen a dirty look. "You think you can do it? Then go. If you kill him, I'll pay you ten million."
"N-no, no!" The Falleen jumped back, hands flailing. "I can't. I can't."
"Then stop wasting my air."
"Great Ziro—I can't. But I know someone who might."
"Oh?" Ziro's interest sharpened. "Who?"
"This year, a bounty hunter calling himself the 'Mando Killer' has taken down multiple famous Mandalorian bounty hunters…"
...
"You're not bad. You actually made me sweat a little."
Hearing the mockery, the badly wounded Tellers Finley forced his head up. He glanced at the wound punched clean through the giant's left chest and gave a helpless, blood-tinged grin. "Heh… Normally, I should've won. Guess I didn't account for you being a monster. Heh."
"Tch." The giant—the one called the Mando Killer—clicked his tongue in amused disbelief. "Are Mandalorians all this pathetic now? Dying, and still making excuses instead of accepting reality."
"I was careless. I walked into your trick—cough." Even coughing up blood, Tellers refused to concede. "Mandalorians who go for the heart like I do are rare. Most go for the head first. Even if your heart's on the right, you've only got one head. Heh."
"Oh?" The giant bent down—arrogant enough to push his helmeted head right into Tellers' space. "Do I…?"
Tellers erupted up in a flash, drawing his beskad with a motion like a razor-snap. The giant's massive head—helmet and all—went flying.
"I… won—cough—"
In Tellers' disbelieving stare, the headless giant straightened. The thud of the severed head hitting the floor came at the same time as the giant's slow clapping. Then—writhing tendrils surged from the giant's neck and shoulders, knitting into the shape of a new head.
"Wha—" The movement tore Tellers' wound wide. He vomited blood in thick, endless gulps as the cold started crawling through his body.
"Wha… you're Durge?" He finally understood who he'd been fighting.
"Heh." The bounty hunter—using the Mando Killer name—grinned. "What, Mandalorian history books got room for me?"
"Coward…" Tellers spat through blood. "Too scared to go after House Vizsla, so you skulk around and pick off loners like me."
"Pathetic." Durge sneered. "Big talk for someone who's dying. And don't pretend you're not a 'lone target'—you were. What's there to complain about? Mandalorians are all trash. Out of the ones I've killed, you're at least the best of the worst."
"Still… you won't—cough—go after Death Watch. You're scared."
Durge threw his head back and laughed. "Death Watch?"
"I went to Mandalore." His voice turned contemptuous. "What's there now isn't the Mandalore I remember. The so-called New Mandalorians are cowards—weak, soft. And Death Watch? If they got beaten and chased off-world by those cowards, they're worse than weak. Death Watch? Not worth my time."
(Tellers wanted to say it wasn't that simple. But he couldn't even get the words out anymore.)
"Don't worry," Durge said lightly. "You won't be lonely on the other side. My next target is your good buddy—Jango Fett."
Hearing that, Tellers coughed out another heavy mouthful of blood and forced the words out. "That short bastard… is weaker than me—cough—he's not worth it."
"Tch. Brothers to the end, huh? You scared I'll kill your 'trash's trash' brother?" Durge picked up Tellers' Z-6 rotary blaster cannon, walked over, and kicked the kneeling Mandalorian bounty hunter backward hard enough to send him skidding. Then he grabbed the fallen beskad.
"Nice gun. Nice blade. I'll use your weapons to kill your worthless brother."
He glanced over Tellers' armor with open greed. "And this beskar's good—high purity. Add yours to what I've got and I can swap my whole suit to beskar."
"Hauling cargo ships around isn't satisfying," Durge muttered as he dragged his prize back toward his freighter, his newly formed head babbling the whole way. "Kill a few more Mandos. Buy a starfighter. Then buy a warship…"
"Missed call?" Durge opened his comms.
A synthesized female voice answered. "Mando Killer. New contract."
"Same rules," Durge said. "I talk to the client first. If the client won't agree, I don't take it. If they agree, have them call me."
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🛡️ STAR WARS: THE RISE OF MANDALORE
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🛡️ MANDALORE WILL RISE AGAIN.
A warrior culture divided.
Clans fighting for survival.
A galaxy slowly moving toward war.
And someone determined to ensure that Mandalore will never again bow its head.
Star Wars: The Rise of Mandalore has 100+ chapters ahead available now.
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⚔️ THIS IS THE WAY OF WARRIORS
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