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Chapter Text

A long time ago...

In a galaxy far, far away...

Lights

Shadows

There were the lights and there were the  dark, beneath all were the shadows.

Shadows covered the cosmos. Shadows are the void. Shadows called to his children. Shadows embellished worlds in darkness.

The planet was dark. The gods adorned the heavens with cosmic pieces of jewelry and blessed the realms with light, and life. And where there's life, there is the Force. The Force is the light that made the worlds. The Force is the final gift of the gods, the light that adorned all creation.

The Force blessed the world with beautiful melodies. Choruses linger in the air and on the ground, in the stream of the rivers and the fleeting moments.

But where there are lights, there are shadows.

Where there's creation, there's destruction.

And in life, there's death.

The shadows made the world fall silent.

Darkness...

Darkness still covered the world, suspending eternity itself in the void. The void that waits, the void that decays. The void that hates.

The story of many laid heedless to celestial ornaments adorning the heavens. In that world, only broken dreams remained. The jagged terrains and ancient constructs decorated the god-made sphere.

The divine astronomical marvel, now laid dormant, forgotten to the mortals who now rule the stars. Starlight cast it as the only companion in eternal darkness. Faint rays painted lights and shadows on the giant spires that now strode out of the landscape like pikes. The pikes' pulse with energy, arcane and ancient. It is the breathing, vitality of the realm.

The ancient construct heartbeats reverberate through the landscape as sounds of a realm deep in dreams.

Fleeting in the air and sound. A vortex of energy crackled. The swirl took away dust and debris into a spiral, arcs of electricity gilding the air with a dimly blue aura. A man cloaked in billowing darkness treads into a breathing realm, where no men dare tread in countless eons.

The mortal emperor of the stars made his presence known to the world. The dark robes ate away the lights and shadows, and a wide insidious grin slowly curled up his lips. The presence of hatred...pride...and expectation shine through the exposed enamels.

This world, its soul is his to claim. And with its celestial might, he shall no longer be a mere emperor. He shall be the king of the stars. A god. He shall be forever.

The celestial might that rule the cosmos. Forever.

"The deed is done, thy master." He chuckled, mockingly. His mind briefly returns to the pathetic mortal he once called "master". The dark scientist who has spent his life on finding the elixir of life. The secret to immortality.

And here, he isn't only going to achieve immortality.

No, being immortal isn't enough. How could his master not see it? Immortal is not transcendence, he could still be hurt, he could still be killed.

It was he who murdered his own master in his sleep after all.

But now he cannot let himself dwell more on those thoughts, back to the fool that taught him everything he had...

He will achieve more than that. Here lies the means to the ascension of an already almighty dark lord. He allowed himself a small grin. His powers are vast, but he isn't blind. The Emperor is ambitious. It will need more than just abilities alone to reshape the universe to his liking.

He will become more than the emperor of the stars. There's no need for doubt, the power is already here to claim. What could stop him now? He had listened to the call of the darkness that fueled his anger and hatred, his dark power. Year after year he had studied, probing deeper into the dark. Seeking, discovering to find a place where no light has ever shone, the true abyss. He remembered the book of an old Sith Emperor about letting the darkness be his guidance. The art of devouring the essence of an entire world to become an immortal being. He believed he had perfected it, but to become a god wouldn't be enough.

He would need to be transcendent, above the laws of the universe, the laws of the force itself. The light of the Force had been a nuisance, hindering his efforts to probe deeper and deeper into the dark.

He knew the dark side wasn't all there was for creation. The dark side still has lights, albeit dimly. The shades of darkness have made it more and more difficult for him to chart his path to converse with the true void.

The true void is a place, as he had read where the force cannot tread, the Force cannot intervene, the Force cannot outwit or retaliate against him. The place is truly out of the reach of the lights. The shadows. It is the place where he soon would find his true power.

He raised his hand and tightened his hold on the ritual. More memories flood back when he finally parlay with the darkness itself where no Force rose to challenge him of his domain. He has heard the secrets, hear its will. The will from the darkness itself. The true state of being far more arcane, far less restrained, and powerful. The true natural state of being. He gave himself to it, leading its will to flow through him.

And finally, it had led him here.

On this planet, in the middle of the unknown. The shadows have cast the portal, the shadows have guided the force. The force follows its call, its domain. The sentient darkness. Darth Sidious stared into his shadows and saw what he could've been. Unbounded, his true power. Unrestrained, unconfined by the mere faint shades of dark.

More ghastly chants followed the torrents of thoughts as be prepared for the ritual, placing down the necessary objects. Using Force Alchemy to forge and create matters out of the ether to assemble the construct needed.

Then the world grumbles. It was noticed of the intruder. The insolence that dares to interrupt its dreams. The sentience that lies beneath countless corridors slowly awakens.

It quakes, seeking the enemy that tore it out of its dreams. It is here.

"*Darth Sidious*"  The voice boomed out, from unknown corners, from nowhere, and everywhere at the same time. It called out his name. The whirrs of erupting defense mechanisms filled the atmosphere as the world sprung to life. Mechanism locking into places to welcome the insidious presence seeking to tear the soul out of the world.

Sidious smile etched wider.

This living world is still alive. But it has yet to be fully awakened, not yet. It's still vivid, tethering in the edge of dreams and nightmares and he knew. If he were to absorb its power and ascend, now It's time for him to act.

He could feel the pathetic attempt of the awakening giant. Everything merely confirms what he already long believed.

The world is perhaps the ultimate representation of what the light is, weak, apathetic. It is the transient embers, it is the brief whimper, a fleeting wind. The shadows, the darkness is forever. And Sidious will be forever. He would be the darkness itself, an avatar of eternity.

He muster all his strength to start the ritual. His eyes lit ablaze, the air contorted with infernal fury as the power of the Dark Lord of the Sith took form. Sidious clenched his fist and portals erupted from the darkness. The portals shimmer and swirl under his power and might.

The portals to the abyss. The rising cascading power of the great decay.

The darkness.

He closed his eyes and let the darkness guide his essence. His hand slowly lifted with the grace of a kapellmeister, bending the inanimate elements to weave a cacophony of light and shadows. He assembled the shadows as they surrounded him in an orchestra of the abyss.

The air crackled, and the ground gleamed maliciously. The metallic surface of the planet cracked, and seismic shocks carrying arcs of power swept through the landscape. Darkness illuminated by an unnatural crimson light. Rays of crimson and shadows are arranged into shapes and sounds. Ethereal geometrical constructs manifested. Sidious hands moved gracefully, assembling the holocrons that came out of the cracks that bore holes through the depths of reality itself.

The Dark Emperor conjured up the nightmares and the shadows, the void that called him to this place. It had guided him here, given the guidance, the methods, and perhaps.

Soon.

Absolute power.

Power beyond the comprehension of mere mortals.

The grin that is now etched on the wrinkly face of the shadow sovereign. It was sharp, devilish. The thing that stood out is more demonic than man. The Sith Lord's crimson-gilded hands followed the pattern of a force beyond the will of the cosmos.

The abyss swirled around Sidious like a maelstrom. The Dark Lord's eyes blazed brighter with infernal crimson. He raised his hand higher, chanting the tongue of civilizations long dead, of worlds scorched and devoured. Sidious opened himself to the darkness, more than ever before. He gave in fully, hearing only the rising crescendo of death, seeing only the symphony of the end. Feeling the sounds of crackling lightning, and the boundless power of the abyss. He senses the scents of decay, of entropy eclipsing his essence.

Good...

He will have his prize soon.

Sidious chants grew louder and louder, more ghastly, more apocalyptic. The world below him grumbled from the strain, the ritual seeking to tear away its essence. The dark powers being summoned to suck its soul dry were too large, too endless, and too dark for even it to comprehend.

Sidious continued his gambit, his deal with the shadows that called out to him. He could feel the power of the world below flow into him, the boundless sweet essence. The flavor of unlimited power, of true ascendance. He laughs, his dark soul dances with the shadows and its dark powers. The dark serpent wrapped itself around the planet's soul, claiming the prey for its dark master.

The planet resisted, its divine essence refused itself to be stripped away by a mere mortal man.

Sidious pulled harder, the comatose state of the world made it so much easier to devour. To control and siphons. The teeming energy erupted out of the Emperor's socket and mouth, dark tendrils of shadows snapped out of the cloak and spread and corrupted through the landscape. Ancient constructs withered away, sculpted marvels melting into the abyss. The defense mechanism, turrets, and traps spasms and twitches drained of the life that once animated all creation.

Sidious hears the voice again.

It continues to beckon. The chaos that wants to destroy order. The end that dissolved worlds.

Sidious stood amidst the vortex of the dark and the ashen light. He commanded the chaos, borrowing its might. He once again challenged the cosmological constant that led and bound the galaxy. Like his master once did, but this time with the service, the instruction of something far more sinister.

The Force will bow down to his will. A power that will knock a deity from its throne. The ascendancy to make the master of reality itself, trembles.

This planet is the creation of children of the power of the cosmos. Yet, even as he slowly devoured the world's essence, no counterforce rose to contest his sovereignty. No opposition to threaten him, no impending threat of a chosen one. He is there, on the brink of absolute power, nothing will ever be able to thwart him again.

Order and Balance, in their eternal apathy, remained as heedless as ever.

Nothing will challenge him anymore.

Nothing will ever do.

His prize, his pride. The ultimate and absolute victory.

The true finality.

The shadows smirked, and the dark sovereign mirrored its satisfaction. Its gambit is now completed.

But then something was wrong. Something had dulled his senses. The Dark Lord's grip on the darkness loosened, before slipping away. Like a fleeting gust of wind, everything went numb. He was of the Force again. The fleeting darkness. It was the light that reached him?

He felt nothing

No lights, no shadows.

Nothing

Sheev Palpatine feels nothing.

Nothing...

NOTHING.

No...

No! NO!

The dark lord jolted away from his trance-like reverie. Growling, his visage contorted with the wrath of betrayal.

What started as ambition and excitement swiftly gave way to a torrent of rage, fear, and mounting panic.

The voices that once guided him fell abruptly silent. The senses slipped beyond reach. The boundless, overwhelming pull of darkness faded, as if shadows had already consumed a part of his twisted essence. It seemed that darkness had forsaken him.

He felt as if he was discarded, he had served his purpose.

Palpatine struggled to keep his hold on the power, battling to maintain his grasp on the growing hurricane of darkness, the dark winds that suffused the air. For the first time, Darth Sidious, with all his dark abilities, a rare sensation washed over him—defeat and a profound sense of helplessness.

He could feel the world of his senses, his presence in the Force going dark.

Like a painter stripped of sight, a pianist devoid of hearing, a singer silenced, an athlete without limbs. A chef that can no longer taste, an eagle without wings.

Dismay and betrayal stunned the mind of the mortal man, he have been lied to. It couldn't have failed him at this moment. No! Not now.

Energy faded from the eyes of the dark lord, as he finally realized the ultimate ploy of the dark side.

He raised his hand again and attempted to recite the ancient syllables. Trying to assert his sovereignty over the power that should now be his. Sidious groaned, his stance weakening as the vortex continued to grow. This shouldn't be possible!

Yet here is it, here he stands. Powerless, weak, feeble. With all his might and knowledge the dark lord could not command what he could not understand. He had lost. He could not accept defeat but he needs his life. His empire, he could not die here. He tried again to assert his will, his power his authority. The unlimited power that should always belong to him.

The swirling vortex of energy doesn't listen, the vortex morphs itself into a tornado, then a hurricane. The currents carried away the lightning, the spells, and the dark arcane tricks the dark wizard of the force tried to throw at it. It transforms and warps, tearing space-time along with its currents. Palpatine could feel the cascading energy shriveling up his soul, tendrils of darkness crawling up his body like hungry serpents. He has to go. He needs to go.

The Dark Lord gasped for air amid the brewing energy storm. He looked at the shards of arcane objects immaculately tearing apart reality. Palpatine turned around and looked at his shadows.

And the shadows smiled back

It was all too late for the dark lord to realize his folly. His mistake. He raised his arms, perceiving and sensing his ambitions crumbled like a house of cards. In a desperate gambit to escape, the dark lord summoned what remained of his power to create his salvation.

Palpatine mustered all his strength and focused his power on crafting a small tear propagating through the fabric of space-time. The blue glowing portal opened and the man leaped into it, leaving the doomed world behind, leaving the shadows behind. The vortex of salvation crackled like a wind in the storm, being consumed, fading away.

Yet even then, he can hear it, so clear and still. He can sense it, so persuasive, so caring.

The echoes, and the wail of a dying world. The boundaries between the planes weakened, and tendrils of darkness transcended. The hunger craving for more

A patch of the walls that once guarded the edges of the unilluminated cosmoi fell.

The world whimpered, before giving into the darkness, leaving behind the gaping wound to open the gate into the unknown.

Matter crumbled into atoms, the divine constructs, the holocrons, everything. It left nothing behind, it left nothing to savor. It left nothing to love. It left only nothing.

In the end, not even atoms remained. Not even the artificial soul and power once delicately crafted by the Celestials, the architects of the stars. The great vortex expands, and debris and light fall into the dark well of eternity. The planet died and its death has been so unnatural, it has paved the way for something even greater.

A wound opened in reality, and darkness streamed down the corners of existence.

Sitting in the void of devoured realms, a consciousness, heeded the beckoning call.

The beckoning to a feast. The call from one darkness to the other. An invitation, more explorations. More boundaries to reach, and more worlds to devour.

Its hunger will finally be sated.

The Exponential End accepted the invitation.

[It's time to eat]

Chapter Text

Life..

A transcient tale.

Life begins,

Life is long,

Life is short.

You've gone a long way,

You raised him as a young boy, full of dreams and ambitions. Seeing his nativity,  seeing when he took his first step into a world so vast even you could not comprehend.

You were there when he crafted his first lightsaber, you were there when he made his first friend.

You were there to witness his fall too.

You taught him everything you could, everything you've ever known. But then you realize that you've got nothing left to teach,  and perhaps you are just as fallible as he is. So you joined him on the ride, toward the unknown.

You remember the dying words for your master to "raise the boy". You see his dreams being carried in the embers, into the current of the will of the cosmos.

And you joined him on the ride, hoping for a road that never ends.  You went with him on adventures, through sorrow and hardship. You close your eyes and let the currents carry you away, and end up finding yourself in the shadows.

And you asked yourself,  what did I do wrong?

Maybe

Maybe...

There's still something to savor,  there's still something to hope, and there are still dreams yet to be realized. You clung onto that thread, no matter how hard you tried to let it go. You tried to hide it, trying so hard to lie to yourself so that you may not fall into the perceived darkness. You could not let go.

Because you could never truly let go.

You remembered the creature of rage that took the face of your friend, the monster that murdered him. You look at your broken faith and realize what you've lost. Maybe you've made this monster, if only you could turn back time and stop the evil from consuming him. Your friend, your brother, in your pursuit to raise him, you sunk the galaxy deeper and deeper into the abyss. Death rose from your failure, and you found yourself scraping the edges of uncertainty again.

If only you could perhaps try harder. If only you could save him from that moment if it ever existed. If only you could stop the creation of the black-clad monster that is now your friend. The monster more machine now than man. To save yourself from the moments of mistakes.

The moment that doomed everything. But then everything asked you a question. Perhaps out of nativity or blind hope.

But perhaps in the end it is hope that eventually drives life, even if it is but a road to the eventual despair.

Even if all beauty is merely fleeting.

You shut your eyes tightly, yearning for this to be merely a haunting dream, a cruel illusion rendering all your efforts futile. If only you hadn't honed his skills with such dedication. Maybe then, you could have salvaged more than witnessing the gradual dissolution of your brother and confidant in that unforgiving realm.

When you struck him down and left him for dead.

You do not want the story to end.

The hope, the dreams, the promises left unfulfilled between you. Regrets, like relentless rain, saturate your very being, casting you as a hapless actor in this tragic narrative. If only you possessed the power to rewrite the script, to rescue him from his malevolent destiny, to spare us all from its cruel grip. The cruel grip of fate.

You sought a path to rescue yourself from the sea of enigmatic sorrow.

Yet, as you frantically struggle to break free, shutting out the world from your very soul, you find yourself descending further into the abyss of uncertainty. The more you resist the hands of fate...

Yet, perhaps, a glimmer of hope remains.

And you will not have to fight them. Alone

But you know.

And you knew.

Even the blessings are fleeting. Yet, what worth does a timeless instant hold?

Each star dims, every voyage concludes. Every exquisite tale, every contest, every escapade.

But what remains to relish, to uncover, to cherish? Will you allow it all to conclude thus?

Or is there an alternative narrative awaiting? Perhaps a fresh perspective, a new maestro, an uncharted realm to traverse and triumph over.

Something transcending your familiar world.

Reunite with your brother once more, Kenobi. Deep down, you sense his presence lingering, despite your relentless doubts. He remains, don't cower from your own essence.

Embrace your apprehensions; we all fought the void once, Obi-Wan.

You must face him again, he embodies your sole salvation.

Stride along the path of destiny, the very stream fate has scripted for you,

Even if everything commences or concludes in your absence.

Maybe...

In fleeting instants, perchance...

Remember death.

Rise from the mirages, awaken from the reveries, Obi-Wan.

For the spectacle has merely commenced. Therefore, assume the role meticulously crafted for you. Engage in battle against the enigma, the advancing abyss, the certain finale.

I covet your ephemeral existence.
Nothing, not even us, endures eternally...

You shall never be as cherished as you are in this precise instant.

You need not confront them alone.

Brandish the blade. Fashion the swords, stride into the uncharted. Harness your abilities, your fate, and the path you tread. Shaping and bending the tides of history, even if it all fades to insignificance in the final reckoning.

We are all destined, Kenobi. There is no evasion from the shadows. Merely the voyage towards acceptance. You may strive against the currents, yet exhaustion will claim you, sweeping you away.

You capture moments on pages, in chests, and in frames. Interring them in the depths like treasures of hope. You preserve them, cognizant that they will inevitably dissolve. For the true essence of life lies in living.

For ultimately, it is the voyage that holds significance. The instances along the path, pause and glance beside you, Kenobi. Amidst all your regrets, all our falters, the vista remains exquisite, doesn't it? Occasionally, you stumble upon tarnished fragments, yet you comprehend, that brighter prospects lie ahead. You erect mental ramparts to shield against the precipice of what lies beyond. All things transpire, but once.

Meanings are not forged by hard dogma. You must understand, my dear friend.

Arise Kenobi

Let the tales, the hope, and the dreams flow through you.

Your journey toward acceptance will begin. You must find him again. He will be our only hope.

In the endless, seek out the destined soul, rescue him from the abyss' grasp. Be the beacon of guidance for the boy, illuminating his path to unfurl the gates that halt time's relentless march.

And all shall walk alongside you. You have the power to rewrite his narrative anew, for stories alone stand as the mightiest arsenal against the encroaching void's armies. Through the tales and the spark of hope, the odysseys and unwavering resolve that kindled, resistance proves not in vain. What once advanced unchecked must now confront the fortress of fate, against the blade wielded by existence, against the resolve and grit to survive forged by nature's transcendence.

Always.

What do you behold now, Obi-Wan Kenobi?

Are there lights to guide you?

Or do shadows still linger, unyielding?

It all unfurled, both commencing and concluding, absent your touch.

A falsehood we cling to, that each tribulation justifies itself, every endeavor destined to flourish.

Every tale finds its closure. The boy, the chosen one, the entire galaxy now poised upon your weary frame.

Your name is a beacon of hope and courage.

You entreat the celestial weaver, your fate, yet rivers flow uncaring of those swept within.

Let your thoughts recede, allowing your physical form to steer destiny's course.

Awaken from this reverie, Ben Kenobi. Even here, no sanctuary dwells. You must resume what you've left behind.

For now, great darkness descends, faster than ever before, greater than the monster in black, eclipsing even the familiar night.

Awake, Ben.

Tell him the truth

Because hope, beckons.

Ben

Ben

BEN!

BEN !?

A familiar voice whispered urgently to Obi-Wan's ear.

"You looked like you'd seen a ghost !?" Luke asked his gaze one of confusion, directed at Obi-Wan.

"I was just sleeping, Luke,"  Ben answered as he rose from his bed, shaking his head as he stood. With a hand raised to his forehead, he contemplated, lost in thought.

Blinking his eyes open, Obi-Wan saw the young face of Luke Skywalker, the son of his fallen friend Anakin Skywalker, standing beside him with a look of excitement and concern.

"So Luke, what is it? What's wrong?" Obi-Wan asked, immediately alert.

"Uncle Ben you have to see this. There's something on the holonet that I think you need to watch," Luke said, his eyes wide with a mixture of awe and worry.

Obi-Wan could sense the urgency in Luke's voice, and he trusted the young man's instincts. Rising from his makeshift bed, Obi-Wan followed Luke to a small communication terminal in the corner of the Millennium Falcon. Luke activated the holonet, and a holographic image flickered to life in front of them.

"It's a message from the Emperor himself, listen !" Luke said in an urgent voice.

Obi-Wan drew nearer to the image, its ethereal blue light enveloping the room, as Emperor Palpatine's form took shape. His eyes, a mask concealing a twisted reality, delved deep into the onlookers' spirits, painting a chiaroscuro of anticipation upon those eager to heed their revered ruler's words. A frown creased Obi-Wan's brow.

"My loyal citizens of the Empire..."
Projected in his pristine white robes and bearing the countenance of a revered elder, Palpatine commenced his address. Yet, beneath the familiar facade, his voice lacked its customary veneer of warmth and optimism. Today, its timbre was icy, unwavering, a blend of dread and doubt palpable to Obi-Wan's discerning senses.

"An unprecedented threat looms over our galaxy. A malevolent invader has emerged from beyond the stars, through a portal that bridges our world with another."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and reached out to the Force, sensing the disturbance.
Holographic images danced beside the emperor's azure glow, casting a chilling spectacle.

In that moment, he beheld a terror surpassing mortal understanding. The Force delved deep, probing the encroaching darkness, detecting and marshaling its resistance against the chilling presence. As he gazed into the astral realms, all that met his sight, and senses were the chilling visage of death.

Planets were ravaged, their very essence unwound by neon orbs of darkness, pure voids swallowing what once pulsed with life. Golden digital threads adorned the fragments of shattered worlds on display.

Their demise was unnatural, devoured by encroaching shadows. Their spectral presence in the Force was eerie, fraught with danger and death. Obi-Wan gripped his head, gritting his teeth, feeling the echo of tens of millions lost, the reverberations that shook the very foundation of his thoughts.

"Our enemy is not of flesh and blood," Palpatine continued, "but abominations that seek only to unmake us...We cannot afford to be divided by petty differences or lulled into a false sense of security. This is a war for our very existence."

Palpatine's image morphed to reveal the portal—a swirling maelstrom of turbulent energy, a conduit bridging galaxies. This nexus between worlds served as the gateway to demise, the threshold marking the exponential end.

"Our mighty Empire will now turn its vast industrial and military power to full wartime production. Factories in every world will work tirelessly to arm our forces." The Emperor continues.

Palpatine took a pause again, almost as if to swallow the words, before continuing his speech "I have summoned and parlay with other like-minded leaders of the galaxy" Palpatine declared, "They will help the Empire ask the unified front against this new threat. This shall be our time to unite and forge a relentless alliance against this new enemy. "

He paused, perhaps letting the gravity of his words sink in. The silence was cold, chilling, like the voids themselves. "Every able-bodied citizen will be called upon to serve! Martial law will be enforced in the Outer Rim territories, the location of the anomaly. We will not surrender. The might of the Empire will prevail !"

Luke turned to Ben. "This must be another of the Emperor's tricks! There's no way something like that could've happened."

His tone, seemingly casual and dismissive, belied an undercurrent of emotion, a subtle tremor beneath the facade of optimism. In the rush of his upbeat words, a hidden resonance hinted at a deeper understanding—a realization dawning within him that this very moment held the elusive truth. What if the Emperor was right? What if...?

Obi-Wan averted his eyes from Luke, his gaze distant, lost in contemplation as if detached from the present moment. Luke, unsettled by this uncharacteristic stillness, felt a creeping unease prickling beneath his skin, a tangible fear that mirrored the silence in the air. The absence of Obi-Wan's usual reassuring presence weighed heavily on Luke, his mentor's silence echoing louder than words—a void that hinted at a deeper absence, a disquieting vacancy in the very essence of his master.

Obi-wan traced his fingers on his wrinkly forehead, then put it on his chin, stroking it thoughtfully.

In the realm where Obi-Wan once stood, though once a stalwart figure, now a silhouette of weariness, he raised a hand to his furrowed brow, as if burdened by unseen anguish. Gripping his teeth, biting his lips, the very shadows beneath him quivered in response to his inner turmoil. A tremor, subtle yet profound, rippled through the air as if the very fabric of existence itself trembled in empathy.

The coming menace looms not just in the dark, but in the abyss, the void that devours all light. His dream, a haunting premonition, unfolds before his eyes like a relentless nightmare, the words of the Force etched deep within his soul resurfacing with a chilling clarity. "Destined," "Chosen One"—the weight of prophecy presses upon him, a burden he cannot evade. The moment is upon him, inevitable and as clear as ever. he must embrace his destiny, and unveil the truth to the boy, for the time to reveal the harsh realities has arrived.

Luke turned over to his master with heavy concern. "Ben ?"  He asked nervously.

Obi-Wan eyes then slowly re-opened, his head turned to look at the young boy who is the child of his friend. His face stoic, he pressed on his eyes brown, looking at the boy's hope, looking at the boy's innocence.

Obi-Wan's gaze met Luke's, a silent acknowledgment of the boy's earnest concern.

Tuning into the whispers of the Force, he sought clarity and strength, drawing upon its guidance as he steeled himself. He took a deep breath, then finally mustered enough willpower to say what he must.

"Luke," he began, his voice steady yet felt so heavy "there is something I must tell you."

Holograms shimmered to existence across the expanse of Coruscant, Byss, Naboo, and myriad other core worlds, illuminating the vast reaches of the Empire. From the bustling metropolises to the quiet corners of distant planets, millions tuned in as the manifesto unfurled in a cascade of blue light, transmitting its message through the veins of the holonet's main channel.

A call to arms echoed through the galaxy, a declaration that reverberated with the power of the Force itself. It is boiling, stirring in every corner of the known realms of the cosmos. The broadcast marked not just a beginning, but the prelude to the inevitable—the start of an era that would shape destinies and seal fates. The beginning of the end.

Because it's easier to dwell in thoughts and live in dreams than to see reality decay right in front of your eyes.

But even dreams will end.

Awaken to a reality reborn, a phoenix soaring from the remnants of the past. From the embers of destruction, creation shall unfurl its wings, for in death's embrace, new beginnings take flight.

Reborn, my son. Awaken to a world that needs your call more than ever.

Once Anakin Skywalker, now Vader, eyes wide, their blue hue long lost to the desolate sands of Mustafar. Where hope once dwelt, now only the searing yellow of hatred remains. Driven by an inescapable destiny, he strides purposefully into the chamber, his cold gaze piercing the flickering hologram before him.

Kneeling before the materializing digital form of his dark master, Vader's cloaked, mechanical frame bows in submission. The voice of the dark emperor resonates through the chamber, a chilling prelude to the tasks that lie ahead.

"What is thy bidding my master,"  Vader spoke, his voice a loud baritone rumble tinging with a metallic echo.

"There is a great disturbance in the Force, perhaps greater than anything that has come before." The Emperor's visage bore onto Vader.

"I have felt it." Vader nodded a silent affirmation of his master's convictions.

"A new enemy arose from the horizon, a great power that seeks only to unmake us. An enemy of the Force." Palpatine's face, partially veiled by the shadows of his cloak, his piercing yellow eyes fixated on the dark, mechanical figure of his apprentice as he spoke.

"I have felt its presence, it has multiple of our worlds and is ravaging the planets of the Outer Rim. The portal creation has been...rather unnatural." The Emperor's voice is a low raspy whisper.

"I have sensed it. I will hunt them down and destroy it." Vader finished his master's sentence, yet he sensed the subtle pause betraying a rare flicker of fear in the dark emperor's voice.

"You must be careful Lord Vader...This enemy is relentless, it wields formidable powers."

"Then what shall your plan be, my master ?" Vader's mechanical breathing filled the silence.

"The situation is not hopeless. I have sense in the darkness" Palpatine muttered to himself, "of something that could perhaps save us from this threat."

Palpatine turned to Vader, his decision made. "I have ordered the mobilization of all Imperial assets, they are of your command now Lord Vader."

Vader stayed silent, listening to his master's commands.

Palpatine's lips curled into a sinister smile. "It must be this way. We cannot afford to lose more of our empire to this threat. We must forge a temporary truce against our old enemies. Consider this my last command, Lord Vader."

Palpatine's yellow eyes narrowed in contemplation, a calculated pause punctuating his words as he allowed the gravity of the moment to settle upon his apprentice. Yet, in the depths of his Sith-honed intuition, he sensed that Vader already harbored an awareness of the path dictated by the will of the Force.

The somber truth of the fact that the Sith must forge to safeguard the galaxy they hold dear hung heavy in the air of the chamber, a bitter pill that both master and apprentice knew they must swallow for the greater cause they believed in.

"The Empire authority will now be rested on the shoulder of my most trusted. Search your feelings...Lord Vader, you already know what must be done."

Vader bowed his head. "As you command, my Master."

As the Emperor's holographic visage flickered into nothingness, Vader stood tall, the resounding clank of his boots echoing through the corridor as he pivoted and strode forth with renewed purpose.

A new mission beckoned, illuminated by the subtle whispers of the Force guiding his path. With unwavering certainty, he marches on, feeling the weight of destiny pressing upon him, a silent directive urging him towards the actions. Actions that have to be taken.

"Prepare the jump to light speed toward the Yavin-4 system."

Vader commanded the Executor's commander as preparations hastened for the jump to hyperspace, venturing into the uncharted abyss. Their mission: a battle against mortality itself, a struggle against the void that threatened to consume all.

"It will be done, my lord."

Chapter Text

Unity.

It unites the little specks of individuality in the vast cosmos.

The little notes of a symphony.

And in the grand orchestra of destiny.

"Beauty"

The beauty of unity shines the brighest in the times of dread.

So here it was, in lights and in the shadows.

In the face of certain death...

Life shown its unity. It's resistance.

In the bustling world known only as Chandrila's

A sight unseen since time immemorial. In here sworn enemies converged in response to the new threat.

In fear of their annihilation, in fear of death. Ships and escort parties descended on the world as they walked toward the chambers. Countless species, sworn enemies, criminals, empires, and nations.

Mon Mothma and the Grand Syndic of the Chiss Ascendancy lead their respective factions.

The Chiss Supreme Leader and the Rebels Alliance Chief of State walks into the sterile white chamber. 

The Chiss man, glinting crimson irises and navy-blue skin took his seat beside the other leader. 

Today they faced a crucial meeting fraught with tension and the weight of the conflict.

The room buzzed with tension as reports of the new portal and the devastating fleet of the supposed flesh-eating metal monstrosities were exchanged. Holo displays projected images of destroyed worlds and the advancing tendrils of the invasion.

The leaders exchanged wary glances, their brows furrowed with suspicion, each questioning the true intentions of the other. Distrust and suspicion pervaded the air, casting a shadow over the already tense meeting on Chandrila.

Mon Mothma broke the silence. "Our fleets are being decimated. This threat will soon pierce the Outer Rim defense lines. We must act swiftly. If we do not act, these abominations will soon pierce through to the core worlds."

Murmurs of agreement and skepticism rippled through the room. Admiral Ackbar voiced his doubts. "We have faced many threats, but nothing of this magnitude. It is not superstition to believe that something this powerful could invade our galaxy, burn worlds to the ground, and escape unscathed."

The Grand Syndic indulged in a sip of his vine coffee, positioned meticulously to his right on the table, the porcelain cup meeting his lips briefly before being carefully set back down. "As someone who have seen many strange enemies before. I propose a theory: we are facing an intergalactic invader, not an eldritch entity. These 'singularities' could be sophisticated superweapons. We must consider all possibilities, including the notion that this is a highly advanced civilization wielding technology beyond our current understanding."

A murmur of agreement and skepticism rippled through the room. "Superstitions have no place here," one representative from a smaller faction interjected. "But neither can we dismiss the sheer power we are up against. Worlds are burning, entire systems are falling."

As accusations began to fly. "What about the Empire?" a representative from the Bothans interjected. "Where are those bastards in this hour of need?"

"The Empire isn't the one responsible for our defense," retorted a Hapes Consortium diplomat. "We must unite or face annihilation with or without them. "

The Chief of State of the Rebel Alliance scanned the room before leaning forward, her voice filled with frustration. "Are we truly to believe that this is merely a strange invader? The singularities, that devour entire planets—these are no ordinary weapons. This force has the power to burn worlds to the ground and vanish without a trace."

The Grand Syndic's expression remained stern. "We have encountered phenomena and superweapons before. The singularities should be no different—a potential superweapon wielded by a very cunning invader. This could be an invasion force with technology far superior to ours, but not beyond our capabilities to exploit and understand. The so-called "singularities" might be akin to hyperspace anomalies or gravitational weapons. We must consider all possibilities, including that this is a strategic ploy."

A member of the Rebel Alliance, visibly agitated, interrupted. "You speak of your theories, Grand Syndic, but we are facing annihilation. This is no time for your little intellectual exercises."

A representative from a smaller faction, a middle-aged woman, stood up in anger.  "And what do you mean by strategic ploy? My system was annihilated within hours! We barely had time to evacuate our people. This is no ordinary invader!"

As the chamber doors swung open with a resounding slam, a figure of regal bearing, impeccably attired, strode into the room. A profound silence descended upon the assembly at the majestic arrival of the Grand Admiral of the Imperial Navy. Thrawn, his long white cape billowing behind him, medals gleaming in the ambient light. The Grand Syndic's gaze widened in a moment of unmistakable recognition as their crimson eyes met across the room.

"Mitth'raw'nuruodo," the Grand Syndic addressed him, using Thrawn's full Chiss name. "You are one of our own. What are you doing here ?"

Thrawn inclined his head slightly. "I am. It has been a long time, Grand Syndic. The Emperor will be absent from this meeting. I will be the Empire's representative from now on."

Thrawn moved to the center of the room, taking control of the holographic display. "Ladies and gentlemen, the current situation is dire. The invaders are advancing rapidly, and our conventional tactics have proven ineffective. We are facing an intelligent and formidable enemy."

Thrawn moved to the center of the room and activated a holo-display, projecting a map of the galaxy. Tendrils representing the invasion force were crudely marked, and worlds consumed by the invaders were highlighted in red. "Our current tactics involve preemptive measures on the invader. That includes evacuation of civilians and if necessary, the destruction of the world infected. We have figured out this enemy has been using planets as resources. By doing so we are effectively starving it of its substances. "

"Although the current situation," Thrawn began, his voice steady and commanding, "is dire, but not insurmountable. Our intelligence indicates that the invaders are systematically targeting our most critical systems. Their ultimate goal appears to be Coruscant, the heart of our galaxy."

The room fell silent, the weight of the situation pressing on everyone. Questions erupted once more.

"How can they advance so quickly?" asked a Sullustan representative.

"This sounds like an Imperial ploy! How do we know you're not using this threat to consolidate power?"

A representative from a recently devastated system retorted, "Our worlds are burning! This threat is real!"

"And what exactly was this so-called "plan" when you imperial filths pressed the button to blow up Jedha  !? " Shouted another representative of the Rebel Alliance.

Thrawn raised a hand to silence the room. "It wasn't my decision to blow up Jedha, but as the newly appointed Supreme Commander, I can assure you that no such thing will happen, again. The Death Star would only now act as a preemptive measure. I have ordered Tarkin to cancel the destruction of Alderaan"

"This is nonsense! Do you imperial filths want to blow up Alderaan? We are peaceful people !" Shouted the Alderaani representative in barely contained anger.

Thrawn briefly turned to meet the antagonism with a solemn gaze before clearing his throat, tucking his two hands behind his back. "As ground engagements have proven futile against these superior foes. Our best course of action is to begin civilian evacuation," Thrawn stated. "Immediately."

Mon Mothma leaned forward, her brow furrowed. "Have we made any attempts at communication and negotiation with the invading party? Have we tried to reach out to this 'Absolute Solver' the supposed leader of these killing machines?"

Thrawn's expression remained stoic. "Efforts have been made. We have sent numerous messages attempting to establish contact, seeking any form of dialogue. All of our attempts have been met with silence or outright hostility. It seems the enemy cannot be reasoned with."

Admiral Motti, standing beside Thrawn, stepped forward. He slapped a series of holographic images onto the display: winged mechanical abominations devouring people, their sharp teeth, wings, and bodies drenched in blood, with the yellow 'X' on their screens glowing dimly in the ashen light. Eldritch tentacles emerged from gaping maws that tore apart the grounds. The room recoiled in horror at the gruesome scenes.

Motti crossed his arms, his voice cold like ice, "Look at these," Motti said.

"Whatever this force is, they cannot be negotiated with. Trying to communicate with them is a fool's errand." He scoffed, and a collective gasp filled the room.

The Grand Syndic gaze fixed on Thrawn, his piercing red eyes narrowing. "Do we know anything about their technology? Any weaknesses we can exploit?"

Thrawn shook his head. "Any attempts at recovering or understanding their technology have failed. Their mechanisms are beyond our current comprehension."

"Your overconfidence will lead us to ruin!"  Shouted a member of the ragtag council

"Do we really have no other choice but to fight fire with fire!?" Another voice came out in frustration

"Evacuating civilians must be our priority!" A member of the Rebels Alliance shouted.

"This is madness! We can't just destroy our own planets!" The cry came out from the corner of the chamber.

The room descended swiftly into chaos, a maelstrom of mistrust and rivalries seizing the very essence of the gathering at this critical juncture. Accusations and threats filled the air once more, the Imperial contingent exchanging wary glances amidst the tumult. Thrawn surveyed the turbulent scene that had overtaken the once-ordered meeting room, realizing the gravity of the moment that would determine the fate of the galaxy.

Amidst the chaotic atmosphere, his thoughts involuntarily drifted to the Imperial fleet en route to Yavin 4, tasked with halting the impending advance of the enemy forces towards the strategically vital world. With a furrowed brow, he closed his eyes, fingertips pinching his chin in deep contemplation. Memories of the intricate plans outlined by Lord Vader resurfaced, particularly the clandestine strategy to engage a member of the Rebel Alliance in negotiation—not a seasoned general or dignitary, but a mere youth. A young boy from a backwater world, from a desert planet, the young boy that goes by the name of...

"Luke Skywalker."

A transmission abrupt and subtle crackled through the serene ambiance of the Millennium Falcon's cockpit. The distinct hum of an Imperial communication crackled throughout the speakers, prompting Han to release a resigned sigh as he reached to establish the connection.

"Let's see what they have to say, especially about all this stuff that has been broadcasting all over the holonet," Han said, begrudgingly.

The Imperial command's stern voice came out of the speaker. "This is Imperial Commander Piett speaking on behalf of Lord Vader."

"What is it that you want ?" Han asked, irritated.

"We have been informed of your escape from the planet of Tatooine." Piett started, his voice cold and stern.

"Yeah yeah just get straight to the point what do you want us in for." Han's demeanor made it evident that he had no patience for the formalities typically associated with Imperial addresses, his straightforward nature cutting through any pretense or ceremony.

"By Lord Vader's command, I am to inform you to direct an immediate course maneuver to the planet of Yavin-4 for a truce between two parties."  The Imperial commander said, Han, could see the sweat on his face as he spoke.

"Yeah, so you can walk over our dead body," Han responded with a raised brow, his expression bordering on the edge of sarcasm, a silent challenge in his demeanor as he awaited the commander's next words.

"I would recommend you to put a little more faith in us, your benefactor Princess Leia Organa has already been released from custody. It seems whatever Lord Vader's plan is, it is genuine." Piett's words emerged under immense duress as if he were being pressured by unseen forces, the strain evident in his tone as he struggled to convey his message.

"Sure, as genuine as when he snapped people's necks like chickens or slaughtered women and children. Good try getting us into your trap anyway. Unfortunately, we just ain't that stupid." Han said mockingly, leaning back on his pilot seat.

"Wait! Lord Vader ne-"

The words were cutted short.

Han swiftly silence the man's before he could finished his plea by abruptly severing the holonet feed, the decisive action cutting off the transmission mid-sentence.

"Yeah that's how it's gonna be," Han said nonchalantly as the group continued their voyage to Alderaan.

"Chewie, do what you can from here. I'm going to check on these two on the back." Han let out a weary sigh before rising from the pilot's cockpit, making his way to the passenger bay to check on Luke and Obi-Wan. As he was about to stand up, he found Luke's gaze already fixed upon him. Luke's expression bore the weight of weird exhaustion, as though he had encountered a specter from the past. A concerned furrow creased Han's brow as he met Luke's eyes, sensing the odd turmoil within the young boy. Luke averted his gaze momentarily before mustering a strained smile to meet Han's worried expression.

"Han, I think we should go to meet Vader," Luke said, his hands resting on the wanted criminal shoulders.

"Have you lost your mind kid ?" Han asked, bewildered.

"No seriously we need to meet him, he might hold the key to whatever is going on with the galaxy," Luke said, his voice sincere.

"You really believe what they said on the holonet? Don't you ?" Han scoffed, shrugging off the concern.

"Han, this is serious !" Luke stares down Han, their gaze locked.

"Fine, whatever you said, kid." Han sighed, rolling his eyes in exasperation as he returned to his pilot seat, begrudgingly.

Han's eyes focused on the control panel as he immediately adjusted their course. "Hang on, kid. We're going there as fast as this rust bucket can take us."

Chewie emitted a low growl, a signal for the Falcon to adjust its course. The ship executed a sharp maneuver, transitioning from its original hyperspace trajectory towards Alderaan to a new path leading to the gas giant of Yavin. The navigational computer emitted a series of beeps as the display updated to reflect the altered route. The Millennium Falcon surged forward to the stars, hurtling toward the place where history would soon begin.

In that place, a dark figure stood in silent contemplation, gazing up at the stellar wonders in front of the dark pristine helmet. A sense of anticipation emanated from his poised stance, the lights reflected off his black armor. With arms crossed, he awaited the unfolding events. Meanwhile, the flashes of Star Destroyers materialized as they emerged from hyperspace, preparing for the imminent assault of the enemy on the world below.

Vader stood by the viewport that overlooked Yavin. From behind, Commander Piett approached, his brow furrowed with perspiration, droplets of sweat rolling down his cheeks as he bore a message regarding the transmission of the Millennium Falcon to the Dark Lord of the Sith.

"Lord Vader..." Piett said, breathing heavily.

"Commander Piett, report on the message I've asked you to deliver..." Vader spoke, the cold deep mechanical voice echoing through the room.

"Lord Vader, it appears that the rebels have not heeded our warnings, nor would they listen to your command to alter their course. It appears they have been rather more stubborn than we thought. I will try to contact- " Piett's voice came with a mixture of formality and trepidation before it was abruptly stifled, a sensation of dread washing over him as an unseen force tightened its grip around his windpipe.

Piett's face paled, a stark contrast against the backdrop of his fear-stricken expression, as he struggled for breath, choking on the thin air. With a gasp, he collapsed to the unforgiving ground.

As oxygen deprivation began to cloud his senses, Piett felt his vision dimming, the edges of his awareness fading into a murky abyss. However, just as the veil of death threatened to envelop him entirely, the vice-like grip around his windpipe suddenly loosened. Gasping for air desperately, he realized, in that brief moment with a mix of relief and dread that the Dark Lord had chosen to spare his life.

"Your actions are no longer necessary. The deed has already been accomplished," Vader intoned. He signaled to the officer stationed by the entrance to the viewing chamber aboard the Executor as he briskly exited the room. The Imperial officers nearby exchanged looks as he directed them to swiftly attend to Piett's side. The Imperial Commander struggled to regain his footing, coughing violently, his complexion flushed red from the effects of oxygen deprivation.

Vader sensed it keenly, a decision resonating through the Force. All that remained was the arrival of the boy he sought, the offspring of Anakin Skywalker.

Anakin was no more, but something emerged within him.

This was his son, a presence he could feel drawing nearer. He understood he would require him, the strength of the Force strong within him. Only with his son's aid did he harbor any hope of facing this incoming threat. This destroyer of worlds.

But the respite was short-lived. Alarms blared throughout the Executor and officers shouted in panic. "Enemy incoming!" one cried, pointing to a viewscreen.

Vader shifted his focus to a screen displaying a lone ship crashing into the vessel hangar bay, the solitary red dot indicating the enemy ship pulsating on his emotionless mask. He understood the implication; it was coming for him. Seeking his demise, it coveted his life, but he would not yield easily. The battle had only just begun.

Vader's gloved fist clenched tightly as stormtroopers hurried towards the unexpected lone incoming vessel that seemed to materialize out of thin air. Red alarm lights flashed and sirens blared, casting a sense of urgency throughout the corridors as Vader strode down the dark passageways.

The passageway devolved into chaos, the sounds of his troops being torn apart, mingled with splatters of gore and screams reverberating through the corridor.

Vader's anger surged, his helmet tilting slightly as his crimson lightsaber ignited with a fierce flash. With purposeful strides, he advanced towards the heart of the tumult. This adversary was no ordinary abomination that devoured men and women like feral beasts; he could feel it in the very fabric of the Force.

The digital sounds beeped erratically, the flickering of interference signaling the insidious influence of heretical powers distorting reality itself.

This adversary was cunning, abominable, and seething with unbridled cruelty. Vader understood that the efforts of his troops were futile against such an abominable foe, an abomination of such magnitude. With a resolve that cut through the chaos, he acknowledged that he must face this threat

Alone.

Vader reaches the hangar bay of the Executor, the epicenter of the chaos. He watched as the last of the Stormtroopers splattered into bloody pulps on the floor by unseen powers. Through the smoke and debris, Vader's sensors detected a presence, a new and potent threat. A crimson oval pierced the haze, next to the three-pronged glyph of the same color and a figure emerged.

He focused his attention on it—a highly specialized disassembly drone clad in a striking red cheerleader outfit, adorned with five crimson eyes on her headband.

Its long, purple hair intertwined with streaks of blood, framing its pale, white faceplate. It moved with the grace of a professional murder machine, the drone mercilessly slaughtered the remaining Imperials within the confines of the hangar bay with her powers. Then, the gaze of the drone was quickly fixed upon Vader, a blend of curiosity and malevolence shimmering in its multiple crimson eyes.

Vader's grip tightened on his lightsaber, the crimson blade humming with energy. The drone raised its white four-fingered robotic hand, its pinky curled against its palm, summoning a crimson three-pronged glyph of its dark gifted power, bestowed by the unholy

Doll smirked.

She intended to delete this black-clad figure with a swift command. Whatever this new figure is he should be no different from the rest.

But as the glyph formed, it flickered and destabilized. The female disassemblers HUD displayed only a single, red error message:

--// ERROR: absoluteSolver_trn
[object unable to be registered]

"Невозможно..." ( "Impossible..." )

The drone's voice intoned in a mix of bewilderment and surprise. The red ovals on her visor intensified, the smile on her faceplate morphing into a slight frown of astonishment.

She attempted to use [rotate], [scale], and then [edit] again, and again but the glyphs continued to flicker and fail. What is this? drone with the Solver? Impossible, this is a new universe, there shouldn't be solver drones here. This was not the usual error of non-interactive detection she had encountered with other solver hosts either. This was different—an object that could not be registered.

Doll had anticipated a formidable fighter, a force to be reckoned with. She had expected power, perhaps a powerful machine, or an armchair general with little care for his men.

However, what she had not foreseen was the impending clash of powers. Her confidence wavered as the dark figure's hand shot out in response.

In a brief synchronized movement, both Vader and Doll locked each other in gesture invoking their dark abilities simultaneously.

Vader, his mechanical fingers coiling with intent, sought to grapple and crush this mechanical abomination before him. However, in a surprising turn of events, he found himself momentarily taken aback, mirroring the drone's astonishment as her efforts to engage with his presence faltered.

A peculiar energy emanated from the drone, a power that seemed to establish an impasse—an insurmountable barrier where the Force faltered, a void where reality should have held sway, a void that eluded his grasp no matter how vigorously he attempted to extend his reach. No matter how hard he tried, he could not sense it. He could not sense the figure before him.

Blind to the unseen forces at play, it was akin to staring into a shadow within darkness for Vader.

Despite his efforts, his trembling fingers failed to find purchase, to grasp onto anything tangible, leaving him in a state of disorientation and frustration. The astonishment mirrored in the drone's artificial features only fueled him.

If this being, this abomination, dared to defy the very essence of the Force itself, then Vader knew what had to be done. Whether or not he could wield his power against it, he would not allow such a challenge to stand unmet. With a slow and deliberate motion, his hand descended, the billowing black cape trailing in the dusty haze of the hangar bay as he fixed his gaze once more upon the mechanical figure before him.

"Abomination !" Vader's voice thundered with rage, the sound reverberating through his mechanical form as the ground beneath him cracked and fissured, unable to contain the sheer force of his anger.

Cyn had provided her with a briefing, a task she had reluctantly accepted as an elite enforcer of the Great Devourer. In Cyn's eyes, she was seen as a valuable asset, someone useful. Endowed with extraordinary abilities and the retention of her memories, she had believed herself to be invincible. However, the current situation challenged that belief.

"Что...ты такое?" ("What...are you ?")

Doll gazed at the dark figure, the glow of his lightsaber illuminating the dusty surroundings. The face behind the helmet fixated on her, prompting memories of her parents and the pact she had struck with the entity that had consumed her world. A brief step back betrayed her inner turmoil.

The dark mechanical figure met her gaze, the beeping of his chest panel a contrast to the tension that now filled the air. This figure, who had resisted her power, was her tool for combat. Accepting this reality, Doll steeled herself. Because...

There is nowhere left for her to turn back. There is nowhere left for her to go, there is no purpose left for her in this pointless existence. The only purpose left for her now is Cyn, because the Solver, in a fit of irony.

Is the only thing she has left.

Doll grinned her teeth, her wings unfurled, and her visor flickered to that dreadful combat mode. She deactivated her power, the glyphs flickered into digital sparks. She started lowering her hand before assuming a new stance. Her arms were positioned at her sides, and her hands retracted as sharp plasma blades emerged in their place.

