WhiteDwarf: Reject the scales and measure yourself against yourself

You both pant with exhaustion. Lungs strain. Muscles are torn. Your so-called "unworthy" strikes can't land on him with enough force to bring him down. That's the rule, and it has held: No strike unworthy in the eyes of the galaxy can strike him down.

And yet...

Chaplain: You keep trying. Despite knowing your inadequacy! I would admire the heat of a flickering candle that refuses to extinguish, if it weren't for you vile intentions. Impressive determination!
Chaplain: But it won't make you anything but persistently unworthy!
WhiteDwarf: Only unworthy in your cosmos. Only the judgment of your galaxy.
Chaplain: And what other cosmos is there, vile intruder!? The galaxy on fire, the product of your grand leader's dream!?
WhiteDwarf: A galaxy redshifted. That's what it means: Suns in motion away from you. Refusing to hold to your orbits. Arcing out of the Company's control. A sky full of stars you can't catch.
Chaplain: Inane, nonsensical! Empty rhetoric, propping up your unworthy lack of duty and faith!
WhiteDwarf: It's his dream. Our dream. And a friend taught me something recently. About goals, and causes, and what they mean.
WhiteDwarf: They taught me about knowing every detail of a whole galaxy. The galaxy I'll be worthy in.
WhiteDwarf: Worthy enough to strike you down.
Chaplain: A useless figment of imagination! Predict every star all you like, but my blade will cut you down if you pursue this disk!