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It was quick.
One moment, he and his troops had the Separatists on the run, mowing down droids across the battlefield. The next, his own men formed a circle around him, and turned to the center, blasters raised.
Pure instinct, reacting before his thoughts had time to process the nonsensical scene around him, was all that saved him from the initial rounds as the troopers relentlessly fired at him. There was no room for thought, barely any for the pang of regret at taking the lives of his friends, as he and his lightsaber whirled, deflecting the bolts back towards their origin.
But not every bolt. Pain rippled from each strike, but staggering, he fought on until the last blaster was silenced.
He swayed in place, the last one standing, surrounded by a ring of corpses of his own making, until his strength failed and he collapsed too.
Why?
He had felt nothing from them. No hint of deception or anger, just the efficiency of a soldier doing his job, as if he as their target had been no more than another droid.
But there were no answers from the Force, only the certainty that he would soon rejoin it.