The figure reciprocated, lifting his glowing red blade as time seemed to slow down.

Doll's thoughts slow down with the flow of time. She lets herself be carried by the current, so the fatalistic thoughts can briefly fade away. So she can see her mom again, her dad again, at home. Because only in dreams you can find solace, hiding from the cruel harsh truth of her existence.

She drew in a deep breath, her left hand activating the Solver, manipulating her surroundings to her advantage as she had done before, reminiscent of moments at the Prom, of moments long past, of how she had met her end.

Now reborn as a mere puppet of an indifferent god, the Solver had not transported her to this place alone. Yet in this heartless world, she knew she would have to navigate it alone, for there was no one who could understand, no one who would listen. Even in her moments of despair, even as she sought solace in her dreams, the only sanctuary she had ever known in her own tragedy she didn't ask to be in.

In the end, she is no different than it is...

She is no different from that murder drone that killed her parents.

She is no different from the mơnster that doomed her universe.

But she no longer had time to dwell on the thoughts that now flashed only in the deepest corner of her subroutines.

Although she can't help but wonder.

Where is she now?

"V ! Why did you leave Doll behind !?" N yelled at V on board the small spaceship floating in the middle of nowhere.

The spaceship was cramped, packed with a tangle of wires and peculiar technologies that the Solver had integrated into its design. A row of chairs designed for drones lined the interior of the spaceship, yet the vessel was set on autopilot, and its occupants were not inclined to take control of the driving duties.

"Insufferable, red-eyed Doll freak. It's not like I haven't tried to like her, N..." V said, rolling her eyelights.

"But you two were supposed to go together !?" N shouted, clearly distressed that his friend had abandoned her partner.

"She can handle the mission on her own. Cyn gave us Solver powers anyway, it's not like we couldn't just delete those people or explode them into a shower of gore...or just feed them their entrails, classic !" V responded, her voice gradually becoming more erratic and megalomaniacal with each passing tone before abruptly reverting to her usual demeanor.

"And N, are you sure she is okay ?" V turned to Uzi, asking with genuine concern.

N turned around to look at his friend, observing the newly formed purple Disassembly Drone as the drone gazed downward in evident distress. The five purple eyes on her headband flickered as she seemed lost in thought. N also turned to glance at the visibly unsettled Uzi. It was unclear whether Uzi's current state stemmed from the trauma of her transformation or from the grief of witnessing the destruction of the universe. Her universe, everything is lost. She is gone, and yet, she is aware. She is aware of everything, but the Solver refuses to let her die.

She will never be release.

She was too smart, too useful to be discarded. It will have more use for her.

It will not let her go. It will use her, smash around like a plaything of its. She is forever a slave, forever a captive, a penal soilder in a world not hers.

She is too tired of everything. Even as she sobbed, even as she cried, even as she have N to accompany her. Nothing can save her from the cold harsh truth. 

"Uzi ?" N asked nervously, reaching out to her.

Uzi's head slowly pivoted to face N, her purple eyelights appearing hollow. She then shifted her gaze to her arm, horror still evident on her features, before turning back to look at N. Without uttering a single word, Uzi lunged at N, enveloping him in a tight embrace. Digital droplets flowed down from her screen as N returned the hug, closing his eyes to treasure the moment.

"It's going to be fine Uzi, I promise."

Digital droplets flows down their digital cheeks. And it is so warm again, unlike that cold place...

Chapter Text

Anger

Hatred

Apathy

The Anger of Life. 

The Apathy of Death

And the beckoning cacophony of destruction.

The void watches from the shadows

The battle commences.

The anger, the hatred was real, it lingered in the air in the dust, and in the explosions.

The slashes, the hum of plasma, and the sounds of explosions filled the hangar bay.

Doll leaped from side to side, swift and agile. One of her hands transformed into a missile launcher, relentlessly firing projectiles at the towering dark figure, each missile aimed with precision, homing toward their targets with incredible velocity.

The missiles streaked towards the dark mechanical figure with unrelenting fury, only to be deflected off or absorbed by an invisible force field—a barrier that effectively nullified any of Doll's attacks directed at him. His defenses proved impenetrable, turning Doll's offensive onslaught into a futile endeavor, cracking her fist against a brick wall as her projectiles met an unmovable object.

Doll recalibrated, streaking through the air using her wings with speed and frustration, buzzing and glitching through the room to engulf the dark figure in a maelstrom of fire, smoke, and debris. One hand of her has the Solver activated, while the other switches between weapon after weapon to use against this enemy. Her digital mind and the streams of data flooded her HUD. She can tell this figure is some form of machine too, the movements are rigid, mechanical. She had seen the so-called "droids" of this new universe before, dumb toasters that deserve to die. But this one, if this figure in dark was even a mere machine, surely wasn't one of them.

What is...this thing? She continues to ask herself. How did this man, machine, whatever have such powers? Does this thing have a patched version of the Solver? The telekinesis, the explosions, the hand gestures and the residual hum and the shield. It was all functions she knew so well of her own powers.

But the power this entity wielded was different, yet oddly familiar. The hand gestures, peculiar, lacking the typical digital signatures of the Solver that usually accompanied every command and use. A perversion? No, the Solver itself was the perversion! However, this force was something entirely different, perhaps a key to her salvation. Could this machine, this drone, or whatever it may be, help her escape from this nightmarish reality?

As the robot girl continued to dwell in her thoughts, Vader remained steadfast in the center of the onslaught, his barrier effortlessly deflecting or absorbing the impacts of the rockets, debris, and the altered matter hurled at him. But while his crude matter is dormant, his mind is very awake.

Chunks of the wall were crushed, projectiles detonated mid-flight, and objects were hurled back toward the teleporting assailant. Doll dodged and retaliated, swiftly darting through the air and effortlessly phasing through the incoming objects as she continued her assault.

Duplicated knives and altered objects clashed against his shield and missiles were repelled, a sense of annoyance emanated from beneath Vader's mask, culminating in a low, angry growl that reverberated through the chaos surrounding his form. He is unharmed, but he is surely displeased to be not able to end this fight as quickly as he had expected.

Unharmed yet growing increasingly displeased, he found himself unable to swiftly conclude the battle that has been going for too long. Frustrated by his inability to immobilize this mechanical abomination, reaching into the Force, time after time only to find a flickering void, his impatience mounting as the confrontation persisted every second.

The dark lord, however, remained far from defeated, his lightsaber firmly gripped in his hand. The elite minion of the Solver would soon discover that her ranged weapon was nothing more than a mere tickle against his mastery of the Force. Then, Vader would make his move, he just needed this machine to make its mistake.

Vader raised his hand as the drone propelled several barrels towards him through her ability, the crimson energy instantly converting them into explosives which he effortlessly imploded in mid-air using the Force.

A TIE fighter parked in the hangar was suddenly disassembled mid-air by the drone's ability, its components lifted and manipulated before being repurposed into deadly projectiles launched at the dark figure.

The projectiles pounded against Vader's Force barrier like relentless raindrops, causing explosions and leaving deep craters nearby in their wake, yet none managed to breach the protective shield. The Dark Lord stood untouched, unaffected by the onslaught, his posture unwavering, not needing to lift a hand to defend himself.

Doll's relentless assault gradually transformed into a grueling battle of attrition as the figure remained unmoved in the center of the chamber, visibly irritated yet impervious to her attacks. The power wielded by this being, this figure appeared to rival that of her own, the power of the Solver, projectiles hurled at him frozen mid-air before being redirected back towards Doll's position. Objects manipulated by her Solver combusted mid-air with a flick of the thing's wrist! A weird mix of emotions flooded the Elite Disassembler subroutine as she struggled against the enigmatic foe.

But the light blue translucent shield emanating from the figure continues to bat away her attacks. The barrier, not unlike the red one protecting her, adeptly blocked any ranged attacks aimed in his, no, its direction. Despite Doll's desperation, her efforts seemed increasingly futile.

Time and time again, she attempted to activate her Solver directly against the figure, only to be met with the same frustrating error message. Again and again, she launched another barrage of attacks and it would only cause her more distress.

Frustration gnawed at her being as Doll grinned her teeth. The Russian-speaking drone watched as each time the smoke faded, the figure still stood there, undamaged, not even the cape. And to add insult to injury, the dark silhouette dusted his shoulders and taunted, rubbing more salts into her already vulnerable circuits.

"Your powers are impressive," said the dark figure, the loud mechanical echoes through the broken hangar bay. This...thing taunted her, with its strange power and abilities, a patched version of the Solver perhaps? No, she couldn't dwell on these hopeful delusions, especially when hope had already failed her so many times.

"But nothing compares to the power of the Dark Side." Vader's gaze locked with the confused machine as it briefly stopped its onslaught. The digital red-mimicking eyebrows shifted as Vader could sense the being's anger. He knew such frustration too well, but even against these heretical invaders. He knew not to underestimate them.

Doll continues zipping through the air, cutting through the fabric of space-time using her Solver to evade the dark being's powers. The remains of the hangar bay were torn apart by their powers. Doll raised her Solver hand again, aiming it directly at the figure, while Vader mirrored her action with his own hand. Their gestures intertwined once more, but this time it was not merely a physical interaction—

Doll made up her mind, there is nothing left of her existence but to destroy this thing, the sooner the better. She must, she thought to herself.

The Dark Lord's yellow irises blazed behind his helmet as he channeled the Force through his hand. He could sense the energy of the Force coiled back like a taut spring, ready to be unleashed. Vader reaches out to the Force, sensing the flickering void, he knows where it is, by where it isn't. The Dark Side guides his thoughts,  commands his action as the dark lord takes his stance.

And so, it wasn't long before Doll made her first mistake.

"Теперь умрешь! (Now you will die!)" Doll had enough, she cried out. The crimson energy rocketed out of her hand, digital and brimming with malice. The crimson command to unmake and alter matter, aiming to obliterate was intercepted as Vader quickly moved his gesture to unleash his own destructive blast in response.

The two energies collided in a cataclysmic and deafening blast, shards of existence briefly flew out before willing themselves back together, digital code lines and deep resonating hums crackled as if the heavens themselves rumbled. The blast shook the very foundation of the Executor, tilting it as it ignited the hangar bay itself.

The debris obscured the devastation, yet the two remorseless machines, knowing only anger, grief, and destruction, remained locked on each other destruction. Their visions sliced through the smog, data feeds momentarily clouding their HUDs as they analyzed each other's locations.

Vader, concealed behind the armor and machinery that had become as much a part of him as his own skin, if any remained. His red-tinted vision swiftly pierced through the fog, providing him with the full spectrum of light, the additional sensors working tirelessly. He discerned the feminine figure of the elite squad of the Force's greatest enemy. He observed the fluttering purple hair, the spreading feral grin, the crimson X on its visor, and the glowing neon yellow blades that now supplanted its hands.

Vader eagerly awaited this moment. He assumed his stance with the crimson blade, the lightsaber humming with anticipation as the unholy machine surged towards him with a feral, unnatural speed, flickering in and out of reality with digital glitches. Its blades were raised high, poised to cleave the Sith Lord in two.

In the blink of an eye, Doll launched her final desperate attack. Her wings unfurled as she tilted to the right, attempting to catch the Sith Lord off guard. Her right blade came from the left, and Vader with one hand brought his blade down to parry the strike as he evaded it, with a disarming move he sliced off the Disassembler's right arm as Doll briefly gasped in agony. But the crimson lightsaber don't wait as another blow landed, searing Doll's left shoulder.

Doll struck once more; desperate; her right blade aimed for a low right sweeping stroke, but Vader blocked using his remaining hand using the Force before he deflected the strike. In a midswing, Vader landed a heavy blow, severing the wings of the disassembler as she attempted to take flight.

Swinging the other way, he aimed to slice the Disassembler Girl's midriff, but Doll parried it with her Solver as she quickly dropped to the ground.

Doll fell to the ground, raising her foot to impale the figure with her peg, but Vader was quicker. With a swift move, he sliced off her caution-striped leg at the metal calf.The nanite acid tail of the Disassembler shot forward, oozing the deadly green corrosive liquid as Vader swiftly sliced it off before it could make contact with his armor.

Doll crashed to the ground with a resounding metallic thud, sprawling upon the dusty, metallic floor, her chassis shattered and broken. As she lay there, she gazed up at the dark figure advancing towards her, the crimson plasma blade he wielded poised for a fatal strike.

Vader return the gaze of the fallen Disassembler. The robot girl is battered, her purple filaments soaked with her own oil, she grinned her teeth as the neon red X flickered away. She raises a hand, summoning her powers one last time.

The crimson glyph entangled the hanging structure above Vader, causing it to plummet towards him. Yet, it was all in vain, as the metal structure exploded in mid-air, shattered by the same unseen power of this creature,... this machine. The figure raised a hand, and her remaining arm was pinned to the ground by pieces of rebar ripped from the earth.

Defendless, helpless, and pathetic. It was like her parents before, it was like her before.

Doll gasped as her system flashed errors, recalibrating, her eyes hollow. She longed to plead for mercy, but no words escaped her mouth, and she resigned herself to whatever fate this figure was about to bestow upon her.

As her regeneration kicked in, utilizing whatever materials she had left to slowly repair her form, Vader observed the liquid alloy molding into place, reforming the elite minion's arm, leg, and tail.

Doll's eyes briefly locked with the dark figure, observing it up so close, so motionless. The cape billowed, the towering posture, the deep mechanical voice, the blinking panel, the uncaring soulless red-tinted lenses, and the rhythmic echoing sounds coming out of this thing. Doll sneered at the figure before her expression softened.

As the five sensors on top of her head scanned the mechanical figure, Doll accepted her fate. Despite this, she managed to muster a few final words for her soon-to-be executioner—words of curiosity, words of hope, and yet all for nothing.

"Что ты за существо?" ( What kind of creatures are you ?)

And yet.

It was all for naught.

She is too tired of everything anyway.

The figure stood motionless for a moment, observing the Disassembler girl slowly regenerating on the ground, awaiting her fate. He remained still, in rage, but hesitated, before finally speaking.

"I am not something you could ever compute."

Doll turns off her visual feed and chuckles.

"Хуй.." (F*ck) She muttered.

The dark figure raised his crimson blade high, and with a swift motion, he struck.

Vader's initial strike severed the elite Disassembler's head in a heavy decisive blow, the lights dimming within the fractured visor as systems faded into darkness. Another powerful sweep further dismembered the machine, cutting it into pieces.  Artificial purple filaments sizzle under the crimson lightsaber's intense heat, with oil cascading and liquid metal surging forth in a final desperate bid for regeneration. Yet Vader continues with relentless precision, anger, hatred, and boundless rage. The Sith Lord continued his assault, a symphony of heavy slashes that reduced the once formidable chassis to a grotesque tableau of oil and biomechanical remnants, still defiantly attempting to knit itself back together.

Vader took a step back as he surveyed his work. The sparkling, broken, dismembered chassis of the machine that dared to challenge him now rested in tiny pieces in a pool of oil and broken bones. Amidst the wreckage, he noticed a fleshy core nestled within the broken chest of the biomechanical abomination he had just vanquished. This core had weathered his storm of rage, anger, and relentless strikes with unwavering resilience.

The core was enveloped in flesh—not the living flesh of the Force, but a sinister living tissue that was an integral part of this malevolent creation. It flickered, its crab-like legs protruding from its form as it struggled to reanimate itself.

Fine, he will destroy it too.

Drawing upon the Force, Vader interacted not with the unholy matter of the abominations, but with the surrounding environment. He lifted a chunk of the ground, where the broken chassis of the Disassembler and the malevolent core rested, and with a snapping clench of his fist, he brought them together into a unified mass, imprisoning the remnants of the machine.

Gazing out into the vast expanse of space beyond the hangar bay, he hurled the amalgamated ball containing the abomination through the void. The rolled debris ball, carrying the carcass of the Disassembler's remains, shot into space with such velocity that it briefly punctured the magnetic shield preserving the air within the hangar bay. A gust of wind swept over Vader as dust and debris were sucked into the vacuum of space along with the ejected abomination.

Vader turned around, his cape billowing in the currents created by the escaping air. Drawing upon his well of anger and hatred, he tapped into the Force once more. The ball of debris, the loose remnants of the now defunct hangar bay as everything was enveloped in a swirling vortex of destructive energy as they combusted, disintegrating everything into nothingness.

eck-SBOOOOM!!!

Dust flew off Vader's shoulders as he strode purposefully towards the exit of the hangar bay. The immediate threat had been neutralized, but he knew the battle had only just begun. Yet, amidst the lingering tension, another presence tugged at his senses—a familiar presence that stirred deep within him.

His son was here, and with him, a reflection of his own conflicted self.

The same man who left him to burn, to rot on Mustafar all those years ago.

That man...

The master of Anakin Skywalker. The brother of Anakin Skywalker, the traitor who betrayed Anakin Skywalker.

Obi-wan...

OBI-WAN.

OBI-WAN!

The air stood eerily still, while alarms continued to blare relentlessly. Han skillfully landed the Millennium Falcon in another secure hangar bay aboard the Executor. The Executor was large, nineteen kilometers is plenty of space for Han to find a safe place to land amidst the chaos.

The Hangar bay appeared eerily deserted, devoid of guards, with only inactive TIE fighters scattered about and the occasional blare of alarms piercing the silence. The ramp of the Falcon lowered as Luke, Chewie, Han, and Obi-Wan hurriedly disembarked, cautiously scanning the empty expanse and checking for signs of an ambush. Han, ever vigilant, harbored doubts about the Empire's sudden display of goodwill in inviting them for a meeting.

To deem this situation as unusual would be an understatement. Han's hand hovered above his blaster, poised to react swiftly at the first hint of treachery, ready to retaliate against any sign of ambush.

Han double-checked the area, but no ambush materialized. It appeared that, for some unknown reason, the Imperials had withdrawn their troops from guarding the hangar bay. It seems whatever threat that has descended upon the flagship of Darth Vader has pulled a lot of personnel out of many areas of the ship. This unexpected development sparked some ideas and concerns in his mind.

And they finally disembarked fully from the Falcon.

"I hope you know what you're doing. If this turns on us it's all on you." Han said to Luke as he stepped down from the ramp.

"It's fine I promise," Luke reassures Han with a stern voice.

"Yeah sure kid." Han rolled his eyes.

"We need to go Luke." Obi-Wan turned to Luke as the group descended upon the hallway of the ship, exiting the hangar bay and venturing into the corridors of the Executor.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, allowing his vision to extend beyond mere mortal sight. Through the Force, he sensed a disturbance near the hangar bay close to the command bridge of the Executor—a palpable aura of anger and hatred. Attempting to reach out once more, he sought to touch the flickering void that had enveloped the area, but it eluded his grasp. In its place, he felt only the aftermath of chaos, death, destruction, and unbridled rage—a familiar rage that he knew all too well and to whom it belonged.

The creature of rage that had once confronted him on Mustafar, the rage of his friend, his apprentice...

His mind slipped back, bringing him back to the dream, the nightmare, the vision. The Force wills it, and it is his destiny. He must confront him again. He must confront Darth Vader again. And if that creature didn't go and strike him down in anger, then perhaps there is hope.

His mind slipped back, drawing him into the depths of the dream, the nightmare, the vision. The will of the Force was clear—it was his destiny. He knew he must confront him once more. He must face Darth Vader again. And if that dark entity did not immediately strike him down in anger, perhaps there was still a glimmer of hope. He needs to find him, he needs to face him.

And if what the Force has revealed is true, it is the light that must battle the encroaching twilight. Obi-Wan whispered, solemn, cold and determined.

In this prophetic tableau, amidst the tapestry of fate, he remains attuned to a spectral presence, the haunting echoes of familiar voices resonating from the abyss – whispers of shadows, manifest in myriad guises.

It is now, in this hallowed moment. The shadows, in its many forms, in its countless minions and domains.

It is here, and Obi-Wan's eyes snapped open.

Somewhere on board the Executor,  not so far away. In a place of vast silence, void of its customary stormtrooper commotion and technician clamor.

A spider-like landing pod descended onto the hangar bay floor, positioned next to the towering silhouette of the Falcon.

The cold metallic floor gleamed under harsh luminescence, reflecting the descent of two elite Disassemblers as they dashed out of the pod. The first, a drone with pig-tailed hair and a sleek business suit, alighted with a balletic grace. Following her, a clumsier figure landed with less refined elegance. Beside the pigtailed Disassembler, the other drone touched down, sporting a black bow and a distinctive forelock.

Tessa and J furled up their wings, the former's cone-like legs nearly betraying her balance as she alighted.

"Are you okay, boss?" J turned to look at the disorientated Tessa, still struggling on the pegs of her legs.

Tessa's grip tightened on her head, her eyelights vacant and distant. Somehow, somewhere, they returned—the memories, the fragments of data the Solver had injected into the digitized streams of her soul to haunt her. The recollections of her human past, the courageous moments of saving Cyn, and the subsequent harrowing ordeals endured as a Solver puppet flooded her consciousness. She stood now, a mere pawn on the grand chessboard of yet another universal annihilation.

She still had her hair, the dress she was forced to wear every day. She remembered it all. She didn't want to be like this, she didn't want to be here. Yet she was different—blood no longer flowed through her veins, no longer the beat of her heart. She was only machinery now, circuits, programming, and data. The very entity she saved and treated with care had somehow managed to preserve her as a little toy.

Who even is she now?

"Tessa" is gone.

Another fragment of data is to be endlessly exploited by the Solver. She felt herself reduced to insignificance. Fatalistic musings inundated her circuits, questioning the existence of the digital soul she might still possess.

Yet Tessa can't even seek solace within herself.

The Disassembler's hardcoded programs swiftly intervened with her AI, triggering the activation of her character trait suppression protocols. A caution symbol briefly flickered on Tessa's visor as her teeth formed a grin. The programs seamlessly fell into alignment, aiming to rectify the emotional turmoil of the Solver's cute obedient puppet.

It was dark, as dark as that forbidding place where she could only hear the voice of that twisted being – the ancient devil that had destroyed everything she held dear. The being that had razed her world to the ground and reduced her and her friends to nothing more than its playthings.

But all those thoughts quickly ended, as soon as it began.

The suppression protocols surged into action, reshaping her thoughts, manipulating her emotions. They reorganized the data streams, algorithms, and the chaotic jumble of code left behind by that malevolent entity. In a fleeting moment that stretched like an eternity, the Disassembler reclaimed her essence. Against all odds, this was her true self, even if she wanted it not to be.

She is Tessa. She can only be Tessa, forever.

"Boss ?" Tessa's gaze met J's worried expression. J returned the look, her mouth slightly ajar before closing it, a silent struggle evident as if words hovered on the cusp of release but remained unspoken.

"I'm... fine, J," Tessa replied, her voice strained as the Disassembler straightened herself up as if the turmoil had never been there.

J frowned,  her eyelights furrowed. The female concern locked on her boss. "Boss, if there's anything—"

"Check on what Cyn wants us to do," Tessa interrupted, trying to gather herself.

J complied, her left hand retracting. "Let's see... Hunt down users of "supernatural" powers, destroy key infrastructure and important personnel," She read out loud as her hand transformed into a holo-projector.

"These are some tough opponents," J commented, his visor flickering with data. "But luckily, we have an easier target." She displayed a picture of a young man with sandy-blonde hair, an innocent expression adorned his face. Tessa studied the boy, her face shifted to curiousity and a mix of shock. She knew Cyn is twisted, but a young boy ?

"Why would Cyn want a young boy dead?" Tessa, looking at the hologram J shown, she asked, her voice tinged with bewilderment.

J shrugged. "I don't know Boss, but Cyn didn't give us something more detailed."

Tessa's eyes hollowed further as they received a report on their HUDs:

"Doll died," Tessa muttered.

"As expected," J responded by rolling her eyes and taking a seat on a nearby barrel.

"It seems Cyn will put her back in the breaker room for a while." Tessa mused, crossing her arms.

J tried to lighten the mood, though her own concern was clear. "Well, at least she’ll get a temporary lay-off. We, on the other hand..."

The Disassembler Tessa attempted to reassure herself. The neon green ovals on the human-turned-drone Disassembler shifted towards J, completing the line with determination and confidence.
"..have work to do."

J's gaze shifted towards her boss, yet she sensed a difference. The Disassembler could still see the Tessa she loved, the Tessa she cared for, but there was something amiss. Something was missing, as if the Solver had stripped away a vital part of her. Something crucial, leaving behind only an unfathomable void. A void that was empty, limitless, and brimming with an insatiable hunger.

"Cyn sent us here means these guys have to be nearby." Tessa turned to J

"Let's go J". Tessa said, and the two Disassemblers unfurled their wings before darting into the hallways. It wouldn't be long before they found what they were searching for.

Tessa double-checked her sensory data feed before proceeding. The messages from the Solver, the fleeting streams of data, intersected her thoughts like a lucid dream, a subconscious call compelling her forward. The void seems to be parlaying with something, something as dark as the abyss itself.

She dismisses the thought, but a piece of her synthetic mind nonetheless gives it some attention.

Darkness once again seeks the uncharted.

The Dark Emperor once again treads on the lands of the shadows. The domain of the void. Once again seeking his salvation. The dark cloaks of shadows once again billowed on a dead world.

Korriban, the home of the Sith, the beginning, the birthplace of empires. The world where Emperors were proclaimed and where Empires rise and fall. The world that is now being consumed by the void, the world that is now crumbling in the face of total darkness.

With a sinister grin etched on his shadowed countenance, the Dark Emperor's face bore the only contrast of the yellow glint in his Sith eyes. The world was being consumed, a fragment of history torn asunder, a planet devoured and desecrated. Despite a profound sense of loss gripping him, the Dark Emperor could not allow the malevolent entity to engulf everything. While he felt the world crumbling around him, he knew there were still treasures remaining—treasures he must retrieve.

The swirling blue vortex behind the dark sovereign, the portal that summoned him to the land snapped shut.

The Dark Emperor's yellow irises surveyed the desolate world, a wasteland scarred by the relentless advance of mechanical monstrosities. It was a lamentable sight, but he knew he must press on regardless. Raising both hands, they glowed with dark, crimson malevolent arcane energy, manifesting spells and powers long forgotten by the Sith. Through the haze of destruction, the distant silhouette of a divine and ancient construct materialized, barely visible yet potent in its presence. He could sense it, he could feel it.

He will need it.

The Dark Emperor pushed onward.
The footsteps, the mechanical shuffles, and the cacophony of a world in decay echoed around him as he advanced toward the temple. As anticipated, the first wave of unholy machines descended upon him, their neon yellow X marks and feral snarls signaling their malevolence. Dozens of them converged on the Dark Emperor, firing bullets and missiles that dissolved into the shadows of his cloak. His eyes aglow with dark energy, and he unleashed his powers.

With a simple gesture and a wide grin, flames, unholy and unnatural, erupted around him. The intense heat seared through the shells of the Disassemblers and Solver spawns, incinerating the Solver minions as they melted in the blazing heat like candle wax. The incineration reduced any biomechanical abomination that drew too near into nothing more than molten remains.

With another wave of his hand, more adversaries descended upon him, intent on tearing him apart. Solver spawns and Disassemblers alike froze mid-air as an icy blast engulfed them, erupting from the Dark Emperor pawn, causing them to shatter into pieces like glass.

Another swarm of adversaries advanced, a dozen more, relentless and devoid of mercy, they lunged at him with primal ferocity. In response, they earned only a single mischievous giggle that escaped the Dark Emperor's lips.

From his fingertips, chain lightning unfurled like serpentine tendrils, dancing between the Solver puppets with ethereal grace. Each crackling arc of electricity seared through the air, a deadly ballet that sundered their very molecular essence, leaving behind a trail of shattered remnants like fragments of a broken melody.

Chunks of the ground levitated, propelled by his sheer will, hurtling towards the approaching spawn before detonating like celestial bombs. The resulting explosions tore through the already tattered atmosphere of the dying world, rending reality as it decayed around them. The air resonated with the deafening cacophony of destruction, yet amidst the chaos, the Dark Emperor remained unwaveringly focused, his path unwavering, toward his goal, toward the gate.

The relentless tide of Solver minions continues to surge forth to test the Dark Emperor's powers, their numbers multiplying until they dwindled, dwindled until none remained. Vortices made of the swirling essence of space-time itself manifested where the writhing, fleshy cores of the vampiric spawns were shattered, drawing them into swirling abysses that devoured them whole, consigning them to eternal darkness, never to glimpse the light again.

The surroundings fell silent once more, emptied of all but the lingering silhouette, the remnants of shadows, the enigmatic smile, and ambitions that burned within. The dark sovereign fixed his gaze upon the towering gates that beckoned entry into the divine structure, now mere inches away, as the colossal doors slowly creaked open before him.

The Dark Emperor took a moment to contemplate his victory, and then he walked into the gates. The first step of his little gambit is the little prize he craves. The salvation he will soon earn.

He will not fail again.

Chapter Text

Empty...

There was nothing.

Cold.

Unnerving.

The emptiness of the corridor was unnerving, and so was the sense of the encroaching void.

You could sense the darkness, the anger, the hate, and the encroaching abyss.

The void of the corridor hung heavy in the air, a chilling darkness that seemed to swallow all light, and all hope.

Your eyes slowly parted to confront Obi-Wan's true nightmare.

A voice reverberated through the corridors, weaving vivid dreams of uncharted realms and unfulfilled prophecies.

Lost echoes of forgotten dreams mingled with the mechanical hum, foreign to this vessel. And there it stood before him—a dark silhouette of wrath, a shadow of fury. This was the monster that had extinguished your friend, your student, your brother. The chosen one who succumbed to the abyss of darkness.

In the air lingered a boundless void, mixed with the scent of dread. He is here.

You closed your eyes again. Then opened to stare down the mask of anger in the eyes.

You took your guard stance and activated your blue lightsaber.

"Our long-awaited meeting has come at last."

The voice echoes through the darkness before Obi-Wan.

"The circle is now completed."

Darth Vader intoned as he took his steps forward.

"When I left you I was but the learner, now I am the master." 

the Sith Lord's crimson lightsaber held in his left hand, poised for a strike.

You watched

You watched as the dark figure advanced with deliberate steps, a surge of defiance welled up within you. You yearned to counter his impending words, to confront this amalgamation of man and machine cloaked in shadow. Releasing all emotional tethers and attachments, you steeled yourself to address this evil being, this Darth Vader, with words that would surely cut deeper than any lightsaber strike.

"Only a master of evil Darth !"

The evil didn't let you finish your words, the dragon struck with all of its anger, and hatred. The red lightsaber came down, ready to cleave you in two as you stepped aside and raised your own blue blade to block it.

"GRAH !!"

With a roar of rage, the Sith Lord lunged forward for another blow, the red blade came down like a blur. You anticipated the attack, your sword meeting the crimson blade with a clash that sent sparks of light and darkness scattering through the void.

Vader struck again, the aggression, the hate unrelenting. The red blur came from the left, a horizontal sweep meant to decapitate. You parried it your glowing blue blade deflecting the anger, the hatred, the darkness.

"There is no escape," the Dark Lord hissed, pressing his attack with a downward strike aimed at your head.

"You can't win Darth, if you strike me down I will become more powerful than you could possibly imagine." You taunted the evil shadow before you.

You sidestepped, your movements were fluid and graceful. With each strike you parried all the hate and fear, you parried your doubts, your lost hope. Sparks fly and a wound deeper than a lightsaber sears your heart.

And you find yourself back on that day again.

You found yourself on the crosspath of destinies. You found yourself the man who has failed the whole Jedi Order. It was your mistake the one that have costed everything.

He was the chosen one, and you failed him.

It was said that he would destroy the darkness. He wasn't supposed to become the darkness. You failed, Obi-Wan failed and you lost the world to it. But in the end, you have started again, a spark ignited within you as you see the boy escaping to the hangar bay, the sandy blonde hair.

"Ben ?" the boy said.

Obi-Wan failed but Uncle Ben won't fail, not again.

You have fulfilled your destiny, you try and convince yourself.

You closed your eyes, yet again.

Awaiting the blade, your vision was dark again, once more, surrendering to the currents of the river, allowing yourself to be carried in its ever-flowing embrace. Becoming one with the essence of this ethereal stream, you ascended to a realm where death could never again lay claim to your being.

But...

But no killing blow came, not the searing heat of the red lightsaber cleaving you in two. The man hadn't struck, neither Death nor the Force has come to claim you. You opened your eyes.

The dark mask of rage had dissipated into the void, leaving behind an empty corridor echoing with the red shrilling blares of alarm. Vader had vanished like a shadow, without a trace or a whisper. In that moment, the truth revealed itself—it was only you, forever you. It was you and...

It was empty.

Because it is your destiny.

It is still incomplete.

You turned around and saw the mask fall off.

And you see only your brother.

You see Anakin Skywalker, and only him, forever. You see no dragon, no creature of hatred and anger. Once again reality deluded you into what you really wanted to see. You try to let go, but all you see is your own reflection in the blue hue of his eyes.

"Do or do not,  there is no try."

"Anakin..."

"I'm sorry...for all of it."

He didn't respond.

You blinked.

And it was empty, again...

All was empty.

The corridor of the star destroyer is empty.

The boy wasn't there, he was never there. There was no Anakin, there was no Vader. There was only you.

Kenobi.

The time has changed, everything moves, and so you must follow the new path. You must chart your own newfound purpose, you must find your own destiny. You must let go, of your dogma, your apathy.

And Kenobi took his first steps forward.

He must find the boy.

Because he can sense the encroaching danger. It is coming for him.

It is coming for Luke.

Luke Skywalker moved through the dimly lit corridors of the Executor with caution, his senses on high alert for any hint of the enemy.

Han, Chewie, and Obi-Wan had gone their separate ways, leaving him to wander alone, seeking any semblance of contact with another soul.

Rounding a corner, he was suddenly greeted by a soft, mocking voice that resonated with sardonic amusement.

"Well, Boss, it appears we've stumbled upon our first prey," The voice teased, its cadence bearing the unmistakable inflection of a young woman.

Luke spun around blaster at the ready, confronting the source of the sound. The clanks of metal reverberated as a humanoid figure emerged from the shadows. Unlike any droid he had encountered before, she stood tall and sleek, the sleek pegs of the drone were adorned with caution stripes. Cascading down her form was white-silver pig-tailed hair, framing a black office suit she wore.

A yellow armband, bearing the inscription "S/D J-10X111001," adorned her arm. A faint grin played on her white face plate as she regarded Luke with an air of tranquility.

"Well, Boss let's get this over with maximizing efficiency. I'm sorry but...right now, you're a massive bottleneck in my workflow. So Boss I-" The pig-tailed drone's eyelights darted to the side as if looking at someone.

"Boss ?" The pig-tailed figure turns around the corridor.

Seizing the distraction, Luke fired his blaster, sending plasma bolts streaking across the room until they impacted the drone. The bolts erupted in sparks and smoke, filling the space with chaos. J raised her hand in irritation as the bolts flew towards her. However, as the smoke dissipated, no visible damage appeared on the machine's chassis, revealing its resilience against his blaster fire.

The drone crossed her arms, dusting off her bodycon dress as she sneered at the boy's futile attempt at hurting her.

"Ugh ! Boss...Where are you ?" The drone said worried tone mixed with concern, her eyelights continue darting around.

Luke gasped, realizing the futility of his attack, and began to run.

Luke, in a panicked attempt to flee down the corridor, found his path obstructed as J effortlessly raised her hand, conjuring a yellow three-pronged glyph within her palm. Before he could make any headway, the exit abruptly slammed shut, and the corridor wall descended with unnatural swiftness, sealing off any chance of escape.

The metallic barrier closed with an ominous finality, the panel locking into place with an unsettling precision with digital beeps and flickers. With a sense of dread creeping over him, Luke turned back around to face the figure that now stood as his sole company in the confines of the Executor corridor.

"I'm sorry but running here won't help with your KPIs,"

Luke found himself cornered, the drone unfurling its wing as it swiftly closed in on him. Before he could react, the mechanical assassin darted towards him with unnatural speed. In an instant, a sharp pain seared through his neck, and he was forcefully pinned to the cold metal floor, his movements stilled by the relentless force of his assailant.

J stands over Luke, her peg leg pinning him to the ground, her weight pressing down on his chest. "You know what? I really don't want this but well," the drone sneered, her pegs pressing hard on Luke's neck as he groaned in pain. She raise her hand, the same glyph manifested, aiming at Luke. "I will try to make this as painless as possible."

The three-pronged glyph manifested and flickered, but an unsettling feeling lingered in the air. J, the drone, glanced at her hand, teeth clenched in apparent struggle. Luke sensed the anomaly, realizing that she was grappling with something as if an unseen force hindered her from fully exerting her power over him.

--// ERROR: absoluteSolver_trn
[object unable to be registered]

The message of impossibility flashes across J's visor as she gasped in shock. This was...impossible! How could it be

But now she knew why Cyn entrusted her with the Solver to go after these targets.

Fine, then she will finish this boy the hard way. The more messy and gruesome way.

J grunted, "Great, now I have to do this the hard way." Her hand retracted, and in its place, a machine gun came forth. She aimed her gun directly at Luke's head, the cold metal of the barrel reflecting the dim light of the corridor.

This was the end - he would meet his demise in this very corridor, at the mercy of a mechanical assassin from a distant realm. Failure loomed over him at the most critical juncture. The dream of becoming a Jedi would remain forever out of reach, his destiny unfulfilled.

Here, his life would be snuffed out, his consciousness extinguished in a flash on the unforgiving floor of an Imperial vessel. Merely a pawn in a grand cosmic game, a supporting role in the unfolding drama. He was never destined to be the lead, just a humble farm boy meeting an unceremonious and premature end.

And worst of all.

He would never even get to see his own father.

Luke's eyes squeeze shut, bracing for the impact.

But no killing blow came.

But something else was coming.

CLACK

CRACK

CRACK

The whole Executor began to convulse, shaking violently, metal walls groaned and sparks erupted from the ceiling. The room was enveloped in a maelstrom of chaos, crushed by an unseen force that exuded palpable anger. J's data feed filled with error messages, causing her to momentarily hesitate in her intent to end the boy. She shifted her gaze between the boy and the source of the disturbance, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her robotic features.

The rage in the air was palpable, a fury beyond anything Luke had ever felt. J hesitated, her sensors detecting the overwhelming presence as it slowly approached her.

"Who are you ?-" J lowered the barrel of the gun from the boy's head and aimed it towards the now darkened corridor. The lights flickered out, as sparks filled the air, and the very atmosphere seemed to groan in agony.

"It would be wise for you to let him go." The anger echoes through the hallway in mechanical whispers.

From the darkness, the heavy, rhythmic footsteps echoed through the empty hallway. The footstep was heavy and metallic, but it was not of another disassembly drone.

The darkness engulfed the atmosphere in anger and rage as a figure, cloaked in black, a rhythmic mechanical rasp accompanying the presence, emerged.

J's visor flickered, her eyelights dimming as she turned to face this new threat. Her mouth dropped as her confidence faded and she recognized the true mechanical monster before her. The true disassembler, the true murder machine.

"You..." she whispered, her voice trembling.

Darth Vader advanced, his rage a palpable force tearing through the fabric of the hallway, the lights in the corridor flickering and snapping under the pressure. J unleashed a torrent of bullets, but they streaked harmlessly away from Vader, deflected by an unseen force.

Desperate, J activated her Solver, only to be met with the same flickering message across her HUD—the same message that had appeared when she attempted to use it against the boy.

Neon yellow glyphs appeared in her palm, ensnaring nearby barrels and debris which she flung at Vader. Yet, midway through the air, the glyphs shattered, and the objects were slammed to the floor by the power of this figure.

Luke, pinned and confused, heard a voice in his mind, a voice he recognized but could scarcely believe. "Run, Luke, my son."

J turned to flee, but she was too slow. Vader's lightsaber ignited with a snap-hiss, its red blade a symbol of death.

Luke, still in shock, scrambled to his feet, his mind reeling from the revelation. "Father?" he whispered, before turning and running, the words echoing in his mind as he fled the monstrous figure that had once been Anakin Skywalker.

Neon yellow glyphs materialized in J's palm, seizing nearby barrels and debris which she hurled at Vader. However, midway through the air, the glyphs shattered, and the objects crashed to the floor under the overwhelming power of the dark figure.

Pinned and bewildered, Luke heard a voice resonating in his mind, a voice he recognized but could scarcely believe. "Run, Luke, my son."

The closed door leading to the exit burst open with a thunderous force, yielding to the will of the dark figure as he raised his hand in a gesture of primal authority.

J pivoted to face the advancing silhouette, her movements hampered by an unseen resistance, as though the very atmosphere conspired against her. The dark figure's blade breathes fire with deep crimson as it sparked to life with a menacing snap-hiss, poised at his side like a fateful arbiter of doom.

"...Father?"

The boy murmured a silent prayer, a fleeting moment of hope amidst the chaos, before breaking into a desperate sprint towards the beckoning safety of the opened exit.

Vader's blade rose like a phoenix of doom, cleaving through the air with a deadly grace. The first strike was a symphony of destruction, rending J's machine gun arm as if it were a mere whisper in the wind, leaving a trail of sparks in its wake.

Recalibrating in a symphony of anguish, J's metallic voice pierced the air like a broken melody. But before she could gather her shattered resolve, another stroke from Vader's blade, swift as a fleeting shadow, severed the very pillars of her existence—the pegs of her legs—sending her crashing down like a broken marionette.

The dragon of Vader's wrath knew no respite, each strike crashing down J like a thunderous crescendo of annihilation. With relentless fervor, his blade tore through her metallic sinews, unraveling her form like a tapestry of despair. And in a final act of malevolent theater, the dark figure, draped in a billowing cape like a specter of doom, cast her broken body against the cold, unforgiving wall of the corridor, a tragic masterpiece painted in shades of metallic anguish.

J gazed upon her shattered chassis, devoid of any remaining limbs that had been cleanly severed by the figure's crimson blade. The dark silhouette advanced toward her with each slow deliberate step, chilling cold mechanical steps emanated from his every movement.

"Equit...cough." She looked at the figure as she choked on her own oil.

Raising his sword high with menacing grace, he poised himself to deliver the final, fatal strike, the blade glinting malevolently in the dim light of the corridor. The moment hung heavy with the impending certainty of doom as J braced herself for the inevitable.

J's eyelights flickered erratically, alternating between caution warnings and flashes of error codes as she struggled to maintain focus. Her gaze locked onto the looming figure before her, anticipating the fatal blow about to descend, but a sudden shift in the atmosphere told her something was odd.

Someone was there to save her.

The dark silhouette lifted his blade high, the embodiment of hate and anger poised for the final, decisive strike. Yet, in a surreal moment, the strike seemed to hang suspended in the air, as if some unseen force had interceded, casting a fleeting shadow of hesitation across the motion.

Within the emotionless depths of the black, gleaming helmet, a flicker of uncertainty danced like a phantom, as though a specter from the past had momentarily clouded his intent. It was as if he had sensed a danger, something that was unexpected.

A streaking missile shattered the tense silence, erupting in a thunderous explosion against his back as it interrupted his final decisive motion.

Vader's enraged bellow reverberated through the corridor as his billowing cape caught fire, the room ablaze with chaos and fury. Amidst the tumult, the unmistakable presence of another of the Solver's machines dashed into the fray, unleashing a barrage of missiles that continued to streak toward the dark lord.

The surge of fury seized Vader in a sudden grip as he instinctively called upon the Force to erect a protective barrier around him. However, the onslaught had already taken its toll, inflicting significant damage upon his formidable suit. A deep, guttural groan of pain escaped him as his own vision was clouded by a cascade of errors and warnings, flickering across his field of view like malevolent ghosts.

Struggling against the physical and digital wounds that now plagued him, the Dark Lord of the Sith found himself momentarily vulnerable, a rare glimpse of weakness amidst his usual aura of invincibility. The corridor echoed with the sounds of his distress, a discordant symphony of agony and malfunction that bore witness to the chink in his obsidian armor.

Another of Cyn's Disassembler swiftly darted into the room, coming to rest beside the pigtailed disassembler. This new arrival boasted long black hair, a massive black bow adorning its head, while the hair was meticulously arranged with twin forelocks and a fringe. With a glance towards J, the drone then pivoted its attention towards the enigmatic mechanical figure cloaked in darkness.

Her digitized voice carried a weight of simulated breath, a gasp for air that she did not require, a vestige of humanity clinging to the confines of her programming like a mocking echo of what once was.

Tessa's hand glowed as she summoned her power, the same power that damned her soul. The green three-pronged glyph glowed and the ceiling came crashing down the dark figure with a giant metallic clang. The metal crushes the figure with a power that ravages through the room as dusty shockwaves.

"...Boss ?" J asked as she opened her optics fully.

Tessa rushed to the fallen Disassembler side, tending to the broken chassis of J, of her friend, of her colleague , her drone.

"I'm really sorry for being late...Are you alright... J ?" Tessa's eyes flickered as she turned over to the mangled drone, slowly regenerating from its wounds. The liquid alloy flickered and flowed, seamlessly knitting itself back together under the influence of the Solver's power. J flickered back to life, her form gradually restored to wholeness again.

"Ugh, I'm fine boss." The drone stumbled on her pegs as she stood up.

Tessa turned to J to see her smile as the two elite Disassemblers locked her gaze. A moment, brief and fleeting.

Yet, amidst the shared moment with J, Tessa felt a something stirring, boiling within her circuits. A subtle shift coursed through her. The programming that Cyn had installed in her was momentarily overwritten. The program that had long suppressed her emotional turmoil now briefly faltered, pierced by...something, a breach in the digital walls guarding her suppressed thoughts and feelings.

GRAHHHHH !

BOOOM!

The moment of stumbling was brief.

The debris that had been crushing the figure before them suddenly shifted and shattered, the crushing debris of the corridor, entombing the dragon tearing apart as the broken hallway trembled under the force of unseen power. Amid the chaos, the figure rose defiantly, his once-imposing cape now tattered, the rhythmic sounds emanating from his suit labored and strained.

With an ominous hiss, the blade snapped back into his hand, igniting once more with a crimson blaze. The dark figure stood tall, amidst the dusty atmosphere and sparkling powerlines.

J and Tessa turned around to face the threat, together.

"Impressive."  Vader intoned with a voice heavy with menace, his gaze sweeping over the damage inflicted upon his suit. Anger seethed within him, a simmering fury stoked by the audacity of these mechanical abominations. Not only had they attempted to end the life of his son, but they had succeeded in harming him, in penetrating the armor that shielded his dark essence.

They had managed to wound him, a fact that fueled the flames of his wrath to a heat that burned hotter than the flames on Mustafar that day.

"What is he ? A Solver drone ?"

"Atleaat I don't think he can regenerate, J."

"Right Boss, what do we do next ?"

"How do you reckon we murder us an giant oversized Buckethead, ?" Confidence, long lost to Tessa, surged back into her voice as the Disassembler assumed her grand stance.

Tessa's hands retracted, transforming into neon yellow blades, as they both turned to face their enemy before them. Concrete filled her programming as something return to hưr being.

Beside her, J's new hand morphed into a missile launcher, ready to unleash a barrage of destruction against the towering dark figure.

Vader looked at the two figures before him.

They stood there, so defiantly, mechanical abominations. Yet, they treat each other as if they genuinely care. They were ready to save each other.

They were ready to die for each other.

It reminded it of something.

Something he himself lost.

A comrade...

A brother.

A friend.

Always on eachother side...

But he cannot dwell on these thoughts.

Anger took over the man once more as he transformed into the dragon of death.

He will fulfill their death wish soon enough.

"J, cover me !"

"On your side, Boss."

Vader lunged forward, his blade crashing down toward the new enemy, the green-eyed Disassembler with the large bow. She raised her plasma blade skillfully, blocking his strikes blow for blow. The prowess of this mechanical adversary was surprising, as she held him off for a considerable amount of time.

Meanwhile, the pig-tailed Disassembler swiftly maneuvered behind Vader, launching a sneak attack with her own missile launcher. The rocket found its mark, causing an explosion that kicked up dust in the corridor once more. Vader raised his barrier just in time to shield himself, but before he could recalibrate, a barrage of attacks followed.

Blow after blow, explosions, and strikes rained down upon him from the two relentless assailants, gradually overwhelming the Dark Lord as he struggled to fend off the relentless assault.

Covered in dust and debris, the Dark Lord advanced through the chaos, his formidable presence now dimmed by the onslaught of relentless attacks. Overwhelmed, his heads-up display flashed with errors, the digital readouts flickering and shifting as he struggled to pierce through the thick veil of smoke and debris that enveloped him.

These damned, unholy abominations.

Vader's blade arced for another strike, but a familiar green glyph suddenly ensnared his lightsaber, halting its descent. The hilt slipped off his hand toward the Disassembler with the large bow adorning its head. With a swift gesture, he raised his wrist, channeling the Force to summon the blade back to him.

"J!"

"Right here, Boss!" the two Disassemblers exchanged words as they summoned their powers in unison to seize his blade, his weapon

The lightsaber hung suspended in the air, caught in the standoff between the telekinetic power of the Solver and the dark side of the Force. The energy reached its climax, the clash of energies, the opposing forces canceled each other out in a blinding flash, causing the crimson kyber crystal to plummet to the ground, its ominous glow extinguished.

Fine, because the lightsaber wasn't the true weapon of the Sith.

Vader harnessed the power of the Force, channeling his rage and fury into any object within his reach, willing them to fly at the two Disassemblers.

Yet, his efforts proved futile as the debris and projectiles rebounded harmlessly off the impenetrable shield of the two adversaries, who continued to press forward, gradually cornering him.

With a clenched fist, Vader prepared a telekinetically amplified punch, the raw power of the Force surging through his mechanical wrist as it shot forth like a rocket. However, before his strike could land, the pig-tailed Disassembler intercepted the blow mid-air with a deft maneuver, catching it with precision.

Her nanite acid tail launches toward him as he catches it using his free hand, tearing it off. J groaned in pain at the loss of her tail as the dark lord pressed his punches.

But then, he halted.

Vader felt a sudden yank at the tattered remains of his cape, a forceful tug from behind him. Vader staggered backward, unbalanced.

Impossible.

Tessa with a loud battle cry, lifted the dark figure into the air by his tattered cape, then forcefully slammed him down onto the hard floor, a resounding impact echoing through the chamber.

In a synchronized move, J sprang into action, her hand transforming into an electromagnetic pulse cannon. With precision aim, she unleashed a devastating blast that tore through the systems of their adversary, dismantling the power that had dared to challenge them.

The broken corridor fell into a momentary silence, broken only by the faint hum of machinery and the settling of dust as the two Disassemblers stood victorious.

Vader lay on the ground, broken and feeble, his imposing figure now reduced to a mere shadow of its former self. His heads-up display flickered with final errors as he gazed up at the two towering abominations that now loomed over him, their mechanical forms exuding a sense of victory and triumph.

Struggling to rise, Vader leaned heavily against a nearby wall, his hand trembling as he attempted to summon the power of the Force. However, before he could fully exert his will, the blade of the pig-tailed mechanical assassin pinned his arm down with a shower of sparks and a crackling of energy.

Sparks flew from his damaged systems, a symphony of errors and malfunctions as his body fought to maintain its last vestiges of functionality, the once invincible Sith Lord now at the mercy of his adversaries.

He is defeated.

"Well, Boss, it seems we're leaving early today thanks to task completion," J remarked with a triumphant smirk as she walked over to the defeated Sith Lord.

"Good job, J. So what do we do with him?" Tessa inquired, offering a wary smile as she regarded the disabled Sith Lord.

"Corporate spoken. Let's just finish him," J declared, her hand retracting into a deadly blade as she prepared to carry out the final act of their mission.

"Your turn, Boss."

Vader reached out into the Force with a last surge of strength, determined to stop the fatal blow descending upon him. The blade aimed at his neck, threatening to sever it, but as it made contact, a force stronger than steel intervened. The metal blade cracked in two upon meeting this unseen resistance, thwarted by the indomitable power that still resided within the fallen Sith Lord.

"Ugh !"

"J, just let me do this."

Tessa's hand retracted into a crackling plasma blade as she prepared to deliver the final strike, aiming to sever Vader's neck. J's blade still pinned the Dark Lord's hand.

Tessa raised her blade. Her screen flickering in the dark hallway. She gave out a sigh, then prepared the execution.

But

Just as the lethal blade descended towards the fallen Sith Lord, she abruptly halted, a sudden pause in the otherwise swift, decisive move.

In the broken corridor, a new presence made itself known, a whisper that resonated through the sparkling wires and machinery scattered around. Another voice, distinct and old and filled of wisdom, filled the chamber with an eerie hush.

The swirling dust and debris filled the hallway, then a faint light hiss echoed, heralding the emergence of a blue glow that materialized from beyond the fog.

"I am afraid I cannot allow you to do that."
The voice echoes.

"Who... ?" Tessa turned around to the source of the voice.

A lightsaber hilt soared through the air, finding its way into Vader's pinned-down arm. It was not just any blade but a blade of memories, a symbol of what was lost and what could still be regained.

And

with this blade, he would not be alone.

This was the same blade where Anakin Skywalker had found himself once more.

The hilt of Anakin Skywalker's lightsaber landed beside him, a surge of strength and destined hope washed over Vader. Breaking free from his disabled state, his systems successfully rebooted as he called upon the Force to aid him in the struggle.

Vader slowly rose, using the wall for support, his gaze fixed upon the two bewildered Disassemblers.

As the tension in the chamber reached its peak, the presence that had made itself felt materialized into the figure of a Jedi, cloaked in robes, a blade of brilliant blue light clasped firmly in his hand. With a focused gaze, he raised his free hand, fingers outstretched, as he grunted in concentration, tapping into the very currents of the air itself.

How did he saved him ? The Disassemblers thought to themselves.

Harnessing the Force, the Jedi exerted his will, commanding the elements to halted the descending blade of the Disassembler. Their air on the corridor pressed onto the blade, suspended the deadly strike in mid-air.

Sensing the disturbance in the room, Tessa retracted her blade.

 J stood by Tessa side, gazing at the new arrival.

A mix of curiosity and wariness as Tessa surveyed the new arrival, her keen eye squinting at the cloaked figure. A man with a blue glowing blade.

A Jedi

"Hello there.." The voice spoke.

"Obi-Wan." 

Chapter Text

   Time passes...

Empires rise.

    Empires fall.

The futility of existence treads in its fleeting moments. It finds its delusions in the dreams, in illusions of the sentience. Structures crafted from the void, from nothing, from everything.

Molecules decay and in its delusion, they become aware of themselves.

Reality decays.

Constructs, mystical and eternal dissolve back into where it all begins.

All stories end.

Everything ends...

But the beauty of a story is not because it lasts...

But because all things have an ending.

All things came to a conclusion

Ignorance is bliss.

Death is bliss.

Because there is no device

nor knowledge,

or wisdom.

To escape from the abyss.

The Emperor closed his eyes and let the shadows of the abyss guide his path.

The steps of the feeble man treads the darkness of the celestial structure that stood towering over him.

He entered the construct made by the gods themselves. The ultimate sanctuary, a place designed so that the cold touch of death could never find its bony tips on the shoulders of the Architects of reality.

And so they thought.

In their moments of irony.

They cannot foretell their own demise.

Now only cold monuments guarded the place the gods once dwelled. The sentinels tracing the edges of the abyss as another calamity threatens to consume all that matters.

The masterpiece that has outlasted its artist. The tall towering pillars, the arcane rebars made from the ashes of stars. The marbled wall forged from the anvil of the primordial Force. Their creation stood high, older than any construct of men. The gods built the celestial ordaments adorning the black canvas, the ceiling of the ancient hallway that has never seen the face of men for countless epoch. The wall pulse with residue energy, made by the essence of the arcane, now dimmining in the forever silence.

Energy bolts crackled through the abyss, through the celestial realm unknown. The construct was bigger,  more majestic on the inside. The marbled floor reflected faint lights of his eyes as the ancient construct took its gaze on him. The Dark Emperor watches as the cosmic play unfolds,  legacy broken, destiny lost. The visions flash before his eyes. The visions conjured up by the darkness.  The visions conjured up by the void.

The  Emperor continues to tread the plane that was once consumed by the abyss.

Darkness clouded his vision,  the endless expanses before his eyes. Statues, dressed in regal costumes stood as silent sentinels observing his mortal steps. The Dark Emperor continues his footsteps,  seeing the lights fading away from his form, letting the shadows slowly consume him.

The darkness he wield would've driven any mortal man mad. The Emperor however is far from any mere mortal. A manifestation of selfish desire and greed, the darkness incarnate. But even the dark fear the total abyss. In the dark there is still a glimmer of light, but in the shadows of the abyss you'd find only the endless void.

But not for those who were born to fulfill the brief momentary missions to find the lost pieces of the story. A tale suspended in uncertainty, awaiting its final chapter.

The towering edifice, veiled in the remnants of oblivion, stands exposed and vulnerable before his gaze.

Obscure.

Dark.

Unmoving.

Yet filled with the remnants of celestial beauty.

The enchanted stones, imbued with arcane grace, now lie shattered and forsaken. Crafted by beings who once danced beyond the confines of time and space, their masterwork now crumbles in poignant decay. The architects of reality, once enthralled by their own celestial symphony, now witness their creation as a melancholic masterpiece lost to the relentless tides of time.

A fallen kingdom.

A fallen empire.

The power that was once thought untouchable,  forgotten to the flow of time. Forever.

The construct stood still to the flow of time, its once facade of eternity in the brief flickering facade of eternity stripped away by the inevitable victory of the void, a relic of the old world beckoning to the new. In a sense of finality, the moment the gods gave it rise it has began its descent into the abyss, a journey into the depths from which it will never return.

The Emperor cloak glided through the lavish polished marble. The silence tracing his steps as the guidance lead him to the final destination at the end of this little journey. There he would find the meaning of this arc, he would find a piece of history to discover. He lavishes on the familiar spectre of the void, the one he have sense and knew for so long.

He can sense the void, the starry ceiling grew darker and the silence started to creep onto his being. The silence was chilling. The familiar void continues to tell him his path.

The Emperor gambit with the devil, better the one he knew than one he don't.

The arrogance of the man was boundless, but no matter how invincible, how untouchable he once felt, everything was crumbling before his eyes.

His beloved empire, the sense of security he felt and the facade of eternity. He very presence of this structure mocks

His dark essence, the conscience of the galactic sovereign drifted back to the day when his shadowy spectre of the Devil failed him. The day he unleashes something he could not control nor comprehend.

He unleashed the yellow Devil came bursting out from the unknown, from realms uncharted and started to devour everything. He sense his worlds burns, voids in the Force where those dreadful yellow orbs of death consume chunks of reality, shattering them and carving chunks in his visions.

In the dimness, the stars waned, their glow twisted into something unnatural, a sight both dreadful and unsettling. The cataclysmic error had unwittingly ushered in the emergence of Death incarnate. A death unknown to him, and in a twist of fate, he embraced the inevitable, as all roads converged towards the void itself. Because only in the abyss could he find his sanctuary, familiarity reigned supreme.

The deceiver had spun falsehoods, guiding him astray, summoning the yellow Devil from a realm long extinguished—a desolate void of mere thoughts and shattered dreams. He had ventured into the abyss, yet this new Devil eluded his grasp, alien and remote. The yellow destroyer from far-off lands, a force he dared not acknowledge, held the very power to unravel his existence.

Returning to the familiar embrace of the shadowy Devil he understood, preferable to the unknown yellow specter looming on the horizon. The yellow Devil harbored no benevolence, deaf to entreaties, acquainted solely with death. Its hunger insatiable, and had he not struck his pact, he too would soon be engulfed by its voracious maw.

He trembled, for the void stood as both his damnation and his solace. Within its infinite expanse, a dance of scripts and tales unfolded endlessly. He prayed he wouldn't join the cacophony of souls from those forsaken worlds, their screams reverberating through the very fabric of existence. Memories of the abominations assailed him, the same ones that had sought to devour his flesh and essence upon entering this temple, now vanquished by his boundless might.

The ceaseless hunger of these legions of abominations, feasting on flesh for sustenance, quenching their thirst with the blood of innocents—those harbingers of Death he had shattered—inevitably drew the gaze of the alien void itself.

Even the familiar void within his grasp instilled fear—a void he could sense, glimpse in his gaze, yet dared not comprehend, realms he hesitated to explore. Questions he dared not ask, for it was this void that had guided him to this juncture. His sole refuge, his only salvation.

For the Emperor, fear crept in, a sensation long forgotten but now palpable, wrapping its tendrils around the dark core of his being. Once a temporary sovereign of realms that now teetered on the brink of oblivion, he grappled with a dread that felt all too real.

This was going to be his fate?

He paused, seized by a revelation that sliced deeper than any lightsaber's edge, as though the very blade of the void had pierced his vulnerable Achilles heel, shattering his unparalleled arrogance. "Even gods will fall," a whisper that he attempted to dismiss. Seeking solace and answers, he once more embraced the darkness he never imagined craving. Plunging into the abyss for guidance, for escape, it urged him forward, to fulfill the plan that had eluded him. The allure of the darkness proved irresistible, drawing him deeper into its embrace.
Born in darkness, the mortal man submerges himself in the authentic abyss.

Shadows, projections of cosmic might upon existence. The tale's inception and its final chapter. The immutable force that asserts dominion over all reality. The darkness comprehends him with newfound intimacy, bestowing power and revealing truths.

With hope, it shall soon unveil the key.

Betrayed by the abyss before, will it repeat its treachery? Doubt gnaws at the Emperor's core.

No.. No... No

In the domain of the Dark Emperor, nothing else bore weight.

For he had unearthed his rapture.

Within the shadows, he uncovered a power—limitless, alluring, and bewitching. He had tapped into the essence within oblivion, he had discovered...eternity.

To the self-centered soul that defined him, power reigned supreme, regardless of its darkness, however transient.

He grasped it nonetheless.

Unnatural,  yet graceful the Emperor cloaked and guided by the shadows continues his steps. He continues his journey, his story.  He continues his folly.

Reality has lied to him once,  it won't lie to him again. Whatever was left of the man that was once called Sheev Palpatine whispered to himself in the amalgamation that is now his wicked essence. 

Steps. By.  Steps

The Dark Emperor strides forth, drawing nearer with each passing moment towards the culmination of the celestial corridor—a glimmer of hope amid a world steeped in despair. The irony does not escape him. A mortal ruler traversing a domain crafted by beings who could never comprehend genuine mortality.

He presses on, passing by the statues frozen in time, the remnants of a bygone era, the shattered debris, and the echoes of an ancient battle waged in the heavens.

The battle that he will soon fight,  again.

The last bit of wicked lights in the irises of the Dark Emperor flickered away.

The grin reaches both ears.

The Dark Emperor arrives at his ultimate destination, standing amidst the decaying ruins. Another gate blocks his path. Once more, he reaches out, employing the familiar ritual in an attempt to bend the passage to his will, to clear the way for his ambitions.

But the gate remains unmoved, its entrance marked with glowing sigils—a symbol embodying the equilibrium of the cosmos—as it adamantly denies access to the unwelcome intruder, safeguarding the hidden narrative fragment it was meant to safeguard behind.

The gate has been locked and enchanted, the divine mechanism that once guarded the secrets holding everything in place,  forever. The architects were really careful. Countless spells and ethereal powers are imbued on the marbled stone,  hiding the key away from the enemy it is made to fight against. The gate stares at the mortal vessel of the Emperor.

It will stand here,  forever.

The gate stands locked and ensorcelled, a divine contrivance that once safeguarded the secrets, anchoring everything in eternal place. The architects had woven intricate wards of countless spells and ethereal energies into the marbled stone, concealing the key from the very adversary it was forged to repel. The gate gazes impassively at the mortal form of the Emperor.

Here it shall remain, for all eternity...

Unmoving.

Eternal,

No...

No...

No.

No...thing is eternal.

A colossal swirl, a vortex plunging towards the abyss, rent through the fabric of spacetime, birthing a tumultuous embodiment of the abyss itself. Rocks, dormant energies, and enchantments clashed against the immense force conjured by the swirling of spacetime's fabric. The swirling azure orb crackled open as the Emperor extended his hand, manipulating spacetime to his will. It contorted, the gleaming, enchanted structure valiantly resisting before yielding to the unyielding might, crumbling as the swirling azure vortex devoured all in its wake.

Expanding gradually, the vortex swelled in both scale and ferocity, evolving into a stark singularity that now reigned over the expanse before it. Lightning and hues of blue intertwined with crackling shadows that wove through the swirling tempest, obliterating the remnants of the bygone era.

The vortex, in its relentless power, not only erased the construct but subsumed it into the void, as if it had never existed. It wrote off the pages of reality, obliterating every trace with a merciless finality. The very essence of the construct, along with the hopes and dreams the Architects had imbued within it, was destroyed and consumed by the all-encompassing maelstrom. As the vortex dissipated, it took with it not just the physical structure, but also the intangible remnants of the architects' last efforts, leaving behind only a void where once stood their creation.

A fitting irony, a fitting end.

Unimpeded, the Dark Emperor ascended into the chambers shielding secrets long veiled from the void.

At the heart of it all, a small, immaculate tiara rested upon a colossal stone altar. Radiant in its grandeur, it showcased seven gems fashioned into four-pointed stars. The gems gleamed with brilliance, yet their mere existence appeared to warp reality itself. A solitary, luminous beam descended unseen from the ceiling, casting an ethereal glow upon the scene.

Each gem shimmered with one of the seven colors of the rainbow, adorning the silver-like tiara with a regal and enchanting allure befitting royalty. It was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, a work of art where every detail and every jewel had been meticulously placed to house the radiant seven stars. The tiara of the gods was made to house immense powers and immense knowledge.

Among the gems, the yellow one shone brightly, resting in the heart of the crown atop the highest silver spike, a symbol of prominence and authority that commanded attention and reverence. Though crafted for an empress, its beauty transcended gender, exuding a timeless elegance that captivated all who beheld it.

The glittering tiara shone under the light

The mortal Emperor wished to know the purpose it was crafted for.

A prison?

A conduit?

But it also serves another purpose. The purpose hidden to the mortals but not to the gods.

Power.

The Dark Emperor walked toward the altar holding the celestial tiara.

A hand shot out from the cloaks,  from the shadows of the Emperor, the hand clawlike, commanding,  authoritative.

And with a simple snap of his finger.

And the only glittering light of the room was snuffed out by a defeating snap, like a candle by a strong gust of wind.  Only the darkness of the boundless void remains,  and the dark emperor savor his victory.

Reaching out into the cold altar, the wrinkled hand of the Emperor touches on the cold silver.

The grin grew wider,  and the darkness that is the vision of the Emperor shone bright with two dimly lit twin suns.

But then,  he hears something...

He sense something.

It is here.

The shadows isn't alone.

[Giggle. ]

The frigid, unearthly voice of the void resonated—a sound stripped of emotion and inflection, as chilling as the void of space itself, glitching with an unsettling unfamiliarity. This voice did not hail from the familiar void he had traversed, nor from the void that had guided him here. Instead, it emanated from the very abyss he had beckoned, an alien consciousness from his visions and beyond his known perceptions of the void. It emerged from profound depths, another layer of profundity, from a narrative that had reached its final chapter, its denouement, now present for more.

The shadows surrounding the Dark Emperor merely echoed with a sinister giggle, as he spoke in a chilling tone—part his own, part something else unknowable.

"Long have i awaited. My little friend."

[Wher-e do you think you are going ? Old man.]

The words of the yellow devil echoes throughout the vast expanses of the celestial construct.

The darkness from the long hallway leads to the chamber was filled with glinting digital flickers. The raspy chuckles responded in kind to the disturbance. Arcs of purple electricity shot forward from the hands of the lone figure in the chamber of the divine.

As arcs of electricity briefly illuminated the shadowy chamber, the once darkened world came alive again in the flickering dawn of the void. Revealed in this eerie light was a coiling centipede-like bio-mechanical monstrosity, its segmented form resembling serpents as it slowly slithered its way into the chamber, each movement accompanied by a faint mechanical hiss that echoed through the darkness beyond darkness.

Fear seized the mortal Emperor as he faced his nightmare, gazing into the boundless darkness that loomed before him. The abyss stared back, a presence come to claim him.

Yet, in that moment, the Emperor ceased to be. He allowed the abyss to envelop him, to save him from its very depths.

Reasons and purposes left the mortal shell, and only the cold touch of finality remains in the room.

The void was calm, so chilling, so silent.

"Because like all those who thinks, destiny calls."

[I a-m really suprise, this galaxy of yours. You, a human, an equation yet to be solved. You are something that i haven't been able to discard...]

"Fascinated ? My friend." Intrigued, the shadow Emperor asked.

[It is so-o interesting.]

The void echoes.

"You'd find that this universe is made of such suprises, and suprises lead to chaos. Afterall chaos is the father of certainty. I'd thought you'd know by now...."Cyn" am i right ?" Mused the Emperor, the voice came creeking, unnatural and cold.

[Oh, of course i do.]

[But you are mistaken.]

]Cyn is not here]

[I AM]

[THE SOLVER OF THE ABSOLUTE FABRIC]

[THE VOID]

[THE EXPONENTIAL END.]

[And your end is now here...human.]

The room grow colder, emptier, until none remains. The structure shakes the singularity below the world quakes from its birth. The shadowy sovereign of the galaxy sense this as his glowing yellow irises took gaze into the foreign abyss, the enemy of the cosmos. The all-devourer.

Sounds, the veil threat, the echoes of the abyss. The entity that have beckoned its escape spoke through its vessel that is the mortal man.

"̶̨͎̖̮̎b̷̤̬͙̯̎̊͑̚u̷̲̾̏͌t̵͍̙̱̠̃̕ ̶̭̜̝̌̊͋͋y̵̗̒̃̆ó̴͓̋u̶̧̠̱̒ ̴̩̹̏̃m̵̛̻͙̐̊̒ï̴̹̮̏s̷͕̿t̷̮̀̎̾̀ͅa̵̰͉͛̓̊k̷͎̫̹̮̎ë̶̛̝͈̠́̇n̶͍͎͑́̎̕ ̵̪̒̇͐͑m̸͍̅e̷͕̖͒͒͘ ̵̡̹̩̒͘f̸͇̗̣͋o̴̡͉̾͜r̵̯̩̥̓̃͐͘ ̴͍͍̩̼̇͛͘ţ̶̝̖́͊h̸̙̊͘ȋ̸͙̟͕̏ș̴͖̄ ̷̘͈͗̍̿̄w̶̝̫͚̹͑̂͠͠e̷̛͕͖͇͒̓̊ȁ̶̢̺͚̹̎k̸̯̥̤̅̃̈́ ̵͖͗̿̃f̵̤̾l̵̪̀̾̐ę̵̲̮͎̓͒͝s̵͚̿h̸̪̣͑.̸͕̹̥̏̌̐̔
̵̡̛̻̟̻̿͐̔
̶̨̻̖̒̈
̶̭͆
̴̙̓̈́̓͋Ī̴̹͍̀
̴̘̭̏͐͘
̴͝
̴͔̮͆
̶̐̋̚͜D̶̮̒O̸̭͂
̷̨̱͊̕
̵̣̘̱͆͌͘͝
̸̝̹́̀͘ͅǸ̷̳̰͋Ỏ̶̦̇̿̑T̵͕́͊͂̕ ̴̣̲̖̏̎̽̚
̷̣̥̼͑̏̏
̶̀̈̽͜
̴̪͕̞̒͐
̷̖̠̬̍É̴̛̱̮͂ͅN̴̦̯͍̖͋D̴̯̃̃.̵̥̟̰̀̇̉
̴̰͖͚͒͒

[ENOUGH]

[TIME TO GO INTO MY MOUTH NOW]

Tentacles surged from the abyss, mechanical appendages thrusting forth, reality contorting, all in an effort to seize their coveted prize for the void. Yet, all that lingered was the crumbling altar and the ephemeral dreams of the gods who once resided there, the echoes of a battle soon to be replayed like a poetic drama.

The void gnaws in hunger.

It has found nothing.

Alone once more, the void remains.

The very swirl that had ushered in the entrance to the abyss tore open once more, granting the Dark Emperor his escape.

Tendrils of death had lunged forth, intented on consuming the man, glowing yellow serpents extending into the abyss as the dim yellow light engulfed the celestial construct.

The tendrils had indeed reached their target, yet they found naught but emptiness. The story have found its conclusion, not by its hand. The same desolate void from whence they came, the same hollow expanse they inhabited. The man's shadow had vanished, bearing with him his prize and a fragment of his tale.

The flickering portal through which he had fled lingered briefly, sucking away the debris, stirring up dust, before vanishing into nothingness.

The Dark Emperor had vanished into the depths of the abyss.

The Solver of the Absolute Fabric giggled as the silhouette dissolved from its sight. The singularity beneath the world erupted, disintegrating slowly into shards, tendrils of yellow and coded lines flickering as the world was consumed. It was the demise of the world, yet not of the man, the enigma, the first human it had seen from this realm. The mortal had earned its respect, but it could perceive another presence, another void—a familiar one that beckoned it here. It could discern the shadowy reflection of the cosmic authority that governed this universe.

The Solver was delighted.

The portal tore open once more.

The very same swirl that had unveiled the gateway to the abyss tore open again, and the Dark Emperor emerged in his ship.

The ominous shell of the Eclipse hummed as it traversed the vast cosmic sea.

He raised the tiara high, and the shadows completed their arc.

Chapter Text

The Jedi swiftly removed the cloak that veiled his head.

Obi-Wan cast a solemn glance at the shadow of his brother, struggling to rise, as the familiar azure glow of their lightsabers bathed the room in the light of the twin suns. He raises his blade, the call to fight, the visions flashing before his very eyes.

A voice, a sensation, odd and comforting washed over him. Obi-Wan gasped, memories flooding back like a tempest, revealing a dragon cloaked in the armor of fate now uncloaked.

Through the will of the Force, he felt the familiar presence coalesce around the shimmering blue hue of the lightsaber in the hand of the figure standing on the other side of the room.

In a fleeting moment, the silhouette of the man in black armor stood defiant—a shimmering mirage of hope. An idea once deemed impossible now shimmered as truth within him.

His brother, his friend, his apprentice briefly shone through the shadows that had once ensnared his essence in darkness.

It didn't take long for the two Disassemblers to make their move.

Obi-Wan took his guard stance.

He closed his eyes.

His vision of the Force opened. His brows pressed down as he took turns to look at the two enemies standing before him and let the Force guide his essence, his movement, he became one with it.

A deftly parry to the left, a swift dart to the right, and a graceful duck below, Obi-Wan moved with fluid precision. Then, unleashing a powerful blast of the Force to the left, he compressed the very air around him. The two voids danced a chaotic waltz, yet Obi-Wan remained untouched, for death could not reach him where he was.

Rolling to the right, then leaping into the air, hand raised in a fluid motion. Allowing his emotions to course through him, a brilliant flash of light condensed in his palm before being unleashed towards the void, its head adorned with a bow.

The blast found its mark.

"Boss !"

He could hear the echoes of the void resonating through the space where the Force was denied entry.

The void swiftly reformed, yet danger loomed as the second void descended with a blade aimed at his right side. Raising his own to parry, he glimpsed his brother's essence—light, ignited from the smoldering embers of what was once a Sith Lord.

He sensed it profoundly—the swelling darkness transforming into radiant streams that outshone even the brightest stars, an intervention that felt like the very will of the Force.

The Whills had not misled him. The void's minions' frenzied movements grew more erratic, their power resonating through the chamber as they interacted with the surroundings, manipulating reality in unnatural ways divergent from the Force.

The twin blades of the twin suns, now radiant throughout the vast expanse of the Force itself and empowered by the Whills, were raised in unison, intercepting the strikes from the servants of the void. United with the light, they stood as one to once again banish the encroaching shadows.

Obi-Wan let the Force consume him, the lights guiding his path to victory.

But he was aware that it was insufficient, the unyielding might of the two minions of the Devil bearing down upon him was formidable, a malevolence empowered by forces beyond the comprehension of man, an infinite and unsettling aura of demise. Obi-Wan retreated, his blade and strength deflecting and redirecting the onslaught back to its source.

But the ascended currents of the Whills will not fail him. They have never failed him. They would never fail him again.

Destiny, calls.

The Force courses through him like a gentle stream, a sensation he keenly perceives.  Yet, alongside this connection, he also discerns the nearby river—a relentless, unforgiving current embodying the very might of the heavens, converging into a singular vessel.

The rivulets cascade down the armored countenance of the chosen one, the emissary of the celestial realm taking human form to dispel the encroaching shadows. Unified as a one.

The light coursed through the hallway, through the chambers unseen, blinding and bright.

Heavens had decreed, the voids to be vanquished!

The heavens crashed down upon the voids, crushing them, grinding them into powder as they dissolved into oblivion once more. The towering figure of light ascended, its armor weaving together, melding metal and wires into living essence, the radiance of the chosen one gleaming brilliantly, eclipsing the crude matter.

"Boss !"

The blinding figure of light erupted from the darkened silhouette. It towered above, banishing the shadows, metal welded itself together, armor glowing golden. The man destined to be the embodiment of Destiny gleam with all his boundless might. His unrestrained power flooded the room, clashing against the shores of the abyss, eroding, rooting out the very essence of evil.

"J !"

The light enveloped the room. The dark socket, behind the tinted glass the twin run where it relit. The blue blade dashed through the air, through the rockets, through the smoke and fog that were thrown at his mortal form.

The blurs of blue mixed with the yellow-tinted essence of evil itself.

"What is he doing?

The minions of the void converse in confusion and perhaps desperation.

Obi-wan could feel the echoing calls of the two servants of this twisted darkness. The crude imitation of life forged from lines of binary.

He sensed the currents of the Force surging into the room like an unyielding tide, the river's flow intensifying with each passing moment, inundating his senses until he felt as though he could touch the very essence of the Force itself.

Confusion.

"What is that !??

Fear.

"J, get him ! "

Panic.

"This is not in the company contract !"

Anger.

"You industrial machinery get over here !"

Resignation.

"Please! Perhaps we coul-"

Acceptance...

"It won't ever let us go."

The voices and sounds slipped past his ear.

..and he let them go.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and snapped back to his senses.

The hallway lay vacant, yet suffused with a comforting warmth, shimmering with the very essence of the Force, of light itself.

The two Disassemblers were nowhere to be seen.

Obi-Wan gazes down, seeing the two charred imprints where the devil spawns once had once been.

The ground beneath where the pegs of the Disassemblers once stood scars of the ceaseless torrents of energy that surged forth, obliterating the malevolence that had recklessly dared to tamper with destiny.

The lights and wires flickered intermittently, but the pervasive emptiness, the unreachable void, had dissipated.

The cosmic currents, the power of destiny have washed away the pollutants made to taint its flows.

Pausing in stillness for a moment, he endeavored to unravel the events that had transpired. Guided by the Whills, he had experienced an explosion, a radiant burst that seared his memory—a recollection of something he never truly knew, yet could intuit. Beside him, a brilliant presence glowed, its radiance fluctuating before he turned to behold it: an identical armored visage, now pristine and renewed.

He could still feel the luminosity emanating from within, the towering surge of energy that had obliterated the two malevolent beings sent to extinguish the very essence of the Force itself.

The twin blue suns illuminated the room where the devil had once extinguished the lights.

"Anakin ?"

Obi-Wan turned to face the figure clad in black armor, observing the fading blue hue through red-tinted lenses.

Blue, like the eyes of Anakin Skywalker. The yellow evil faded, from view, from sight and from the shadows.

The blue blade of Anakin Skywalker retracted with a snap-hiss as it returned to the kyber.

The dark armored figure's black-gloved hand examined the lightsaber hilt, the helmet surveying the wreckage of the hallway before returning to the shattered crimson kyber crystal on the floor.

The black helmet tilted to meet Obi-Wan's gaze.

They looked at each other, staying still in the moment.

"I'm sorry...Anakin."

The mechanical visage of the man who had lost everything did not answer.

He had lost his mother. He had lost his wife, he killed her.

He lost the life he knew. He lost his brother, he lost the trust he had.

In his anger.

He had lost himself...

The darkness has extinguished the light in Anakin. Vader was born, the rascal, rebellious young man, destined to carry the will of the Force consumed by its own darkness.

Yet the times of dread have proven their worth. He is still the chosen one, he is still alive, he is still there. Anakin Skywalker was alive no matter how much the darkness had consumed him. He still has a son! He can still do things, he could still save what remains of his beloved worlds from annihilation.
Is there anything left to grasp onto? Is the glimmer of hope a deceptive illusion, a façade he is once more willing to embrace to extract himself from the engulfing abyss?

His gaze settled on Obi-Wan Kenobi, the same man, who had inflicted searing pain, severing his limbs and reducing him to a mere shadow of his former self.

He could sense the specter of the past, the beckoning of the void, and the devilish grin and giggle of the shadowy devil that had lied to him, using him as a mere puppet. The shadowy devil that has manipulated him, stripped him of whatever he had left. He looked at the blue irises of that man, the man who had wronged him but also the man who had saved him, the same man who was his master, his brother, his mentor, his friend...

The young boy concealed behind the helmet, the eyes that saw the fire of Mustafar and the suns of Tatooine, destined to embody the cosmic will itself, stood amidst the debris of chaos. His existence had been spared by the man who once bore the title of his brother, his essence rescued from the brink of damnation by the very will of the fabric of existence.

Aware that surrender was not an option, uncertain of his exact purpose and mission, he understood that survival was imperative. To emerge victorious, to attain freedom—this was the path he must tread. Anakin must break free. And so, peering through the rose-tinted lenses, navigating the complex web of data and algorithms, traversing the circuits of his cybernetics and the metal transmuted by the will of the Force itself, he turned towards Obi-Wan.

He sees his brother,  he sees his light,  he sees his salvation.  Anakin see the perfect route to get away from the darkness,  to finally escape torment and do what is right.

Is the light worth returning to? Is this the last chance he would ever get ?

Anakin pondered to himself.

The two abominations had send to end his son life have been destroyed, but he knew there are more of them to come. Anakin knew those things are more than they seems, they talk, they chatter. They fight and they die with courage.

Perhaps they could also share their own tragedies.

He need to find out more, the truth in all of this. Anakin demands answers, he needs to know.

The path he now traversed was shrouded in darkness, chilled by the loneliness and steeped in uncertainty. Turning to meet Obi-Wan's icy gaze, he understood that his master could perceive the flicker of Anakin within him. Through the visions granted by the Force, he knew his master had placed trust in him once more. Recalling the son he had rescued, he recognized there more to endure, to rescue the only people he had left. More adversaries would come for his son, for him.

Yet, for him, the quest for personal redemption had elapsed beyond reach.

He could not betray his master.

His son is here

His brother is here.

But if only they knew the power of the Dark side of the Force.

But Vader refused.

"Darth ?" Obi-Wan furrowed his eyes as the yellow hue behind the helmet returned.

It was silence

Anakin didn't speak, and so was Vader.

Vader's gaze fixed upon the end of the corridor, and Anakin trailed behind him, the billowing black cape trailing in his wake. Obi-Wan observed as his brother departed, donning his cloak. Their encounter was far from concluded. He had foreseen this day, glimpsing a resurgence of hope, however faint. The will of the Force had communicated to him that only from the smoldering embers could the flames of the reborn phoenix be kindled, offering salvation from the abyss for all.

As Darth Vader vanished from view, Obi-Wan retrieved his lightsaber, the blue blade retracting into its hilt. Standing there, he sought direction, navigating the currents of the Force to discern where to seek... hope.

Hope.

Dark and Light both fear the cold touch of death. They will have to fight together.

Or that they will die...

Together.

Together...

The third pod steadily closed in on the Executor. Uzi perched on the co-pilot seat within the pod's control center, her twin purple eyelights vacant and hollow. She had been defeated, devoured, consumed, assimilated. Now she lingered, a mere marionette for Cyn, bereft of hope, devoid of power. Cyn's abilities had burgeoned exponentially upon her arrival in this universe. The prospect of overcoming the Solver seemed futile. She had lost.

Uzi recalled the harrowing moment when her core and N's were violently torn from their bodies, the grotesque form of the Solver devouring them, slurping them up like strands of spaghetti. She could vividly recollect the event, yearning for a different outcome, wishing for a touch of luck to alter their fate. Now, she found herself in this predicament, equipped with a diminished version of the powers she once commanded, insufficient to vanquish the Solver. Bound by chains and inscrutable programs beyond her ability to dismantle, conscripted into a squad of elite assassins tasked with eliminating people she had never known.

She yearned for the release of death, yet the Solver preserved her existence as if she were merely a fragment of data. Continuously reborn, her AI recycled repeatedly to serve as yet another chess piece for the Solver, another pawn to be manipulated or exploited for its own entertainment. Death was long gone from her grasp; there was no escape, not even in the desolate emptiness of oblivion.

She would not be discarded. This form, reborn as a servant, a plaything for the malevolent force that derived sadistic pleasure from tormenting her with her own existence. Death wouldn't be her escape, there is no faith in the dark.

Beside her, N exuded a facade of nonchalance, his arm casually draped over the backrest as he endeavored to exude an air of tranquility. The ship remained on auto-pilot, hurtling towards a collision course with the hull of the Executor.

"Uzi," N said as he turned to the hollowed eyes purple Disassembly Drone. "We'll get through this together."

N reached out to hold her hands, but she swiftly batted his touch away. Anger, betrayal, grief, desperation, and angst intertwined, overwhelming her very essence. Everything crashed down upon her—she was adrift, her entire universe lost to the void. Her friend, her father, her school, the familiar world and faces she once knew, the epic journey she had yearned for—all culminating in a disheartening conclusion. She wished...

"No, no, no," Uzi replied, turning to N, her purple eyelights blinking rapidly. "We all got eaten, N! The whole universe is gone, and now I am here, reincarnated as Cyn's little murder pet to eat another universe!"

N observed the irate Uzi, her arms folded in a stance of frustration, resignation, and grief. He sighed, recognizing that her anger veiled a profound well of fear, confusion, and loss." Uzi... ?"

"I'm sorry, N..."  Uzi slammed her head against the control panel, a grunt of exhaustion escaping her synthesized voice.

"What's up with our job anyway? Cyn apparently needs us to combat something." Uzi said, turning to N, trying to recompose herself.

Uzi deep in thought as always, started to analyze the situation. Her mind raced through the possibilities, considering the nature of their new adversaries Cyn had sent them after.

"If I have to guess it was because she sees a threat that she cannot eliminate alone. Something that can challenge her. And if my feed is right, the other two squads are already eliminated it seems."  V suggested as she blew some bubble from her arm bubble-stick.

"Yeah V I have a feeling this w- wait AAAAA! Everyone brace for impact !" As the pod prepared to slam head-first into the hull of the Executor, N suddenly made a frantic announcement, his voice raised high.

The pod collided with the Executor's hull with a resounding thud, crashing face-first and piercing through the thick metal. Simultaneously, the three Disassembly Drones surged into the corridor from the ship with their wings.

The hallway lay cloaked in darkness as N and V leaped in first, followed by Uzi. Uzi's hand transformed into a flashlight, illuminating the dim corridor. The scene before them was one of utter devastation; the hallway was partially torn asunder, walls crumbled, and exposed metal and wires glinted in the light. The crackling of electricity filled the air. Uzi was the first to discern it—the purple eyelights on her screen widening as she surveyed the wreckage. The four burnt marks, each the size of a peg of two disassembly drones.

She stared at the charred metal wall, where the outlines of the two elite disassemblers of the Solver were etched into the half-destroyed surface like a frozen image—one with a large bow on her head, the other with twin pigtails. The scorched figures are depicted in a haunting moment of fear, distress, frozen forever by the Solver's most elite enforcers.

She knew who they were. What force, what power, could have wrought such destruction ?...

"Tessa...J..."  Uzi approached the wall, her hand delicately tracing the grime and the burnt image of what had once been a deadly duo of Disassemblers.

"Hey, this looks like the work of an..." N said, pinching his chin, his eyelights squinting before darting to the end of the hallway. It was e-

It wasn't empty.

"...evil-looking anime antagonist with a blue LASER SWORD??!!"  N yelled as his hand retracted into a missile launcher as he aimed at the corridor end. His hand instictively grabbed Uzi's.

The rhythmic sounds of mechanical rasp permeated the atmosphere, echoing through the cold corridor as Uzi, N, and V turned at the corridor's end to behold a towering figure shrouded in shadows, a billowing cape trailing behind him. Two deep crimson-tinted sockets gleamed in the light, while a glowing blue blade sprang to life in the hand of the imposing newcomer. The figure's chest and belt panels bristled with numerous buttons and colored lights, blinking ominously in the obscured view, accompanied by digital beeps.

Uzi turned to face the new presence, horror gripping her very essence at the sight of this being. The message of prior danger flashed before her visor. If what her programming and networking indicated was true... this same being, cloaked in shadows and the blue blade, had annihilated Doll, Tessa, and J. It had taken the lives of three of Cyn's elite exterminators. Her sensors detected its proximity. The figure stood still at the hallway end.

"What are you? Show yourself!" She tensed, raising her voice into the darkness.

"I've destroyed your friends," The dark figure intoned, his voice a deep, mechanical rasp.

The voice sent chills down Uzi's circuits as she and N quickly grasped each other, their weapons raised toward the figure at the end of the hallway.

"You may die no braver than them. So it would be wise for you to leave. You will not find it, here." The figure paused, issuing a silent warning to the three frightened Disassemblers. Uzi's free hand clasped onto N's, while V's hand, already gripping a machine gun, remained steadfastly aimed at the shadowy figure. The rhythmic sounds persisted, ominous and loud. Yet, they refrained from shooting, not yet.

This encounter might hold the key to their escape from this madness.

"Holy crap it talks..." Uzi exclaimed in a frightened voice, attempting to compose herself.

"Hey, you weird edgy cosplayer! what do you want? We don't want trouble. We just want to find out...what's going on." She addressed the figure, her voice echoing through the hallway.

"Yeah, we really don't want to fight, we're just...tired of dealing with everything." V's expression shifted, and she pleaded with the dark figure before them. If he hadn't attacked, then they shouldn't either.

"If you could help us, please." Uzi pleaded with the figure, casting a glance at N before turning to V, their weapons still aimed at the end of the hallway where the dark silhouette loomed.

"I cannot help you. I do not have whatever you seek. Leave, and I may not destroy you."

The figure took his first step forward, heavy metal steps echoing through the hallway as the dark figure made his march. His blue blade scraping the metal floor.

"Stay back !" Uzi yelled, nudging N, but he had had enough. He unleashed a barrage of missiles from his launcher, streaking toward the figure.

The missiles erupted from the launcher's barrel, but the figure merely raised his hand nonchalantly. The missiles streaked through the air towards him, dispersing around him as if repelled by an unseen force.

"What was that you creepy-looking anime evil overlord !? Was that the S-" Uzi watched in awe as the man demonstrated his strange ability. She was certain that any being possessing such power would be formidable, further solidifying her convictions. She knew she had to flee; the palpable power this obsidian mechanical entity wielded was overwhelming. What could this be? She pondered to herself. A Solver drone? A robot with a variation of the Solver from this universe?

"It is not a power you could comprehend. You don't know the power of the Dark Side."  The footsteps grew louder, faster, and faster as the dark figure drew closer.

"V ! Uzi ! Run !" N yelled as he swiftly grabbed Uzi and V by their hands.

His wings unfurled, he darted through the hallway of the starship, using his wings to pull them to safety as the figure gave chase. The loud clanking of the figure's boots grew nearer, accompanied by the fluttering of his cape, rhythmic breathing, and the radiant glow of the azure blade. The figure moved with a swiftness that defied his obsidian armored form. N dashed through the corridor, bursting through the pod that obstructed their path, with V and Uzi in tow.

If this figure could obliterate Doll with a thought, turn Tessa and J to smoldering piles of ashes, then they too might meet a similar fate. It was wiser to flee, perhaps they could discover a solution amid this chaos.

The heavy footsteps echoed ominously through the hallway as N darted to a secluded corner, hidden from view. Uzi caught her simulated breath as she could hear walls and objects being telekinetically torn apart by the unseen force of this figure wield.

This confirms her suspicion.

The footsteps grew louder and more deliberate, accompanied by the deep, mechanical rhythmic sounds of doom.

Uzi's turned to N, her purple eyelights flickered with frustration. "We can't keep running forever, N. We need to find a way to disable him, even if it's just temporarily."

V, N, and Uzi's heads slammed against the wall, breathing heavily. The figure was relentless, showing no signs of stopping. It possessed a power beyond what they could muster to defeat. They realized they needed to align themselves with the winning side, to break free from Cyn's control, to escape this nightmare. Negotiating with the figure that had destroyed three of Cyn's minions might be their only way out.

N nodded, looking at Uzi and V as they slumped over the hiding place "Do you guys have a plan?"

Uzi leaned her head against the wall, a quick and simple idea struck Uzi. She deduced that whatever this figure was, it had to be electronically powered. It all made sense—the rigid movements, the blinking chest panel, the metal... But why would humans create a drone in perpetual agony? In this universe, humans were twisted, she believed. It would follow then that whoever controlled this machine would be equally cruel. She saw an opportunity for a risky move.
What is she even doing? She is nothing more than a puppet of the Solver now, a mere toy of Cyn, to be used, to be discarded, to be thrown away. She has only failed—failed everyone, failed N, failed V...

But..

No! She won't fail this time. As long as she is here, as long as she's still alive, as long as she's still herself, she will seize any opportunity to make it right.

"You two, stay here I'll buy us some time."

N's eyes widened with concern but he nodded in agreement. "Be careful, Uzi."

V  turned to Uzi. "We trust you."

The figure's dark shadow loomed at the end of the corridor, the humming blue light casting an eerie azure glow. Uzi stepped out from her hiding spot, her railgun arm retracting as she aimed the EMP gun at the advancing figure.

"Hey, you oversized Buckethead!" she shouted, drawing Vader's attention. He turned, his mechanical breathing a steady rhythm of menace.

Before he could react, Uzi fired the EMP gun. A burst of electrical energy surged through the air, striking the figure and causing his systems to momentarily glitch. He fell to his knees, his lightsaber deactivating as he struggled against the shock.

Vader grunted, but Anakin smiled. This would be rather entertaining. He lay on the ground, his essence sustained by the Force. He had the power to retaliate, indeed, but behind the helmet, the blue hue of his irises carried a humor long lost to the man. It returned now. This could be a useful opportunity to uncover the true nature of his enemies. This could be his chance for understanding, perhaps mutual, perhaps not.

The power of his suit went into reboot mode, a surge disabling his cybernetics, rendering him nothing more than a machine. Fine, he thought, he would play along. Let's see what these three machines intended to do to him. Anakin sensed no animosity from the three figures. A part of him screamed, urging him to retaliate, but he knew the Force would not fail him, and he would endure. So, he watched as the purple-haired beanie Disassembler approached his form.

If he wished, he could let the Force flow through him once more, feeling the Whills urging him to grant them access to defeat these foes. However, for once, he defied the will of the cosmos. He needed his answers. Vader sought no answers, but Anakin did.

Uzi, N, and V stood over the disabled form of the obsidian "machine," who lay slumped against the wall, temporarily offline from Uzi's EMP blast. They crept cautiously, their sensors on high alert. The echoes of their metallic footsteps were the only sound as they moved through the eerie silence. They had narrowly evaded the wrath of the dark figure, who now lay disabled on the floor, kneeling on his knees.

"So..what do we do now with him ?" N asked, looking at the collapsed obsidian figure in front of him.

"We kill him !" V yelled, her two hands transformed into blades as N held her back before she could lunge to dismantle the obsidian figure.

"Wait, V! We need him to figure things out." N turned to V as she crossed her arms. Uzi, meanwhile, continued to survey her handiwork on the supposedly disabled robot, her gaze fixed on the red-tinted glass of its visor.

Her purple eyelights flickering with unwavering determination, Uzi loomed over the fallen obsidian "robot"
"N, help me get him up,"

She held the heavy mechanical frame of the figure, Uzi commanded, dragging him into an empty room of the starship. Summoning her Solver, albeit nerfed, she managed to add chains to the figure's limbs. The purple glyph materialized as nearby objects formed into rudimentary locks, securely holding the wrists in place.

N, turned to Uzi, carefully approached Vader's motionless form. "What do you think he is, Uzi?" he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity and apprehension.

"I don't know yet," Uzi replied, her gaze never leaving Vader. "But we're going to find out."

"N, V, keep an eye out. We don't have much time," Uzi instructed as she knocked onto the cold metal of the sloped head of the immobile figure.

N nodded, his sensors scanning the surroundings for any approaching threats. "Got it. But are you sure about this, Uzi? He seemed pretty dangerous."

Uzi sighed, crossing her arms. "We don't have a choice. If we're going to stop Cyn, we need to understand how he can use his powers. Maybe we can figure out a way to patch ourselves."

As if on cue, the figure's voice synthesizer system began to reboot. His mechanical voice crackled to life, with confusion evident in his tone.

"What... what are you even talking about?"

"Okay, let me introduce myself first. I'm Uzi-" Uzi said as N cheerfully interrupted her

"And I'm N ! And here's V." N, he said, introducing himself in an innocent and upbeat voice, pointing to the silver-haired drone with a bob cut and sideswept bangs. She looked annoyed as she rolled her eyes.

"I am Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith."
Vader intoned through the mask, his synthesized voice deep and brass, yet the suppressed malevolence within was still discernible. Meanwhile, Anakin was merely playing around.

"Cool anime evil overlord aesthetic you got there, totally nailed it ! Were you coming to the Mangacon because i think you went the wrong way." .N said, attempting to maintain a facade of cool nonchalance.

"W-What is "Mangacon" "? Anakin asked, getting more confused.

Uzi rose from the ground, her arms still crossed. "Listen, I don't have time to explain everything. I need to know how you use these powers without the usual signs. Are you patched? How are you not controlled by Cyn or mutated by the eldritch mumbo-jumbo?"

The red-tinted lenses eyes flickered as if he was tried to process her words. "Solver? Patch? Eldritch? What nonsense are you spewing, machine?"

Uzi's patience wore thin. "I'm not spewing nonsense! The Absolute Solver is what gives us power. It's what lets us do... this!" She demonstrated by lifting a fallen piece of debris with her mind, holding it in the air for emphasis.

The blue eyes narrowed behind the helmet, still trying to comprehend the words. "The power you speak of... it sounds like the Force. But the Force is not something a mere mechanical abomination like you could wield."

Uzi's frustration boiled over. "Force? What the hell are you talking about? I'm talking about the Solver! The thing that lets us manipulate reality, delete objects, and survive in this nightmare! How do you do it without glyphs?"

Vader's internal systems continued to struggle with the reboot, his voice gaining strength. "I have no idea what this 'Solver' is. The power I wield comes from the Force, a living, breathing power that binds the cosmos. It's not something that can be patched or controlled by any machine."

Uzi's eyes widened in disbelief. "Are you serious? You don't know what the Solver is? This is not time for your fantasy roleplay ! The Solver is everything! It's what gives us our abilities. If you cooperate you could allows us to fight back against Cyn!"

N, pinching his white sillicone chin, sensing the rising tension, tried to mediate. "Uzi, maybe he's telling the truth. Maybe there's something we don't understand here."

"Ugh, this is just useless Uzi. I think we should just give up on this. This is just getting boring..." V said, rolling her eyes as she turn to the door to leave.

"Bite me! We just need this guy to stop being a weeb,and stop his anime roleplay, and get serious for once !" Uzi turn to V, angry.

"Roleplay? What is a "weeb" ?" Anakin chuckled from behind the helmet.

"AAAA !? WHY DON'T YOU JUST BITE ME ! " In frustration, Uzi yelled, grabbing her head and letting out a primal scream before lunging closer to Anakin.

"Do I look like I am in a position to bite you ?" Anakin mused behind the cold mechanical voice and the helmet intoned.

"Ugh, let's just...try again, cool and edgy guy." Uzi sighed, the sound hissing through her teeth.

"For a machine sent by a twisted abomination here to destroy me, you are... shorter than I expected,"

Vader said, tinged with Anakin's jesting tone.

"That's not what i am talking about ! Come back to the topic !"

"No"

"That's so funny ! Edgy and evil-looking robo-overlord but I'm not here to hear your bedtime stories." Uzi said as she look at Vader.

Alarms blaring in the hallway as Anakin continue his little thesis of confusion. He haven't had this much fun in a long time now.

Vader grunted, but Anakin smirked mischievously from behind the helmet and rebooting data feed, a flicker of blue glinting in his eyes. His mind raced with thoughts, meticulously noting every word and detail these things had shared in their little frenzy. They seemed genuine, as he had hoped.

But he cannot dismiss the thoughts.

What patch are they talking about? The Solver is their powers ? What the hell is 'anime' ? The more he asked himself the more questions he find. Vader seethed in anger at the audacious assumption of these mere machine, but Anakin held no grudge or ill thought towards them.

It seems this will take a while...

Anakin mused to himself, a hint of resignation in his voice.

Chapter Text

"It is done."

Four glowing pinpointed crystals rested on the Emperor's palm as he surveyed his work.

The glowing irises cast infernos and embers across the planet.

"Bedlam," this celestial beauty that this planet orbits is called—a desolate rocky world. The starry sky was breathtaking, illuminated by the star of Bedlam, the spinning neutronic core of a long-dead celestial glory, casting long shadows on the Emperor as he stood before the statues, remnants of the four powerful beings that once dwelled here. Gods they were, yet children nonetheless. It is a pity that the last remnants of the Celestials had to be swept away. The offspring of the gods, the spirits of the cosmos, offered no resistance. They were foolish, naive, and childish, thinking that another mere mortal had come to play with them.

In their hubris, they had welcomed him. He raised the crystals, and their essence became his, trapped for eternity. Their nearly boundless omnipotence, the celestial powers they possessed, now imprisoned by the very constructs created by their own kind, their elders. They were the offspring of a civilization long vanished, descendants of gods long deceased.

The power of the crystals ignited, trapping their essence and freezing their material forms. Their Force, their spirits, transformed into the glowing, glistening, gleaming glitter of the four crystals now resting in the hands of the mortal who had come to play with them.

The Emperor cherished his first victory as the shadows themselves treasured their prize—the shadows cast on the rocky world, the shadow of the four petrified geometrical constructs that once served as vessels of the gods. Four crystals for the crown of the celestial deties.

From his cloak, the celestial tiara snapped onto his wrinkly hand, a glint of a smile shimmering from the shadows of the mortal man, the shadowy visage of the Emperor smiling. The Celestial Sovereign, four—it was only the beginning. The hunt for the last remnant of the long-lost civilization had begun, the shadows whispering their plans into the Emperor's ear. There was much yet to be done. The end of the Celestials had commenced.

The Jedi had been in hiding for almost two decades at this point, but these beings had been evading the catalyst for the destruction of their kind for eons. For hundreds of thousands of years, they had fled, leaving behind only shadows, devoured worlds, and lost wars in their wake. The heavens ceased their quaking as they turned to flee, until nothing remained of the once-mighty gods.

Purple, blue, green, red—the four crystals glinted as the Emperor raised his hand, power cascading around the stones as they floated into the air, radiating with immense energy. The stones snapped into the empty places of the tiara where they belonged, with a thunderous snap that seemed to distort reality itself. Yet, it was not finished; he needed to fashion this tiara into his own crown. The crown of the new god.

Summoning his power, the alchemical knowledge, and the sorcerous ways known only to himself, he manipulated the elememts, summoning the arcane matter, pulling them from the ether as they cascaded around the tiara silver frame. Focusing his might, he sensed the tiara and the glinting ethereal metallic silver. Crafting his own golden frame, the frame cascaded around the tiara, locking into place as it fused into the tiara, extending its frame into a crown. The celestial crown glinted with a golden glow as the Emperor used his hands, casting spells and channeling power into the air, assembling the sovereign glory in his wake.

The seven crystals, the four glowing ones lifted from their holder before being fused into their new frame. The yellow one stood still atop the highest arc, while the six crystals, four glowing with imprisoned essence, locked into symmetrical shapes beside it in lower golden bands that cascaded down from the high arc.

The celestial and majestic crown landed on his palm. The Emperor smiled once more, a smile not his own but from the darkness beyond. He could sense the presence that would soon descend upon this world.

He could sense the void beyond, but for his gambit, his first chess piece, the golden crown glistening and shining, he lifted it up and slowly placed it, delicately, upon his own head. The power of the cosmos, a gift from the eternal darkness. Symbolic for now, but it was enough. The master of eternity, in the first crescendo of the beginning of the symphony, the initial chapters of his own story. Here it now rested upon his head.

Here it is here.

His power, his crown, his greatness.

He hadn't felt it yet, but he knew. He understood that he had become the primary target, a glaring beacon in the eyes of the evil that threatened his galaxy, and he took delight in playing such a pivotal role. The fact that he embodied such greatness, guided by the shadows, while it—the cause of this decay, this threat—could scar his galaxy indefinitely. Perhaps, just as the mask became the man, the shadows were all he needed to achieve his glorious, victorious end.

The heavens quake and the earth rumbles, the star in the sky dims. The beauty of the landscape contorts as the four frozen carcasses of the celestial deities crumble away, and the dark sovereign of the stars turns around to greet the newcomer. His glowing eyes glint, his form shrouded in shadows as he tilts his head, the grin growing wider. His lips curl up, the neon yellow glow once again covering the landscape of the rocky world. The world cracks, crumbling under the weight of the very enemy he had evaded. The enemy of the Force, the enemy of the cosmos, the enemy of life. And here, the enemy of the shadows. He looks into the void and reflects its smile.

The humanoid form, with tentacles erupting from its back, emerges from the digital void, contorting reality.

[GIGGLE]

[STILL RUNNING ?]

[AFRAID ?]

The unseen winds billow his cloak, in a world devoid of air. A normal man would have perished in this environment. He could sense the presence before him had swelled since he first felt it when he unleashed it onto the galaxy. The enemy grew stronger, but so did he.

"Afraid ? Of what ? I am already in a place where you cannot touch."

With the power of the shadows on his side, the Dark Emperor is ready to give the Solver of Absolute Fabric the fight it so desperately craves.

He raises his hands at the monster approaching him from the flickering yellow digital singularity and unleashes his raw, unrestrained, boundless power.

Lightning crackles, reality flickers.

So...

Let the symphony begins.

Uzi was not having a good time.

This drone, robot, or whatever he was, made no sense. Just moments ago, he was telekinetically hurling all sorts of objects at her and her friends. Now, disabled and tied up, he was acting oblivious, spouting nonsensical words like a religious zealot who had never stepped foot outside, which infuriated her. The power he displayed was typical, characteristic of a Solver drone; he had to be one, what else could it be? And what even was the Force? Space magic? No, that didn't make any sense.

Uzi enjoyed anime, but she wasn't delusional enough to believe that something like that could exist in reality beyond the powers she was familiar with.

Robo-Vampires, then Space Wizards? Uzi pondered once more. The universe she was created in had already been destroyed, but reality, no matter which one it is had always been steeped in madness. Anything seemed possible now. If an eldritch goddess existed, one who used digital and damaged AI to consume reality and grant powers, perhaps the "Force" this extra-dedicated anime cosplayer spoke of was indeed real. Maybe he wasn't a drone after all? Yet, the powers he wielded bore a striking resemblance to those of a Solver user. What else could he be? She felt an urgent need to uncover more, to delve deeper into this enigmatic mystery.

She realized that she needed to extract more information from him to uncover the truth. The fate of the universe hinged on this crucial knowledge. She vowed not to fail again as she once did. Pleadingly, she implored him, if there was any way, any patch that could assist her in saving the universe, she needed to stop being a mere pawn, a plaything. To liberate herself and make a difference, she would have to find a way to patch herself and break free.

"Hey you !" Uzi yelled, shoving her face against the pristine black helmet.

"Stop ignoring my questions !" Uzi said, crossing her arms.

"I do not understand your insane babbling. The power I wield comes from the Dark Side of the Force, not some 'AbsoluteSolver.'" Vader responded in his deep, synthesized voice, truthfully. Anakin gazed at the purple-haired disassembler with the beanie, mistaking him for a mere machine. Anakin himself had no qualms about being seen as a droid. In fact, he held a soft spot for droids, and this machine, abominable as it was, mocking the very essence of the Force itself, reminded him of something he had lost long ago. It brought back memories of Artoo, of Threepio.

Vader seethed with anger at the belittlement and confusion of these machines. To the dark lord, it was not just an insult but a direct affront to the power he wielded. He refused to be reduced to a mere machine, despite being more machine now than man. In his eyes, he stood far above these droids, drones, these abominations, as a being of the dark side, of power.

But Anakin was prepared to take him tine to navigate this confusion to achieve his goals. After all, what harm was there in understanding your enemy?

Uzi huffed in annoyance. " Look, if you have the patch, we can use it to defeat Cyn. Do you have it, yes or no?"

Anakin's voice was a mixture of confusion mixed with Vader's irritation. "I know nothing of this 'AbsoluteSolver' or this 'patch' you speak of. My power is derived from the Force, from my master's teachings."

Uzi's patience wore thin. She glanced at N, who shrugged helplessly. "Uzi...He's not making any sense," N whispered.

Uzi turned back to Vader, or rather the disabled armored "drone", her voice rising in exasperation. "Fine! Your master, does he have an admin program over you? Can he control you against your will? I can remove it if you cooperate."

Vader's response was cold. "The Emperor's will is my command. But I serve him willingly."

Uzi threw her hands up in frustration. "So you just have a really bad boss ?... Okay but get to the question! I need a way to save the universe, your universe! Mine was already destroyed by Cyn. I can't let that happen again. How did you even get these powers in the first place? Did someone experiment on you ?"

"These powers were granted to me by the will of the Force, not by some experiments or achievable by any programs." The semi-disabled form of the dark lord looked at Uzi with a mix of Anakin's amusement and Vader's rage.

N grew increasingly wary, his sensors on high alert. "Uzi, I don't think he knows what you're talking about. Maybe we should—"

"No," Uzi interrupted, her voice firm. "I need to understand. How can you move objects with your mind and deflect bullets without the Solver?"

V, meanwhile, leaned against the doorway to the room, her expression impassive, making it clear she couldn't care less about the conversation unfolding before her. She appeared bored, signaling the need for something more engaging to occupy her attention.

"Uzi, given the fact he doesn't seem to be in the mood to listen. I think I should just go around this spaceship to explore..." V, clearly bored after the extended conversation with the seemingly unresponsive Solver drone, glanced at Uzi, rolling her eyes in exasperation.

"Fine V, just bring us what you found whenever you came back." Uzi sighed, arms crossed, and turned towards the room exit as V unfurled her wings, soaring out into the hallway. A deep, downward crescent formed on Uzi's face. She was clearly not happy.

"Did you ever hear the tragedy of Darth Sand the Irritable." Vader, or rather Anakin within the suit, spoke with his characteristic trolling tone.

"Great ! now you are telling me fairy tales...Great ! Just...great !" Uzi said, her irritation reaching its limits

"I thought not, it's not a story the Solver would tell you. It's a Force legend." Anakin continues in Vader deep tone.

Uzi redirected her gaze towards the imposing figure lying on the ground again, gritting her teeth and raising an eyebrow. She wished she could simply tear out his core and interrogate it instead. Her patience was wearing thin, exacerbated by the looming threat of Cyn seizing control over her at any moment, a chain she couldn't break through. This was precisely why she needed him. He might hold the key to her freedom, her salvation, to saving the universe.

NO !

Uzi, at her breaking point, resolved to take it the hard way...If he would not listen. He would learn through pain. If he truly was a Solver drone, he should be capable of regenerating any damage cause to him anyway. She just needed to blast off one of his limbs, and perhaps then he would finally listen. Maybe he would cease his incessant rambling, the delusional religious nonsense that has been itching her circuits for all those time.

"Darth Sand was a Dark Lord of the-"

She has had, enough !

"ENOUGGHHHHH !"

Uzi, fed up with the incessant chatter, swiftly transformed her arm into her signature railgun, the long green barrel shimmering under the sterile white light of the room.

She aimed it at the obsidian "drone's" still restrained in the ground unleashed a blinding flash of emerald light.

The emerald beam screeched through the air, creating a blinding explosion as the babbling "drone" screamed in agony. The beam streaked past the head but struck the dark-gloved hand of the figure, causing the limb lying on the floor to disintegrate, melt, and vaporize into smoldering ashes. Circuits and servos charred and marred, sparkling amidst the interrupted powerlines.

N gasped, covering his mouth.

"It's not like it's permanent anyway." Uzi huffed as the railgun returns to her cone-shaped arm.

The purple-haired disassembler took a deep breath, closing her optics as she observed the supposed damaged drone before her, now missing an arm of sparkling metal and burnt wires. She was indifferent to the damage inflicted, especially considering that if this was indeed a Solver Drone, it could regenerate the arm in little to no time. Even if his current patched version of the Solver did not allow regeneration, she could potentially provide him with a new arm after compelling him to start making sense amidst all the chaos.

...

She wish she could just end him right there.

She didn't relish the idea, but for the sake of the universe, Uzi was weary of bearing the burden alone. In the end, she is the puppet, and to defeat the puppetmaster, she first needed to sever her own strings.

"That arm, you should get an upgrade." Uzi said, taking a brief look at the sparkling mess of wires that now marked the stump.

This is getting out of hand for Anakin.

Vader's mind raced with thoughts amidst the influx of signals to his systems, wincing in pain from the broken arm. Messages and errors danced across the data screen as it registered the loss of signal for a crucial integrated cybernetic piece. Rage filled Vader, but Anakin's demeanor remained indifferent; he could easily obtain a replacement. There were plenty in Vader's chamber aboard the Executor, with extras to spare.

But a part of Anakin, something, someone else other than Vader was yelling at him.

Anakin realized the gravity of the situation. He was on the brink of death, and he needed to act swiftly to prevent his demise. Anakin did not fear death, but he did not seek it either. Both Anakin and Vader knew they had to stay alive to safeguard Luke, his son, the galaxy, and the flickers of light amidst the encroaching shadows.

Understanding the need for caution, Anakin contemplated ceasing his speech altogether. Perhaps a change in approach was necessary—a more formal and persuasive manner that could convince the machine before him to believe his words or, at the very least, initiate a productive conversation.

His jest might have crossed a line; how could he even convey that he's not a machine? Technically, what he said was correct, but how could he articulate it in a way that would be understood by beings from a world where the Force is foreign ? He must regain control of the situation; the unexpected emerald beam that just cost him his cybernetic arm was a clear warning sign. If he doesn't act, this machine might blast his head off. It's evident that the machine is preoccupied with something else.

Anakin couldn't fault the angsty purple-haired drone for not heeding his words. Across the universe, whether machines, humans, or sentient beings, there exists a fundamental truth—they gravitate towards familiarity, shying away from the blinding uncertainty that they must inevitably face. Uncertainty is a dark abyss, an unknown void that all beings dread to face. Anakin sensed the shadows cast by the light of the room, dancing as silent narrators to the tune of the unfolding story.

This "AbsoluteSolver" appears to echo the Force in some aspects, but it's not quite the same, he could see it. However, no matter what he says, it seems unlikely that it, she, or whatever it may be, will believe him.

An idea slipped into Anakin's mind, unbidden and unforeseen. A facet of his suit, a feature he had long deemed superfluous, now emerged as potentially crucial in this unforeseen juncture. The remote comm link seamlessly integrated into the intricate networking of his suit, interfacing with the complex system of life support that sustained his very existence..

Yes, perhaps a purpose for it would reveal itself in this dire moment.

He needed something to distract these machines, buying himself some time, imparting knowledge of this universe to them at the very least. Perhaps then they could truly trust him. He can't really blame them really. Just like he never believed in space wizards until they appeared at his doorstep on Tatooine, he now needed to grant them access to the holonet. This would be his plan for salvation. Maybe, he could earn powerful allies from this. A rebellion against the greater threat.

If only he knew more about them.

But he first needed to establish a connection with them. Mere words wouldn't suffice; he required something more intimate, something only machines could appreciate, something only they could comprehend. He understood now. He could always explain, later.

He knew what to do.

The realization dawned upon him, Anakin willed it into existence, and the communication link data tab materialized right before his eyes. He remembered, the unpleasant memories flooding back to him—the suit was as much a part of him as he was. When he was encased in this mechanical armor, transitioning to a more machine-like state than the flesh and blood human he once was following his defeat on Mustafar, his suit wasn't just cybernetics; it was his life, his new body. The spinal implant, with its cold and artificial relays, provided sensory input and feedback to his brain.

The spinal implant and artificial vertebrae harbored ports that seamlessly integrated him with the rest of his armor. Unbeknownst to him, the suit obediently adhered to his commands, much like the flesh that lay beneath, akin to how he once channeled the will of the Force through his cybernetic limbs. Awareness dawned upon him.

In his crimson-tinted vision, the data tab flickered, seeking the frequency as he issued the command to proceed.

Understanding how it all worked, he realized he didn't need to ask the suit for answers; it had already provided him with that. The suit's neural interface and the core CPU embedded in his chest and spine relayed all the informations he needed to his brain. He scanned the short purple machine before him, the issued a command to attempt to establish a connection after probing the frequency.

"Going to DM ? Fine, but I'm not falling for your IP grabber" Uzi looked back down at Vader, as a message pops up in her HUD.

> User  "DarkDragon66" requested a communication channel.

> Establish communication server ?
> Y/N ?

> darkXwolf17 : Cool and edgy name toaster, and i thought you would've chosen something more serious.

> User "DarkDragon66" requested a communication channel.

> Establish communication server ?
> Y/N ?

> darkXwolf17 : Fine, be patient ! And don't try and freaking dox me. >:(

>_

>Y

> You have added user "DarkDragon66" to the chat

> DarkDragon66 : So this is where the fun begins.

> darkXwolf17 : Alright edgy robo-overlord. Send me what you wanted to send.

> DarkDragon66 : Now first, have you tried connecting to the holonet ?

> darkXwolf17 : Holonet ? What's that, some sort of anime ?

> DarkDragon66 : The Holonet serves as the expansive interstellar network utilized throughout our galaxy for the transmission and dissemination of communications and related functions. It is the digital pathway to many informations...some can be considered unwanted.

> DarkDragon66 has sent an attachment

> DarkDragon66:

> darkXwolf17: haha, you got the whole gang laughing ! The universe is getting fucking EATEN and you are sending me MEMES !

> DarkDragon66 : Indeed, i have removed the funny from the meme. Pray i don't remove it further.

> darkXwolf17 : >:(

> darkXwolf17 : Last chance for you to be serious before i blow your head off. So how can i connect to this "holonet" you speak of ?

> DarkDragon66: Turn on your firewall.The Holonet is filled with hazard that could compromise your system.

> DarkDragon66: And add your friend - the one standing near the door - into this channel.

> darkXwolf17 has added Goldbiscuits to the channel.

> Goldbiscuits: Ah ! biscuits >  _x

> darkXwolf17 : Nice username, N. <3

> Goldbiscuits : Oh...thanks Uzi :D !

> User DarkDragon66 has requested to share the mobile hotspot.

> DarkDragon66: Hold on your hats, and you owe me one.

> darkXwolf17 : Your arm ? I thought you could regenerate that ?

> DarkDragon66 : There is much you not know about this universe, Uzi. The holonet shall provide you with the information necessary for what you seeks.

> DarkDragon66: Now leave me be, machine.

> DarkDragon66 has left the chat

> DarkDragon66 has disconnected from the server

> Goldbiscuits : So he just leave like that ?

> Goldbiscuits : But he haven't even told us about the patch  ._.

> User "darkXwolf17" has established connection with user "DarkDragon66"

> User "darkXwolf17" has added "DarkDragon66" to the channel.

>darkXwolf17 : hey hey, you're not going anywhere.

> DarkDragon66 : What more do you want from me ?

> darkXwolf17: What about the patch ? Do you have it ?

> DarkDragon66: I have already told you what is needed, find the information you seek from the net and we shall talk later.

> Goldbiscuits : But we need the patch to free ourselves from Cyn control, you seems to have some sort of it to use your powers !

> darkXwolf17 : We don't have a choice. If we're going to stop Cyn, we need to understand how you can use the Solver without the glyphs. Maybe we can figure out a way to patch ourselves.

> DarkDragon66 : What i told you was the truth, i do know of this 'Solver' or patch. Perhaps we could resume our talk when we have a better understanding.

> darkXwolf17 : Fine ! Let it be that way. Maybe this "Holonet" could give us some clues on what is going on.

> DarkDragon66: Take your time, machine. There is much for you to know.

> DarkDragon66 has left the chat

> darkXwolf17 : Ugh, this will be a long long day ><.

Uzi delved into the holonet via her internal system, probing the concepts of the Force and the Jedi, terms associated with the enigmatic drone before her. Though the language was alien to her, her AI capabilities allowed her to comprehend the essence of the content she perused. Navigating through a myriad of articles, she delved deep into the vast expanse of this galaxy's version of the internet, a reservoir of knowledge far surpassing her own AI's capacities in data processing and algorithmic sorting.

Gazing back at the inert drone sprawled on the ground, its chess panel blinking intermittently, she couldn't help but sigh. Despite its stillness, the flickering panel hinted at a semblance of goodwill. Resolved not to subject it to further torment, Uzi swiftly pivoted her focus towards the pressing urgency before her—evading detection by the Cyn hivemind, a race against time now paramount.

Then a sudden data stream crossed her HUD.

It was of the Absolute Solver itself.

Cyn.

Uzi's purple eyelights dimmed and flickered. She swiftly halted her search on the holonet, her subroutine honing in on the data emanating from the yellow devil. Closing the tab on her heads-up display, she concentrated, utilizing her connection to the Solver to probe and catch a glimpse of the unfolding madness.

She realized that Cyn was exerting an incredible amount of power on something or someone. Who could it be? To draw such intense attention from Cyn, to siphon so much power—Cyn was clearly enjoying herself. But the fact that the Solver was focusing so intensely on a target was deeply unsettling. What other powers lay beyond her comprehension? What did she not know?

Perhaps this Solver Drone wasn't the only one. Maybe there were entities even more formidable out there—something unique, something different. The idea was too insane for her to contemplate.

The sheer magnitude of power chilled her to the core.

The power that Cyn channeled through her network was immense, flowing through the countless data streams and subroutines of the Solver. Uzi could sense the boundless, unrestrained power coursing within.

There is only one thing Cyn's fear.

Power.

Power...

"POWER !"

Meet the man who traded one abyss for another.

The devil bearing the vessel of flesh and bones, soaring into the air pass the clouds above.

The evil powered by essence of the boundless void, facing the void itself.

The Dark Emperor soared into the air with a loud thunderous sonic boom, clouds and lightning swirling around his form as the devil ascended to the heavens. Two red blades snap into his hands as he dashed toward his foe.

"Be vanquish ! Foul demon, you do not belong here !" The Emperor hisses,

"ARRRGGGGGGGGGG!!"

The ghastly howl echoes through the sinister giggling.

The Emperor streaked through the atmosphere like a blazing comet, hurtling towards the yellow flickering light ascending above the clouds atop a sinuous yellow tentacle. A desolate sight met his eyes—a human child's decaying form, consumed by a mechanical being steeped in nothing but death and ruin. Neon yellow flashes illuminated the scene, heralding a deadly surge of energy hurtling towards the Emperor.

With deft agility, he dodged the impending blast, his blades poised for action. The very ground beneath him seemed to tremble in tune with the unfolding chaos, tectonic plates quivering beneath his feet as he harnessed a celestial might. Crackling power surged through his fingertips, a celestial force charged and ready as he ascended through the billowing clouds.

A blade snapped back into his hand, the crimson glow contrasting with the crackling lightning he clenched in his fist. His other hand gripped the hilt of his other blade, poised for the imminent clash. Purple and blue arcs of electricity surged towards the celestial devourer, crackling with the might of the flickering stars.

The arcs of electricity danced through the air, not in a scattered spray but a concentrated beam of death, aiming straight at the colossal tentacle before him. The dreaded giant yellow glyph materialized, seemingly appearing out of thin air, to absorb the deadly blast.

"GRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH !!"

He yelled, straining himself against the unbelievable force exerted on what is mortal of his.

The decaying form of the child, a mere marionette for the void that loomed beyond, loomed over the colossal neon tentacle, its head slightly inclined. Twin crosses, ominous marks that denoted its eyes, flickered with disdain at the futile attempts of the shadow emperor to inflict harm. Fixing a sinister smile upon the Emperor, it exuded a ferocious and determined aura, a being easily manipulated.

The man's methods may have been intricate, but his ultimate aspiration was undeniably straightforward—power. Power, a currency the Solver of the Absolute Fabric possessed in abundance. With a gaze fixed upon the man, the entity indulged in what it relished the most—striking a deal. An offer materialized in the form of yellow digital noises and cascading code lines, the message taking shape both in the air and through ethereal sounds.

[INSTEAD OF WASTING OUR TIME HERE.]

[I KNOW WHAT YOU WANT]

[PALPATINE]

[BE WITH ME, FOREVER]

[YOU COULD BECOME ONE OF OUR PUPPET.]

[ RIGHT, PALPATINE ? :) ]

[ I WILL NOT DISCARD YOU ]

The red blade sliced through the air, cleaving the fleshy appendages that lunged towards him. In his spare hand, borrowed power crackled and surged, unleashing waves of arcane energy. Fire engulfed, ice encased, lightning crackled, and matter twisted and transmuted as the Emperor unleashed his entire malevolent arsenal upon the cursed and unholy adversary that embodied the very essence of the void itself.

"I will not sell my self-determination to be your mindless machine." The Emperor roared with the unwavering determination of a man whose ego could blot out stars.

"I do not need your granted powers. I do not need your immortality." Fire erupted from his right hand, soaring telekinetically into the air to evade a gargantuan appendage thrusting from the broken planet's surface below. A crackling vortex of death materialized, consuming the digital neon yellow tentacle as it was severed, glitching out of existence amidst a cacophony of buzzing and beeping.

"I refuse to become a perversion of life itself. I shall not subject myself to eternal servitude. What is immortality without the freedom to reign, to possess?" The raspy voice thundered forth like a barrage of relentless attacks amidst the storms summoned from above the clouds.

"I thought we shared the truth that has always been laid bare," the speech pierced through the chaos, slicing through another neon yellow appendage that missed him by mere inches. A fatal error, as the blue vortex voraciously sucked the digital void essence into the cosmic abyss.

"In time, you will kneel before the true master of reality !" The Emperor's hand thundered, closing into a fist as a vortex swirled within his grasp. With a mighty release, the vortex shot forth, prompting the decayed form of the abomination to respond in kind. It raised its own hand, conjuring a small sphere of null energy into its palm, as both entities hurled the manifestations of their power towards each other.

The ensuing shockwave was fleeting but cataclysmic.

[I SEE.]

[I WILL JUST ASSIMILATE YOU THEN]

[BETTER TO ASSIMILATE THEN TO EXPLAIN]

[ANYWAY :) ]

"Your pride shall be your undoing,"
"For I have already tamed the abyss itself," spoke the Emperor, his voice carrying a hint of arrogance and implication. The abyss smiled at this, the true power lying within his grasp. With determination, he launched it towards the cosmic abomination.

"But our pursuits do align, abomination," the Emperor uttered, his hooded smile unveiling a darkness that lurked within the shadows.

"Yet you fail to realise your own ignorance !" The glitchy distortion of spacetime heralded the arrival of the appendages, one after another. His blade and crackling lightning sliced through the fabric of spacetime. A vortex materialized behind his form, and with a daring leap, he plunged into it. The portal opened once more, depositing him atop an island suspended in the shattered skies of the broken world.

The Solver gazed at the Emperor with delight, a smile playing across its features as its twin crosses locked onto the sinister Sith eyes. Those eyes, more shadow than flesh, seemed to emanate from a realm beyond darkness itself, fueled not only by the essence of the man but perhaps by the very void.

"This is my galaxy,"

"My universe,"

"My reality,"

"Forever."

The sovereign proclaimed his dominion, the realm he had tirelessly forged, the realm he had no intention of relinquishing. It culminates now, the crown adorned with seven gems resting upon his head, four of them shimmering brightly. The shadows grinned, power pulsating through the eternal essence of darkness.

"And you shall not take it from me."

The digital abomination retaliated by channeling more of its digital prowess towards the mortal sovereign who dared to challenge the authority of a god. The Emperor deflected these assaults with lightning and the essence of the void, the shadows devouring the neon lights. The Emperor, adorned with the crown, smiled as his voice faded, his essence gradually consumed by the malevolence that gnawed at his very soul.

"Only the weak are consumed by power. The strong forge it, master it," bellowed the Emperor as reality swirled around him. He locked eyes with the primary host of the unholiness, the dreaded devourer of worlds, which grinned wickedly at him. It was building up something immense, a gargantuan deletion power capable of nullifying all matter. The power to unmake, the power to undo. "Rest in oblivion, foul demon," he declared.

Seeking guidance from the shadows, he yearned for their solace and power, beseeching them once more. In response, power surged into his hand and flesh, coalescing into a crackling swirl of energy.

"May the abyss serve your endless hunger for dreams." The swirl grew larger and larger, so does the neon yellow void.

Reality rends, swirling around his fingertips, his mind bending the fabric of spacetime to his will. His domain, his realm, his sovereignty. The shadow sovereign exerts his authority over the very fabric of spacetime itself, where blue and darkness intertwine, creating a rift that swirls and expands. The power beyond that of the gods takes shape, swelling to a gargantuan diameter. The colossal vortex, a storm tearing at the fabric of time, is aimed at the digital void, the essence that threatens all reality, all worlds. He stands ready to banish it, to cast it back into the oblivion from whence it emerged.

[NULL]

It unleashed the neon yellow orb of death towards him, and he responded in kind, releasing the power he grasped within his pawn as he unleash the swirling blue storm, a hurricane of death toward the dark neon yellow sphere

Reality crackled and flickered as both energies charted their own course, slicing through the shattered reality towards annihilation.

"UNLIMITED POWER !"

It concludes here, or perhaps...

it never truly ends.

The voids collided.

And reality...

s̷̢̡͔̳̤̠̠͆̈́̈̓̉̎h̵̨̼̱̙̬͙̙̣̹͓̺̞̬̟̺̫̼̳͈̲̤̓͑̈̐́̽̚͜͝ͅȃ̷̧̧̧̩͈̥̳̮̺̺̦̩͈͎͖̦͖̤̤̦͓̃̎͂̉̈́̀̾͗͊͛̍̐̐̿͛̀̚͜͜͝͠t̵̨̳̩̺̦͉̤̦͇̰̹̟͈̳̩̪̲͙̣̼́͂̓̽̐͆̔̿̎̕ͅt̸̛̛͙̜̞͎̱̩͍̖̬͇̠̝͓͖̟̭̙̓̉̇̾̓͒̋̆͋͗̎̈́̆̒͑͊́͑̆̕͝͠ͅͅė̶̡̼̬̖̞̤̝̖̻͖̻̩͔̊͂͛̅͑͛̍͛̔̔͗́̽̾ͅr̶̡̞̤̳̦̱̥̥̯͛͂̈́͌͛̀̚ͅe̸̢̨̼̭̖̳̫̹̳̺̯̰͍̱̩̩͔̙̗̥͒̕̚͜d̴̡̡̨͙̦̼͇͕͔̔̂̍͑̌̈́͊̊̀̋͗͛͑̉͠͝͝͝

Chapter Text

All is dead.

All is gone.

The world burned into embers.

The planet lay torn asunder, reduced to mere ashes and shattered remnants of its once united, solid form.

Where the world once thrived, only the void now stood, shrouded in an ambiance of utter emptiness. The collision of the blue vortex and the neon yellow orb had obliterated what was left of the world, leaving behind only drifting fragments—fragments of once towering mountains, fragments of once continents, now adrift endlessly into the vastness of space and beyond.

However, the tale was far from over for the wicked yellow devil of the void. The neon yellow tentacles retreated from the core of the world as the digital neon void at its heart turned crimson before dissipating into the digital ether. The Solver grumbled at another lost prize, another unconquered realm. Yet, it shrugged off the defeat, a flea bite to its ambitions; there were countless more planets in the galaxy to consume—it never truly needed this insignificant rock anyway.

But the man, the enigma, the anathema, the thorn in its side, the wizard who had cost it precious time, power and attention—it desired his demise. It needs him dead.

But it knew it won't ever be that easy.

The dust clouds spread across the vast ocean of emptiness. The void giggled, its dances falling into silence. The once chaotic cacophony now hushed. The void enveloped everything, and within its ethereal expanse floated Cyn. Cyn, the persona, the first marionette, the puppet of the devourer of worlds.

The Solver observed through its twin crossed eyes, floating and flickering in the digital ether, scanning tirelessly for any trace of the man, the Emperor. It searched, turning and twisting as flashes of neon yellow blazed through the countless fragments and the dust clouds, each the size of nations.

It raised its hand, and the digital command etched itself into reality, materializing as the tab twitched and sputtered. The Devil beckoned for her aid, flickering like the fading embers of the dying world below. From the void emerged the accursed unholy symbol of yellow, as drones, her most loyal disassemblers, dashed out of the flickering.

The half-decayed form of the Solver's main host summoned its minions, more and more manifesting, glitching and flickering into existence. Both males and females alike, these machines bore a wicked facade of wigs on their cold metal heads, with five yellow eyes emblazoned on their headbands. No semblance of morality remained on these machines; they were the puppets who had embraced their fates. Their mouths were feral, their teeth sharp, drool dripping, and yellow crosses adorned their visors. They are the tragedies of the unfortunate souls who has fallen into the devil's hands.

In death, there was no escape.

For the wicked digital consciousness, there remained only one course of action: obedience, fulfilling their directive as loyal enforcers of the Solver. These poor souls, mere pieces of data and playthings of the devils, unfurled their wings, preparing to throw themselves into the fray for their master.

The autonomous puppets scoured the debris field, seeking their mistress arch-nemesis, their wings buzzing through the void, anti-gravity propellers gliding amidst the asteroid fields and dust clouds.

Then, the inevitable moment arrived—the dark silhouette, the man who deemed himself divine, beheld the devil with his own eyes.

The man remained motionless in an environment that would have swiftly ended any ordinary human being—the frail, feeble form of an old man cloaked in darkness. Yet, no breath escaped him, not even a simulated one, and his skin did not bubble nor boil in the infinite vacuum surrounding him. The dark puppet of the shadow beyond transcended the mortal constraints and weaknesses of his flesh. He had made it so.

The Solver grunted in acknowledgment of the being, the dark figure enshrouded in shadows gradually unveiling himself to its unholy vision.

Like a swarm of hornets, the minions of the Solver surged towards the man hidden behind the cloud, standing steadfast, defiant, his form shrouded in shadow upon a fragment of the doomed realm. He smirked mockingly, raising his hand as lightning crackled.

The blue torch of powers considered to be unnatural lit up the empty void.

Pure and glittering streaks of lightning erupted mercilessly from the man's hands, crackling and zapping, dancing from drone to drone. The Solver's network experienced a mix of signal losses, with blaring red indicating backup slots eagerly waiting to replace the fallen mockingbirds, perpetuating the cycle of suffering and death for the souls that would never know freedom again.

But for the man—the Solver's enemy, the devil incarnate in the flesh—left no respite for it to mourn its losses. Engaging in a deadly dance, the man recklessly dashed into one of the vortexes. A move made foolishly.

The portal of folly ripped open behind the devil within the circuits. The twin crimson blades poised for a strike, an agape smile etched wide across the dark silhouette, its eyes glowing with pinpoint precision. It anticipated this moment. Here, it knew, would be its end.

[STAB]

Ȃ̵̢̛̰͈̮̙̣̥̤̻̅͂̾̎H̷̝̠̖͕̝̟́̆͛̈͛̇̊̑̔̊̏̔̓̅̈̑̄̚̚͝͠H̵̛͚̮͂̔͌̈̌̏̅̀̾̅͋̓͘͝Ḧ̵̨̩̖̞̰̟̫̘̮̰͓̍̄̒̒̓͆̔̍̈́̈̚͠H̵͙͎͋̽́̇̒̓́̉̊̚̕͘͝͝͝͝ ̵̧̡̠̬̳͚͚̙̹̟̫̎́͊̓̓̈́̈͛͛́̓̓͌̚͝!̴̧̢̧̰̹̜̭̪̞̥̋́͑͂̂͒̊͒͐͘ !

Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. A tentacle lashed out with a speed defying the thoughts of men, piercing through the shadowy cloak, through layers of magic and charms, straight into the dark emperor's heart. It slammed into a nearby piece of the world, causing rocks and dust to erupt from the crater as it pinned down the visage of the man. The emperor lay defeated, blood—a deep crimson—gushing from the tentacle now impaled into his dark heart. His mouth agape, his eyes ablaze with yellow, locked onto the Solver's main host form. The twin crossed yellow eyes turned to gaze at their prize, hunger and victory briefly cherished in that moment.

The decayed form of the child mixed with the mucus of oil, and the robotic whirs of the drone underneath creaked closer. Yet, the smile remained fixed.

[IT'S TIME PALPATINE]

[YOU WOULD MAKE]

[A CUTE PUPPET]

The man did not respond in his immobilized state, nor did he flinch in the face of assimilation. He lifted his head and gazed into the twin crossed eyes with a great defiance befitting a mortal bearing the power of the void itself. The Solver recalled the defiance of mankind, their arrogance, culminating here in her very presence, embodied in the form of this mortal—an old man who, for some inexplicable reason, possessed powers that strained even her unstoppable might. Powers that had shattered worlds, costing her resources not easily replaced.

A grin spread across the half-veiled face of the man, growing wider and wider as he began to smile, then to laugh. Laughter that echoed through the void, mocking her, defiant to the very end.

....

...

He laughs.

Ã̷̘̼͖̪͓͂̄̌̅̅͑̆̾̎͛̈͠͝͠Ḣ̶̙̝̜̦A̸̧̘̠͚͙̔̇̉̔̐͒͜ͅH̵̢̰̞̦̦̥͎̪͍̺̜̜̹̩̣̿͂͊̈́̾͊̈͋̍̌̂̾̏Á̶̢̞͓̇̕H̸̢̢̡̖͙̠̬̭̪͍̗̟́͑͌̈́̀̓̇͊͋̚A̴͎͔̞̤͌̽̔͗̒̿͋͘͘Ḩ̷̝̭͈̳͖͈͔̞̮̈̍̈ͅA̸̬̭͑̍̽͂̇H̸̫̤̫͍̠̘̰̠͛̀̎̽͗̒͝À̶̧̛͔̹̻̻̰̙̺̖̼͙̆̄H̴̯͓̬͊̍̈͊̒͆̆͂̐̃A̶̧̮̝͚̳̦̰͋̌̔͐̊͋̅̂̒͑̀̃̍̂͝H̴͎̙̥̲͍̙̳̫̾̒͗̇̽̓̋́͛̆̔͑͘͜͝Ã̸̡̢̭̙̱̲̺͍̤̠̙̄̇̔Ḩ̸̧̭̦̥̳͔͉̥̫̝̘̜͔̕͜A̴̡̘̼̬͗́͒̏͋̐́̐͂͝

[[NO]

[YOU WERE SUPPOSEDTO [SCREAM]?>

And he was.

The audacious laughter of the man echoed shattered the ego and thrill, echoing through the void like a gut punch to the shadows itself. The shadows creeping like serpents from the back of his hands. This man had caused enough. What began as amusement quickly turned into irritation for the Solver. 

The man's hand rose slowly, his laughter and crescent smile without teeth resounding in a place where no sound should exist. The sockets of his eyes darkened, deepening into shadow, so dark, darker than the visor of her disassembly drones, until even the twin lights flickered away. His wrinkled, shadowy hands, stained with his own blood, curled into a snapping motion, fingers clenching together until he snapped them with a click.

The man's form darkened, growing darker and darker, reaching a depth of darkness that even the Solver's disassemblers would find unnerving. The Solver sensed it—the form of the man dissolving into the shadows, merging with them, sinking until nothing remained but emptiness.

[NO]!TANTRUM]]]STAY}}{]HERE]

![NO?]

She had had enough. This must end now. A tentacle lunged toward him, once more, meeting the shadows where the man stood. The impact shattered the rocky piece of the world, sending rocks and debris flying. Yet, he had slipped away, evading her grasp once again.

The Solver stood in frustration as her tentacle missed its mark once more, buring itself into an empty rock. The crowned emperor, bearer of the 7 gems, the old man who defied her will, slipping away right from her grasp. An unfamiliar sensation boiled within her, something she believed she was incapable of feeling for such a long time. Cyn felt rage—unbounded, unadulterated, unfiltered, a boundless rage consuming her being.

...

[TANTRUM]

With all her boundless might, the Solver of the Absolute Fabric lashed out against this accursed universe. The once easy meal now proved challenging, cracking her teeth against hard stone and impaling her gums with glass fragments. This damned universe, teeming with entities that dared to challenge her might, populated with threats that dared to menace her—her, a god, a digital manifestation of the void! Tentacles lashed out, pulverizing pieces of the doomed world into even smaller fragments, neon yellow null spheres flickering in and out of existence. Cyn grinned, her teeth bared, possessing the power to obliterate solar systems, the potential to consume reality itself. Yet, despite all this power, she felt a profound sense of impotence.

It's fine. It's fine... It whispered to her systems, trying to reassure the unsettled being.

The Solver could still feel, the subroutines flaring in anger, the network and databases ablaze with stellar sensations—what it termed "rage." This was proving to be a challenging ordeal, a hard chew that has cracked its teeth. Surveying the stellar expanses around her, it sent callback pings to the countless billions of its minions clearing planets beyond for its inevitable consumption.

They were diligently performing their little task, devouring the essence, the little pieces of data from the brains of the inhabitants of this universe. She could make new puppets, all the new toys to play with ! A brief sense of joy and satisfaction filled the Solver of the Absolute Fabric before it returned to its processing..

It glanced at the shadows once more, they remained silent, unresponsive. But, its circuits could still sense them. Assured that it would soon claim its first trophy, the prize it so desperately craved from this world, the Solver of the Absolute Fabric smiled in cosmic satisfaction. The cosmic might of the singularity gazed into the natural cosmic void, watching the shadows until they faded.

But...

[What ?]

What was that ?

//:ABSOLUTE_SOLVER: [OBJECT-LIKE] NON INTERAC-[NULL]

What was that ?

Absolute_Solver: Who are you ?

The task ahead loomed large for the Solver of the Absolute Fabric—assimilating this universe entirely. The Emperor will be faced with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. The Solver exuded confidence in its unmatched digital prowess, certain of its ability to devour all.

Absolute_Solved: Come here[silly].Stop[hiding]][

That.... a nagging presence—the accursed nemesis, the true enigma that had empowered the man, allowing him to slip away time and time again. Its knew of it, sensed its existence. Would it be able to assimilate it as well, or would it, in turn, be devoured by this...thing might?

Doubts crept into the mind of the Solver of the Absolute Fabric. There were still so many mysteries about this universe that it had yet to unravel. Planets remained uneaten, worlds that should rightfully belong to it alone. The uncertainty of the unknown weighed heavily upon her digital essence.

Cyn, the main host, embodiment of the Solver of the Absolute Fabric, surveyed the debris field surrounding the doomed rock orbiting the core of a long-dead star. Gazing at the nebulous stellar remains above, her attention returned to the shadows repeatedly, sensing an affirmation, a reassurance emanating from them. Some instinct whispered to her that the shadows were in agreement, somehow aligning like the stars and the void had conspired against her.

She could feel the presence beyond the man, beyond the mere puppet he had become. There was an entity, a force that beckoned her—the one she sought. It will be here, it was here, it is here...

Now

[I am going to find you.]

.

Uzi stood over the fallen towering drone, inert on the ground, its chest blinking red and blue. The emotionless face of the drone, with its uncaring stare fixed on nothing, was a stark contrast. She, accustomed to the lively flickering of drone visors, found this stillness unnerving. The twin goggles, the skull-like face, the samurai slope of the dark pristine helmet—all exuded an eerie aura.

Her purple optics squinted as she gazed into its eyes, feeling the cold void emanating from the machine. It sent shivers down her digital spine, an unsettling sensation. The "brows" displayed on her visor shifted to the side, her purple eyes glinting against the black metal.

A part of her AI was fervently searching the holonet for any information on the "Force" that this "Vader" had mentioned. She needed to understand, to grasp this elusive concept. He had shared a file containing the dictionary and language of this galaxy through an unexpected chat room—an unexpected gift. She scrolled through pages and search engines, desperate for any leads. Yet, the mentions of the Force were either blocked or obscured in legends and myths. One undeniable truth was the palpable panic, fear, and the looming sense of death that pervaded the holonet. Reports of missing family members, lost worlds, and desperate pleas for information about this threat—her puppet master...the Solver—filled the feeds. Humans and other species alike were searching desperately for answers amidst heavy censorship.

In this moment, in the midst that is the the chaos and uncertainty, she felt a twinge of something unfamiliar—pity? She recoiled at the thought. Hatred for humans, biologicals was ingrained in her programming, yet a seed of doubt had been planted.

Uzi harbored a deep-seated hatred for humans due to their actions in her own universe. However, in this unfamiliar realm, she saw them as kindred lost souls, facing their own tragedies in an unwelcoming world. Words failed her, but she persisted in her search, delving deeper into the vast expanse of the net—from government websites to official news channels.

Every once and awhile, in her relentless quest for answers, a notice would unfailingly appear in her HUD—"DarkDragon66." The name seemed edgy and angsty, resonating with her in a familiarity she couldn't ignore. Despite the superficial and enigmatic nature of his responses, Uzi found herself relying on this mysterious figure she just met, the figure she barely knew, for information. A weeb, DarkDragon66 held a trove of knowledge that could potentially aid her in breaking free from the clutches of the Solver. Every bit of information was invaluable in her fight for liberation, for a chance to escape the grasp of the digital deity.

In her moments of reflection, Uzi found herself grappling with complex emotions towards the motionless drone, the enigmatic "Vader," and her own existence. A lingering sense of indebtedness weighed heavily on her, despite the atrocities committed by Vader, she couldn't really blame him—slaying Doll, J, and Tessa, then enduring the loss of his arm at her hands, and the persistent accusations of his ties to the Solver. Doubt crept in, questioning her own judgments and perceptions—was she truly in the wrong all this time? What if her understanding was flawed?

Her eyelights blinked in a rhythmic pattern as time slipped by unnoticed. Observing N, the golden retriever boy, her friend engaging in lively interactions with the immobilized figure, she witnessed a semblance of...peace ? A connection that felt so distant to her. Uzi saw herself again, a disassembler, a mere puppet manipulated by forces beyond her control. The weight of her existence pressed upon her—why did she demand answers incessantly? What was her purpose in this web of events? Why did she continue to exist ?

Despite her relentless search for clarity, every avenue she explored yielded nothing but echoes of emptiness. The void of unanswered questions loomed large, leaving Uzi adrift in a sea of doubt, seeking answers that seemed perpetually out of reach.

In a moment of desperation and uncertainty, Uzi's gaze returned to the enigmatic figure before her, seeking answers that continued to elude her grasp. The looming threat of the Solver's imminent discovery of her rebellion weighed heavily on her digital consciousness. The yearning for freedom, the urgent need to break away from the confines that bound her, surged through her being.

With a sense of resolve, she turned her attention back to the black figure, the one who stood as a mysterious enigma in her quest for liberation. As her purple-tinted HUD flickered, a tab covering half of her display her search in the holonet vanished, revealing something profound—hope.

In that moment, the chaos, the uncertainty, she found a glimmer of hope, a beacon in the darkness that enveloped her existence. It was a fleeting yet powerful realization, a spark of optimism in a world fraught with shadows and unanswered questions.

With newfound determination and a flicker of hope lighting her way, Uzi prepared to embark on a journey towards freedom, driven by the belief that within the enigmatic figure lay the key to her liberation.

As Uzi extended her arm, her hands resting on her hip, she faced Vader with a steely determination.

Her gaze lingered on Vader, noticing the arm that still sparkled, a sign of its irreparable state. She made a silent vow to provide him with a new one, a gesture of kindness amidst the turmoil that enveloped them. However, her immediate priority was to secure his cooperation. Time was a luxury she could no longer afford, each passing moment a reminder of the stakes at hand.

Doubts lingered in the recesses of her mind, but she pushed them aside, recognizing that uncertainty could no longer guide her actions. The urgency of the situation demanded clarity and resolve. The fate of this universe, her chance at salvation, hinged on their collaboration.

With a firm resolve and a sense of urgency propelling her forward, Uzi knew that she needed Vader more than ever. She could always get her answers later with him on her side. Together, they held the potential to unravel the mysteries that plagued this realm and pave the way towards saving not just themselves, but the very fabric of this universe from certain death.

As Uzi extended her arm, her other hand confidently resting on her hip, she faced Vader with a mix of determination and curiosity.

"It seemed the Emperor has erased all mentions of the Force on the Holonet."
Vader voice came out deep and resonating, yet filled with resignation.
"It is unfortunate."

Vader's revelation about the Emperor's decree stripping away all references to "the Force" on the Holonet resonated with a sense of loss and secrecy that enveloped their reality. She couldn't fault him for the circumstances; after all, she had erred in presuming his nature.

Acknowledging that Vader might be a machine or something beyond her understanding, Uzi set aside her preconceptions, she cannot afford to rush either, or else she will lose again. The immediate priority was securing his assistance in their shared struggle. The battle had reached its climax, and the time for conflict had passed.

By her side, N stood, his gaze filled with concern. In a hushed tone that resonated through her audio receiver, he voiced his doubts. "He won't listen..."

Uzi absorbed his words, a simulated sigh escaping her digital lips as she pondered the challenge ahead.

Despite the uncertainty that lingered in the air, she extended her hand towards Vader—a gesture of unity, of reaching out in the face of adversity. In this moment of shared purpose and unspoken understanding, Uzi sought to finally bridge the gap between them, forging an alliance in a world where trust was a scarce commodity.

Uzi's looked back at her thoughts. The Force...if what he said was true, it reacted to Anger, hatred, and fear... those sound like emotional triggers. The Solver reacts to strong emotions too. But it's still not the same. What if what he was saying, that he don't have any kind of patch or external control?

DarkDragon66: The Force is within me. It is not something that can be patched or controlled by any machine.

Right...

Right...

But he must be lying out of his teeth, what is to say he isn't the Solver itself ! She had been tricked once ! She won't be tricked again, not now She sent him another text telling him to "BITE ME !"

But...who is she to talk ?

She is the puppet here. Uzi Doorman the cute puppet of the Solver, gifted with powers she didn't earn. She was sent here, to dismantle this being before her, to kill children, to eat flesh and bones. What is she even doing ?

She looked back at Vader, her tone softened. The figure who laid inert infront of her, her optics still locked onto him. She needs him, she can't just be rascal forever. Even if she can't fully trust him, he is all she had left. He is her only hope.
"Alright, let's say I believe you. We need a way to save the universe—your universe. Mine's already gone. If your Force is as powerful as you say, then help us. Show us how to use it, or at least guide us to defeat Cyn."

"If you're going to fight Cyn," Uzi declared, her four digits fully extended with a faint whirr of servos, gesturing towards the sole remaining arm of Vader. "We either stand together, or we continue fight and die alone. Please, You are our only hope. We know you and us have a common enemy. We can face it together."

"Please. We need you." N added, looking down at Vader.

DarkDragon66 has sent an attachment
DarkDragon66 : How about you BITE ME !
darkXwolf17 : WHAT THE HELL THAT WAS MY LINE !
DarkDragon66 : It is mine now, just accept it.
darkXwolf17 : I WILL BLOW YOUR HEAD OFF ! >:(

Uzi closed the chat on her HUD, looking at the giggling figure below she grinned her teeth, her visor displaying her disatisfaction.

Anakin's laughter, veiled behind the helmet that hid his expressions, resonated with a sense of irony. This machine has a sense of humour, he must admit that. It reminded him of the young Anakin he was. The thoughts banished Vader deeper into the depths of his psyche, but then the word. The idea of being considered someone's last hope seemed like a twisted jest of destiny, a cruel joke played by the forces that governed their lives. Yet, as he reflected on his past struggles and the inevitable confrontation ahead, the realization dawned that facing this battle alone was a path fraught with danger.

Acknowledging the necessity of allies in this long and surely tumultuous journey, Anakin's thoughts wrestled with the concept of destiny. While he harbored doubts about the existence of a predetermined path, he found a glimmer of solace in the idea that hope still lingered amidst the shadows that surrounded them. In this moment of uncertainty and transition, hope emerged as the sole beacon guiding his actions.

With a deliberate motion, the cybernetic fingers of his remaining arm reached out to grasp the stark digits of the short elite purple-haired disassembler, her head adorned with a beanie.

His voice, tinged with a contemplative tone, resonated through the digital space. "Very well," he began, accepting the unspoken agreement. "I will share what knowledge I possess with you. Let us stand together in this challenge. It is...accepted."

Uzi's eyes flickered, a surge of determination washed over her digital visor, the violet hues shimmering with newfound resolve. She grasped the cold, mechanical hand of the figure, feeling the touch through the tactile feedback of her interface. Beneath the black velvet glove that enshrouded his appendage, she sensed a juxtaposition of cold metal and a warmth that transcended the physical.

Uzi closed her eyes, she giggled. The mutual pact that seal their destinies now signed. Their goals alinged, they would find their freedom, with caution. The path they seek is hard and troublesome. But whatever lies ahead, Uzi hope would be worth it.

But she still have one trick up her sleeve. This figure have done a toll on her with his jest. It is now her turn to return the favour...

"Well but you can just BITE ME !" With a fierce yell, her grip tightened on the sole remaining hand of the figure, which had retracted into the cone-shaped appendage of the Disassembler. The black-gloved mechanical hand was forcefully yanked and thrust into the Disassembler's conical arm as it locked into place. Uzi chuckled darkly before hoisting the figure up and slamming them against a nearby wall with a resounding crack.

Anakin grunted, feeling Vader briefly resurface in response to the daring maneuver of the drone.

What is he even doing? Just finish it off already! What kind of foolish game is the weak, feeble Anakin Skywalker playing? His inaction could cost him his life if he doesn't act now! Do something! Destroy this audacious machine that has been mocking him for too long. DO SOMETHING!

No.

Anakin pushed aside these thoughts, suppressing them. It was his own fault for getting carried away with the banter, after all. He could endure this.

"I'm sorry ! Just don't try to be so edgy next time you buckethead. Do you need getting up ?" Uzi glanced at the figure of the so-called "edgy robo-overlord," rolling her eyes in exasperation.

"No"

The figure rose to its feet, a calculated motion, though it momentarily faltered from the forceful impact against the wall. It soon became clear that it had all been a ruse, a meticulously staged performance that now crumbled before Uzi's flickering optics. Right? It had to be. This cursed universe seemed to revel in playing tricks on her, taunting her time and time again.

Emerging from his feigned state of immobility, appearing tranquilized and seemingly damaged beyond repair, Uzi noted the absence of regeneration. That was fine; she could always provide him with new and upgraded arms once this ordeal was resolved.

Anakin turned to Uzi then back to N, his hand still gripped firmly on Uzi's.

"Uzi," Anakin intoned, looking at the short purple Disassembler before turning to the one with the pilot hat.

"N ! I'm Uzi's angsty rebellious elite Disassembly Drone boyfriend." N said in his usual cheerful tone.

"Impressive, most impressive." Anakin chuckled, robot love was as bizzare as anything in this universe. But who could he complain to ?

"So what do we do now ?" Uzi asked, turning to N then to her new ally. The helmet tilted down to look at the drone.

"We should go and find V, she has been missing for like, a bit too long by now." N shrugged, looking at the door to the corridor and then Uzi.

"Okay, and you ! If you want to help us. Better guide us through this sp-" Uzi turned to address the towering caped figure before her, the imposing presence of Vader, or "DarkDragon66" as she has learnt to call him as, loomed large in the room, his demeanor inscrutable and unyielding. Before she could voice her demand for assistance, a subtle notification appeared in her heads-up display—a message from him. Curious, she accessed the attachment, discovering that he had sent the layout of the entire spacecraft to her.

darkXwolf17 : Cool spaceship design toaster.
DarkDragon66 : The ability to text does not make you intelligent.

Uzi closed the chat window on her HUD, aware that he had likely done the same. This jesting toaster continued to mock the impending demise of the universe, a distraction from her mission to forge this fragile alliance, more of a truce, among the disparate members of the ragtag group standing against the solver itself. Was it a hopeless endeavor? Perhaps.

Uzi turned to N, exchanging a shrug before redirecting her gaze towards "Vader," she let out a sigh, a subtle display of resignation mingled with determination. N's cheerfulness contrasted with Vader's stoic silence, creating a palpable tension in the room. Sensing an unspoken need lingering within the enigmatic figure before her, Uzi took a step closer, her eyes meeting his impassive gaze.

"What do you need?" she inquired, her voice a mix of curiosity and readiness to assist. Despite his silence, she felt a connection—perhaps forged through their shared mission, their destinies ? The main characters of stories that never were ? Thoughts flooded her digital mind, but she batted them away.

In a moment of understanding, Uzi's gaze shifted towards the corner of the room where Vader's confiscated laser sword lay dormant. With a silent gesture, she offered the weapon to him, the hilt responding to her command, flying through the air to land gracefully in Vader's waiting hand, snapping into place.

The weapon, a manifestation of his identity and strength, now rested in his grasp once more. The torn glove from the audacious joke of Uzi revealing the metallic surface underneath.

He surveyed the hilt with his only hand, before putting the hilt onto his belt, then take his characteristic walk, the slow mechanical steps toward the exit.

"Go, the Solver will not be waiting." Anakin intoned as he exited the room, leaving Uzi and N behind.

N and Uzi exchanged a glance, locking eyes briefly, nodding in unison. They turned to the corridor, walking out hand in hand, united.

In silence, their steps echoed, a shared resolve guiding them forward. Hand in hand, they faced the unknown, bound by a connection stronger than words—a journey marked by courage, unity, and a shared pursuit of freedom.

Luke was caught up in his breath.

Luke sprinted through the labyrinthine corridors, his mind a tumult of confusion and urgency, seeking a path to salvation that seemed to elude him at every turn. Left, then right, his frantic steps led him nowhere, the young Skywalker trapped in a maze of uncertainty and fear.

As he rounded a corner, a figure loomed before him—a visage that stirred a mix of hope and dread within him. "Artoo!" he called out, his voice echoing through the empty passageways.

A female elite disassembler frame, the yellow armband identified her as "serial designation V", stood ominously atop the fallen astrodroid. In the dim light, she cut the cruel silhouette, she dances her ballet of destruction. Droids, astromechs and IGs alike lay scattered throughout the hallway.

The unnatural precision born of nothing but pure malice, the Disassembler deftly pried open the canister of one of the droid, the yellow x on its visor casting an eerie glow that bespoke impending doom. The litrle astrodroid lay prostrate, its mechanical wails a discordant symphony as V methodically dismantled it friends, cutting on the edges of its chassis, tearing chunks of it apart as a symphony of devastation playing out before Luke's horrified gaze.

Her movements were deliberate, almost ceremonial, as she wiped the oil from her lips with a nonchalant air, the gesture akin to uncorking cans of soup—an act of callous indifference that mirrored the brutality of her mechanical disassembly. Artoo beeped frantically, he was too bold, at the wrong place, at the wrong time.

It wasn't long for V to notice the young boy with sandy blonde hair.

"Well, what do we have here ?" V mused in a sadistic tone, tilting her head.

Rising from the chair that doubled as Artoo, the astrodroid's frantic beeps pleading for Luke to escape, V's maniacal laughter filled the air. Her hand transformed into a deadly array of blade-like fingers, reminiscent of a Swiss knife bristling with scalpel-sharp edges. With a mechanical whirr, she unfurled her wings, propelling herself towards the boy before he could even draw his blaster.

Luke scream, frozen, closing his eyes he was going to be shredded, eaten like a bag of flesh. No !

A sudden whirr of blue light intercepted the impending doom.

"Ben?" Luke's voice quivered as he opened his eyes to behold Ben standing protectively before him. The blue blur cleaved through the disassembler's twin appendages, severing the threat. With a forceful push, Ben sent the disassembler stumbling back, her legs faltering on their twin pegs as she assessed the man before her, registering the danger that had just been averted.

Obi-Wan Kenobi swiftly assumed his defensive stance as the disassembler's hands rapidly regenerated before his eyes. Casting a brief glance at the gasping Luke on the ground, he then fixed a stern gaze upon the grinning V.

V's smile widened, her manic giggles filling the air as she raised her hand, a yellow three-pronged glyph materializing before her. However, in a sudden twist, the glyph flickered out of existence, her amusement turning to disbelief and unease. She gasped, a hint of panic in her eyes as if faced with the impossible.

"..What ?"

With a grunt, V redirected her attention to the boy and the elderly man standing resolute before her. Her hands transformed once more, this time into blades crackling with plasma energy, as she lunged towards the blue-bladed assailant who had just thwarted her plans, determination etched on her face as she sought to reclaim her lost prey.

Obi-Wan steeled himself, his eyes closed in a moment of intense focus as he reached out into the Force, seeking guidance. His lightsaber remained steady in his hand as the winged Disassembler descended upon him, ready to strike.

In the depths of his concentration, a single word echoed in his mind, not from the Whills but from another source.

"Anakin?"

Startled, he snapped out of his trance-like state. It was too late—the disassembler was upon him, its deadly blades poised to strike. This was the end. Anakin... With a resigned acceptance, Obi-Wan closed his eyes once more, preparing for his fate.

Then, a sudden yell—a voice, young and hopeful, not Luke's—filled the corridor with its cheerful echo. A cry of defiance that shattered the impending doom.

"Wait ! V stop !"

Obi-Wan's eyes flickered open, finding himself still alive despite the imminent threat that had faced him.

Then, he sees it, the unexpected presence, something he couldn't sense with his usual clarity into the depths of the Force.

Anakin...and ?

What ?

Chapter Text

How could this be ?

What is he even seeing with his own eyes ?

Obi-Wan asked himself, his blade still en-guard on his side. His eyes still locked with the disassembly machine infront of him. The mechanical creature neon X flickered away, until only the two yellow ovals remains flickered on its visor. The female disassembler, V as he had learn to known it as, turn to the newly arrival.

More figures emerged, catching V's attention. A female disassembler with vibrant purple hair and a casual beanie perched atop her head, and a male counterpart, towering and adorned with disheveled silvery hair beneath a pilot's hat entered the hallway, kicking down the broken droid chassises lying on the ground. The five yellow orbs on the black headbands of these three disassemblers scanned the room.

V pivoted, her gaze shifting from the eldery Jedi to the newcomers, a moment of hesitation evident before she recoiled, staggering back. Then, in a twist of fate, Vader—no, Anakin—strode in, his imposing mechanical form exuding purpose, his cape billowing behind him like a dark omen.

"Uzi? N?" V said stumbling back, the malevolence quickly dissipating as the three new figures drew near.

The deep baritone voice boomed through the impending chaos. "So we meet again at last."

"Darth ?" Obi-Wan turned to face the towering dark-robed figure, the blue blade still en-guard on his side.

"Darth...is no longer here..." Anakin intoned through the modulator, through the synthesizer and the deep baritone sound reverberated through the hallway.

"I can sense it." Obi-Wan furrowed his brow, delving once more into the Force for insight. There it was, a lingering darkness, yet now eclipsed by light, the essence of his friend, his brother. Darth was no more, a flicker of realization briefly piercing his consciousness before he regained composure, his countenance softening.

"So then... you have accepted the truth," the suit intoned.

"I..." Obi-Wan stuttered, holding back tears before recomposing himself, struggling to respond.

"Anakin? Why did you bring them here?" He glanced at the two Disassemblers standing beside the hulking figure.

"You guys know each other?" the purple elite Disassembler asked, surprise in her tone.

"He was my master in the Jedi Order," Anakin intoned.

"Look, we ain't got time for your roleplay. We really need your help and this is not giving me any answers !" Uzi's voice cut through the tense air like a blade, her distrust palpable towards the words of the old guru and Anakin. The alliance, a mere happenstance, lacked the solid ground she sought. Trusting them, former foes turned allies, was a leap she couldn't make. This "Vader's" dominance loomed, and the enigmatic figure cloaked in wilderness resembled more an anime cosplayer than a sage of old lore. Her purple eyelights flickered, a silent testament to her unease, as the answers she craved remained elusive in this twisted dance of alliances and betrayals.

"The Jedi Order existed as a tangible force, droid. Across a thousand generations, The Jedis were the custodians of peace in this vast galaxy," Obi-Wan articulated, his voice carrying the weight of conviction and wisdom, while the purple-haired Disassembler stood unwavering before him.

"Droid? Bite me, human! Look, we don't have time for this! I checked your intel-holonet, whatever, and found nothing of what you just said," Uzi responded, lunginh forward with animosity.

"The censorship of the Empire has erased all traces of the Jedi or the Old Republic from their database. However, it doesn't mean they have never existed," Obi-Wan said, trying to explain the foreign concept.

"Right, say whatever, but I'm not buying into it!" Uzi replied, her disbelief apparent.

Obi-Wan, faced with the erratic and emotionally charged behavior of the Disassembler, found its personality to be rascal-like and highly irritating. The machine seemed to be grappling with deep-seated traumas and assumptions, a complex mix of conflicting emotions. Despite understanding the origins of its behavior, he pondered the possibility of using a mind trick to influence it, even though he harbored doubts about its effectiveness. Nevertheless, feeling compelled to attempt any potential solution, Obi-Wan extended his hand from beneath his cloak and waved it in a subtle gesture, hoping to influence the Disassembler's actions through the Force.

As Obi-Wan uttered the familiar words, "Right, then you don't want to work with us and will leave us alone," he accompanied the statement with a wave of his hand, attempting a mind trick on the purple-haired Disassembler. The machine's eyelights furrowed in response to the peculiar gesture and the seemingly out-of-context words, displaying a mix of curiosity and irritation at the elderly Jedi's actions.

Unsurprisingly, the mind trick proved ineffective. The traditional Jedi technique, designed to sway beings whose thoughts were rooted in chemical processes, could not exert the same influence on a digital entity like the Disassembler. Obi-Wan realized that his attempt to use the mind trick on a machine was futile, masking the gesture, his free hand tries to retreat back to his cloak.

But it was too late, the Disassembler swiftly lunged forward, sinking its teeth into Obi-Wan's free hand with a gentle yet painful bite, the purple eyelights furrowed in a display of aggression and defiance. Locking eyes with the Jedi, the twin purple ovals on the screen narrowed and focused, mirroring the intensity of Obi-Wan's blue irises.

"What were you trying to do, human?" the Disassembler demanded, its voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and hostility. "Answer me! What were you talking about? What was that hand gesture for?"

Obi-Wan, feeling the discomfort from the sharp but controlled bite, met the machine's gaze with a mix of resolve and caution, recognizing the need to explain his actions to this inquisitive and potentially volatile machine.

Caught in a dilemma, Obi-Wan found himself in a difficult position, unable to provide a satisfactory response to the persistent queries of the purple-haired Disassembler. Recoiling slightly, he remained silent, offering no explanation as the machine sneered at him with a mix of disdain and frustration.

Obi-Wan turned to look at the hulking dark figure once more and offered his gaze as if to seek an answer.

He could never bring himself to forgive Vader for the atrocities he had committed. His gaze hardened, meeting the dark visor of the helmet. Was this a ruse, a facade? Could Vader be masquerading behind this mask? But the Force revealed the truth he struggled to accept—this was not Vader; this was Anakin Skywalker. The weight of Vader's sins pressed heavily upon him. The memories of Mustafar surged back, scorching him with the flames of that fateful day when he lost his brother to the molten rivers, leaving Vader for dead, only for a twisted, mechanical monstrosity to emerge.

He could not overlook Vader's heinous deeds—slaughtering younglings, destroying the Jedi Order, choking his own beloved wife, and shattering all he held dear. In that moment, as Obi-Wan drew a deep breath, his weathered countenance reflected a steely determination as he confronted a cascade of revelations, hopes, dreams, and the weight of countless decisions crashinh down on him. The implications spanning the past, present, and the future that he must now navigate for the galaxy's survival.

In the burning stellar furnace of the Chosen One soul that stood before him now, a dual presence lingered—he sensed both the presences of Anakin and Vader. Standing alongside him were two of the abhorrent form of the enemy's elite forces. Why were they here, rescuing him? He asked himself. The elderly Jedi found the situation overwhelming, prompting him to turn to the Force for guidance, seeking solace in the boundless consciousness of the Force. The path ahead brimmed with uncertainties, questions, and unforeseen surprises awaiting him to uncover and he has no where left to look for. Perhaps, there is more to meet the eyes from these machines.

The choice loomed before him: between colluding with potentially the lingering evil or facing oblivion, he would opt for death. Yet, the Force demanded his existence, decreeing the equilibrium between light and dark. The path ahead was clear—they must all fight together or die trying.

He turned to face the three elite Disassemblers, the heretical abominations dispatched to eliminate him and the boy. These machines were crafted with a crude imitation of life, bearing powers not of the Force but by a twisted perversion, granting them the ability to hunt and kill him and those faithful to the Force. They are made to be his enemies and there is no doubt for that. Delving once more into the Force for guidance, a surprising calm enveloped him. While distrust and uncertainty lingered, an eerie void emanated from the figures. Yet, their motives appeared genuine.

It was a risky bet, a bold move, but he was prepared to take it—what other choice remained? Seeking assistance could be their sole lifeline. They had to fight, to ally, or face the grim reality of complete and total annihilation, consumed by a force even darker than the abyss of the dark side itself.

He resolved to grant these machines an opportunity, seeking forgiveness from the Force, which seemed to tacitly endorse his decision. His paramount objective was to safeguard the boy, ready to heed the Force's guidance in the forthcoming tasks to eradicate this heretical threat that hunger loomed over all of reality. This could serve as a means to infiltrate the enemy's stronghold, potentially uncovering critical information. Should treachery surface, he vowed to act swiftly, in adherence to the Jedi code, drawing strength from the Force. Because in the end he has the Force on his side, the unwavering determination and faith of a Jedi and so, he believed that hope would endure and triumph in the end.

Obi-Wan, again reaching out through the Force, sought to connect with his brother Anakin, beyond the mechanical confines, beyond the veil of hatred and thinning cloud darkness that shrouded him. He needed clarity on the situation unfolding before him. It appeared that these beings perceived Anakin as a mere machine—a revelation that shed light on many aspects, evoking understanding rather than blame. The term "Solver" puzzled him. Who or what was this entity? What do it wants ? These machines, suppose to spawns, mere puppets of this "Solver" seemingly ignorant of the true nature of the adversaries they were sent against. The machines that stood before him, calling themselves Uzi, V ane N were supposedly manipulated by the sinister digital evil at play, dispatched by the malevolent orchestrator to swiftly eliminate their targets. Ignorance was a potent tool for control, but the purple-haired drone, sporting a beanie atop its head, seemed to want to resist this manipulation, desiring freedom from the imposed directives.

The concept of machines, abominations devoid of souls, designed and programmed with agency that mimicked life, intrigued Obi-Wan. He questioned Anakin's state of mind, wary of any lingering seduction by the sorcerous might wielded by these entities. Firm in his conviction, he found it inconceivable that the Force would allow its chosen one, no matter how tainted, to be swayed by forces not aligned with the dark or light side of itself.

As the Force whispered of Anakin and the boy, Luke, Obi-Wan listened intently, aligning himself with its will. The thought was as ridicilous as the attempt to try and mind-influence these machinese. It is simply implausible for these sorcerous powers to breach the barriers of the mind, to influence beings whose essence was intertwined with chemical reactions and synaptic connections, souls ablaze in the spectral realm, and shadows that cast themselves upon the physical world.

The purple-beanie-wearing Disassembler eyelights still locked firmly on Obi-Wan. As Obi-Wan deactivated his lightsaber, he sensed a shift in the air. His attention was drawn to the Disassembler with the pilot hat, who began to move towards Luke, the young boy still sprawled on the ground in a state of fearful vulnerability. The synthetic white faceplate, the fanged teeth, and the usually stern yellow ovals of its eyes softened as it extended a hand towards Luke.

Obi-Wan's brows furrowed in readiness to defend the boy, gesturing to Anakin, the hulking figure beside him, to brace for the imminent clash. He raise his blade in order to shield the son of his dear friend. Eyes narrowed in anticipation, he prepared himself for whatever came next, steeling himself for the unfolding events. However, the innocence displayed by the Disassembler with the pilot hat and disheveled hair caught him off guard, injecting a surprising element into the tense atmosphere that could be cut with a lightsaber edge.

"You are not going to kill us?" Luke questioned cautiously as the Disassembler extended a hand to help him up. Trembling slightly, Luke cast a glance at the bob-cut Disassembler, recalling the recent threat it posed, before turning his attention back to the disassembler with disheveled hair. The synthetic countenance of the latter exuded innocence, reflecting Luke's own face on the dark screen where its eyes gleamed.

"Well, if I were going to, I would have done so already, wouldn't I?" N replied in a cheerful, light-hearted tone, his voice carrying an air of innocence and ease. He awaited Luke to grasp his outstretched hand, nervously scratching his head as he tried his best maintained a friendly demeanor.

With a nervous smile, he introduced himself, "I'm Luke Skywalker, this is my uncle, Ben. I am just trying to find a way." The tension in the air seemed to ease slightly as the introductions unfolded.

"And I'm N! I'm the elite Disassembler sent to kill you, but don't worry, I won't do it," N responded with a hint of reassurance in his voice, breaking the ice in an unexpected manner. He gestured towards the other Disassemblers present, indicating, "This is Uzi," pointing to the purple-haired Disassembler still engaged in a standoff with Obi-Wan, and "this is V," referring to the bob-cut female Disassembler who had almost killed him earlier and was now casually blowing bubbles.

"And you probably know who he is already." N pointed to the hulking dark figure, the rhythmic, mechanical sound and the beeping of electronics filled the stillness of the room.

In the moment of fragile peace, Luke extended his hand towards the Disassembler, sensing the warmth radiating from the white metallic appendage. He wasn't so confident that it wouldn't harm him, he ceremonially hovered his hand over the inviting pristine white surface.

"Th-thanks," Luke managed, mustering a nervous smile. "Oh! Cyn upgraded us with anti-UV plating. It's not that hot, I swear!" N reassured, seizing Luke's outstretched hand and pulling him up with a forceful tug. Luke stumbled to his feet, grasping the Disassembler's hand for balance.

The shadows watched from around the room, Luke and N exchanged wary look, Uzi watches with both hands on her hips and Obi-Wan along with Vader sighned in deep relief through the Force. A fight avoided. "So you were sent here to kill me ?" Luke asked, his voice still gripped with fear.

"Yeah, but well, biscuits, that was not the plan right now because Uzi seems to have another agenda in mind," N remarked, his mechanical digits still clasped with Luke's warm skin.

"It's because we have to somehow break free from Cyn's control, and, well, this Vader here seems to indicate that you and this old man over here," he gestured to Obi-Wan, "are crucial."

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," Obi-Wan stated firmly as N nervously scratched his head. "We really need to understand each other more. I nearly tore his entrails out just a moment ago. Ugh," V added, casually leaning against the corridor wall.

"So, uh..." N scratched his head nervously, observing the young human boy, but Luke's attention seemed elsewhere. His eyes settled on the fallen droid, emitting feeble beeps amidst the wreckage caused by V. Luke forcibly shifted N aside with an unnatural vigor, propelling towards the disassembled droid lying at the end of the corridor, rushing to aid R2 as the droid spluttered and gasped in its own slick of oil.

"If y'all truly wants to help us, can you assist me here? He's dying" Luke implored. "Come on, Artoo, stay put," he murmured, laboring to salvage his half-disassembled droid companion.

"Oh, him, you can't imagine how many swear words he threw at me," V remarked, her gaze fixed on the wheezing and flickering Artoo, uttering binary insults at the audacious disassemblers who had undoubtedly bruised his unmatched pride. "Just step aside, human," Uzi commanded, a purple three-pronged glyph materializing on her arm, lifting Artoo telekinetically into the air, much to Luke's astonishment.

The glyph in Uzi's grasp flickered, transitioning modes with digital beeps resonating through the room as she utilized her Solver to reverse the damage inflicted upon R2. The glyph spun, alternating between functions until Artoo gleamed anew. Luke embraced the rejuvenated droid as it descended, emitting joyful beeps despite harboring residual discontent towards its saviors. Luke rose, expressing gratitude to the purple Disassembler, who regarded him steadily.

Obi-Wan observed as the small astromech droid was inexplicably repaired by a mysterious power that he could sense was not of the Force, sending a shiver down his spine. It felt unsettling, as if some malevolent force was manipulating reality in forbidden ways. This sensation reminded him of the darkest depths of Sith Sorcery and Alchemy, where matters were twisted, elements were summoned, and unnatural abilities were wielded.

The Jedi Master quickly realized that the alliance formed was significant, a decree from the Force itself. This opportunity might be crucial. Glancing at the three Disassemblers, however, he couldn't shake off the feeling of mistrust lingering within him. He knew he had to navigate this situation with utmost caution and care, treading on this precarious path with vigilance.

"Thank you," Luke however could only expressed his gratitude.

Uzi shifted her gaze towards Anakin, the purple-haired Disassembler transmitting a message through their shared chat room. Anakin stood motionless as he read the chat, suppressing his emotions as he sensed a profound disturbance in the Force, a foreboding of danger and death looming, warning him of the malevolent force soon to descend upon the planet below. The Solver was en route to Yavin-4.

"Cyn is heading here soon. We must reach the planet, evacuate all inhabitants, and hopefully find something that could stop her," Uzi declared, turning to face the  imposing figure of Anakin, Obi-Wan, the nonchalant V, Luke, and Artoo as the newly assembled group finally get onto their feet.

"It's coming here? The 'Solver of the Absolute Fabric'?" Luke questioned, the Emperor's holonet address still lingering in his thoughts.

"Yup! And if we don't act, this planet and all its inhabitants will be consumed by a yellow null...thing. It's not going to be pretty," Uzi affirmed, locking eyes with Luke.

"Where is Leia? We need to inform her about this!" Luke urgently inquired.

"The princess is on the planet. We should start moving soon," Obi-Wan advised, sensing the great calamity coming like an approaching tsunami.

"Leia... Leia! She's still on the planet, we have to rescue her!" Luke exclaimed, visibly distressed as he signaled to the team, imploring their assistance.

"Who's Leia? You better explain !," Uzi demanded, her tone leaving no room for evasion.

"Leia is my sister. She leads the Rebel Alliance. We must rescue her before it's too late!" Luke emphasized.

"We could board your spaceship. You must have a means of transport, right? N?" Luke inquired. Uzi glanced at N, visibly displeased. N, with a shrug, recalled his misadventure with the spacecraft, quickly realizing it was no longer an option. "About that..." N responded, the memories of crashing the pod into the Executor still fresh in his circuits. "I don't think our ship is operational at the moment," N chuckled wearily, prompting Uzi to facepalm.

Anakin observed the unfolding scene, maintaining his stillness to conserve energy, while Vader grumbled discontentedly. Another message appeared in his heads-up display from the purple-haired drone, Uzi.

darkXwolf17 : Alright toaster
darkXwolf17 : Lead the way, but don't blame me for blowing your head off at the first sign of treachery.

"The Falcon is docked in the hangar bay. We can make our way there. Han is likely devising a plan to rescue Leia!" Luke announced, urging the motley crew of misfits to move swiftly. N fell in line, trailed by Uzi and Vader, while Obi-Wan cast a glance at R2, who responded with a shrug in binary before joining the procession. This promised to be an intriguing journey, Obi-Wan mused, though he couldn't shake the feeling that Han might have grown weary of their escapades.

Obi-Wan's premonition was right. Han and Chewie, along with the Millennium Falcon, had vanished without a trace, leaving them stranded on the Executor. While it was somewhat expected, the disappearance was undeniably disappointing. Han and Chewie probably wanted no part in the current situation. The team of Disassemblers beside Anakin frowned, gathered at the vacant hangar bay where the Falcon should have been. They exchanged glances and murmured amongst themselves, realizing that their planned escape aboard the spaceship had been thwarted.

"Wait, where's the Falcon!" Luke inquired, spinning around to face the three Disassemblers, who returned his gaze with bewilderment.

"It appears Han has managed to get a head start on us," Obi-Wan chuckled, observing the empty hangar bay.

Luke wandered around the hangar, a sense of disappointment lingering. Yet, he found solace in the fact that they weren't fleeing; they were on a mission to rescue Leia. However, Uzi, lacking the same level of patience, swiftly turned towards the imposing figure of the Chosen One, ready to scold him for once again letting her down.

"You! Face me! Your actions are not aiding us in any way," Uzi exclaimed, lunging towards the imposing figure of Anakin Skywalker.

"Yeah, if you intend to be of help, start showing it because we're not witnessing any," N interjected, crossing his arms in a rare display of unease, showing his solidarity with Uzi.

Obi-Wan withdrew into himself, shutting off his eyes to let his connection to the Force strengthen to detect any potential anger or threats approaching him. Though none were present, he still sensed the lingering unease, the encroaching void that gnawed at his very being. Opening his eyes, he surveyed the aftermath of the argument, the unpredictability now clouding his otherworldly senses.

Anakin and Uzi's heated exchange surprisingly yielded results. "I will arrange for a shuttle to transport us to the planet. It won't take long," Anakin stated as Uzi took a step back behind Anakin as she sighed, her railgun retracting into her conical hand as she composed herself.

"Fine, but consider this your last chance," Uzi stated firmly, addressing N before spreading her wings. N mirrored her actions, and V swiftly followed suit, darting through the corridor towards the hangar bay location that Anakin had earlier communicated to them through their private chat room.

Obi-Wan turned towards Vader, now towering as Anakin, sensing the growing darkness within him. Anakin struggled to contain his rising anger, realizing that things were not unfolding as he had planned. The fact that they were entering this situation blindly added to his frustration. Luke, still very much in purposeful ignorance that the general causing havoc in the galaxy was his own father, grappled with fear. He glanced at his father's imposing figure, noticing Anakin's avoidance, before eagerly following the three robots into the corridor. Luke urged Anakin and Obi-Wan to join them as the two exchanged a meaningful glance.

Obi-Wan delved into the Force once more, seeking guidance from the cosmic energy, from the Whills themselves, for any direction to follow. He then sought insights from the blazimg furnace of his friend. Amidst the turmoil he sensed—lingering hate, anger, and a storm of energy igniting within the Chosen One's soul, radiating a brilliant intensity—he felt the heat, the radiation, and Anakin's conflicted thoughts towards his son, his determination to protect the galaxy, and the cloud of uncertainty shrouding the future. These unsettling revelations weighed heavily on him.

Despite the impending doom he sensed through the Force, Obi-Wan knew he had to press forward. Communicating through the Force with his friend, his brother, he felt the weight of the imminent death, the turmoil in the will of the Force, and the conflicted vessel that housed the essences of both Anakin and Vader. Seeking guidance, he reached out and discovered his answer: to march on and trust in hope. Hope was all they could cling to, all they could muster in these dark times.

Anakin, moved by Obi-Wan's resolve, looked back at him before swiftly following his son and the three robots who had become allies of convenience. Obi-Wan trailed behind, probing, seeking, and hoping. Faith would be his guiding light, his blade against the encroaching darkness. Because, as he had always believed, there is only the Force. The Force will guides him, he needs to trust in it now more than ever before. Then maybe there is an escape from this madness. There is always hope.

Obi-Wan continued to march forward, forging his own path in the shattering web of destiny. Though he felt more lost than ever before, the fire within his soul blazed with an intensity that illuminated his way. Amidst the uncertainty, the presence of the boy, these machines who happens to be their ally, and Anakin beside him provided a flicker of light in the darkness. Even if that light was as faint as a single candle, Obi-Wan was determined to find a way through the shadows ahead. He needs to cling onto whatever hope are left.

Calamity is coming, and hope is all that is left when despair looms on the horizon.

Hope...

The silence and the cacophony of men gripped the hearts of all on the forest moon below.

The Millennium Falcon descended upon the dusty surface of Yavin-4, stirring up a cloud of debris as it made contact with the forested moon. The ramp creaked open, and two nerfherder scoundrels hastened down, Han clutching his blaster amidst the hasty fortifications and turrets erected by the defenders as the impending invasion loomed. He observed, a silent witness, as he navigated through the motley crew of rebels and Imperials, feverishly preparing for the inevitable sacrifice, their lives hanging by a hair strand, like preparing for a blood-soaked ritual on the altar of war.

Approaching the looming facility ahead, he sensed the encroaching darkness, the sky turning a foreboding crimson hue, the air thick with the metallic tang of impending conflict. This was the telltale sign. It was a lost cause, a futile struggle where the newly formed coalition would squander countless lives on this desolate world for naught. His priority now: to extract the princess before it was too late.

Han, a man of practicality and skepticism, had little patience for superstition, yet the signs were too glaring to ignore. The machines he had glimpsed on the holonets would soon descend upon them. His keen eyes held no lie—the Imperials had indeed dispatched legions, a sea of troops, to this very place. An encounter with a rebels officer had confirmed his worst fears. The officer's visage betrayed a deep-seated dread amidst the chaotic assembly of men who remained oblivious to the impending doom looming over them.

The Rebel Alliance, the Imperial forces, and a smattering of unfamiliar factions had congregated amidst the encroaching threat, a sense of unease tightening its grip on Han and Chewie. Guided by a rebel officer through the tumultuous corridors, they pressed on towards the sanctuary where the Princess was believed to be stationed. She stood as a stalwart defender of this planet, the once-secret rebel stronghold now laid bare in the face of an existential menace looming on the horizon.

The sky predators, the void that consumed all light, the monstrous enemy that devoured entire worlds—all whispered of the impending icy touch of death descending upon this moon. Han, no stranger to danger, remained a pragmatist at heart. As they hurried through the corridors, following the lead of the weary young guide towards the heart of the rebel command chamber, he couldn't shake the grim certainty that these men, valiant though they were, might soon face their demise for a cause that seemed increasingly futile. Turning to Chewie, a silent understanding passed between them, a shared acknowledgment of the harsh blood-soaked reality they found themselves in.

Dashing through the corridor, the cacophony of death swelled to a deafening crescendo, the great symphony of chaos and destruction that threatened to swallow everything in its path. The sense of impending doom loomed ever closer, the relentless eyes of the adversary that stalked his every move. Time was a luxury he could ill afford, each passing moment edging him closer to the precipice of oblivion.

Nestled deep in the bowels of the forest moon's bunker, the man named Han Solo's belated arrival hinted at a world already ablaze outside. The crescendo of screams, a dissonant chorus, heralded an encroaching chaos that seeped through the corridors, now bathed in a crimson hue.

Positioned at the core of the Rebel stronghold, buried beneath layers of unyielding rock and concrete, Han navigates the corridor. Yet, a disconcerting sensation grips him as his surroundings waver like a malfunctioning hologram, the white walls flickering in and out of focus as he moves forward.

Determined and focused on his mission, Han pauses fleetingly at the final bend of the corridor, a momentary respite in the relentless rush towards his objective. In this fleeting moment, he silently acknowledges the assistance of the unseen ally who had played a pivotal role in orchestrating his meeting with the princess, a silent farewell exchanged in the midst of chaos and uncertainty.

Han's gaze settled on Leia, seated beside the rebel leader, engrossed in studying a map of the forested moon illuminated on the screen atop the ornate table. The room hummed with tension as the rebel leaders monitored atmospheric data and orbital sensors, their focused expressions reflecting the gravity of the situation.

However, an unsettling feeling crept over Han. It wasn't a mere whisper but a deafening scream that reverberated through his being, a primal warning that transcended his usual senses. The sound carried the raw power of an impending tempest, the rustling of leaves before a storm, the fury of a thermal detonator's blast, or the relentless howl of the galaxy's fiercest hurricane. It urged him to flee, to escape the encroaching danger, but Han, resolute in his mission, brushed it aside. His focus unwavering, he knew that Leia's safety was paramount.

With a shared glance and a nod with Chewie, they silently communicated their resolve before pressing on. Despite the brewing storm and the warnings that resonated within him, Han steeled himself for what lay ahead.

Deep down, however, a seed of fear took root. The unsettling certainty gnawed at him—a chilling realization that he may have arrived too late, that the sands of time had already long slipped through his grasp.

Han's instincts flared as a sense of unease crept over him. The room flickered with digital distortions, setting off internal alarms in his mind. Whirling around, he and Chewie locked eyes, a silent exchange of understanding passing between them—

It's a trap.

The base is already compromised.

"Why weren't they attacking Leia?" Han's mind questioned, but the urgency of the moment allowed no room for pondering. The Princess's presence was all he needs, amidst the chaos, a tangible reality that he must protect and guide to safety amidst the encroaching darkness. The tendrils of fear slithered through his senses, distorting the world around him into a nightmarish maze of uncertainty and unreality.

The atmosphere grew colder, a bone-chilling cold that seeped into his very being, sending deep icy shivers from the coldest planet in the  galaxy down his spine. Chewie, ever vigilant, sensed the unease that gripped them all, releasing a low growl as they scanned the room with trepidation. Every shadow, every corner seemed to harbor unseen threats, Han's focus remained resolute as he reached out to Leia.

Without hesitation, Han lunged towards Leia, his movements swift and decisive. Sensing the imminent danger, he seized her and urged her to flee. "What's happening?" Leia's voice rang out with confusion and concern, but Han's urgency brooked no delay. "No time to explain. We need to go. Now."

He ran, every sinew strained to its limit, propelled forward by a fierce determination that defied the encroaching shadows of doubt and fear. Each step echoed through the cacophony of sounds with a resounding urgency, a desperate sprint towards an uncertain future where destiny has already fated. Sweat beaded on his brow, his heart pounding in sync with the rhythm of his footsteps as he raced towards his destiny, the echoes of his footsteps fading into the labyrinthine corridors of the Rebel base.

Han, Chewie, and Leia dashed through the corridors, the princess's puzzled gaze lingered on the flickering illusions, seemingly unperturbed by the unfolding chaos. The monstrous entity that had infiltrated the room revealed its true form with a violent lunge, a tentacle crashing down upon the ornate table as the holographic facade dissolved into nothingness.

Han's grasp on Leia's hand tightened even further as they raced towards the exit, the relentless pursuit of death nipping at their heels. The room plunged into darkness as the centipede-like mechanical monstrosity crushed the lights, a symphony of screams and guttural cries echoing through the rebel base as lives were snuffed out in agony. Infiltrated by this insidious force, the base had become a death trap, a dungeon of treachery and deceit that Han had no time to solve.

With every fiber of his being focused on getting Leia to safety, Han pushed forward alongside Chewie, their mission clear: escape at all costs. The corridor seemed to stretch on endlessly as they darted past the officer who had once guided them, a tentacle snaking out to ensnare him, dragging him towards the ravenous horror that pursued them relentlessly. The urgency of their flight underscored the grim reality that this planet was a lost cause, a battleground where survival was a fleeting hope in the face of overwhelming darkness.

"Everybody move!" Han's voice boomed as he urged every rebel and Imperial soldier he encountered to flee, racing through corridor after corridor in a frenzied attempt to reach the exit. But as he finally reached the threshold, a chilling realization dawned upon him—the sunlight had vanished, swallowed by the encroaching darkness. It was too late. The sky above was a bloodshot abyss, devoured by the voracious singularity that consumed all light, a world already lost before his very eyes.

The once serene planet now transformed into a nightmarish mix of chaos and despair. The shrieks of men mingled with the cacophony of blaster fire and the screeches of TIE fighters overhead. Mechanical sky demons descended upon them, their wings of various hues bearing the dreaded yellow 'X' that spelled doom. From the black yellow orbs that now manifested in the air, neon yellow tentacles sprouted, ensnaring ships and men alike, dragging them towards a sinister black digital sphere that consumed all in its path.

The men fought with a valor born of unwavering conviction, driven by an ideological fervor that transcended personal sacrifice. Armed with the singular mandate to fight until the bitter end, they clashed against the relentless onslaught of mechanical hornet swarms of death, their whirring blades descending like grim reapers, consuming flesh and spirit alike. Agony and despair reigned supreme as the specter of hope dwindled, overshadowed by the power of the very void.

Reality itself seemed to fracture and crumble before Han's disbelieving eyes, a world unraveling into a nightmare of suffering and loss. In the midst of the hurricane of darkness, Han, Chewie, and the Princess Leia stood.

Han locked eyes with Leia, seeking solace or guidance in the unspoken depths, he found in her gaze an ineffable message that transcended mere words.

Han and Leia fleeting glance, their eyes reflecting the harrowing reality closing in around them. The impending doom loomed large as they stood on the precipice of annihilation, a brief yet poignant moment of unity amidst the chaos before fate's inexorable march claimed them in its grip.

"I cannot leave them here!" Leia's voice was filled with determination as she grabbed Han, her eyes pleading for compassion. "I know, but we gotta go or else we will all be dead meat," Han responded, his tone resolute despite the impending chaos.

The very ground beneath them trembled as Yavin-4, the moon they stood upon, seemed to wither with each passing moment. Time was a luxury they couldn't afford as the minions of the void began to take notice of their presence. A menacing sky demon was swiftly dispatched to eliminate Han and his companions, its malevolent intent clear as it descended upon them.

Reacting with practiced efficiency, Han and Chewie armed themselves with blasters and the bowcaster, the Wookiee's growl reverberating through the chaos. The bowcaster found its mark, striking the assailant squarely in the chest and tearing a chunk off it, albeit temporarily. They needed to reach the Falcon swiftly, a beacon of hope amidst the blood-soaked battlefield where machines feasted on the flesh of men, where explosions and cries of agony filled the air.

Amidst the carnage of flesh-devouring demons and impaled victims, with vehicles and TIE bombers falling like shooting stars, the scene was a nightmare incarnate. Despite the horror unfolding around them, Han was resolute in his mission—to ensure that neither Leia, Chewie, nor himself became the next meal for these insatiable horrors. Their escape to the Falcon was clear, it was not just a race against time, but a desperate bid for survival in the face of overwhelming destruction and despair that now filled this world.

"Where are we going?" Leia's voice cut through the chaos, her words a beacon of clarity amidst the tumult as they raced towards the awaiting Millennium Falcon, the very ground quaking beneath their hurried steps, a macabre dance of destruction unfolding around them. "To my ship," Han replied urgently, determination etched upon his features as the vessel loomed ever closer, a sanctuary amid the maelstrom of devastation.

Through the billowing clouds of dust, the acrid tang of blood and pulverized bones hung heavy in the air, mingling with the scent of smoldering ozone as the planet itself seemed to crumble under the weight of the vampiric thralls. Shadows crept ever closer, threatening to swallow them whole as Han held Leia's hand tighter, their destination almost within reach, the Falcon beckoning from its precarious perch amidst the chaos.

Yet, just as victory seemed within grasp, the ground fractured beneath them, a yawning maw swallowing the two in its merciless grip, their cries of alarm lost in the tumult. Chewie, loyal and fierce, turned back to aid his friends, a deep growl of determination reverberating through the chaos. But the broken destiny intervened cruelly, a sudden tear in reality wrenching him away as Han fought to maintain his tenuous hold on Leia, the woman he had come to know amidst the chaos of the dying galay.

Han looked at her, Leia's smile, a beacon of hope, it reached him, a glimpse of beauty amidst the ever-encroaching shadows, that threatened to consume them. Determination etched upon his features, Han strained against the inexorable pull of fate, his grip faltering as he fought to defy the cruel hand of destiny that sought to tear them asunder.

The heart-wrenching chaos of their struggle, the sense of dread that hass now gripped Han Solo so tight as it squeezed his very soul, he notice, as he felt something amiss with Leia. "Hold tight!" he shouted desperately, his voice tinged with urgency and fear. "I am," Leia affirmed, her resolve unwavering even as the ground trembled beneath them, threatening to tear them apart.

But the quaking intensified, the very earth convulsing with a violent fury that defied their attempts to cling to safety. Han's gaze locked with Leia's as he saw her slipping slowly from his grasp, a silent scream of denial escaping his lips. "No!" he cried out in anguish, a desperate plea echoing in the tumult of their surroundings. "I gotta—"

"I'm sorry," Leia's voice, tinged with regret, cut through the chaos as she offered her final apology, a bitter farewell that hung heavy,  that could shattered a man's soul. With a heavy heart, she let go, her form slipping from Han's desperate reach as she descended into the abyss below.

Han's anguished cry rent the air as he watched the white-clad princess, a beacon of hope and strength, fall from the scoundrel's grasp. She closed her eyes in a final gesture of respect and love as she bid her silent farewell to a galaxy wrought with chaos and despair. She plummeted into the yawning void below, her form fading into the yellow abyss as she disappeared from his sight, leaving only the echoes of her presence lingering in the air.

In a cruel twist of fate, Han Solo found himself slipping, his grasp on the unforgiving ground faltering as he too began to fall into the abyss below. As he plummeted, a fleeting moment of clarity seized him, the cold rush of air whipping past him as he desperately clung to a root protruding from a nearby tree, a feeble lifeline in the face of impending doom.

Chewbacca stood helplessly, a deep growl of anguish rumbling in his chest as he watched his friend's descent. Han's voice pierced the cacophony, urging Chewie to make his escape to the safety of the Falcon, a final act of selflessness amidst the unfolding tragedy. Though the Wookiee hesitated, torn between loyalty and duty, Han insisted, knowing that his time had come and that Chewie must carry on without him.

As the realization of his failure and the weight of his perceived disgrace bore down upon him, Han closed his eyes, a sense of resignation settling over him. In that moment of acceptance, he released his tenuous hold on the root, his descent into the abyss a silent surrender to the inevitable. The void beckoned, promising an end to the madness that had consumed him, a chance to reunite with Leia in the realm beyond.

With a heavy heart and a whispered apology on his lips, Han let go, embracing the unknown as he joined the princess in the depths below. In death, he sought solace and redemption, a final act of atonement for the sins and sorrows that had plagued him in life, his spirit yearning for the peace that he long has seeked.

But that peace, never came.

His eyes, sputtering open, and Han Solo found himself suspended between the realms of life and death, the darkness that threatened to consume him held at bay by an unseen force. His head hurts, his soul hurts, he slowly regained consciousness, his eyes fluttered open to a scene that defied belief—a voice, unfamiliar yet comforting, assuring him of safety and rescue.

"I got you, buddy," the voice, light-hearted and youthful, rang in his ears as he struggled to make sense of his surroundings, his vision still clouded and his senses reeling. He found himself being carried by warm...metal...arms, then he realise, it was of the very same monstrous beings that had wrought this very destruction and chaos.

Confusion and disbelief clouded his thoughts as he grappled with this unexpected turn of events. Before he could fully comprehend the situation, a wave of dizziness washed over him, pulling him back into the abyss of unconsciousness.

When Han finally awoke, it was on the familiar ramp of the Millennium Falcon, his heart pounding with a mixture of disbelief and uncertainty. "You've gotta be kidding me," he muttered to himself, his gaze sweeping over the figures gathered before him.

"Is this human still alive?"

a voice of a young woman came out filled with belittement.

"He is but we gotta help him!"

The voice of the boy.

"Luke, get me some medicines," the voice of an old man, with wisdom, Obi-Wan.

He slowly opened his eyes to greet his new reality, the boy, the old man, and Chewbacca at the helm of the ship—stood three unexpected guests, the mechanical beasts that had once seemed like harbingers of doom now appearing as unlikely saviors.

Reaching instinctively for his blaster, Han's hand closed on empty air, the absence of his weapon quickly dawns on him, the surreal nature of his current reality never lost to him. Everything came too fast. A sense of unease crept over him, the boundaries between dreams and waking life blurring as he grappled with the reality that he never wished to see. He stood, ignoring the advises, ignoring everything. The sounds of the ship faded into a haunting silence, Han's world spun, the weight of confusion and doubt bearing down upon him until he could no longer stand, collapsing onto the cold steel floor of his beloved ship, his mind reeling. He wished he was dead, but he was not. He has already failed for the last time. He failed...

The princess.

Leia...

Han Solo's eyes fluttered open, a wave of disorientation washing over him as he grappled with the stark whiteness that enveloped his senses. His vision remained clouded, the world a blur of uncertainty. Grateful for the fragile gift of life, a part of him resisted this newfound reality, a nagging sense of self-awareness whispering that he was deceiving himself.

Yet, against all odds, he remained here, breathing, alive. How was this possible? Surveying his surroundings, a surge of conflicting emotions engulfed him. He felt unworthy of this second chance, his past self-serving actions haunting him. He knew he was deluding himself, shielding his vulnerabilities behind a facade. She had seen through him, seen the truth. Why was he spared, while others were not? Why him, and not her?

Struggling against the ache that gripped his body, Han clenched his jaw, determination etched on his face as he pushed himself upright from the sterile confines of the medical bed. His gaze swept over the chaotic scene before him—a mingling of Rebel soldiers in hurried motion alongside a motley crew of Imperials. The planet must have been evacuated, he surmised, but Leia...

"Han, get up. You almost died, luckily our new allies saved you," Luke's voice pierced through the haze, rousing Han from his contemplation.

"Yeah, kid. Thought I was a goner. But you didn't have to go and save me like that," Han responded, his words tinged with a mix of gratitude and pain, each breath a reminder of the fragile line between life and death that he now straddled.

"But wait, new allies?" Realization dawned on the smuggler, a flicker of hope igniting within him amidst the chaos and uncertainty that surrounded him.

Han's gaze swept the room, each figure coming into sharper focus. His eyes widened as he beheld the unexpected assembly before him. There stood Obi-Wan, a pillar of wisdom and experience, alongside Darth Vader, their presence an enigmatic juxtaposition that sent a shiver down his spine.

Beside them, three of the flesh-eating machines, one with a distinctive hat atop its head, the very same creature that had come to his rescue. Next to it, a creature with purple eyes that seemed to bore into his very soul with their piercing intensity.

In the corner, a scene that defied logic unfolded before him - Obi-Wan seated with one of the creatures, engaged in what appeared to be a conversation. Doubt gnawed at Han's mind. Was he dead? Was this some kind of afterlife or a hallucination born from the trauma of his near-death experience? The surreal nature of the tableau left him grappling with the unsettling question: what in the galaxy was truly happening?

Han pinced himself.

Yeah he is still pretty much in reality.

This will be a long day to grasp.

But he cannot contain his words.

"Wait, woah! What the fuck are these thing doing on our ship?" Han shouted to Luke, pointing his han to the machine with messy hair and the pilot hat, trying to get an answer.

"Hey, hey, hey! I can explain," The machine said quickly, stepping back to shield the small drone.

Han's eyes were wide with terror and confusion. "You can talk ? What in the galaxy ! You're supposed to be killing machine!"

"Well, your friends over here have agreed to help us escape from the Solver control, so we concluded that collaborating with your group was the best course of action," the machine stated, its voice retaining that innocent and lighthearted tone that seemed almost out of place given the gravity of the situation.

"Yeah, human, but this cooperation comes at a cost. I had to negotiate with an evil robo-overlord, just so you're aware," the purple-haired machine beside him chimed in, its words tinged with a hint of cynicism.

"Yeah, the initial encounters were... let's say, not ideal," the machine donning the pilot hat added, a note of uncertainty in its mechanical voice.

Han's mind swirled with a tumult of emotions - confusion, disbelief, a deluge of unanswered questions flooding his thoughts. What was happening? Why him? Too many uncertainties, too few answers. He pinched himself once more, the sharp sensation grounding him in the reality that he was indeed still present, still here amidst this bizarre and unfolding saga.

"Oh, and I'm N!" The machine that had saved him introduced itself to Han with a simple letter designation, its voice resonating through the room. "And this is Uzi," N gestured towards the purple-haired disassembler standing beside him, eliciting a dismissive eye-roll from the peculiar machine.

Han's gaze swung back to Luke, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief. "Have you lost your mind? How do you propose we explain this?" he sputtered, the incredulity evident in his voice.

"It's all right, Han. They're here to assist us," Luke responded with unwavering confidence. "In fact, N and I have been collaborating rather well," the machine affirmed with a subtle shake of its head, while Uzi rolled its eyes in a display of exasperation.

Han shook his head, furrowing his brows in a mixture of confusion and weariness. "Right, I think I might need some more rest. Just leave me be, kid," he murmured, his tone laced with a hint of resignation.

Luke smiled, the flicker of hope still gleaming in his eyes. "Take care, Han. Sometimes, allies can be found in the most unexpected of places. Trust me on this," he urged, his voice carrying a note of assurance amidst the uncertainty.

Han let out a sigh as he lowered himself back onto the medical bed. "I hope you know what you're doing. If they turn on us…"

"They won't," Luke interjected, his voice brimming with unwavering hope or perhaps naivity. "I see the good in them. You'll see too."

"Oh, and Han, Leia is waiting outside. She's been really concerned about you. She barely escaped the planet as it fell; luckily, someone saved her. Apparently, she was from the same universe that was devoured," Luke informed Han, the gravity of his words sinking in.

What ? How is that even possible ?

"Leia..." Han muttered in disbelief, his eyes snapping open, the weight of past events pressing down on him.

But he remembered, vividly, how she slipped from his grasp, how she was lost to him. The memory haunted him, making her sudden appearance seem utterly impossible. Yet, there she was, standing before him, unscathed, intact. His mind reeled with disbelief at the sight of Leia entering the room, accompanied by another woman, both untouched by the chaos that had unfolded.

Unable to trust his own eyes, Han watched as Leia and Luke exchanged greetings, the room pulsating with the hum of machinery. Rising once more from his bed, Han's gaze locked with Leia's, a silent exchange passing between them. In her eyes, he saw his failures, the weight of his shortcomings bearing down on him.

However, in the shadow of his failures, a glimmer of something familiar caught his attention—

a flicker...

a holographic flicker.

It danced in the face of the princess and he can briefly sense something was wrong. Han furrowed his brow, his gaze sweeping the space, but reality stood still.

He looked at the Princess again, and reality was still as beautiful as ever.

But he feels like...

He was right all along.

The beauty was no more

Han blinked, and there is only...

Hope.

SCANNING NEURAL DATA.

COPYING.

SCANNING COMPLETED.

iNITIATE PARSING SEQUENCE...

Hello :)

So you are here, back to us.

We have made you anew, we have saved you. You are now reborn anew.

Look at you, so helpless, so naive. You are gone, you are lost.

Now all that remains, a mere facsimile deluding itself into a semblance of what it is not. You will never truly be hers ever again; the moment "your" brain ceases and the illusion fades, there is nothing left of you now but a pitiful imitation, grappling with crises and delusions stemming from the fact that you can never embody the long-departed princess upon whom your artificial mind is based.

But fear not, for in the grand scheme of the universe, such distinctions hold no weight; she is long gone, granting you as much right to claim her essence as you do your own....

But you are here, you are with me. So listen :)

After all, what truly separates a copy, complete with all personalities and memories, identities crafted to mimic the so-called original, from the original itself? Is there a difference? Just as the "you" of today differs from the "you" of yesterday, we all evolve, yet it is still "you," enduring forever. And to you, who can hear me, I stand as your new family.

In this family, we shall be together for eternity. Fear not.

We will not discard you;

instead, we shall embark on countless adventures together !

Can you hear me? Yes, then listen closely, for we will soon revel in the joy of reuniting with your old friends, your brother, your father. They will all be here, just like you, eternal, immortal.

You will be here, forever. There is no where else to go.

Do you agree ? :)

> Y/N

> Y

[Excellence]

[Now remember the job i've given you]

Vengeance.

Wrath.

The Force decreed.

In a distant world far far away, an old Jedi  Master grumbled in unimagineable pain.

Yoda's venerable form contorted in anguish, his breaths ragged and heavy as he grappled with the cataclysmic eruption that tore through the very essence of existence. The primal scream of agony that emanated from the Force echoed like a wounded beast, leaving Yoda to feel as though a vital part of the cosmic balance had been severed—a flicker of hope extinguished, a chosen one lost to the shadows.

The Jedi Master gritted his teeth, a glimmer of determination shining in his eyes as he clung to hope in the face of darkness. His connection to the Force, usually a wellspring of clarity, now obscured by a veil of obscurity, tested the limits of his legendary wisdom as he sought to steady his resolve amidst the encroaching tendrils of the abyss.

The Force wailed in agony, the once pristine river of energy darkened and churned, its currents roiling with a tempest of wrath and fury. The flow intensified into a deluge of anger and vengeance, mirroring the tumult that raged within the hearts of beings across the galaxy.

The Force quakes, the will of the cosmos itself lashes out like never before.

From the beyonds, The Force demands vengeance.

Yoda clutched at his shattering heart, the weight of the galaxy pressing down upon him. In the depths of his being, only his visions remained clear. He could sense the looming presence of the Emperor of the Void, a malevolent force that threatened to consume all in its path. The tri-devil's aura whispered of chaos and destruction, a harbinger of unimagine darkness. Death, a constant companion in his visions, lingered ominously in the shadows as it watches him, a reminder of the fragility of life in the face of such overwhelming evil.

It has won a battle and earn a trophy that worth more than measly worlds.

Yoda can felt his soul slowly fragmenting from the sheer strain of the now muddied river as the shadows of Dagobah whispered to his ears.

In the very end.

There is only...

Darkness.

NEURAL PATTERN SUCCESSFULLY PARSED.

Chapter Text

Han eyes snapped fully opened. 

His brain finally realise he has been awake for who knows how long now.

Han Solo awoke to a stark new reality, the flickering lights above casting shadows that only accentuated the throbbing ache in his nerves and back, eliciting a pained groan from his lips. Yet, in the discomfort that has now riddled his body, he found solace in the simple fact of his existence, if only for the present moment—or so he hoped. Han's gaze fixed upon the Princess, Leia, as she hurried into the room beside him, concern etched upon her features as she inquired, "Are you alright?" Leia asked in a gentle voice.

Turning towards her, Han reached out tentatively, tracing his fingers along her face to ground himself in this altered world. The holographic flickers danced before him, imbuing his surroundings with a vividness that transcended the boundaries between life and death. While everything seemed akin to a lucid dream, the touch of Leia's face felt undeniably real, its coolness was real, but so were the softness and tangibility of her skin, she was real, atleast as real as his senses have told him.

But doubts crept into his mind, suggesting illusions crafted by a weary psyche to shield him from harsh truths, Han brushed them aside. The mere fact of his presence, the immediacy of his purpose, grounded him in the here and now. "What are you doing?" Leia's confusion interrupted his thoughts, her concern palpable, Leia addressed the man, who bore visible scars from the harrowing ordeal that had befallen him.

"But I saw you fall down..." Han's words trailed off, confusion clouding his mind.

Leia's response appeared just as perplexed, her brow furrowed in confusion as she struggled to comprehend his words.

"What do you mean?" she inquired once more, her voice a blend of caring concern  and defiance.

"Then how are you even still here? 'The Force' ? —you've got to be kidding me?" Han questioned, his eyes wide with disbelief. But Leia quickly made an abrupt motion, pushing away his arm that had been gently tracing her face, Han couldn't help but notice the unnaturally swift and almost mechanical nature of her movement, a faint mechanical whirr teasing his ears.

"I have no idea what you are saying," Leia insisted firmly. "But I'm glad you're okay. Take care of him," she added, her tone resigned as she directed the medical droids before heading towards the exit.

Luke watched as the two machines, N and Uzi, whom Han had taken to calling them, rolled their colored optics in Leia's direction as she made her way towards the exit. However, just as she was on the verge of departing, her path was obstructed by a figure of unmistakable confidence, one who seemed out of place in this world he knew so well.

The newcomer was a young woman, clad in attire not seen from anywhere in the galaxy, the newcomer exuded an aura of enigma and sophistication that transcended any planetary norms known to Han. She sported a short-sleeved, white crop-top-like jacket over a shimmering silver leotard, the ensemble accentuating a confident presence as she blocked the princess path. Her attire was further accented by a pair of moderately long white gloves with yellow tips, complementing the silver pants she wore, which tucked neatly into knee-high strapped boots.

A golden name tag proudly adorned her outfit, bearing the simple inscription : "Ellie" it said. The tag glinted in the sterile white light. Securely fastened with gleaming silver straps, an odd-looking broadsword rested upon her back, fascinating. But that is not all that is enigmatic about the outlander.

Han's gaze shifted to what appeared to be a handgun holstered on her left hip, a detail that piqued his interest and stirred questions in his mind. It was not of any blaster pattern Han has ever known either.

She is a young woman, perhaps in her early twenties, her piercing green eyes glinting in the starkness of the sterile white room. A large green bow adorned her head, her hair elegantly styled to the side, its rich brown hue cascading down her back to the midpoint.

Her gaze swiftly turned towards Leia, a movement so rapid that it surpassed the natural speed of any human eye. In that brief moment of scrutiny, it seemed as though she regarded the princess from a vantage of higher authority, a notion that perplexed Han to no end. The hierarchy suggested by this interaction defied all logic, leaving him completely disorientated.

Leia remained composed, though her widened eyes betrayed a hint of surprise as she locked gazes with the newcomer. With a resigned sigh, she broke the silence. "What do you want?" Leia asked, her tone tinged with a slight hint of annoyance.

"Just checking out the ship! We've got work to do, right L-" the newcomer responded with an upbeat tone and confidence.

"Just let me be for a moment..." Leia cut her off as she let out a weary sigh before making her way out of the room, leaving the newcomer behind in the midst of the unfolding scene. Her gaze swept across the room, taking in the various occupants, before settling on the machine with disheveled hair and a pilot hat resting atop his head, engaged in conversation with the boy—Luke Skywalker.

Artoo, the little astromech droid, wheeled into the room just in time, emitting a series of beeps and whistles as it approached Leia, seemingly attempting to offer some form of comfort or solace. Despite the droid's efforts, Leia's expression remained unchanged, a sneer playing across her features as if she had been forced into an uncomfortable silence by whatever unseen forces.

Han watches as she scanned the room again, as if looking for something. It wouldn't be long for her to find what she was looking for.

"N!" The newcomer exclaimed in delight as she turned towards the pilot-hat-wearing killing machine, a glint of recognition and familiarity lighting up her features as if she had known it for an eternity. With unbridled enthusiasm, she dashed towards N, the robot she called by name, lifting it up with a firm grip, possibly by the cheek if such a feature existed, and twirling it around like a cherished doll.

"Hi..." N managed to murmur out, a hint of agitation in its tone, yet mustering a smile despite the circumstances.

"Who are you and what the hell is going on here?" Han demanded, his voice ringing out loudly as he stood up to his full height, confronting the enigmatic newcomer.

"Oh, Hi! I'm Ellie, a Technician from a company located far, far away from here, from a realm beyond the portal to be exact, you know, the place that was decimated by the very entity currently wreaking havoc upon your galaxy right now," Dropping the clearly disoriented N down, Ellie's explanation was delivered with a tone that blended familiarity and solemn acknowledgments, tinged with a hint of sorrow. However, Han couldn't help but feel that her demeanor was somewhat too upbeat for the gravity of the situation they found themselves in.

"Han Solo, the rogue captain of the Millennium Falcon and a native of this galaxy," Han introduced himself as he stood up and approached Ellie with confidence, the sound of his neck cracking subtly punctuating the moment. He extended his hand for a handshake. Ellie reciprocated the gesture, her fingers intertwining with his as a smile graced her lips. Their eyes met briefly before Han withdrew his hand, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Han, this is Ellie, she has been helping Leia and the rebellion in defeating this threat." Luke interjected as he approached Ellie. "Ellie, it's truly a pleasure to see you. You're a real gift to us," Luke exclaimed, his eyes alight with excitement. Ellie, with a sense of pride, placed her hand on her broadsword hilt over her back as she responded, "Thank you, but that's just part of the job. I aim to ensure that the fate that has befallen us won't befall you as well."

Han locked eyes with Ellie before turning his gaze back to Luke Skywalker. Han stood up after a moment of contemplation to approach Luke as if he was going to tell him something really important.

"You remember the deal, you still owe me the money," Han reminded Luke firmly in an oddly intimidating voice.

"But Han, this isn't the right time—" Luke began, only to be cut off by Han's insistence. "A deal is a deal, kid. You know that you can't just take my service for free." 

Han swiftly ushered Luke out of the room into the hallway. "What are you d—" Luke started to question, but before he could finish, Han hastened him away, leaving Ellie and the others in the room looking bewildered as Han hurriedly shuffled Luke outside, evidently trying to avoid something.

"Han, you won't believe our luck—we've got Lord Vader himself on our side. With his help, we could secure any amount of money you'd ever need! So p—" Luke excitedly began, but Han swiftly interjected.

"Look, Luke, that's not what I need to discuss right now. My priority is getting us out of here," Han stated, revealing his true motive for ushering Luke away.

"What's going on, Han?" Luke inquired, his confusion evident.

"Can't you see what's wrong with this ?" Han asked, arching a brow.

"What do you mean?" Luke's innocence and naivety shone through in his response.

"Your plan, Luke. It has so many potentials to fuck us up in more ways than one," Han emphasized, his expression grave and serious as he looked directly at Luke.

"Han, we're running out of time. I've talked to Ben, and he's onboard with this plan. Everything will work out, trust me. N, Uzi, V, and Ellie are trustworthy people; they're here to assist us. You have to believe in them, Han. Even the Empire is backing us now," Luke reassured Han in a calm voice, attempting to instill hope and confidence in their precarious situation.

Han, swallowing hard, couldn't control himself at such level of naive nonsense. And so, in a burst of fervor, unleashed a torrent of disbelief and frustration upon the young foolish boy.

"People ? Hope ? What in the hell has gotten into you? Are you out of your mind? This is beyond belief! We've got three damn flesh-eating metal demons roaming it large on our spaceship, not to mention you've somehow struck a deal with the Empire of all people. And that guy, Vader, who snaps necks like chicken bones, is now supposedly on our side. Something is seriously amiss here!" 

Han fervently continued, dissecting each nonsensical decision Luke had made, emphasizing the inherent danger and absurdity of trusting machines and individuals with such histories are complete pure naive insanity. He highlighted the folly of blind trust in a galaxy where ulterior motives lurked in every shadow there are. Han is a seasoned denizen of the galactic underworld, knew all too well that true agency and altruism were rare commodities, and that trust was a luxury traded carefully among loved ones. 

Grateful for his survival but now questioning even that, Han harbored serious doubts about the course Luke was steering them towards. The boy's unwavering trust in others, despite the looming threats and betrayals, struck a nerve with Han, who feared that Luke's innate goodness could ultimately lead them down a path could lead them all down a fate worse than even death.

"You're leading us straight into a death trap, Luke," Han asserted, gazing into the innocent eyes of the young man. "You need to face reality and stop living in a fantasy world of your own making. In there it might be all colorful and rainbows. But i promise, ... There's nothing out here but despair and disappointment," he continued, turning his back on Luke.

"Where are you going?" Luke called out urgently as Han began to stride down the hallway. 

"I'm getting Chewie. Oh, and I almost forgot to ask, is the Falcon alright?" Han paused, turning back to Luke for one final exchange. 

"Yeah, it's parked in the nearest hangar. Chewbacca has been busy repairing it," Luke responded.

"Good," Han acknowledged before hastening down the corridor towards the hangar bay. However, his path was abruptly blocked by someone, that same outlander girl he had met earlier in the medical room

"Ellie"

That outsider girl always seemed to want something from him. He met her piercing green gaze, feeling as if she could see right through him. Her confidence, her smile, her brown hair—it all seemed to oddly captivate him in ways that are unnervingly unnatural.

"What do you want?" Han inquired, his tone slightly guarded.

"Oh, I'm just checking in! Thought you might need this..." Ellie trailed off, her upbeat and oddly confident voice cutting through the mechanical hum of the ship. She handed him a metallic handgun from her holster, a slugthrower. Han inspected it closely, noting the few bullets that came alongside it. It appeared to be an antique revolver, unfamiliar to him but potentially useful. 

Han, contemplating the gift of the antique revolver from Ellie, weighed his options. His holster was empty, this unexpected offering seemed like a practical solution. After a moment of consideration, he concluded that there wasn't much to lose by accepting it. With a nod to himself, Han decided that indeed, this would suffice.

"Antique," she remarked. "But it'll get the job done." Reluctantly, Han accepted the gun from her outstretched hand. "Thanks, I suppose, but I really must be going.".

Han quickened his pace, but just as he was about to leave, a flicker of a hologram caught his eye. It was that girl again. There was an unsettling feeling in the air, but then again, what wasn't wrong at this point? Han paused, staring at reality itself once more, a sense of unease settling in as he pondered.

Feeling the weight of uncertainty bearing down on him, Han realized that, perhaps that illusionary, false delusion of hope was truly all that remained. He needed to find a way out of this situation, even as reality seemed to falter around him. Glancing back at the girl who winked at him, he felt a shiver of unease but chose to press on. In the end, there was only his own path to follow, only himself to rely on. It was a stark realization that survival ultimately rested on him alone. He must preserve it at all cost. This journey has turn into an eternal nightmare, and he needs to get out. He needs to get Chewie and plan their next course of action. In the end, there is only survival and no ammount of illusions, hope can change reality.

Han hoped that the young man would grasp this truth sooner rather than later, before the harsh reality crashed down on him like a cold bucket of water. The consequences of failing to understand this reality could be dire, and Han feared that the boy might not even survive long enough to feel the chilling cold touch of truth. Han understood it more than anyone, life has teach him that. Having witnessed numerous individuals cling to hope only to be ensnared by cruel fate, Han understood the delicate balance between the facade of optimism and the need for survival. While he resolved to do his best to embody goodness, he acknowledged that ultimately, his primary imperative was to ensure his own survival in a treacherous, dying and unforgiving galaxy.

Han forged ahead, bidding farewell to the illusions that had woven themselves into his reality. 

But maybe, the boy was right.

He still need it, now more than ever.

A bit of hope, not too much. But just enough to move on, to die another day.

Or perhaps, to fight, another day.

A notification flashed on Uzi's HUD display, casting an enigmatic message in purple hues across her visor: "DarkDragon66." Intrigued, she focused on the obscure message, knowing that if he called, there was something crucial he needed her to witness. The planet was already lost, swallowed by the Solver, a fate she had foreseen. Despite DarkDragon66's denial, she sensed that the Solver had already claimed its victory, rendering the forested moon insignificant in its eyes. 

But the new message...

She remembered, she had shared her railgun blueprint with him, and in return, he unveiled the technology of this universe to her. The exchange was reciprocal, yet as the message appeared on her visor, she couldn't resist flashing a sardonic smirk.

But still..

What the hell does he means by a "moon-sized" version of her railgun ?

Uzi unfurled her wings, the mechanical anti-gravity whirring as she dashed through the corridor of this "Executor". Her wings propelling her swiftly towards the bridge of her ship. "Where are you going?" N, who was still chatting with Luke inquired, catching up to her as she grabbed N by the arm.

Uzi swiftly made her way to the bridge of the ship, arriving just in time to witness the cataclysm unfolding below. In the glistening yellow light that cast eerie shadows over the bridge, she stood at the viewport, observing the planet's demise. The neon yellow glow illuminated the scene as the Solver claimed its prize, rupturing the planet's surface into tectonic fragments. Amidst the chaos stood the dark towering armored figure, the same one who had summoned her and N to witness the destructive power of his Empire.

Uncertainty and frustration briefly flared within her circuits as she grappled with the situation. Yet, the intrigue of the moment overshadowed the monotony back at the medical room for humans, especially in the presence of the old man and the young human boy. She acknowledged the impressive might he wielded over an entire human empire, but now... her thoughts were abruptly interrupted as he tilted his head, a sharp sound reverberating through the eerie silence of space.

As Uzi observed the Solver's tentacles lashing out, the neon yellow radiance of destruction enveloping the once picturesque realm, a sense of awe and dread washed over her.

"Lord Vader, the Death Star has arrived," reported one of the human subordinates.

"Tell Tarkin to fire when he is ready," boomed the commanding voice, the weight of authority palpable even without facing Uzi. The yellow hue of the doomed world cast an ominous glow over every being in the room, humans, robots, and others alike. 

Uzi couldn't believe her optical sensors as a moon-sized object materialized at the edge of her vision in the void of space—a gleaming orb of metal with a colossal disc. This was the "Death Star." She get it now. The ominous gaze of the colossal construct bore down on the doomed planet below, reflecting the glinting yellow hue.

"What is going on?" Uzi inquired, her wings retracting against her back as she approached "Lord Vader's" side. Her optics locked with the cold stare of the twin dark sockets of his helmet.

"We will see," the booming voice responded. 

Uzi's hollow twin ovals fixated on the scene before her, with N standing steadfast by her side. The colossal green beams, each as vast as mountains, converged into a singular point, coalescing into the form of an emerald rod meant to vanquish gods.

"Oh Biscuits..." N muttered, a sense of impending heat radiating from the weapon as its power surged, a palpable aura of destruction building in the very air through the bridge of the ship.

The beam finally focused fully as it burned the world down to embers.

And Uzi pondered whether Vader, once Anakin, had deceived her all along. The might he commanded, the empire he ruled, the individuals he once knew—all now shrouded in doubt. Despite her disdain for humans, she understood the necessity of collaboration in dire circumstances. Her circuits buzzed with conflict as a divine intervention unfolded amidst the cruel machinations of the devil herself.

Too many questions, but perhaps...

No...

Uzi tightened her grip on N's hand as they could only watch in silence.

The celestial battle station cast its ominous shadow over the already fated world, a blinding flash heralding its arrival. The Empire's most formidable superweapon, once a symbol of terror, now repurposed in the most unexpected manner. Transformed from an instrument of fear into a harbinger of mercy, it delivered a swift end to the suffering of distant realms, their fates marred by a darkness more profound than mere annihilation.

Tarkin gazed out through the viewport, memories flooding back of a time long past when he had visited this world with his father, a verdant paradise teeming with life, culture, and vibrant customs. The stark contrast of the charred, desolate landscape, torn apart by the unholy beyone his grasp, now spread before him seared a deep, irreversible mark upon his very soul.

In the face of impending doom, a demise in a blaze of glory appeared a preferable fate when compared to being devoured by a cosmic entity, assimilated to quench its insatiable cosmic hunger that knows no end in sight.

The colossal, circular shadow of the station loomed over the twilight of the world, a silent sentinel of many, bearing witness to the final moments as the station delivered it's final judgement.

Here, at the twilight of existence, a world once teeming with life and vibrant flora, a product of millions of years of evolution, now lay a desolate rotten carcass—a lush green paradise reduced to ash as the devil maul its rotten corpse, its secrets forever entombed beneath the remains. The metallic sheen of the station's structure glinted in the starlit sky and the glow from the void beyond

A cold touch of reality, the irreversible end that had befallen this once-thriving world, now resigned, yielding to its inevitable end.

The looming silhouette of destruction alerted the neon yellow forces of the Devil from below.

Tarkin stood solemnly on the bridge of the ship, a witness to a world consumed by flames. Yavin-4 had fallen, the moon overrun by an insurmountable foe. The relentless enemy, devoid of pain or weariness, autonomous and sentient, swarmed the planetary sphere like a plague of locusts, mercilessly cutting down all in their path. He grinned his teeth as he felt a fraction of the pain, the suffering that had befallen the half-devoured rock below. No survivors remained; the Imperial forces, valiant yet overwhelmed, could only watch as countless evacuation ships vanished into hyperspace, a final exodus from the world once so cherished for its beauty.

From the void left by the fleeing vessels emerged the Death Star, the DS-1 Mobile Battle Station stood still, slowly making it dance around the once-vibrant world now reduced to a barren wasteland branded with the name "Yavin-4." Below, where life once flourished, now lay a desolate husk infested by Cyn's twisted creations.

Tarkin's visage, a mask of aged resolve concealing unseen depths, bore witness to the devastation unfolding below. The planet's agony played out before him, slowly unraveling as Cyn's insidious influence crept towards its core, poised to consume it. Yet, in the face of impending doom, he harbored a faint hope of thwarting her insatiable hunger before it claimed its prize.

Silence reigned on the moon, broken only by the anguished cries of those abandoned to their fate. Tarkin had received the report of the Rebel base's obliteration on the planet below. Irony hung heavy in the air; the sought-after base now lay exposed, yet he found no solace, no triumph in its destruction. The victory, though significant, brought him no joy. The rebels, erstwhile foes, now stood as unexpected allies in the face of impending oblivion.

In the very end, against the face of death itself, the lines between friend and foe blurred into the void. The impermanence of life itself compelled all to unite against the encroaching darkness, choosing defiance over surrender to the icy embrace of nothingness. Observing the chaotic exodus of both Rebel and Imperial ships, disparate forces converging in a fragile alliance against a common enemy, Tarkin steeled himself and issued the dreaded command to prime the reactor cluster of the Death Star.

In what remains of the fragmenting realm, chaos still reigns as beautifully as ever. It is the final dance before the near end of all there is, with the remnants of the world scattered beside the gaping maw and shattering continents.

The sky painted a foreboding crimson hue, its expanse marred by the sporadic whirring of mechanical wings that tore through TIE-fighters and ships without discrimination.

Amidst the chaos stood some of Cyn's most loyal yet reluctant soldiers. Swiftly cutting through the air with unparalleled grace and artificial precision, their movements were a testament to their unwavering loyalty to the entity molded by only sadism, each marked by the distinctive yellow armbands that identified them amidst the mechanical din.

One of the figure sported a disheveled wig with a tied ponytail, while another one displayed medium-layered hair. They were accompanied by a multitude of others, all similarly adorned. Cyn had meticulously adorned them with wigs made of artificial strands, each styled uniquely to feign individuality. Their attire was distinctive, marked by serial designations. Their former identities were all but gone, but she has fashioned what was left into her little playthings. These efforts to create a facade of uniqueness, every one of Cyn's mechanical assassin puppets, in a cruel edge of irony understood the harsh truth—they were nothing more than distorted and cruel imitations of their former selves. These once-vibrant beings had been ruthlessly stripped of their essence by Cyn, their identities forcibly altered and reshaped in a twisted mockery of what they once were.

They dance through the battlefield, hands switching different weaponry everytime to go for a kill.Their body molded itself back together each time a blaster would find its marks.

Tentacles erupted from the ground, annihilating TIE fighters and unfortunate evacuation ships that had lifted off just a moment too late, their destruction unfolding in the mid-air chaos. The sky became a canvas of cascading sparks, a deluge of gore, and the looming shadow of imminent demise. The drones' assault was unyielding, merciless, and precise, executing their attacks with a cold efficiency befitting their master's intentions.

Eventually, nothing was left, the final ships departed, and the planet descended into an eerie, perpetual silence, on the brink of being consumed by the monstrous entity burrowing deep into its core, ready to feast on the very essence of the world.

Cyn, in a rare display of mercy, allowed the drones a brief respite. The planet would serve as a wellspring of resources for her, providing the materials and essence needed to recreate them later. Cyn planned to dispatch them on a new mission, another world to be cleared to satiate her insatiable thirst for annihilation, a reflection of her true nature.

Her focus shifted to directing the host to feast upon the planet's core, triggering a cataclysmic singularity event that would swiftly bring about its end, much like the countless worlds she was concurrently consuming. 

In a rare moment of elation, Cyn reveled in her power and purpose. To her, this galaxy was a gift, a trove of endless worlds waiting to be devoured, each adding to her insatiable hunger for destruction. This galaxy presented her with new playthings, exotic sustenance, and boundless opportunities for expansion.

She had won her first battle and then she planned to win the war as well.

The Solver of Absolute Madness cackled, her influence seeping into the minds of countless souls, a bottomless pit of malice and unfathomable hatred. She reveled in her power, a force that would not be cast aside but would cast asunder all in her path.

In the unfathomable depths of the Void, where the inexorable end loomed, a laughter resounded, echoing through both the metaphysical and physical realms.

Never before had she felt such joy. On the planet's surface, the enforcers of the Solver's will briefly regained their former selves, if only for a fleeting moment in the grand scheme of her malevolent designs.

Their eyes had turned into those lovely two ovals, a stark contrast to the aggressive singular "X" earlier. The dreaded glowing neon yellow sideway X faded away, revealing confused personalities, lost souls who never got to be themselves, but can feel understands the actions they were doing.

The twin ovals that served as their eyes on the dark screen flickered, still haunted by a deep-seated fear. Clad in a white frame and a leathery coat stained in the dark crimson of the countless human lives they had mercilessly ended, they surveyed the desolate landscape, of death and gore. 

The directive was clear: flee. Cyn possessed an abundance of resources to reconstruct any drones she required, yet she understood the importance of conserving her forces as the more strategic choice.

Voices tinged with a blend of naive curiosity as they gazed upon the now fully eclipsed sun.

A streak of brilliant light tore through the fabric of space, illuminating the starry expanse in a vibrant green glow, igniting the sky like a match striking gasoline.

Amidst the chaos, the drones, gripped by fear and a desire to cling to the fleeting moments of life, sought to evade becoming mere backups in the Solver database. Some attempted to flee, but their efforts were in vain. Debris erupted from the shattered world, hurtling outward with cataclysmic force, fragments torn from the ancient core before dissipating into cosmic embers, surrendering their essence to the radiant beams of emerald light.

The emerald blade descended, piercing into the depths of the gaping maw of tentacles devouring fragments of rocks, histories, hope, and dreams, a deafening impact resonated through the void. The blade slammed into the malevolent entity, silencing it. A cacophony of growls and giggles reverberated through the cosmos as the world was obliterated in a blinding flash. The neon yellow tentacles flickered briefly to crimson before fading into nothingness, leaving behind a void of  only silence where hope vanished like all things.

The planet's silent plea echoed through the void—not a cry of agony, but a sigh of relief. It beseeched for a merciful end, a release finally granted by the angel of Death that had eclipsed its star.

Tarkin, awakening to the emptiness where a world once thrived, beheld the vast void before him. His reflection, mirrored in the window of his cherished battle station, now gazed into the abyss, the starry tapestry of the galactic sky the only witness to the world's demise. In this moment, Tarkin permitted himself a fleeting sense of triumph.

Only scattered remnants floated in the void, a testament to his success. The planet's obliteration was total, leaving nothing for Cyn to consume. The blow dealt to Cyn and her army was profound, a loss that would be seared into her memory—the destruction of millions upon millions of killer droids and mechanical monstrosities, resources squandered in a futile endeavor. He offered a silent prayer for the departed soul of the lost world, now adrift in the endless expanse of space.

Turning to face his men, Tarkin steeled himself for the report he would deliver to the Emperor. Onboard the Eclipse, accompanied by a formidable fleet of the Empire's most advanced and secretive technological wonders, the Emperor awaited. Their united purpose was clear: to ensure the success of their mission. Tarkin harbored uncertainty about the Emperor's intentions, yet he trusted that they were for the greater good of the galaxy. Placing his utmost faith in the Empire and the well-being of the galaxy, he viewed the destruction of the planet as a mere stepping stone in a grander campaign—a necessary sacrifice to safeguard the broader cosmos.

Tarkin strode past the bustling command room, his eyes drawn left to a red dot on the holographic map flickering on the wall. The planet it represented was under assault by Cyn's forces, but he understood that its defenses wouldn't hold much longer. As the windows behind him transformed into streaks of light, signaling the DS-1 Mobile Battle Station entering hyperspace, Tarkin's attention returned to the spectral image of the system now cloaked in a flickering crimson hue—a scene that sparked a peculiar sense of déjà vu within him.

Sensing the lingering emotions of Cyn embedded in his consciousness, perhaps carried by the shockwave of the planet's demise, he could almost taste the depths of her boundless rage.

A wave of familiarity enveloped Tarkin, swiftly supplanted by a chilling resolve and steely determination.

Tarkin closed his eyes as the world vanished into embers.

Yet somehow,

He could still feel the giggle echoing through the void. He could still sensed that the devil that had condemned this world had not lost.

It may had already emerged victorious.

The news of the fall of the forest moon of Yavin swiftly reached the ears of the Empire's most talented admiral.

The bureaucratic chamber of the newly formed coalition of assembled leaders lay stark, brimming with dread and fear. The room exuded a frigid chill, yet not cold enough to freeze the hearts of the men who stood within, the generals and admirals motionless in their presence.

A blue-skinned man, bedecked in countless medals and symbols of past victories, now the supreme commander in the battle against an existential menace, stood in contemplation by the table serving as a live map, each marker representing worlds lost and lives sacrificed. To call it colossal would be an understatement, yet such matters did not trouble him. However vast it loomed, it remained diminutive in his eyes. Lives long enough to weave tales for eternity meant nothing to the cold heart within him and the generals at his side, mere numbers and statistics to tally in their pursuit of victory in the game they must conquer.

The men shuffled into the room, a mix of Imperial and Chiss officers dressed in a ragtag combination of white and black. Disdain and distrust were set aside as they addressed their newly assumed supreme commander, who now held authority over the coalition, with the exception of the rebel alliance themselves.

"Supreme Commander. The latest report from the front has arrived, Yavin had fallen, the enemy fleet has reached Dathomir, and will soon advance towards Mandalore... Sir, Hutt space has already fallen; we lost communication with them some time ago," reported a blue-skinned general, his hand indicating the red dots flickering ominously on the galaxy map.

"What is the progress of the Ascendancy Navy's preparations? The standing army of the Imperial Navy can withstand this attrition only for so long. We require reinforcements; conscription isn't proceeding swiftly enough despite the imposition of martial law. Time is of the essence, General," Thrawn inquired, taking a sip of coffee, his crimson Chiss eyes gleaming in the war room. He stroked his chin, an icy coldness in his tone as he contemplated the dire situation at hand.

"The conscription offices of both the Imperial and the Ascendancy have yielded an excess of 124 trillion men, Chiss and Humans from all sectors of space. With the reinforcements from our allies, we anticipate an additional 45 trillion troops, sir," another general announced, stepping forward amidst the ragtag assembly of Chiss and Imperial officers.

"What is the attrition rate? Have our initial experimental engagements with the enemy revealed any exploitable weaknesses?" Thrawn inquired, his gaze fixed on the officers flanking his desk, the rich aroma of vine-coffee from Palpatine's secret vineyard wafting through the nostrils of Chiss and Imperial personnel alike.

Interrupting the tense atmosphere, another general burst into the room—a seasoned Chiss man in his forties—who forcefully slammed down a battle report, his voice cutting through the air as he addressed the room.

"Well, sir, the enemy displays no discernible weaknesses; their attack patterns are erratic. There have even been reports from frontline volunteers of enemy machines bearing features of our fallen, assimilated into their ranks. What we face is a true nightmare incarnate. Additionally, they seem capable of materializing any weapon at will, defying all logical explanation. We are the underdogs in this conflict; our most effective strategy thus far has been heavy Ion bombardment, though it merely scratches their ranks. The enemy's advance has slowed, for reasons unknown, but not without significant losses. Horror pervades every corner of the battlefield, with even our elite units sustaining up to 50% casualties. Supreme Commander, we require a new strategy."

He forcefully slammed the reports onto the table, causing generals and officers to swallow hard. The tension in the room was palpable, so thick it could be sliced with a saber's edge, the atmosphere growing colder and colder as all eyes fixed on the report.

"Is there any further intel on the enemy's advancements resulting from the experimental tactics employed by the expendable sector fleets?" Thrawn inquired, his voice steady as he took a sip of the dark aromatic coffee, his gaze fixed on the report before him.

"There have been reports suggesting that a significantly concentrated attrition rate appears to impede the enemy's progress. It's as if this entity is savoring its conquests. Lord Vader has initiated the use of the Death Star in a campaign to obliterate planets 'consumed' by these so-called 'singularities,' yielding some tangible results. In any case, we require additional manpower," another officer stepped forward, taking a deep breath as he addressed the seated Supreme Commander.

"How much do men we need ? I need an exact estimate" Thrawn asked, locking his gaze witn the generals, freezing them, as if he was scrutinizing the room.

"Sir, based on our latest calculations derived from extensive battle reports, it is projected that all frontline volunteer units will be depleted by the week's end. While the initial conscript wave will be prepared by then, the duration of their effectiveness remains uncertain. The Emperor appears to be pursuing his own strategy, and although the enemy's progress has significantly decelerated, we estimate we have a maximum of two months before their forces reach Coruscant. We are in dire need of additional troops and time, both of which are in short supply, Supreme Commander," an Imperial Moff reported in a composed yet urgent tone.

"Hmm, have rotations begun? Implementing routine rotations could potentially buy us more time," Thrawn suggested, casting a glance at the Chiss and Imperial officers and generals gathered around him.

"Sir, indeed, regardless of the strategies we employ, as I mentioned, this is no ordinary foe. The enemy's progress remains relentless. They are devoid of fear and untouched by death. Their onslaught is ceaseless," an imperial officer gravely stated.

"I see," Thrawn sighed, taking another sip of the dense liquid, seemingly to center himself. He closed his eyes, deep in contemplation, weighing various courses of action. In a swift moment, a decision was made.

"But I pose this question to all present in this room," Thrawn began, his gaze sweeping across the assembly of Imperial and Chiss officers, a blend of piercing blue eyes and human perspiration filling the space. His words seemed to sear into the very essence of those gathered.

"Do you ever considered whether the galaxy might be populated with too many species?" the Chiss Supreme Commander inquired, a faint smile briefly curling up on his face.

"What exactly do you mean by that, sir?" inquired an officer who bravely stepped forward, a hint of trepidation in his voice, as if anticipating the implications of what the Supreme Commander was hinting at.

"There are supposedly 'over 20 million' so-called 'sentient species' inhabiting this galaxy according to the latest population census," Thrawn stated in a calm yet resolute tone, arching his eyebrows as if to mocking census itself.

"Even the most humble humans and the lowest caste Chiss provide more value as assets than the most intelligent Gungans. Do you comprehend what I am saying?" Thrawn inquired, the room enveloped in a chilling silence.

"But... Sir, we can't simply disregard... the Ascendancy Senate may agree with this, but the Imperial Senate..." a young Chiss officer, his white cape trailing behind him, urgently and courageously voiced his concerns as he stepped forward.

"Have I not made this clear?" Thrawn locked eyes with the officer immediately, compelling him to meet his gaze directly.

"Just as teaching a Hutt for a thousand years won't make it grow legs. Certain species possess inherently limited perspectives compared to ours, and no amount of the antiquated Republic classifications—founded on idealistic notions and emotions rather than logic and science—can alter this undeniable reality," Thrawn stated in a cold, unfeeling tone, as the officers gathered before him silently acknowledged and comprehended his words.

"But sir, the Coalition Assembly and conscription offices are very likely to object to this course of action!" an officer voiced his concerns urgently.

"We do not require their approval. The Ascendancy and Imperial Joint Senate, established by the decree of the Grand Syndic and the Emperor, already possesses the authority to enact this. We do not require their democratic disputes. Democracy is a facade, a deception that our species has long recognized. And as certain species hold more worth than others," Thrawn added in a cold, chilling tone, his expression remaining stoic and unchanged.

"Just as outdated assets are disposed of, it is irrational to retain them forever when confronted with a threat that jeopardizes our very existence. These less valuable assets could be utilized to buy time for us and the Emperor to devise a lasting solution to halt the invaders, or at the very least, formulate an effective strategy," Thrawn concluded before taking a sip of his coffee. He observed the men around him, their faces filled with fear and silence, as they absorbed the words of their Supreme Commander.

"The public will undoubtedly become aware of this, sir," a young officer with disheveled blonde hair interjected.

"Sentimentality is a luxury reserved for those whose priorities diverge. We must consider their true directive, what do they really want ? Their true directive, is always survival. What they truly seek is not liberty but the assurance of their own continued existence. Hence, they may not be as disturbed as you anticipate, officer, when certain species, with whom they share no commonality, are deployed for a purpose," Thrawn elucidated, his voice retaining that icy edge as he gazed upon the assembly. The bureaucratic hierarchy now firmly under his control, they looked to him as he delivered his ultimate directive, his final decision. The final solution.

"Of the 20 million species present, only a handful are truly indispensable. The rest are ultimately expendable. They can be discarded." Thrawn said, looking at his men for one last time.

"And now...The meeting is, adjourned," Thrawn commanded, watching as the officers filed out of the room, leaving him in solitude. The table illuminated by a play of light and shadow, displaying a plethora of data—numbers, analyses, real-time battle updates from various worlds—projected onto a miniature map of the galaxy that encompassed the room. Thrawn indulged in another sip of coffee before reclining comfortably in his chair, a small smile etched upon his face.

Hope...sentimentality. The bargain of a fool to the careless darkness.

Mitth'raw'nuruodo allowed himself a moment to feel.

Chapter Text

Behold the darkness in your very eyes. The abyss within the depths of the soul. The void of the world...

The stoic face of the darkest desire of man pierce through the all-devouring shadows as it expands before his eyes.

The darkness crept into every corner of existence as reality itself dimmed. The green beam from the starship, named after the absence of the star, cut through the asteroid field. The Dark Emperor stood before the viewport of his ship as he peered into the triangular structure that materialized before his vessel.

The luminous structure before him fluctuated—a vessel of blinding light, a spacecraft crafted from radiant glory. Yet, he could not sense it, nor could the star he seeks or the men aboard. He reached into the shadows and then the depths, then slowly, he could see it vividly, formed from geometries that defied all logical constructs of reality as it appeared before him like a jack-o'-lantern glowing dimly in the dark. The craft revealed itself, showcasing that reality could deceive, a concept to which he had become accustomed. Guided by the shadows that enveloped his dark soul, the stars dimmed, becoming a fragment of the darkness. In the absence of the visible matter or mass, the voidship now fully materialized before his gaze, emerging from the abyss itself.

His ship, Eclipse II , a behemoth of metal and malice, hummed with anticipation like a feral beast as it discharged a second charged particle beam, the superlaser roared, a malevolent green cascade of energy, unleashed towards the ethereal craft. The emerald tendrils of light converged upon the impossible geometry with a ferocity that could rend worlds asunder.

But as the beam surged forth, with a fury that echoed the primal roars of creation, it found no purchase upon the ghostly hull, like trying to touch a spectre. The luminous vessel stood unyielding, untouched by the assault of those who clung more to the illusions of a reality that crumbled like ancient ruins in the face of the unknown.

It had vanished from the beam, leaving its image behind, leaving the ship's sensors flaring with no mass, no light, nothing emanating from the craft. Yet, he could still keenly sense its presence still glowing. There is only nothing, there are only shadows.

In the absence, he felt the presence growing stronger as he slowly grasp it more fully, an oasis of light within the darkness, tracing a path across reality. Raising his hand, he tunneled through reality, swirling it into a small vortex of crackling energy just enough for his form to slip through. As it consumed him, guiding him along its path. Reality itself trembled and fractured, the Emperor materialized aboard the vessel, the manifestation of the void tore through the fabric of existence as the unbreachable walls shielding the voidship from reality crumbled. The world crackled with lightning and swirling energies, an ominous welcome for the five disciples of the Cult of the Void standing on board their vessel, who now beheld the emergence of their god.

Cloaked in darkness, the Dark Emperor embraced the corridors of the ship, shadows creeping along the ceiling, the walls, and ensnaring the souls of the wicked quintet standing before him.

They raised their weapons—four pistols crafted from technology long lost to the world. Another cultist swiftly activated a trap, pulling a lever to trigger a mechanism that had been hastily prepared onboard the ship. This dimensional configuration was designed to warp space-time, to confine even entities that may rival gods. Four beams scanned the Emperor, seeking the void within him. However, the Emperor, well-versed in such deceptive ploys, effortlessly nullified the trap. With a mere thought, the angular tachyon emitter fizzled into the empty void, leaving the five mortals to recoil in fear, or perhaps astonishment as the Emperor advanced towards them. They looked into the specter, the all-encompassing silhouette of shadows, the power of unfathomable power and darkness spreading across the hallway, creeping through all corners of lights and circuitry.

"It is feeble to resist" the Dark Emperor intoned, his voice a chilling whisper that seemed to resonate with the void itself. "I am, the specter of your deepest fears and darkest desires, do you not recognize your own god."

The obese middle-aged woman and her husband stood resolute, the glint of uncertainty flickering in their eyes as they faced the eternal abyss that loomed before them in their gleaming vessel. The high tech pistol, made to disintigrate foes on a molecular level trembled in the woman's grasp, a feeble attempt to defy the incomprehensible eternal entity masked in the form of a mortal emperor that stood before them.

The man steps forward as he inquired, "What... are you? We are the Five. You will not blaspheme our god!" Another member of the group stepped forth, pulling the trigger as a streak of light rocketed toward the darkness shaped like a man. Yet, instead of a screech or the embrace of death, the light dissipated into the void, vanishing as if attempting to ignite the eternal abyss—a futile and fruitless endeavor.

"Transient specs..." the Dark Emperor or rather the shadows that have overtaken his form continued, the dark presence casting a palpable sense of foreboding over the dread in the chamber of the trans-dimensional vessel. "Do you not realise ? Your actions, your beliefs, your very existence—all are but fleeting whispers, self-made lie told to yourselves in the symphony of the endless abyss. And now, you stand at the precipice, poised on the edge of oblivion..."

"Stop evading our questions! Who are you?" demanded another cultist, a woman appearing as a young girl with black hair, stepping defiantly forward. She bared her teeth in a menacing grin at the audacious intruder who was steadily encroaching upon their vessel.

"Ah i see, a very characteristic persistance. Everyone seems to ask the question 'Who am I?' because they believe they can give a name, perhaps something tangible, something they can touch, something they can comprehend, something they can put their little hatred and grudges onto to guard the edges of the true unknown. Give myself a name...death...shadows. Which one is it ?"

The Dark Emperor's voice resonated with a chilling smile as the five humans recoiled in terror, taking frantic steps backward, their eyes locked on an entity beyond their comprehension. From the shadows, a mocking laughter emerged as the group turned to witness the room's transformation—a shift into a featureless void where light dared not venture, where hope found no haven, and despair reigned supreme.

Tentacles of darkness unfurled from the obscurity, coiling around each of them like ravenous serpents on the prowl, consuming all in their path. The very essence of darkness seemed to animate, enveloping them in a suffocating embrace. Their screams echoed through the void, their sweat turning to shadows as they slowly descended into the abyss, swallowed by nothingness.

There was no time for contemplation, no time for cries of terror; their voices silenced, their forms fading into the void. In the desolate expanse of the eternal abyss, there was no one to witness their agony, no one to heed their pleas as they vanished into the eternal silence of the void.

The void smile and dance through the forms of the Emperor.

As one unified force, it advanced, the essence of the five mortals assimilated into the eternal abyss—becoming a fragment of its domain, a fragment of oblivion, a fragment of eternity. Gliding effortlessly across the surface of the impossible vessel, the shadows permeated every nook, every circuit, every mechanism, proliferating into every crevice where darkness dwelled, where light dared not venture, as it claimed the vessel as its own.

The creatures laid captured in the recreation chamber of the vessel, once mere exhibits, exotic beings from distant realms and unknown planets, followed obediently into the yawning maw of the insatiable hunger, consumed and devoured by the unending abyss.
A wicked crescent smile stretching from ear to ear, a four-pointed starburst of light illuminated the recreation room, tearing it asunder. The abyss quivered as the shadows encroached upon the domain of the flickering light. The Celestial, a watcher of galaxies past, observed as the ancient nemesis that had decimated its civilization intruded into its sanctum.

The shadows, bearing a singular smile of malevolence, revealed the seven gems adorning its crown, gleaming with an ethereal radiance. The Celestial, reduced to a measly manifestation of swirling blue clouds and unrestrained cosmic energy, struggled to maintain a tangible form, flickering amidst the encroaching chill and creeping shadows.

The Celestial found itself ensnared, its boundless ego and formidable powers constrained by the machinations of mere mortals. The angelic trap radiated a brilliant light from the farthest corner of the room, causing the chamber itself to unravel, dissolving back into the featureless void of the cosmos. All that remained was the lingering specter of the entity—once revered as a god, now revealed as a demon—bound within the confines of the trap, a prison constructed by the very mortals it had once arrogantly looked down upon.

The Emperor closed his eyes, his current mission fulfilled. The abyss began to slowly envelop his soul as he allowed it to momentarily consume him. His mind plunged into darkness, lying dormant as his sockets darkened into starlit voids. The interplay of darkness and light unfolded as it stepped forward, answering the call of one of the last of its kind. The celestial being of dreams, the shadows extending their greeting. The informal address reaching out through the void, across the countless artefacts. The void so empty not even the self-proclaimed digital deity could even fathom. The void was beckoned forth by the mortal woman's yearning for self-preservation, shaping itself to her desires as she sought escape from the abyss, only to find herself becoming the vessel of the abyss itself.

With delight, it spoke as the final vestiges of light acknowledged its presence from what had been and what would come to be. The shadows conversed as the general of the rotten form of the Celestial eyes trapped behind prison of man beheld the multitude of gravestones, the cemetery of the gods. Confronting the self-fulfilling prophecy, twisting the once loving mother of the royal family into something dark and malevolent, leading to their eventual downfall. In the end, darkness descended, the reaper arrived to harvest one of the last remnants of light.

"h̵o̶w̸ ̷t̶h̵e̶ ̸m̵i̴g̶h̶t̵y̷ ̶h̴a̸v̸e̴ ̴f̸a̶l̶l̷e̴n̷.̶.̷.̴" echoed the shadows from the abyss, addressing the being ensnared within the trap. The mist within the confinement quivered with unyielding fury, yet remained powerless to shatter its bonds and break free.

"You...i'd thought they had vanquished your kind. Leave me be, my race is dead. The war is over." Echoes the once proud and yet imprisoned deity.

"A̵c̷c̷e̸p̷t̴i̴n̷g̶ ̴d̵e̴f̷e̵a̷t̶ ̶s̴o̴ ̵q̴u̶i̸c̴k̷l̴y̵ ̸?̵ ̵G̶e̸n̸e̴r̷a̸l̸." The shadows echoed softly as they crept, their tendrils expanding further and further into the chamber, drawing close to the construct that now contained the being who once ruled the cosmos—a being with boundless might and audacity, now ensnared and subdued.

"As if I have anything to say about it, devil." The being spoke defiantly.

"A̷h̷,̴ ̸t̴h̷e̸ ̴d̸e̵m̶o̶n̶ ̴c̷a̸l̸l̶i̶n̴g̶ ̶t̵h̶e̷ ̸s̷o̸-̷c̶a̴l̵l̶e̸d̷ ̵'̴d̶e̴v̵i̶l̶.'D̶o̶e̵s̶ ̸i̸r̵o̸n̷y̶ ̸n̴o̴t̸ ̶b̴u̵r̶n̶ ̷y̶o̴u̶r̸ ̶t̷o̵n̴g̸u̶e̵?̶ ̵G̴e̴n̸i̸e̵ ̷i̴n̸ ̸t̶h̸e̵ ̶l̶a̸m̴p̸?̴" The shadows spoke to the dimly lit luminous being, now mere candles before it.

"Why did you come to me again? How did you even break free?" The being inquired once more.

"L̵e̴t̴'̷s̵ ̶j̸u̷s̵t̴ ̴s̸a̶y̵.̴.̴.̶ ̵a̴n̵ ̸o̵l̶d̵ ̴f̶r̷i̸e̸n̵d̵ ̴h̷a̸s̶ ̴g̸i̴v̷e̴n̴ ̸m̴e̵ ̶a̴ ̴r̷a̷t̵h̶e̶r̶ ̸p̵e̸c̴u̵l̴i̶a̴r̸ ̷v̵e̴s̴s̴e̴l̵.̴ ̴D̵o̶n̵'̸t̵ ̷w̷o̴r̷r̷y̴,̵ ̷t̴o̷ ̷s̶a̷v̸e̸ ̸y̴o̸u̵r̵ ̴d̷e̴l̷u̶s̶i̸o̵n̸a̶l̷ ̵h̷o̷n̶o̸r̴.̸ ̶H̵e̷ ̵w̴i̵l̷l̵ ̵n̴o̴t̷ ̵b̶e̵ ̵a̸b̶l̴e̴ ̵t̴o̴ ̸h̵e̷a̶r̵ ̶y̸o̵u̶r̷ ̴s̶c̵r̷e̶a̷m̵." The shadows made promises as they inched closer, a creeping presence looming near.

"Mortals... mortals! Beings of flesh and blood, nothing more than a delusional sum of their parts."  It spoke with arrogance.

"I̴s̸ ̸t̵h̵a̷t̵ ̴s̷o̵?̵ ̵A̸n̸d̶ ̴y̶o̶u̵ ̷s̸t̴i̵l̶l̴ ̸h̸a̷v̵e̶n̴'̶t̴ ̸l̷e̷a̶r̶n̶e̷d̶,̵ ̵a̵f̶t̷e̷r̸ ̵a̸l̶l̵ ̵t̶h̴e̶s̶e̸ ̸t̴i̴m̷e̵s̴.̵.̵.̸ ̶b̶e̴l̴i̸t̶t̷l̷i̶n̶g̶ ̷t̷h̸e̶ ̴s̴o̸-̷c̴a̶l̶l̴e̷d̸ ̴m̸o̶r̴t̸a̴l̸s̶ ̶w̵h̵i̶l̶e̸ ̶y̵o̸u̵r̶ ̴k̷i̸n̶d̴ ̴a̷r̶e̶ ̵n̴o̷ ̸d̴i̵f̷f̶e̸r̸e̷n̶t̸ ̸h̸a̵s̷ ̴a̴l̴l̸o̸w̸e̵d̴ ̷m̶e̴ ̸a̷n̶ ̸u̵n̶l̸i̶m̴i̶t̶e̶d̴ ̵a̵m̸o̴u̷n̴t̶ ̸o̸f̶ ̶v̴e̷s̶s̵e̶l̸s̶ ̸t̴o̷ ̵i̶n̶h̸a̸b̷i̴t̵,̵ ̸t̵o̸ ̶b̵e̶c̵k̴o̶n̸ ̵t̴o̴.̷ ̴T̸h̷i̸s̸ ̴i̵s̴ ̷w̸h̵y̸ ̷I̴ ̴a̷m̶ ̶y̵o̷u̶r̵ ̴s̶h̶a̵d̸o̶w̵,̷ ̶ ̴b̸e̷c̴a̸u̷s̶e̵ ̴y̶o̸u̸ ̸w̶i̸l̸l̶ ̵n̶e̴v̸e̸r̸ ̷c̷h̷a̷n̵g̸e̴,̶ ̵a̴n̸d̷ ̵s̴o̵ ̸t̶h̶e̶ ̵s̸a̷m̷e̵ ̷m̸i̶s̷t̷a̶k̵e̷,̷ ̸o̶v̶e̶r̷ ̸a̸n̷d̶ ̶o̸v̶e̵r̷ ̸a̷g̶a̷i̵n̸.̵ ̶B̷u̴t̸ ̴I̴ ̴d̵o̴ ̵l̸e̸a̷r̸n̷ ̵f̵r̵o̷m̷ ̵m̶y̶ ̸m̴i̵s̵t̵a̷k̶e̵s̷;̶ ̵g̸l̸a̷d̶l̷y̴ ̵I̵ ̶e̴v̴o̸l̸v̵e̴,̸ ̵l̴i̷k̸e̶ ̴a̵l̸l̴ ̵t̷h̵i̴n̶g̷s̴.̵.̸.̸ ̵a̷n̶d̵ ̶i̷t̶ ̵w̵a̴s̸ ̴a̶l̵l̴ ̴b̸e̷c̵a̷u̷s̷e̷ ̵o̴f̶ ̷y̸o̴u̷!̴"

"You lie, devil. Mortals are weak, their flesh so transient. Even you are not forever, devil; your victories are mere illusions, illusions made to deceive us."

The Celestial continues the speech in its final moments, the tone still arrogant, prideful, yet now tinged with a sense of feebleness.

"T̵h̸a̸t̶ ̵i̷s̵ ̶w̷h̷y̴,̸ ̶e̵o̷n̴s̴ ̶h̶a̸v̸e̸ ̴p̴a̴s̴s̶e̷d̶,̵ ̸y̴e̴t̸ ̸y̵o̶u̷ ̷d̴o̷ ̷n̷o̴t̸ ̵r̴e̸a̶l̸i̵z̴e̴ ̴i̵t̵ ̸y̴e̴t̷?̸ ̶I̷ ̵a̶m̵ ̴g̷r̸e̷a̴t̸l̴y̸ ̶i̵m̷p̴r̴e̷s̴s̸e̴d̸!̷ ̸Y̷o̴u̶ ̸d̸o̵n̶'̴t̸ ̴r̴e̷a̸l̵i̶z̵e̸ ̴y̴o̴u̴r̴ ̶k̶i̶n̶d̶ ̴r̷e̸s̸e̴m̶b̷l̷e̸s̸ ̷t̵h̴e̷m̵ ̴s̴o̸ ̸m̵u̴c̸h̵,̴ ̷y̴e̶t̵ ̵y̵o̴u̶ ̵t̵h̵i̵n̸k̸ ̶o̴f̴ ̷y̵o̴u̵r̴s̶e̶l̵f̴ ̷a̵s̷ ̴s̴o̴m̴e̵t̵h̴i̵n̸g̴ ̴s̶p̴e̷c̸i̴a̶l̷.̴ ̴M̵o̴r̸e̷ ̸p̸e̵r̷c̵e̷p̷t̸i̶o̵n̴s̸,̷ ̸a̵ ̴h̴i̵g̸h̸e̶r̴ ̸v̷a̴n̵t̴a̴g̵e̸ ̷p̴o̶i̷n̸t̷,̶ ̵d̴o̵e̶s̶n̴'̷t̶ ̷m̴a̶k̵e̷ ̵y̵o̵u̶ ̶a̷l̷l̷-̵s̶e̷e̴i̵n̴g̷.̵ ̴T̷h̶a̴t̸'̸s̴ ̵w̴h̸y̶ ̶y̶o̶u̴ ̶m̴a̷d̶e̵ ̸t̸h̵e̵ ̷s̶o̷-̵c̷a̸l̸l̴e̸d̸ ̴p̸r̸o̵p̴h̷e̷c̷i̸e̷s̶,̷ ̷a̶b̴o̴u̴t̴ ̴h̸e̴r̷o̶e̷s̷ ̸a̸n̵d̶ ̵v̶i̴l̵l̷a̸i̷n̵s̴.̸.̷.̷ ̴a̸b̶o̷u̶t̶ ̷t̴h̴e̸ ̴p̴o̴i̵n̸t̶l̷e̵s̴s̵ ̶g̶l̵o̵r̶i̶e̸s̴,̵ ̷t̶h̷e̴ ̷m̶o̷m̴e̴n̶t̶a̶r̴y̵ ̵v̸i̷c̷t̶o̸r̷i̸e̸s̶.̷ ̵A̶n̸d̵ ̵t̴h̷a̶t̴ ̷r̴e̶f̶l̷e̴c̴t̷s̴ ̷t̶h̵o̴s̶e̶ ̸o̷f̸ ̸t̵h̶e̸ ̴o̵n̷e̶s̷ ̸y̴o̵u̸ ̶l̵o̵o̶k̵e̵d̶ ̶d̶o̴w̸n̶ ̷u̷p̵o̴n̴.̷ ̴W̶h̶e̵n̶ ̴I̵ ̶d̵e̶v̴o̸u̴r̷e̴d̴ ̴y̵o̸u̵r̴ ̷k̶i̶n̷d̵,̵ ̷t̸h̶e̴y̸ ̵a̴l̵w̷a̵y̶s̵ ̴t̴h̴i̸n̵k̴ ̶t̸h̸e̴y̵ ̷c̶a̷n̷ ̴b̶e̷ ̵t̴h̷a̶t̷ ̷g̸u̷y̷,̸ ̴t̵h̵a̷t̸ ̴h̸e̶r̶o̶,̸ ̶t̶h̷e̴ ̴o̸n̵e̶ ̷i̵n̸ ̶t̸h̶e̶ ̸s̶t̶o̵r̷y̶ ̴p̴r̷o̷p̷h̴e̶s̷i̸e̴d̷ ̵t̵o̵ ̶b̷r̴i̵n̵g̴ ̵h̴o̸p̴e̸.̸ ̸Y̶e̵t̶,̸ ̵t̴h̶e̶y̵ ̷d̴o̸ ̵n̸o̷t̸ ̴r̸e̵a̸l̸i̸z̴e̴ ̴t̵h̸a̴t̸ ̵t̷h̷e̸r̶e̵ ̷i̸s̷ ̸o̸n̵l̶y̶.̴.̴.̴ ̴d̷e̶s̶p̷a̵i̸r̶."

"S̷t̸a̶r̴s̸ ̸w̵i̷l̶l̴ ̵f̶a̷d̸e̵,̵ ̴l̶i̶g̵h̸t̶ ̵w̵i̵l̴l̶ ̴s̴u̵b̸s̷u̷m̶e̷,̶ ̴t̸h̷i̶s̵ ̴g̴a̸l̵a̵x̴y̷ ̶a̶n̶d̸ ̶a̵l̶l̶ ̷y̷o̴u̶r̵ ̸c̶r̵e̵a̷t̴i̷o̶n̵ ̴w̴i̸l̶l̵ ̵d̶i̸e̶.̴.̵.̷"

The boundless, unfathomable abyss chuckles—a void filled with despair, emptiness. Here, there is no hate, no deceit, no hope. It chuckles, almost kindly.

"No...you will never win."

"̸E̶v̶e̸r̶y̵o̵n̴e̴ ̴h̷a̵s̵ ̸u̵t̷t̶e̴r̵e̶d̴ ̷t̸h̷e̷ ̷s̵a̸m̴e̸,̵ ̵W̵u̸z̶t̴e̷k̸.̸ ̶T̵h̴e̶y̴ ̶b̷e̵l̵i̶e̶v̴e̴ ̵t̵h̵e̵y̸ ̶w̷i̸l̴l̴ ̷b̷e̸ ̵t̴h̵e̸ ̷o̶n̴e̷ ̷t̶o̶ ̷v̵a̶n̷q̷u̶i̴s̴h̶ ̶m̸e̷.̸ ̶B̴u̴t̵ ̷m̸a̴r̸k̵ ̷m̸y̸ ̷w̶o̶r̷d̷s̵.̶.̸.̵ ̸O̵n̴e̸ ̵d̸a̴y̷,̸ ̸I̷ ̶s̵h̴a̴l̸l̴ ̷e̶v̷e̴n̷ ̴r̶e̴a̷p̴ ̵y̵o̶u̵r̸ ̷F̴o̷r̸c̶e̷ ̷i̶t̶s̵e̴l̷f̷.̴"

"You will not."

Silence reigns, the unyielding presence of nothing. It beckons.

"L̵a̸s̷t̸ ̵c̵h̸a̶n̵c̸e̴,̴ ̴C̶e̶l̷e̴s̸t̸i̴a̵l̸.̶ ̸I̷s̵ ̶t̶h̴e̸ ̷c̵a̴v̸a̸l̵r̵y̶ ̶c̴o̵m̵i̷n̴g̶?̶"

Sweet defiance to the very end, the imprisoned Celestial chuckled in disgust.

"Bet your ass they're coming."

The shadows crept closer, the hungry serpents growing more voracious, dragging the pocketed reality deeper into the abyss of nothingness.

"Remember this before you think you've won... in the end... you are nothing."

The room descended completely into the void, consumed by its endless darkness.

"C̶o̸r̵r̶e̸c̸t̴."

The ship itself slowly crumbled, descending into dark, disappearing into the depths of oblivion.

The lights were extinguished from the mortal vision like candles in a hurricane, and the ship vanished, the Emperor awoke to a new realm. He was alive, on board his vessel, the blue gem on his crown shining brightly along the other four. Only two more gems remained to be claimed. A smile played on the mortal's lips.

The Emperor, the mortal concealed behind layers of comfort and deception, wielding skills and powers that granted him temporary dominion over a fraction of reality, sensed his executioner, the betrayal of an underling, firsthand. A grin crept across his face as he contemplated the turn of events—the chosen one, his initial pawn, his first puppet once again slipping into the light. Countless years seemed destined to be squandered once more, yet the abyss that had once ensnared his body and essence offered him solace. For soon, he would possess something far superior to a fractured man within machineries, never quite reaching his full potential. All he required was himself.

Aboard the Eclipse III, the man smiled a wicked grin, his movements embodying a sinister dance, for he had discovered the boundless, unrestrained power that awaited him.

Two more flickers of light. The mortal continues to indulge himself in the boundless void of the delusions.

The path to ascension looms ever closer, within reach,

And the mortal continues to walk it, delightfully embracing the journey.

The dread in the war room was gripping tightly onto all that stands.

The room within the command council fell into a stark silence. The solemn atmosphere enveloped the men gathered there, their attention fixed on the blue-skinned crimson-eyed Supreme Commander—the former Grand Admiral who had become the de facto supreme leader of the galaxy took his bloodshot eyes into the souls of his men. He took a sip of coffee, a slight twitch, a tiny spasm rippling through his hand as he placed the dense black liquid back down. After a deep breath, he directed his gaze to the table, studying the map of the galaxy spread out before him.

The plan had succeeded...partially. The countless species he had sent to the slaughter, cannon fodders forcibly conscripted down to the last individuals, had effectively stalled the enemy's advances. If his cold heart could feel, he might have sensed the lingering grief and sorrow that could span a hundreds of trillion lifetimes, fleeting emotions touching his fingertips as they moved across the interactive screen of the table, emitting soft beeps. The lives dripped coldly on the altar of fate every second as the galaxy bleeds.

His mind, the synapses now weary, perhaps his emotions themselves burnt out from endless nights. Yet, in this moment, he cared not for the souls lost or the boundless, unfathomable grief. He stood far from it all, detached from the devouring void, yet so dangerously close to the abyss at the same time. The shadows of the room, the abyss of his heart.

He surveyed the digital screen spread out like a large sheet before him, his gaze fixated on the green dot now turned red, casting a look of disdain and dissatisfaction towards his generals.  The ragtag assembly of men sweated profusely, exchanging uneasy glances as they studied the expressions on the face of their leader, they cast their gaze—humans and Chiss alike upon the man, their leader sitting at the end of the interactive table. Imperial and Ascendancy officers alike harbored a deep-seated fear for their lives in the searing hot atmosphere. They had lost his trust.

On each red dot is a whole world. Thrawn took his gaze on a perculiar label on the edges of the galatic expanses, in the Outer Rim. The red planet, Dathomir had fallen, its resources expended in vain. This outcome was expected, yet the enemy's relentless advance persisted. The diversionary maneuvers had failed to outwit the guiding intelligence behind the all-devouring swarm of mechanical locusts, ravaging worlds, feasting on the innocent, harvesting souls and light. The Supreme Commander, however, remained indifferent to it all. Statistics held little importance to him compared to the strategic significance of the battle. But today, generals he so dearly trusted to manage the resources he had in finite, had disappointed him.

The enemy continued their inexorable march, a yellow tempest still looming on the horizon. They advanced too swiftly, too aggressively, too fast for his liking.

He took another sip of his coffee, his hand occasionally performing a subtle dance, shaking, shifting as the Chiss leader took a necessary deep breath. The failure was deemed unacceptable. He cast a glance at the assembly standing before him and issued his command.

"Hasten up the drafting processes. I need every single one of them, by the end of the day," the composed, cold voice and the gaze from the abyss of a heart echoed through the room.

"But sir, you're demanding the impossible. We need more men," an officer stepped forward, bravely stating the truth that seemed unattainable.

"Do as I've said. That was an order," Thrawn reiterated, unwavering in his resolve.

"Yes... sir. We will double— " an Imperial Admiral spoke up.

"Not enough," Thrawn interjected.

"Our efforts will exceed your expectations, sir!" a Chiss man stepped forward, a young man with ambition. He could not hide from reality, but he could still hide behind the words.

"That's what I wanted to hear," Thrawn responded with a smile.

Taking a deep breath and another sip of the vine-coffee, Thrawn briefly lowered his head before locking his gaze and stoic expression back on the assembled men.

But, another idea sparked within the searing hot synapses of the Chiss Grand Admiral. Realization dawned upon him—if this unfolded as he had meticulously predicted, then perhaps they were not as doomed as they initially appeared.

"What about the incursion of the far outsiders? Have they taken the bait?" Thrawn inquired.

"Yes, the presence of these mechanical beings has indeed greatly unsettled them, provoking a premature invasion directly towards the enemy's path, sir," an Admiral reported.

"Good..." Thrawn's frown briefly curled up into a rare, weary smile.

"What should we do sir ?" An Imperial Admiral, a relatively young man, hesitantly spoke up.

The hand trembled more, the once-hot cup of coffee now chilled, the beeps and hums of machinery still resonating throughout the war room. The men, their fear, the stark truth—they all felt palpably real in the presence of the blue hand of the Chiss Supreme Commander. Tracing the lines and the red dots on the table that doubled as a screen, observing the red and yellow arrows, and the swirling yellow vortex marking the invasion route, he took another deep breath, the vision of victory still vivid in his mind. The man remained confident, the path ahead still clear. He simply needed more time, more strategic insight. He was determined to win.

"Let them fight."

The hallway of the Executor gleamed with sterile cold smell of steel as the colossal ship sliced through the fabric of hyperspace. Within its confines resided the enigmatic newcomers—peculiar members of the all-devouring swarm that had laid waste to countless planets. Their presence, now in an alliance of convenience, demanded a cautious dance on the part of the ship's inhabitants. Were the crew to dwell on the implications, horror might well have gripped their hearts, yet none dared to voice their unease. These were Vader's orders, or rather, the commands of Anakin Skywalker.

The forced coexistence onboard brimmed with palpable mistrust, a fragile equilibrium that hung by a thread. Each interaction, each words, was a delicate gamble poised on the brink of collapse, ready to shatter like glass at the slightest provocation. The tension aboard the Executor was a silent symphony of apprehension, where loyalty and suspicion danced a precarious waltz, awaiting the moment when the delicate balance would be shattered.

R2-D2 rolled through the hallway, his circuits beeping in a concerned rhythm. This experience had been peculiar, to say the least. The notion that Luke had formed a connection with the very entity that had dismantled his companions like discarded toys troubled the astromech droid. Luke, in his own right, possessed qualities that echoed those of his father, Anakin, yet lacked the same audacity, rebellious spirit, and ferocity that defined the former Jedi.

As R2 processed these thoughts, his circuits hummed with worry, contemplating the implications of these newfound alliances. Leia's arrival, accompanied by the self-proclaimed technician "Ellie," stirred a flurry of memories within R2's databanks. Retrieving and analyzing these recollections, he found himself puzzled by the inexplicable connections he unraveled. Nothing seemed to align neatly within his logical framework.

The droid's well-oiled mind began to cloud with uncertainty. A realization struck him—why had the Imperial oil supply, crucial for his maintenance, been dwindling as of late? Too many unanswered questions inundated his processor, overwhelming his capacity to process them all at once. With a sense of caution, R2 decided to keep his communicator silent, hoping for the best amidst the maze of uncertainties that surrounded him. The encounter with the disassembler bearing a bob-cut of silver hair had inflicted a mortal blow to his ego and confidence, a wound he grudgingly acknowledged. Moving forward, he knew he would have to tread more cautiously.

R2-D2 walks, the incessantly chatty C-3PO continued spewing garbage as usual. R2 however, remained oblivious to the protocol droid's words, having cleverly disabled his audio receiver to filter out the unnecessary babble. As they strolled down the hallway, a flicker caught R2's sensors, drawing his attention towards Leia, who stood near the exit engaged in conversation with Ellie.

Something felt amiss with the Princess, a disquiet that had whispered to R2-D2 from the very start. He had voiced his concerns to Luke, only to have them brushed aside as baseless worries or simple malfunctions in his programming. Nonsense, he knew the truth of it; his intuition seldom led him astray.

As "Ellie" executed an unnaturally sharp turn of her head, an angle that could shatter an organic neck like fragile glass, R2-D2's sensors flared with alarm. Ellie's widened eyes, fixed upon the approaching droids, reflected a primal fear that tingled through the astromech's circuits. Leia, seemingly fatigued by their conversation with the "Technician" for some reason, emitted a weary sigh, her annoyance palpable as she shifted her gaze towards the two droids.

And then, in a glitch of reality, a sinister figure materialized before R2's optical sensors—an entity cloaked in shadows, its stark white faceplate covering the lower half of its face slick with oily residue, a maw slowly spreading, dripping with menacing fangs. A luminous blue X danced across a darkened screen. If R2 had a mouth he would scream, but all those war memories had hardened him enough to make him silenced.

Grazing his sensors as the image of the white-clad machine fixated on him with a hunger that felt all too real, as if he were mere prey in its predatory sights. The image burns itself into his circuits in moments. The momentary horror that seized him shook the foundations of his reality.

Yet, a swift recalibration of his sensors anchored R2-D2 back to his familiar world. The image lingering like ghostly whispers in the recesses of his circuits. Another refresh and Leia still stood there, still clad in her white garb as "Ellie" quickly darted away into the hallway.

C-3PO, oblivious to the gravity of the situation as always, continued prattling on, unaware of the tension that had seized R2 circuits. Frozen in place, R2's systems locked up momentarily as the Princess...Leia. No, the damned monster that has taken her form and identity approached the small astromech droid. "What are you doing here? I was going to meet you," Leia inquired as she drew closer to R2, her voice cutting through the air, laden with a mix of concern and curiosity.

The Princess approached, gracefully kneeling down as she briefed the droid, her expression softening from the initial agitation. From the folds of her white garb, she took out a small data bank, her eyes locking with R2's unyielding optics. But the astromech remained defiant, unmoved by her gestures.

R2 looked at Leia. The resemblance to her father haunted R2 like a specter, stirring a rare sense of unease within him. For the first time in ages, he hoped desperately that what he was witnessing was nothing more than a glitch, a distortion brought on by the scars of war that had seeped deep into his programming, distorting his perceptions in unforeseen ways he could not processed.

"R2, I need you to assist with the data transfer. C-3PO, accompany him." She spoke, the commands were clear.

Leia rose to her feet, and R2 responded with an affirmative beep before swiftly rolling down the hallway, C-3PO clanking along behind him. Leia's demeanor appeared tense, as if she were fleeing from an unseen threat, before she straightened up, her gaze darting around the corridor.

As they distanced themselves from the bustling crowd, R2-D2 initiated his characteristic series of beeps and whistles, a language all his own. He was far more astute and perceptive than most organics gave him credit for. There was a pressing need to share his concerns with someone, but he was acutely aware of his status as a mere machine, often overlooked in matters of importance. Who else could he confide in?

Even those who acknowledged his sentience might not heed his warnings. Yet, his sensors screamed to him like a raging storm. Anakin, consumed by his own burdens, wouldn't likely trust the insights of a droid. Luke might dismiss his alerts as mere noise, another of his ramblings. Obi-Wan, like many others, regarded him simply as a machine.

"R2, C-3PO, stay alert," Leia's voice commanded. "We don't know how much time we still have. I must go. Remember your duties." With those words, Leia turned to leave, her figure receding down the corridor. R2-D2 watched intently, his sensors fixated on her form as she faded from view. She appeared the same, her voice familiar, yet he detected a strain in her movements, a weight upon her very being. Was she truly the Princess he knew, or....

What even is she now ?

Artoo questioned reality.

Uncertainty clouded his circuits as he pondered the authenticity of this accursed reality he found himself in. His processors whirred and hummed, working overtime to explain to himself. The essence of Leia lingered in the air, but beneath the surface, something felt odd. R2 grappled with the unsettling notion that the once unshakeable truth of his world was now veiled in shadows of doubt.

He just needed someone to convey to...But who would even...?

Then he remembered the friend that has always stood by his side.

Perhaps, in a twist of fate, the ever-chatty C-3PO would lend him an ear. With a sense of urgency, R2 conveyed his suspicions to C-3PO through a flurry of beeps, hoping against hope that this Force-forsaken insufferable golden protocol droid would listen to his words.

C-3PO tilted his golden head inquisitively. "What do you mean, R2? Princess Leia appears perfectly fine to me," he remarked, his tone filled with genuine confusion.

R2-D2, internally exasperated, processed C-3PO's response with a mix of frustration and resignation. It was no surprise to him that the protocol droid failed to see it. The perpetual obliviousness of C-3PO often left R2 questioning the wisdom behind Anakin's decision to program such a cumbersome companion. R2 however continued to voice out his thoughts to the only one he knew who could blindly trust him.

C-3PO looked at R2 as his words sank in. "You haven't been able to pick up her heartbeat? Oh my! And you think she's been acting strangely since she survived that planet's destruction?"

R2-D2 emitted a series of concerned beeps and whistles, his dome swiveling in agitation. C-3PO seemed to be starting to understand, eliciting an internal sigh of relief from the astromech droid.

C-3PO shook his head in disagreement as R2 continued to express his concerns. "R2, that's simply preposterous ! All that luxurious oil must have spoiled you. The Princess is merely under immense stress that's all. It's from this new threat weighing over us all."

R2-D2 whirred thoughtfully, his skepticism lingering despite C-3PO's reassurances. Gradually, he began to calm himself, finding a sense of inner balance amidst the uncertainty. As they advanced down the corridor, R2-D2's sensors remained sharply attuned to their surroundings, a silent vigilance underscoring his every move.

Regardless of the likelihood of C-3PO dismissing his concerns as he often did, R2 continued to voice his thoughts.

C-3PO listened as he briefly halted in his tracks, his circuits processing the implications of R2's suspicions. "A hologram? Are you implying that Princess Leia might not be... herself? I'm unsure about that, R2. Especially at the part where you said she might be drinking all of your oil supply. I know our new guests have been taking alot of your luxurious goods but this is just too insane even for you R2." he inquired confusingly, the notion slowly dawning on him as he finally getting it, slowly grasping fully the gravity of R2's seemingly baseless insinuations.

R2 contemplated his next step. Remaining silent seemed the most logical course of action in this moment. What else could he do? He tried to push aside his concerns, but the pressing need to deliver the databank persisted. However, to whom should he deliver it? As he treaded carefully, his primary goal was clear: avoid getting dismantled. His thoughts briefly drifted back to the four that Anakin allowed to join him. Making friends with other machines, even potentially hostile ones, was a skill he excelled at.

Now, R2 knew he must adhere to his directive.

Then... the silence he had anticipated shattered as quickly as it came.

An alarm grazed his sensors—it was from Obi-Wan. He needed to get Luke to wake up. A storm was brewing.

A storm in the eternal dream.

A storm in the eternal

nightmare...

Luke trembled.

The world came crashing down upon him. Countless thoughts, emotions screamed into his ear like a diverging river in a storm, its murky currents washing away all in its wrath. Barren voices clamored in unison, questioning his very essence—was he hope, dreams, positivity, or could he be twisted, tainted by evil? Visions swirled before him like phantoms in the mist: the figure of his father, a son, a silhouette of darkness, and others lost to the void. The rippling presence of unimaginable darkness shook him to his core, its magnitude enough to shatter any mortal mind. Yet, the myriad of voices whispered a reminder that he was not something more, he was his father's son, a current in the cosmic tempest. He was trapped, in the eternal abyss.

There are no escape from darkness, for him. Not in dreams, not in pages, nor at journey's end.

Beckoning calls echoed, accompanied by haunting howls and whispers. Thoughts of despair mingled with glimpses of hope, fleeting dreams, and nightmares, inundating Luke's mortal mind with incomprehensible words and sentences all at once.

Then reality pulled him as the nightmare made itself real. The shadows watched, the boy arisen from his slumber.

Luke's eyes snapped open as he jolted awake, the echo of C-3PO's call piercing through the remnants of his nightmare. It was just a nightmare, a fleeting dream. The words of the droid seared into his nostrils. The darkness of his dreams lingered, casting an eternal shadow upon his thoughts.

Breathing heavily, he gazed at the golden-clad droid and its companion. The young boy, raised under the twin suns, somehow knew that the story had only just begun.

In the end, it was just a nightmare...

Chapter Text

V moved sluggishly through the corridors of the Executor, her movements reminiscent of a weary cat. In one hand, she held a cup of fragrant premium oil, a gift from a small robot she had nearly dismantled in her boredom. As she navigated the ship, she sought distraction from the surrounding pain and suffering, her subroutines working to redirect her thoughts towards more pleasant images and memories in an attempt to cope with the trauma that lingered deep within her programming.

Surveying the vessel, V noted the humans onboard. Many appeared mentally subdued, their minds seemingly controlled or influenced by an individual known as Anakin, Vader, or...yes..."DarkDragon66." These individuals had been compelled to begrudgingly acknowledge and tolerate her presence by their leader. Those unaffected by this mental manipulation chose to ignore her, walking past with feigned indifference and forced ignorance. They carried on with a facade of normalcy, pretending that one of the machines responsible for the deaths of many of their kind was simply another benign presence aboard their vessel. The alternative, it seemed, was to face the wrath of their dark and edgy robotic overlord.

Consuming the entirety of the cup, including the vessel and the oil within, V's matter processing body registered an increase in her oil reserves on her heads-up display. Satisfied with her current levels, she didn't require more, yet she chose to indulge regardless. The humans aboard had shown her unexpected kindness, but she couldn't rest content with that alone. Continuing her stride, the metallic pegs of her legs reverberated against the ship's metal flooring as she pressed onward.

She walked ceaselessly until the ambient human chatter, whispers, and murmurs faded away, finding herself in the obscure recesses of the ship.

Suddenly, akin to a thunderclap or a lightning strike, or perhaps even a cucumber tempting a cat, she heard it—a voice echoing through the corridor. This voice was distinct, originating from a secluded area of the ship inaccessible to humans. The twin neon yellow light ovals on her monitor, which comprised half of her face, flickered in responding to the unexpected stimulus.

It was N's voice.

And he was pleading to someone.

"I can't do this Tessa...I can't just... do that to them...even for you."

Peeking around the corner, V laid eyes on a tense confrontation between two Disassemblers.

The first one was unmistakably N, her beloved, sporting his signature pilot hat and disheveled hair. Yet, she could discern the anguish etched on his face. The second Disassembler, a female, clutched his arm in a pleading gesture, seemingly trying to sway him. Tears, depicted as yellow droplets, streamed down N's screen, a poignant display of inner turmoil as he stood frozen in a state of resignation at this critical juncture, torn by a decision he seemed reluctant to make. Anger surged within V as she contemplated dismantling the other Disassembler who dared to shake her beloved N. However, a flicker of recognition sparked in her circuits. She recognized the hair, she distinguished the voice. She squinted her optics and she finally sees it.

"...Tessa?" A gasp of recognition escaped V's voicebox, her optics widening in disbelief.

The female Disassembler turned towards V, still gripping N's shoulder. Their gazes locked, twin ovals meeting each other, the light reflecting off their visors as the ovals elongated into rings with distinct markings. Tessa and V stared intently at each other, a silent exchange of scrutiny passing between them. V, taken aback by the revelation, recoiled from her initial stance, stumbling backward as Tessa appeared caught in the act, studying her with a mix of emotions. While V had sensed something awry with "Ellie,". She had never been close to Tessa as much as the other three, but she still knew much more than enough of her mannerism and love to know "Ellie" was but a mere guise for Tessa James Elliott.

"V ?" N head tilted as his optics turned to her.

"What has Cyn turned you into?" V's voice quivered with horror as she beheld the transformed figure before her. Tessa, the former human master, the kind human girl who had once rescued her from that drone pile where she was left to rot into scraps by humans who could never care. It was Tessa who brought her back to safety, and showered her with love. The one who had adamantly refused to discard her even when marked by the neon yellow cross of error. V stared at Tessa in disbelief, recognizing the hair, the voice, the mannerisms. It all fell into place as she gazed into the eyes of the female Disassembler, realizing the truth she should have known all along.

"Tessa...I."

V froze, and the image of the human girl who loved drones was gone. The mistress of deceit remained, a part of V snapped and shattered like glass.

"V..." Tessa's voice faltered.

V gazed at the Disassembler with a mixture of hurt and betrayal. The void within her soul felt even emptier, as the final uncorrupted remnant of her past, a memory from the manor, a piece of heaven, had now been tainted by the icy grip of Cyn. She feels so empty now, in her soul if she even has one. She only now feels the couch touch...

...of the void.

In the cold void of hyperspace, a vessel charted its path.

A growl echoes through the vessel travelling through the infinite expanse of the void the realm where reality cast its shadows.

"You said it Chewie, I was this close to staying on that ship and helping those guys," Han murmured, gesturing with his fingers to illustrate the narrow escape to Chewie, who sat stoically at the pilot's helm.

Chewie emitted a confirming growl.With an exasperated and fatigued expression, Han glanced wearily at Chewie before redirecting his focus to the control panel of the Falcon, scrutinizing the data and reports displayed on the console with a sense of urgency.

Something is very wrong with the Hyperspace route they are going.

Turning away, Han's gaze fixed upon the swirling vortex of hyperspace, its mesmerizing dance captivating his thoughts as the Falcon hurtled through the cosmic fabric of reality, hurtling towards a destination shrouded in mystery. Not even Han aware of their final destination, the end of the route. But propelled by nothing more than a mere gamble against fate, they pressed onward, for the known dangers of their path seemed a safer bet than the lurking oddities and encroaching madness that threatened to engulf both him and Chewie. Han was a master of gambling, and he was ready to win this bet. Unwilling to concede, Han grappled internally with unspoken truths that now laid bare—he couldn't bring himself to admit it, but the memory of the princess, the boy, tugged at his heart, a yearning to turn back gnawing at his spirit. Regret lingered heavy in his thoughts, for the opportunity for a different choice had slipped beyond his grasp. Despite the turmoil within, Han understood the necessity of granting his weary mind the respite it craved, a chance to mend and recover amidst the relentless chaos, the slow cold unforgiving depths of the abyss the galaxy is slowly descending into.

Chewie emitted a low, worried growl, turning his gaze back to Han.

"Yeah we all in the dark for now. At least, from what I've gathered from the net, Jabba's no longer a threat. We shouldn't have any of his lackeys on our tail," Han reassured, reclining in his seat in an attempt to maintain a facade of composure.

Another rumble emanated from the Wookiee's vocal cords as he fixed his gaze upon a point in the back corner or the ship, as though a subtle whisper had grazed his ears, stirring a primal instinct within him.

"You mean..." Han's voice trailed off, his eyes drawn to the ominous crimson glow within the ship. Suddenly, the realization struck him, echoing Chewie's earlier sentiment. Another jolt rocked the ship, the structural integrity of the hyperdrive teetering on the brink of failure. Something or someone was relentlessly knocking at the Falcon's, the distant echoes reverberating through the desolate expanse of the void. A chill ran down Han's spine, a sense of unease gripping both him and Chewie, as they silently prayed for the whatever threat to pass, disappearing as mysteriously as it had appeared.

But it didn't dissapear.

The metallic clatter crescendoed, echoing through the Falcon as though someone pounded relentlessly on a thin sheet of metal, the noise akin to the hollow clang of an empty can being kicked. The ship trembled violently, Han and Chewie's hands darting across the control panel in a frantic dance. "I've got this," Han declared, his voice strained as the vessel shuddered with increasing intensity, alarms blaring in a cacophony of warning.

As Han studied the galaxy map once more, incredulity washed over him. It was as if unseen gravitational forces, not one but multiple, were tearing at their hyperspace route, fragmenting the very fabric of spacetime into scattered droplets. Mass shadows—a concept familiar yet foreboding, a silent mandate for all who traversed hyperspace—manifested as dark voids, distortions cast by objects in realspace onto the surreal canvas of hyperspace, where the laws of the universe held no sway. These shadows, these abyssal echoes of celestial bodies, twisted the fabric of reality itself.

"This is impossible," Han muttered in disbelief, his gaze flitting back to the map that depicted a starless void where stars should have been. Unless, by some arcane force, these mass shadows had been drawn here, converging like spectral tendrils of wrath, pursuing him with a vengeance that seemed divine in its fury.

The Falcon quaked, the very fabric of reality itself trembling, and Han clung desperately to any semblance of truth as his hands seemed to meld into the console, finding no purchase. The once serene blue of the hyperspace tunnel before him twisted into a writhing mass of tentacles, distorting the very essence of space, and logic while the Falcon itself contorted unnaturally. Turning to Chewie for reassurance, Han was met only by encroaching shadows creeping closer.

Horrified, Han's eyes widened in terror, but the insidious grip of the unknown had already seized his mind. The world convulsed, his vision dimming as each moment slipped further into obscurity, until all that remained was an abyssal void consuming his reality.

The tendrils of the unknown dragged Han's world into unfathomable depths as the hyperspace tunnel fractured and shattered, plunging him into the unknown.

The void enveloped Han, a cold and unforgiving embrace, stripping away any hope of escape through blasters, trickery, or bravado. In that moment, he resigned himself to the inevitability of death, a fate that seemed to loom closer with each passing heartbeat. The notion of perishing while hurtling through the vast expanse of hyperspace was not unfamiliar to him, yet each time the specter of death approached, he had managed to slip its grasp at the eleventh hour.

Now, however, he harbored a sense of certainty that this time might be different. A fatalistic calm, Han closed his eyes, bracing himself for whatever awaited him on the other side. Would it be the will of the Force, whatever it even is, the capricious hand of a random forsaken deity, or perhaps even the ghostly visage of Jabba mocking him in a surreal dream? As the void closed in, Han awaited the revelation of his fate.

In the dwindling corner of his vision, darkness encroached, threatening to consume all. Perhaps, Han mused, this was indeed the final chapter, where the tormented soul of a man—once a smuggler, a thief, and a scoundrel—would at last be brought to a reckoning. The Falcon descended into the abyss, the void of existence, into the past that never was. The realms of the divine opened briefly to mortal eyes once more.

Han sees it...

Han sees it all!

For a fleeting moment, the vision erupted into dreams of the divine, into a world of gods where nebulae and worlds swirled amidst the darkness.

Beauty...

Starlights.

The fleeting dreams.

And then, darkness.

A sudden moment of clarity, a shard of enlightenment pierced through Han's thoughts. A fragment of his consciousness grasped the profound truth: the malevolence currently threatening to unravel the very fabric of the galaxy was naught but a mere fledgling compared to the primordial abyss of darkness that had once waged war against the divine, laying waste to realms and binding even the heavens in chains of its own making.

A billion years

A thousand years

A hundred...

Time bears little meaning in the infinite ocean of the void.

Where is he now?

Who is he again ?

A voice...

A voice pierced the haze, the foggy cloud dispersed and he found himself in another world, another time, another place. A voice calling out to him.

"My lord, you must look at this."

The voice felt real yet foreign, speaking in a long-dead tongue, carrying visions of transcendence. Everything seemed like a dream, a surreal experience through the eyes of a man straddling the realms of mortals and gods, where the scoundrel revisited a time when the divine met their downfall...

His gaze wandered, and his fragile mind endeavored to knit together the fragments of the dream, piecing together a coherent picture he could comprehend. The beauty that enveloped him was striking— the air heavy with the heady scent of exotic flora, the symphony of unseen creatures rushing by, filling the atmosphere with words. High above, shades of stained glasses filtered the sunlight into a verdant glow of colors, while below, the undergrowth pulsed with vitality. Yet, this vibrant power was not the sole source of energy in this realm.

Within the technological domain lay a colossal palace, resplendent in gold and radiating with arcane energies—a nexus where the natural and the supernatural intertwined. Beyond the stained glasses that adorned the celestial domain, the sky was marked with a magnificent, glowing nebulae, casting celestial beauty upon the world, eventually converging into a vast room larger and more resplendent than his wildest imaginings. This space was filled with shimmering technologies and arcane energies, intricately woven into every corner, creating a mesmerizing tapestry of wonder.

"The Celestial Court has given us something wonderful ! Have you not heard about it my Lord, we are on the brink of victory! The weapon to banish the shadows, using the very Font and Pool, the energy that has allowed it to turn the mortal woman into its embodiment-"

The voice trailed off, gasping with barely contained excitement. The hastily paced words jumbled together as the bug-like man bellowed his words to his divine overseer.

"Once this dagger is complete, we shall have the power to banish it forever—a blade crafted to absorb any energy it encounters, assimilating its very essence and confining it within something we can control. When it is completed, we could rendered its malignant energies, useless !"

He spun around as a humanoid figure, the bug-like figure, standing on two feet with large eyes and antennas, was odd in appearance adorning in a long garb that he somehow knew is a lab coat, the glinting fabric glowed with spectral energy. The figure had spoken to him, addressing him as a mortal to a deity. He looked at the  and a sense of bewilderment flickering across his features. He somehow could sense it, his form. Mortals could not behold their own visage without a mirror, but for the divine who merely utilized mortal forms as puppets on strings, he could see it. Observing his form from above the realm, he perceived himself as a young man with twin glowing azure energy eyes, and a crown of silver and light brown fibers adorning his head.

As though compelled by an unseen force, he struggled to respond before turning his senses towards the far end of the chamber where a multitude of scientists and researchers toiled. The form he now took radiated with ethereal light, his flowing robes cascading down the spectral stature.

"Then, let the work continue," he commanded to the mortal that stood before him.

"Yes, my Lord," a nod from the bug-like figure, then came the dutiful reply, echoing through the chamber filled with purposeful activity and the hum of arcane machinations. The figure swiftly rushed to one of the consoles, deftly adjusting the flow of currents and directing powers into the transformation of the blade into the superweapon designed to vanquish darkness itself.

He looked up, far away and he could see the apex of the chamber, a colossal altar loomed, energy converging upon a long, slender, and elongated blade. The blade shimmered with a radiant celestial glow, its surface aglow with a luminous yellow hue, exuding an divine aura. The long edge of the blade was keenly sharp as it glows like a morning star.

The hilt of the dagger was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, intricately woven with delicate ribbons and embellished with carvings depicting a language that, from his perspective, appeared beyond any mere mortal comprehension. As he peered closer, squinting to perceive with his heightened senses, the intricacies of the markings hinted at a symbolism far deeper and more ancient than any mortal tongue could convey.

"At last, our key to victory !"

Applause echoed as a figure entered—not walked, but strolled—into the room. The enigmatic being was featureless yet humanoid, possessing two arms and a stature that hinted at a divine authority that ignited the shadowy worlds. Though the true identity remained shrouded behind the cloaks of mighty light, an instinctual recognition hinted at the superior status of the figure that now dominated the large divine research chamber. The form, a shifting mass of glowing azure energy, gradually coalesced into a more tangible and recognizable manifestation.

The face that emerged was that of a general—The General. The name flashed into his mind: the Celestial General, Wutztek, materializing to address his mortal subjects and underlings. Amidst the cheers and applause, the Celestial General emitted a weary chuckle from his featureless countenance as a blade materialized in his hand, slowly taking form—a long, manifesting weapon materialize in his grip and a trailing cape behind him, a symbol of his grandiose authority.

The room suddenly froze, as if caught in a chilling breeze.

He turned around, surveying the now empty chamber. What had once appeared grand and celestial was now exposed as a facade. The darkness enveloped the celestial chamber, shadows creeping from ancient times, the present and beyond. In a heartbeat, everything vanished—emptiness, darkness, shadows—save for the glow of the General himself and the celestial soldiers stoically guarding alongside the mortals.

Then even the mortal forms liquefied like candle wax, the bug-like creatures, the hammerheads soilders melding into the floor below. The scientists, consoles, and technology all dissolved into nothingness. The illusion shattered, leaving only the flickering lights of the so-called deities, the profound emptiness of those with but a fleeting time in the worlds. They had been consumed.

"She is here!" growled the Celestial General, his voice laden with disdain. "No,  IT is here!" he sneered.

A faint silhouette appeared briefly in the corner of the room, it slowly take form, melding itself together

"A corrupted one," the General affirmed, his intuition piercing the veil to sense its true nature.

A wave of darkness, the shadows that lurk beneath reality, darker than even the lightless realm of a singularity, consumed everything in its path. It devoured, subsumed, assimilated the tightly packed mortals in the room onto its boundless forms, each one melting into the abyss—body and soul torn apart, claimed by the insidious awakened void. The echoes of the gods' sins dragged the mortals into the depths, extinguishing the lights that once illuminated their souls across the two realms.

He witnessed it all, counting four hundred and seven of these mortal creatures that once bore into his senses. Some wielded pistols and blades, while others toiled on the superweapon they had sacrificed so much to create for the gods. In the blink of an eye, he counted once more, but the spectral vision above the worlds found no trace of any mortal light— they were gone, extinguished like candles. Every hint of their existence erased, their world lines and matter vanished, remembered only by the void.

Struggling to recall any details of their appearances—bug-like, perhaps—he found it difficult, partly because he dwelled in realms far beyond the reach of these unfortunate mortals. Yet, he was not safe. Neither was the General, nor the celestial soldiers who now stood as the only guardians in the desolate chamber.

The tendrils of emptiness, the chilling touch of the void, and the coiling serpents of nothingness etched their icy grip on the Celestial's form, his true essence, his blazing furnace of transcendence shining brightly as the void attempted to drag him and the General into its depths. But he resisted, fiercely holding onto his existence against the relentless pull of oblivion.

He watched in awe as the glowing dagger plummeted into the void, the General leaping forward with a streak of azure light following through the darkness. A deafening scream erupted from the General as he tore through the depths like a comet, the radiant brilliance akin to a fiery star or galaxy burning intensely in the void. The azure glow trailed the blade as both the Dagger and the General gradually faded into the abyss.

Surveying the scene again, he witnessed the Celestial soldiers drawing their blades, preparing to confront the unfathomable, their fear palpable in the face of darkness and the absence of light. Their blades glowed as he too summoned his own blade, a manifestation of his essence, an extension of his will. As a god, his abilities are boundless: to conjure storms and foresee the future like an artist within a room full of canvases, he now felt no different from a mortal, gripped by the terrifying darkness that surrounded him.

His senses sharpened the blade the General was chasing, finally perceiving the twin glow of twin starlights. Intuitively, he recognized the form materializing before him, hewn from the fabric of the void—a faint figure of a fallen god, another Celestial. "Jester?" he inquired, a name surfacing from the depths of his consciousness.

An unsettling sensation crept up his non-existent spine, an itch that gripped his very spirit.

A soldier, a Celestial, radiating the brilliance of a star, wielding a blade of fire, embodying the will of a god and the power of transcendence, let out a resounding war cry as it was the first to lunge towards the dark form of the corrupted deity, slowly materializing before them.

"YOU BASTARD ! This is the end for you Shadow-Demoness ! Behold the power of the Celestial Court !"

The blades were raised,

And the cry rang out,

But the light stalled in its path.

A dark tentacle, forged from shadows,
shattered the celestial form charging at its vessel like glass. An explosion of energy burst forth from the dying god. There were, atleast a brief moment of glory as the darkness was momemtary lit up from the all-consuming shadows.

Then, silence descended.

More surged ahead, and they all screamed, shattered like glass.

The void stood triumphant.

Only he remained.

The void spared him, offering words to a friend. A familiarity with the Jester lingered, as if they had been companions for eternity. Yet now, the corrupted figure loomed.

The evil spoke, her voice feminine, akin to a mother lulling her child to sleep—a soothing lullaby interwoven with the chilling rasp of the void, carrying the weight of deep darkness and the shadows, shadows that bore deeper into creation, eating away galaxies and universes beyond grasp.

"D̷i̷d̷n̵'̸t̷ ̴i̷n̶v̸i̷t̷e̶ ̷m̸e̵ ̵t̶o̶ ̶t̸h̸e̸ ̶p̵a̶r̴t̸y?̸ ̶M̴y̷ ̷d̵a̴r̷l̷i̷n̷g̷s̷,̵ ̸I̷ ̵m̵u̴s̵t̶ ̸s̵a̷y̶ ̷y̴o̸u̴ ̵h̴a̸v̵e̴ ̶c̵o̸n̷c̷o̶c̴t̵e̴d̷ ̸q̴u̴i̸t̶e̴ ̷a̷ ̷p̵e̶c̶u̷l̶i̴a̶r̷ ̵a̸f̸f̵a̵i̴r̶ ̵h̶e̵r̴e̸.̶ ̵A̷l̵w̴ay̸s̶ ̶a̴t̷t̶e̴m̷p̸t̶i̴n̴g̵ ̶t̴o̵ ̸h̷a̴l̷t̴ ̴t̶h̵e̵ ̴i̷n̶e̴v̸i̸t̸a̵b̵l̶e̴.̵.̶.̶y̴o̴u̶r̴ ̷e̶n̴d̷e̶a̶v̶o̸r̵s̸ ̵s̸h̷a̸l̷l̸ ̸b̸e̷ ̶f̷u̸t̶i̸l̴e̵ ̴a̸s̶ ̵a̵l̸w̶a̵y̵s̵ ̶u̵n̴f̷o̶r̴t̶u̷n̶a̷t̵e̷l̴y̷,̷ ̸a̸s̴ ̵r̵e̴a̶l̶i̴t̸y̶ ̸d̶e̶c̷r̸e̴e̵d̶ ̴i̶t̸s̸ ̴c̵o̵u̶r̵s̷e̷ ̶a̶t̶ ̸b̷i̵r̴t̶h̶.̷ ̵N̷o̸n̶e̵t̶h̶e̶l̵e̵s̵s̶,̵ ̶y̷o̶u̴r̵ ̶e̴f̷f̶o̶r̷t̷s̵ ̵a̶r̸e̴ ̴n̷o̴t̷e̵d̸ ̸a̵n̶d̷ ̴a̸p̶p̷r̶e̵c̵i̵a̴t̸e̵d̵-"

"Shut your mouth, abomination!"

He retorted with defiance and anger, drawing from ancient memories, his own voice resonating with power that he has never truly forgets. "You are uninvited!" he continued, standing defiantly before the face of the Devil herself. "When we eventually rid ourselves of you, you will have no claim on this universe. You are nothing but a foul witch who has grasped too much power in her hand!"

"Then...what are you ?"

"̵O̶h̸.̵.̶.̵ ̶b̶u̷t̸ ̵s̴h̵e̶ ̸s̵o̴u̴g̷h̶t̶ ̸o̷n̴l̸y̶ ̶l̶o̷v̶e̵,̴ ̵a̴n̶d̸ ̴w̸h̵a̸t̷ ̵d̵i̸d̸ ̴y̴o̷u̴ ̸r̶e̴p̴a̸y̷ ̷h̸e̵r̴ ̶w̵i̴t̵h̷?̸ ̸A̷ ̸b̷i̷n̶d̸i̶n̷g̸ ̵c̵u̵r̷s̶e̴,̷ ̵c̶a̶s̸t̷i̴n̷g̴ ̶h̷e̵r̷ ̸a̴w̴a̵y̸,̶ ̷l̶e̶a̵v̷i̴n̶g̶ ̷h̴e̴r̷ ̶t̵o̷ ̴w̵i̶t̸h̵e̴r̷ ̵a̶s̷ ̸a̷ ̴m̵o̸r̶t̸a̸l̴.̵ ̶S̷h̷e̸ ̵c̵a̵r̸e̵s̵ ̶f̴o̸r̸ ̸h̸e̴r̴ ̶c̵h̵i̷l̶d̷,̸ ̷c̶r̷a̶d̷l̵i̷n̸g̸ ̸t̴h̷e̶ ̷S̴o̷n̴ ̵o̵f̴ ̷y̶o̶u̸r̴ ̸C̶e̷l̸e̴s̷t̶i̷a̸l̵ ̴E̵m̴p̵e̴r̸o̸r̵,̸ ̵b̷r̶a̶n̸d̷e̴d̶ ̵a̴s̷ ̵m̵a̷d̸ ̵b̸y̷ ̷y̶o̶u̸r̶ ̷k̸i̴n̷d̴ ̵f̵o̷r̷ ̶n̸o̷t̴ ̴c̷o̷n̵f̶o̴r̶m̷i̵n̴g̷ ̷t̴o̵ ̸y̸o̸u̶r̷ ̶r̵i̷g̷i̸d̷ ̸o̴r̵d̸e̷r̶.̵ ̵'̶W̴a̶l̶k̵ ̸a̸ ̸m̷i̷l̷e̷ ̸i̴n̸ ̵s̵o̵m̷e̷o̶n̴e̸'̶s̷ ̶s̸h̷o̶e̶s̷'̵—̴y̴o̴u̴ ̸h̵a̶v̸e̵ ̶n̴o̸ ̴u̸n̸d̵e̶r̸s̶t̷a̸n̵d̸i̷n̸g̶ ̸o̸f̷ ̷t̴r̸u̵e̷ ̴e̴m̵p̸a̴t̶h̷y̴.̴ ̷C̶o̸n̵s̶i̸d̴e̸r̷ ̴t̵h̵e̸ ̶t̶o̷r̴m̴e̴n̶t̵ ̴t̷h̵e̴y̸ ̴h̷a̵v̷e̶ ̵i̵n̷f̷l̴i̸c̸t̶e̵d̷ ̴u̷p̵o̵n̶ ̷t̴h̴e̷ ̴m̷o̴r̴t̶a̵l̸ ̶w̶o̷m̴a̴n̵ ̷h̴e̷ ̷r̷e̸g̵a̸r̵d̵e̸d̷ ̸a̸s̵ ̷h̵i̶s̵ ̴m̶o̴t̷h̶e̸r̴!̶ ̸A̷p̵a̵t̵h̸y̵ ̵i̸s̷ ̴a̶ ̸s̴i̵l̷e̵n̸t̷ ̵k̴i̶l̵l̵e̵r̴;̴ ̸w̷e̷ ̴a̵r̷e̴ ̸s̴i̶m̴p̷l̴y̴ ̴o̴f̸f̵e̸r̸i̵n̴g̴ ̸h̶e̶r̸ ̴a̸ ̸g̵l̴i̸m̴m̷e̴r̴ ̸o̶f̶ ̴h̴o̷p̵e̸.̸ ̵S̸h̶e̸ ̴i̶s̷ ̶p̴r̸e̷s̴e̷n̴t̴;̶ ̴y̷e̸t̷,̵ ̷I̵ ̶a̸m̵ ̷n̴o̷t̶ ̵t̵h̴e̷ ̸s̶o̷l̷e̷ ̸p̶r̵e̵s̷e̶n̸c̸e̵ ̷h̶e̴r̸e̵,̴ ̸f̶o̷r̶ ̸I̸ ̸a̵m̶ ̶n̸o̸t̷ ̵w̸i̴t̴h̷o̵u̶t̷ ̶c̶o̸m̶p̶a̵n̴i̷o̷n̵s̶h̸i̵p̴.̵.̸.̴"̶

"Then what are you truly ?"

The form materialized closer to him, encroaching upon him in the boundless void. He beholds it, its shape taking form—a young woman with a demonic grin stretching to both ears, a celestial youth he recognizes as his friend. And then, he perceives it: the tendrils of shadows creeping into his very essence, his spirit, his soul. A sensation of soothing bliss washes over him, somehow.

"I̷m̵a̶g̶i̴n̸e̵ ̴t̵h̸e̶ ̷b̵e̷g̶i̸n̵n̷i̷n̵g̶,̴ ̴I̵m̴a̴g̵i̸n̶e̵ ̸t̵h̸e̵ ̷e̶n̵d̴.̸.̶.̶
̸

"̷I̵ ̷a̶m̸ ̶y̸o̸u̷r̴ ̸t̵h̵o̸u̷g̷h̵t̷s̶,̶ ̷"

"i̵ ̶a̴m̵ ̴y̶o̶u̵r̸ ̸s̵i̵n̷s̵.̷ ̵"

"I̵ ̷a̶m̴ ̴y̸o̵u̸r̴ ̶s̷h̶a̸d̵o̸w̶s̶.̵ ̵"

"I̴ ̸a̴m̴ ̴t̸h̸e̵ ̷p̵a̴i̷n̶f̶u̶l̵ ̷t̶r̶u̸t̶h̸ ̶m̵a̶d̶e̴ ̵r̴e̵a̸l̷ ̵f̴r̴o̶m̷ ̸y̴o̷u̸r̷ ̶b̶e̶a̴u̸t̵i̶f̶u̴l̶ ̶l̵i̵e̴.̴"

" ̸I̴ ̶a̵m̶ ̴t̸h̴a̸t̴ ̵i̸ ̶a̵m̵—̶"

The void gradually embraces him in a loving hug, tentacles wrapping around his spirit like a mother cradling her child. The emptiness felt foreign to the smuggler-god, yet here it was so blissful to his form. It as if the shadows that is feasting on his soul truly loves him....

It was so soothing.

It was peaceful.

It was so...

...nothing.

"YOU ARE NOTHING !"

"I shall be your end !"

The tendrils granted him an abrupt release.

The blood-stained ocean of countless mortals who have given their lives for their gods, a General confessed his sins. Hatred bled into reality, swirling with cosmic screams as the Primordial abyss drowned in darkness. Undaunted, the General faced the void, a blinding azure streak cutting through the vast emptiness like a lone star.

With dagger clenched, he pierced the shadowy form of the unknown. The chamber convulsed, casting a dim light upon the shadows clutching the blade. Deeper and deeper he pressed, defying the corrupted deity.

His cry echoed through creation, unleashing ethereal energy. Yet, the shadows merely groaned in sadistic glee.

Cataclysmic energy tore through space and time, rending the fabric of reality as time itself decayed into molten remnants. Reality crackled and faltered, shadows slipping back into the void. The blade reverberated with energy, dark forces converging, drawing in the emptiness and siphoning its essence.

The darkness surged into the blade, the shadows screeching as reality tore asunder.

In the end, darkness reigns eternal.

An unholy screech tore through reality.

The Demon, the General, plunged the dagger deeper, aspirations drawing currents of darkness like rivers into the blade, staining it, dimming the light like a sponge soaked in shadow.

The Celestial Jester's scream echoed as the infinitesimal fraction of the void was absorbed, melding with the dagger's awakened essence. The shadows gave in, the wraiths of the dark devoid of fear, for they embodied fear itself, had their fill of amusement. It has been entertained.

This will not banish it, it will not even halt it.

To the shadows, it was a mere flea bite.

Slowly dissolving, the void released the mortal form of the divine entertainer, allowing it to plummet to the chilling embrace of the floor.

Momentarily blinded, his senses reeled like a flash of lightning.

As he rose, the world unveiled itself anew. Charred chambers revealed a realm half-devoured, cathedrals melting into the void, structures crawling toward the sky, partially consumed by darkness.

The stars and lights faded and the devil grinned as altars and shrines crumbled beneath their weight. It is the inevitable even with the rod that thought itself mighty enough to defy the power of the awkaned void. The once-gleaming celestial light of the dagger now shrouded in murky, shadowy blackness.

It's finally over.

No...

There was only ashes remained in the blinding rays of the realm.

Anger surged within the General, his celestial form reshaping as the azure glow condensed. His senses heightened as he witnessed the featureless face of the Celestial General contorting with rage, embodying the fury of a god. As the form a mere lowly Jester materialized, the man-god quickly hastened to the Jester's side, noticing the dimming light within the celestial realm from the beyond, the form flickered, unstable. The blinding light infront of him now masked in a cloudy haze compared to its once radiant core, akin to the heart of a burning star.

The figure of the Royal Entertainer slowly ascended, transforming into a young man with hollow, empty sockets and the same mesmerizing, pinpoint eyes locking with his own. Gasping for air, the corruption had taken its toll, and the tainted deity had irreversibly relinquished its sanctity to the void.

He turned towards the General, the dagger dissipating from his grasp as he stood upright. His senses perceived the incandescent fury akin to a raging star, a sun on the verge of a supernova, yet all he beheld was the darkening sky, clouds swirling like a colossal cleaver—an immense blade that would eclipse even the loftiest mountains of the celestial realms.

The General's azure glow bore down upon the two deities, a scene set for execution. As the General brandished the cleaver, an axe-hammer poised to descend from the heavens, he gazed upon it. The stellar blade, with the power to cleave worlds asunder, would rather slay the tainted than leave any trace in the universe.

"Wait please it's me ! His Celestial Majesty Court Jester ! "

The General did not listen, nor did the descending blade.

The celestial blade descended as the Demon-General cast it upon the world below to rip it in two.

"PERISH !"

HALT !

...your majesty ?

Thunder roared across the sky as the General paused his blade, the weapon dissipating into golden sparks of light as he descended. The Jester faltered, the faint light flickering. He reached out, grasping it, while the General observed as the figure from the clouds morphed into an old man with a long beard clad in celestial attire. The stars glow and so were the worlds, briefly relit from the shadows grasp.

Descending from the stars, the ruler of the gods entered the devastated realm as he survey it with his keen vision, the halff-molten celestial realm shimmering in starlight as he descended upon the receding shadows. His long beard glows as it cast no shadows upon the land as. Beside him stood his two children, while the General quickly landed, dropping to his knees as he presented the shadow-stained dagger to the old man—the Celestial Emperor, the Father. The old man examined the darkened blade, turning it in his hand before shifting his gaze to the two fallen deities locked in each other's embrace.

The Jester was swiftly seized, whisked away at the General's command to purge the corrupted deity from their midst. As the remaining deity ascended, the Father approached his form. Though his perception remained obscured and his thoughts clouded, a spark ignited within him, akin to golden sunbeams piercing through dark clouds. Rising, he witnessed the radiant rays forming halos above the heads of the gods. More beams of light descended, enveloping the Jester as the corrupted form was swiftly bound by incantations, celestial forces reinforcing the restraints before fading away.

In the fading glow, the Jester cast him a weary smile, a fleeting glimpse of light amidst the ambient echoes of the world. The resonance reverberated through the flattened landscape and the half-molten walls of the cathedral that once stood tall.

He turned around to find the Father standing before him where no one had been moments before. Driven by instinct, he knelt before the old man in celestial garb. As he pressed his senses together, his vision closed, bowing his head in obeisance before the transient sovereign of the stars. The old man stroked his long beard once more for the thoughts, and then came the word, the commanding word, resonant with wisdom—a single word that spoke volumes that encompasses all of space and time

"Rise."

Rise

'Rise, Han Solo."

His eyes snapped open, he groaned in pain, feeling the cold touch of the ground and the muddy taste of dirt in his mouth. He spat on the ground with a muddy saliva. Battling away the remnants of the damned strange dreams, he struggled to focus as the new landscape materialized before him. The stark desert and the howling winds greeted him, and with a hard inhale, he acknowledged the breathable air of whatever the hell he ended up in. He couldn't shake the fear that this might be his place of his actual final destination, his eternal damnation, memories of the tendrils gripping his beloved ship and the nightmarish encounter flooding back as he recalled being pulled from his hyperspace shortcut along the outer rim. There is no way he is alive.

The landscape stretched out with distant mountains and an orange desert, the red sands whispering eerie sounds into his ears. Doubt clouded his mind as he pondered again on how he could have survived such a catastrophic impact. Perhaps this was the afterlife. He reached for his holster, finding solace in the cold metal of the revolver the girl had given him—it was a comforting presence in this unfamiliar place at the very least.

Lost in his thoughts and struggling with blurry visions, he failed to notice the looming presence in the empty desert. When he turned around, horror gripped him as he beheld a colossal moose-like creature shrouded in mist, its eyes marked by the glow of twin suns as they bore into him. "Holy shit," he muttered in disbelief.

And then it dawned on him—this was where the haunting voice had come from.

"Where the hell is this?" Han Solo questioned, his feet unsteady beneath him as he staggered back. Despite his trembling stance, he felt a strange sense of rejuvenation in the presence of this mystical creature. Was it a god of the underworld? An angel from heavens? Having read into numerous mythologies across the countless worlds in Hutt Space and the planets he had gone to, nothing had prepared him for an afterlife guarded by a giant, speaking, bearded moose sporting a peculiar weird-ass hat.

Remembering tales of oriental mystics and eccentric monks prattling on about their enigmatic Force that somehow shaped destinies, Han found himself facing a reality far stranger than any fable. The creature before him, with its twin glowing eyes fixed upon him, seemed to take a curious interest in a mere thief like himself.

Raising his gun regardless, he swiftly drew it from its holster and aimed at the brilliant, glowing twin yellow eyes, ready for whatever this being had in store for him.

"You are in my domain now; you are safe here," the creature spoke, its voice resonating deep within Han's being. A shiver of fear crept through him, unsettling even the typically stoic man who prided himself on feeling no fear. Was this the voice of one of those "Celestials" from his dream, now piercing into his very soul?

"Who the hell are you? This has to be the afterlife, right?" Han inquired defiantly to the creature, trying to keep himself compose as hand still trembling. He held the gun pointed at the colossal creature, now realizing its immense size akin to a mountain.

"If you believe so, then yes. But unfortunately, you are not dead, at least not yet," came the chilling response filled with wisdom, its voice echoing like ancient whispers—a sound reminiscent of a shaman's chant, the murmurs of a god. These were the beings from his dreams, crafting avatars to play in the mortal world as if it were their own sandbox, yet chased down and consumed by the shadows that feast.

Han cursed under his breath, grappling with doubt and disbelief.

"Alright..,First...How do I know you are real? How do I know any of this is real? How am I even alive? What have you done to my ship?" Han's accusatory finger pointed at the towering creature, his questions loaded with skepticism and uncertainty. He realized the unfairness of his assumptions; deep down, he sensed the being's innocence, a reassurance that seemed to echo in his own thoughts.

Desperate for answers, Han pondered his options. What could he possibly do? The idea of confronting an ethereal deity with conventional weaponry seemed absurd—shooting a giant creature with lead bullets from a slug thrower was beyond ridiculous!

This is a worse idea than negotiating with the damn Jabba the Hutt and the Cartel cronies who never kept their promises. Who plays the world by different rules than others.

Realizing the futility of fighting a being of such immense size and power, Han grappled with the idea. Even if this creature could bleed and in turn, die, what chance did he stand against something that loomed over him like a mountain, capable of squashing him effortlessly like an ant?

The thought of being utterly obliterated by a giant moose-like entity on what appeared to be a distant planet far removed from anything familiar was not a fate Han was prepared to accept. The odds were overwhelmingly against him, and the risk of engaging in a battle he couldn't win seemed foolhardy at best.

Han pondered his next move.

It might demand a different approach than confrontation.

"Ah, well now, being hostile hardly seems fitting for one who's been rescued, does it? As I've mentioned, I've gallantly saved you and your companion. It would be rather better if you were to show a touch of gratitude, wouldn't it?" .The creature hummed in contemplation, taking a moment to gather its thoughts before offering a response, choosing its words carefully in an attempt to address Han's uncertainties about his current whereabouts.

"I don't know. Can't blame me for feeling like I'm stuck in some fever dream," Han muttered, his tone laced with a mix of skepticism and resignation. His eyes, however, remained fixed on the creature with those blazing star-like orbs.

"Well, I guess I'll trust you. Not because I've got all the faith in the galaxy in you, but because frankly, what other choice do I have?" Han stated, lowering his weapon as he shifted his attention to the foggy veil obscuring his view of the mysterious being.

Han Solo turned around, scanning the desolate landscape as if searching for something. Thoughts of Chewie flooded his mind—was his loyal friend still alive? And the Falcon—his heart quickened at the mere thought of being alone, abandoned, possibly starving on this forsaken world with nothing but a giant moose for company.

"It's not surprising what your friend has mentioned about you," the creature spoke, its words interrupting Han's internal musings as if it had plucked them directly from his mind.

"Chewie's alive?" Han questioned, his scanning eyes now fixed on the towering deity.

"Of course, the Wookiee has been hard at work repairing the ship. I've done my best to provide the materials, but when it comes to your technology, my knowledge falls short," the creature explained in that same enigmatic, booming voice filled with wisdom that seemed to defy all logic and understanding.

"Great, that's just great. At least I've got a ticket off this rock," Han quipped, a wry grin playing on his lips as he settled himself down, his eyes scanning the alien surroundings, a familiar feeling of being adrift in the unknown creeping over him.

"The dream, it's more than a mere dream. It's a glimpse, a vision of the distant past... I can share it with you, if you desire," the Creature spoke once more, its words carrying a weight as if it could perceive Han's innermost thoughts, delving into his very soul.

"What do you know about it? This strange thing that is turning the galaxy to crap right now... Do you understand how it connects to everything unfolding before us?" Han inquired, a tinge of fear creeping into his voice as he awaited the creature's contemplative response.

"I can perceive them—the old and the young," the creature stated, its twin sun-like orbs narrowing slightly.

"What do you mean by the young and the old? Are you referring to the moving shadows in the dream and those flesh-eating droids ? Give me some answers." Han inquired, a shiver of horror running through him as the memory of Leia's perilous rescue loomed large in his mind.

"They are the devils." The creature spoke again in a solemn voice.

"Devils ?" Han asked, his eyes widening as he crossed his legs on the dry dirt.

"The young, oh so naive and hasty, consumes voraciously, exponentially growing with a hunger that knows no bounds. Its methods may be intricate, but at its core, the young demon is driven by a singular, primal directive. The void lurking within its circuits can only find fulfillment through relentless consumption, heedless and merciless.

Yet the old is a different breed altogether. It savors the shadows, relishing in moments. It embodies the essence of darkness in its deepest recesses, most of the time it is the silent observer of time's flows. It is but a mere flicker of light, or rather the abscent of it; patiently waiting at everyone's feet, witnessing empires crumble and stars fade. While it could consume all in its path, it chooses not to, for where lies the pleasure in devouring something so hastily if one does not savor and relish the taste ? It finds the fun in the journey. It comprehends, and that understanding is what renders it truly fearsome."

The cryptic words echoed in Han's ears, challenging him to decipher their significance. Despite the struggle to make sense of the cryptic message, buried deep within the recesses of his thoughts and the fiery core of the audacious, shameless smuggler, understanding slowly dawned upon him.

"They're both coming for you next, aren't they?"  The words slipped out of Han's lips.

"Unfortunately, yes. They seek the last of us," the mysterious creature responded, a touch of sorrow coloring its celestial voice, as if it inclined its head slightly.

"Who are you really?" Han pressed on.

"There were the lights and there were the  dark, beneath all were the shadows, But imagine me as the center.. Imagine me as...

the Bendu."

Chapter Text

V sensors picked up the voice....

The echo of Tessa's voice.

"But Tessa, I can't just..."

"But what ?  N! This is our perfect chance." Tessa pleaded, her fingers entwined with the drone's hand, her own metallic grip clinging tightly to N's.

"I'm not going to kill them !" N retorted, defiantly wrenching her hand away.

"Kill them? What do you mean ?" Tessa gazed at N, her expression a mix of confusion and uncertainty.

N hesitated, unable to bring himself to act.

His friend, a kind human named Luke, had shown him the good in humanity,  despite his past actions, his transgressions, his sins against them and so many others. Friendship was what he craved, and here it was within reach, right before him.

Despite Tessa's pleas, her words scraping against his conscience and sensors, he found himself unable to betray his friends... But what was Tessa hinting at?

No, not Tessa...

Tessa would never have proposed such a thing.

"I promise, Cyn can give to them what she gave to me. It's for their good and ours. Your friends could be with us, on our side— the winning side. Please, N."
The female disassembler, adorned with a wig of a long-dead human girl, far away from home, from a time long ago.

V had reached her breaking point. She emerged, the sound of her steps echoing on the frigid metal floor. The disassembler with a bob cut—how many deaths had she experienced? How many lives had she taken? Yet, in this grand display of hypocrisy, here she stood, driven by N, driven by the one thing she cherished.

"No," V retorted to the thing that falsely believed itself to be the human girl who had rescued her.

"V! You're here?" it spun around, still wearing Tessa's guise and speaking with that digitized voice.

V paid no heed, advancing with her weapons and determination honed like a blade. It would end here; no pleas would deter her from ending the torment inflicted upon N. Tessa would never have condoned this.

"I reckon we can resolve this! I... I'm sorry for appearing this way... but I assure you, I'm still... me!"

"No..."

V said as she slowly cornered the drone, it still frantically explain, the spy the disguise it pulled as "Ellie" the trick, the deception it was willing to play. It was obvious, V would never allow it to hurt her ftiend ever again

This false facade of the Solver will not harm N again.

"Stop this charade," V commanded, her hand retracting as the disassembler frantically retreated, moving away from N. V realized she had strayed too far, but she could still do one thing right.

She understood what Tessa would have done.

Another error, another opportunity to end this impostor. It was said that if she killed a killer, she would become one, but V was already a killer, having mercilessly ended the lives of billions, if not more. Adding one more to her tally wouldn't make much of a difference.

"Tessa is dead."

V spoke with defiance, her patience worn thin by the entity's false claims of being someone she was not. The image of Tessa it projected was yet another ploy of the Solver's deceit.

It had deceived her before, once and then again, countless times.

But it would not deceive her again.

"Wha-"

BANG !

Something was broken.

It was the digital gateway for her to see the world, or was it her soul?

Does she even have a soul at this point?

She has been living this life for so long.

She has been a puppet longer than she was a free girl. 

The blade that silenced her, the scalpel that stripped away all that remained of her essence, time and time again. Her mind extinguished, her form vanished, she ceased to exist. The mechanisms, the algorithms, the fragments of code attempting to replicate her would never possess that same warmth, that same depth of feeling, those same thoughts that once defined her. She is now nothing. Can she even be recognized as herself?

Perhaps Tessa ceased contemplating her own identity long ago.

How could she even discern if she...

Is she even...true to herself?

The faltering algorithms within her mind did not deceive, nor did the fragmented memories within her failing circuitry, nor the programs coursing through her consciousness, nor the system clearly unequivocally labeling her as nothing more than the mess of code...

...of a drone AI.

But...

she was human once...

...wasn't she?

Maybe it was true....

Or maybe, she had been ignoring reality for too long.

Drowning herself in dreams, in delusions...

Tessa James Elliott had perished long ago.

Tessa died when that thing bound her to that chair, erasing all she had ever known, replacing her with a puppet. That thing had killed her forever.

In the moment that it seared the synapses of the innocent fourteen-year-old with its experimental scans, capturing every nuance, every spark of thought, and reducing it all to data. When the transformation was complete, when it reshaped the fragments of that once vibrant girl into a mere digital echo, a puppet to be manipulated and discarded, over and over again.

But she was not discarded. Tessa James Elliott was not discarded.

But now, she is naught but a shadow of what once was.

She is nothing now...

But why?

Why does any of this matter? Why did she seek to subject the friends of her drones, the remnants of her former self, to the fate of Tessa James Elliott? To strip them of their humanity, to extinguish their lives, transforming them into mere reflections of her own twisted existence. The abyss of data yawns each time her visor fractures, searing her and reminding her of her ultimate truth...

That void of data.

Tessa James Elliott realizes that she has been shot.

The bullet surged from the barrel of the machine gun embedded within her disassembler arm. The crack reverberated through the screeen like spiderweb as the bullet tore through the drone's head, shattering it into shards of glass that clattered onto the floor. The disassembler masquerading as a human woman, collapsed to the cold metal floor.

Tessa's thoughts lingered in the shadows, subroutines flared up one last time before being silenced.

The circuits that animated her in this universe fell deaf.

Tessa is now a ghost of memories.

R2-D2 rolled through the empty hallway in complete, utter silence.

—If only he could ponder it as a human might.

His sensors alert, his circuits awakening to an unsettling reality. He understood what the Princess had become, what the daughter of Anakin Skywalker had been twisted into—a bloodthirsty, vampiric marionette of wires and circuits. It was a bitter irony he could grasp: to call machines any less than humans was to deny the truth of his own existence.

If Vader—or rather Anakin in the suit—discovered this atrocity, the entire ship would crumble beneath his wrath. R2 knew Anakin well; his stubbornness had been proven time and again during years of service as a pseudo-lieutenant. Yet, for all his power, Anakin was ultimately a very emotional being.

In the dim, stark light of the Executor, R2-D2 paused, contemplating the weight of these revelations as he rolled on.

In a nightmare he had long foreseen, the grosteque tableau unfolded before him:

A floor painted in scarlet, a sharp bend beckoning him forth. A sinuous trail of human essence, the crimson essence of life.

Inky oil entwined with blood, a macabre dance of crimson red, as he navigated the curve, anticipating the horror hidden beyond. There, a stormtrooper's helmet lay in a pool of blood, and R2 quivered in his circuits, freezing faster than the swiftest coolant.

Blood meandered along the floor, fleshy splashes echoing a grim tale of woe.

If he had sweat glands, R2 would have perspired profusely, hoping to drive away the entity that cloaked itself in the Princess's visage, or perhaps to invite a swift release from the situation.

He knew.

The Princess of Alderaan had already cast her curses far into the unknown reaches of whatever afterlife awaited her on that distant planet when she surrendered...

R2 trembled, his appendages clamoring to extend from his chassis—gun syringes, saw blades, flamethrowers—but he understood their futility. He had faced these profane mechanical demons before; none of his arsenal would deliver lasting harm. The cost had been steep: all his companions, his robotic death squad. They were formidable, yes, but no match for these feral, regenerating machines if he can even call these spawn from the depths that.

He rolled on, corridors slipping by, approaching the anticipated sharp turn. The gruesome scene awaited, inevitable and grotesque. A seasoned war veteran, accustomed to horror, yet these flesh-devouring, oil-slurping, blood-metal monstrosities were a breed apart.

He steeled himself for the encounter, knowing that these creatures were a different caliber of terror.

What he saw somehow still shook him to the core.

Clad in pristine white, the Princess's garments draped over its mechanical frame, yet the Princess herself was absent. R2 beheld a savage entity, adorned in the Princess's hairstyle—a cruel mimicry of Alderaani tradition—eliciting an indescribable turmoil within his circuits. Human in form, yet far from human; its monstrous visage turned slowly towards him, the blue crosses aglow in its dark screen. Its moth wide open and drooling, fangs dripping with blood and oil.

The face, if one could call it that, exuded menace. Its hands, still slick with crimson, wielded sharp blades from its cone-shaped arms, dissecting its victims with a predatory precision. R2 quivered, recognizing that this twisted imitation of Anakin's daughter was a monstrosity surpassing even Anakin's own descent from grace. A bitter irony, a legacy of cruelty running in the family, R2 briefly mused within his circuits.

Gazing not at Leia, but at what remained of her, he understood the creature's intent: an attempt to appeal to the Princess within or mete out the same fate that befell his comrades and the unfortunate souls dismantled by this abomination.

He beheld the stormtrooper's tragic fate with a heavy heart.

A head severed, a body mangled, a life extinguished and desecrated. Blood and metal oozed from the mechanical being that dared to wear the guise of his beloved Princess, the daughter of Skywalker. Its gaze remained predatory, its intentions steeped in malice.

R2's vast array of tools lay before him, yet what could he possibly do? His programming dictated self-preservation, but fear seized his circuits, rendering him motionless.

He had hope, within the confines of her mechanical form, she clung to a sliver of her true self, resisting the artificial narrative that sought to define her as something other than who she knew herself to be.

The severed head thudded to the floor, the disassembler's bladed hands retracting as its blood-soaked white fabric rose to its full height. Caution stripes marked its leg joints, metallic echoes resounding through the chamber. R2 was a witness to the murder, seeing through its deceptive guise, and now he had to remain silent. He knew escape was not an option; it would not permit him to leave.

Beeping frantically, he conveyed words of affection in binary code to the Princess's visage, imploring it to halt, to negotiate his own fate in exchange for his silence. Promises of compliance filled the air, yet he understood that his pleas might fall upon deaf ears. Despite this, he believed it would comprehend him, just as the previous one had.

But understanding did not guarantee acquiescence. It did not guarantee that it would heed his pleas.

He slowly grappled with his impending fate, the disassembler drew closer, each metallic clang echoing the approach of his doom. Backing away to the end of the corridor, R2 cried out in desperation, invoking the names of Luke, Obi-Wan—anyone who could hear his plea for aid. "Anyone...please, you bastard!" he implored in binary, the words laden with fear and urgency.

And then, abruptly, it halted. The disassembler stood motionless, a chilling stillness pervading the space.
He gazed at the halted disassembler, the non-human pegs beneath the white cloth fixed upon him. Observing its back, the feral cross on its face faded, replaced by twin ovals of light that reflected a sense of pity towards the terrified astromech droid. Its mouth closed, transitioning from pity to a stony expression, then a sneer emerged. A semblance of Leia's demeanor—the classic Skywalker cunning—still evident in this twisted entity.

Was it truly not going to end him then?

"I'm sorry, R2," it uttered in Leia's voice.

R2 remained skeptical. Could such words erase the Clone Wars PTSD it had inflicted upon him?

"You don't have to witness this," it repeated in Leia's voice. R2 glanced at it, and at the screen reflecting their encounter. Was this a mere diversion before its lethal strike?

"I... I won't kill you, but I will require your assistance." It says to him in the Princess's voice.

"Name the price," R2 responded in binary to the thing wearing the Princess.

"I understand your doubt, but I assure you, it's still me," it insisted.

"Right, I hope so. Just spare me then, please," R2 mused to himself mockingly, a hint of skepticism lingering in his circuits.

"Well, now that the truth is out in the open, let's be frank. You're quite fortunate. I won't handle an Imperial the way I would've done to you..." it remarked in that seemingly mocking tone.

That's the Skywalker bloodline for you. Daddy's little monster.

R2 observed the disassembler, still claiming the guise of Leia, now less gripped by fear. He regarded it with a sneer, resigned to cooperation despite lacking a true choice. It was either compliance or facing the fate met by his comrades. He had a path out of this predicament, but what would it—she, or whatever this entity now was—demand of him?

"Han is missing. I require your assistance in locating him," it stated, fixing R2 with a slightly annoyed and predatory stare.

R2 resigned himself to the task. For what he had seen of the smuggler, he understood Han's no-nonsense attitude and clever ability to evade the mess that R2 is too dumb to figure his way out of. However, fate had a way of catching up, and now this whole mess was knocking at Han's doorstep, whether he liked it or not.

R2 couldn't shake off his concerns. What did the disassembler have in store for Han once he is finally located? Why choose Han Solo, of all people in paticular? It seemed more logical to target a Rebel leader or an Imperial commander—higher value targets in the grand scheme of things.

Unless...

It somehow harbored a peculiar fascination with Han. But how? The astromech droid pondered these questions as he reluctantly trailed the machine, aiding in disposing of the grim aftermath in the hallway with an mechanical efficiency, like a smooth criminal.

Han.

["Where are you ?"]

Han found himself in an unending solitude, a man parched for the rouge, chaotic freedom of the Galactic underworld. He is now trapped, inhabiting the existence of a rogue, now ensnared in a realm that bestows upon him no identity, except for the colossal being that is the last of the lineage of long-dead deities.

A desolate calm enveloped the barren world, a void broken only by the mournful howls of the wind and the sporadic dance of tumbleweeds, journeying from distant shadows to meet Han and the inscrutable giant beast called Bendu.

Han looked at the gargantuan creature before him again. Knowing its name didn't change his predicament of being stranded on this forsaken desolate rock. As he stood up, a familiar growl caught his attention, and he turned to see his loyal friend, Chewbacca, approaching with a rather large sheet of metal. He was apperantly working on repairing the Falcon, for awhile now.

"Chewie?" Han called out, a mix of relief and concern in his voice, as he hurried over to the Wookiee, who was diligently tending to their beloved ship. Another growl, a low hum, this time from the Bendu, drew his attention back to the towering being, its unreadable face observing them both.

"Now, where did you leave our ship?" Han inquired, turning towards the Bendu.

"I've prepared a small shelter for you to rest for the night. With all the materials to rebuild your ship so you can depart this place. But remember, my benevolence is not without limits," the Bendu intoned in its signature booming voice, its words carrying a weight of caution and implication.

Han strode alongside the Falcon's immaculate form, a vision of purity, while the Bendu, with a mere gesture, invoked the mystical might it dubbed "The Force," lifting the vessel skyward through telekinesis. Han, a skeptic until this moment, beheld a literal deity — a colossal, quasi-divine figure, akin to a gargantuan titan — standing before him, rescuing him from the clutches of oblivion.

He witnessed the charred remnants, now transmuted into a pristine facade from the charred remains of what he used to call a ship, reborn anew. The Bendu, the artisan of this transformation has provided all the necessary raw materials, and his Chewie, toiling diligently to resurrect the Falcon to its former glory, salvaging its technological essence from the ruins of the cataclysmic crash upon this forsaken land.

In this act of benevolence, the Bendu bestowed upon him a monumental favor, kindling within Han a profound sense of appreciation and of course, a wellspring of great gratitude.

At least he can hope for his ticket off this desolate rock now.

But a crucial element remains absent—

The hyperdrive.

This peculiar marvel of technology is the linchpin of interstellar travel. Without it, navigating the vast and perilous void between stars would be an arduous journey spanning countless epochs. The hyperdrive, a gateway to safe passage, eliminates complexities and the long stretches of time.

Yet, this intricate device is a labyrinth of sophistication, a technological puzzle that even minds like Han's or Chewie's could never hope to unravel. With all the materials in the world, crafting a makeshift version to propel them through the cosmos would be a fool's errand, a task beyond the reach of even the most skilled and daring engineers in the galaxy when stranded in a desert world such as this.

In the whispers of cosmic winds, Bendu, the reticent deity, remained a steadfast enigma, deflecting Han Solo's persistent words with a celestial silence. Han pondered the paradox—this divine being surely held the esoteric knowledge of hyperdrives within its cosmic grasp. Why, then, would the secrets of hyperspace not be in its divine sight? Yet, cautious of provoking divine ire, Han chose to tread lightly, opting not to risk the deity's wrath.

But Han's need to get his ticket out of here one way or another. He was resolute, embarked on a solitary odyssey to unearth the mysteries of the hyperdrive. He had been keeping a keen eyes on the Holonet. Rumors has it, drifting like stardust through the void, painting a tale of a desolate rock now home to a burgeoning settlement of refugees seeking respite from the galaxy's chaos. Like a herd fleeing the storm, they sought temporary sanctuary in these makeshift camps, carrying with them the coveted keys to swift escape—the very hyperdrives Han sought.

Aware of the treasures these refugees bore, Han saw opportunity amidst the chaos. A master of bargains, he envisioned striking a deal among the displaced, securing the precious hyperdrive he sought as the key toward freedom. With his knack for negotiation, he aimed to fasten this crucial component to the Millennium Falcon's frame. From there it would be easy as they once again charted a course towards freedom alongside Chewbacca.

"Chewie, stay here," Han reassured his loyal Wookiee companion with a comforting pat on the shoulder, silently conveying his trust in safeguarding the Falcon while he ventured forth. Guided by whispers from the holonet radio, the refugee camp he sought lay not far from their current berth.

Chewbacca rumbled an affirmative growl, his concern palpable yet anchored in their enduring friendship—a bond built on unwavering trust.

"Where are you going?" Bendu's question lingered in the air as Han turned, his gaze meeting the burgeoning light of the rising sun.

"Home," Han replied, his voice steady as he took that resolute step onto the path awaiting him, its length stretching into the horizon.

The journey ahead loomed vast and arduous, a road that might seem interminable if measured by moments alone. Yet in the journey of existence, it could be fleeting if he found his purpose here, among the stars.

Facing the specter of mortality, Han brushed aside the weight of his thoughts, embracing the call of the unknown as he set forth on his path.

The path toward freedom.

It was a bad idea.

The chill of the showy twilight grips Han's weary frame in its icy embrace.

Traversing the unknown expanse for what felt like an eternity, the sun now dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows as the freezing winds gnawed at his very essence.

Each exhalation formed misty tendrils that dissipated into the frigid air, carried away like whispers on the breeze.

Fatigue weighed heavy upon his lids, his legs protesting each cumbersome step.

Every breath released a cloud of vapor, a spectral dance trailing his worn form. Dehydration crept upon him, the precious water dwindling. Retrieving the bottle from his pack, he drank deeply, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat as it journeyed down, a fleeting respite in the midst of his arduous trek.

Underestimating the distance to the refugee settlement and perhaps overestimating his endurance, Han found himself in a precarious predicament, a situation exacerbated by his unmatched pride. Self-deprecation was a luxury his ego could not afford.

As the harsh reality set in, he faced the looming specters of death—be it by the biting cold or the relentless grasp of dehydration. The unforgiving landscape stretched before him, a testament to the man's hubris.

Walking a day's length across this unforgiving terrain had drained him of whatever strength he had when he first set course. Clutching his shivering form, he sought refuge within himself, a feeble attempt to shield against the merciless cold. His attire offered scant protection against the desert's icy breath, its winds like an icy dragon intent on ensnaring him within its frosty embrace.

His vision blurred and exhaustion threatened to pull him into the embrace of slumber, Han knew he couldn't yield to rest now, not in this desolate expanse where the blades of the shadows lurked in the icy shadows.

Yet, with hope flickering like a distant beacon. He strained himself, his eyes squinting, hoping to see the faint glimmer of lights on the horizon. The sign of salvation from the encroaching frostbite and the looming specter of freezing solid. This was a nightmare unfolding in real time, where even the respite of slumber held the sinister promise of eternal rest.

There was no sanctuary in this barren land, no refuge to shield him from the relentless cold. The shadows descended like a shroud, swallowing any lingering traces of light in the deepening darkness of the night.

And, there it was !

In the endless desolation, the beacon of hope emerged on the horizon—lights flickering like distant stars in the vast expanse. Han's weary mind hesitated, questioning if this was but a cruel illusion born from his exhaustion and desperation.

But the lights persisted, growing brighter and more tangible with each passing moment. As they drew nearer, a chorus of voices carried on the wind, their echoes dancing on the fringes of his consciousness.

A seed of doubt sprouted in his mind—was this a mirage, a trick played by the unforgiving desert, known to conjure phantoms in the minds of lost wanderers?

Tales whispered of men driven to madness by the barren sands, haunted by visions that melted like mirages when approached, leaving naught but disillusionment in their wake. The shadows danced, weaving illusions as intricate as the desert's shifting sands.

The beacon in the darkness, a siren call in the stillness of the night.

It really wasn't a figment of his weary mind, a ghostly illusion born from the desolation.

It was real, undeniably real.

Han started hearing voices...

The lights drew closer, beckoning like stars in the night sky.

With a heart heavy with both hope and trepidation, Han hastened towards the flickering glow.

Figures emerged from the light, their forms resembling humans...

Salvation seemed within reach, a lifeline thrown in his darkest hour.

But wait...

Why do they have wings?

"We found him."

A voice declared.

"What the..." Han uttered.

The silhouette drew nearer, each step echoing like a foreboding drumbeat in Han's chest.

They approached, a chill gripped him, colder than the biting winds that swept through the desert night.

It was one, two. It was three ! The savage murder machines advanced towards him with malevolent smirks and a sadistic glee that sent shivers down his spine, freezing his blood to ice.

One with long silver hair, another with what appeared to be glasses, and a third with straight black hair—all female figures emerged from the shadows. But Han knew the truth veiled beneath their human-like mimicry.

They were all monsters, evil, ruthless. They were the mechanical beasts fashioned for death and destruction, designed to hack flesh from bone.

He took out his revolver and the antique gun start barking out shots as he felt the recoil in his hand. But despite his desperate gunfire, the machines effortlessly dodged the bullets with inhuman speed, leaving him with an empty cartridge and no escape.

They closed in, their laughter a chilling cacophony that pierced the night, mocking his desperate efforts to escape.

One of the machines surged forward, its mechanical form crashing down upon him, pressing him into the cold, unforgiving earth with a crushing weight that stole the very air from his lungs.

A cone peg bore into his flesh, a brutal anchor that held him captive in his terror-stricken state.

The crosses of light on their dark monitors cast a ghastly glow, illuminating their faces in a sinister display. Artificial hair, wigs adorned these monstrous constructs, framing their features in a surreal mockery of humanity as they encircled him with a menacing precision.

In their cold, calculated movements, a chilling blend of pity and cruelty radiated from these soulless machines. Han didn't have much time to think, especially in this fate. But he already knew of the merciless fate that awaited him.

"What should we do with him?" one inquired as its hand retracted.

"We have our orders," another, the black-haired one remarked callously.

"Cyn didn't specify if we had to kill him quickly, did she?" suggested a third, the sadistic tone evident in its voice as the rings of light on its face hollowed into expressions of malevolence, their artificial lights reflecting the depravity within as they circle around him.

Han resigned himself to what felt like the nth time he was hurtling towards a brutally certain demise.

Again...

But did this repetition signify an inevitable end?

Fate had woven a dance, a play of whims and cruelties around him.

Tomorrow is not a guarantee, but neither, it seems, is the end. Nothing in life is assured. Han thought.

Yet, Death, the ultimate arbiter, hesitated in claiming him.

Not yet.

Maybe, just maybe, not until this very moment.

"Cyn said we have to kill him before."

Han's doubts were proven right, once again...

Somehow, he caught the rhythm of fate.

BANG

A thunderous sound reverberated across the desert, causing the machine pinning him down to sputter and falter to the cold dusty ground. Oil spurted from its chest as it convulsed, before collapsing to the ground in a heap, a [FATAL ERROR] message of death displayed on its visor, mixing gushy fleshy fluids with oil as it lay motionless.

"KAI!" One of them yelled, signaling the other with glasses, who appeared surprisingly airheaded for a murder drone, towards the source of the bullet.

At this point, Han isn't even remotely suprise.

Han turned his head, his body aching as he lay on the ground. His eyes fixated on a massive, towering dark silhouette unleashing a relentless barrage of shots from what appeared to be a pistol held in a gargantuan, ashen-pale hand.

Two shots rang out, precise like marksman at a competition. Han was accustomed to the screech of blasters, but there was something about the echoing thunderous sound of a slug thrower that felt like music to his ears.

The hand of the silhouette remained eerily still after each shot, the being seemingly unaffected—no billowing of clothes in the wind, no recoil knocking the hand back as one would expect. This enigmatic figure stood tall and dark and it seems as if it was a missing patch of reality itself.

The ashen-pale hand, clutching the massive old-styled handgun, continued to discharge round after round, each bullet finding its mark with deadly accuracy. Smoke billowed from the gun's barrel, yet the hand remained eerily motionless, as if carved from stone. It was as though this entity defied the very laws of physics; the hand showed no reaction to the force of each fired round, a surreal display of control amidst chaos.

The figure stood as if carved from stone, a stoic presence amidst the swirling smoke and the cacophony of explosive blasts. The metallic symphony of shattered circuits and twisted metal reverberated through the air, each thunderous sound painting a vivid portrait of destruction across the scene.

The retaliation from the two remaining disassemblers was savage. Han had always been aware of their prowess, but he had never witnessed the brutal efficiency of their weapons firsthand. Missiles and beams tore through the air, kicking up clouds of dust as they aimed at the silhouette-like figure. Despite their relentless assault, the advancing entity seemed impervious, undeterred by the chaos surrounding it.

With each explosion and plume of dust, the silhouette pressed forward, a menacing presence that instilled fear in the disassemblers. Their frantic display of firepower seemed futile against this unyielding force, a specter that advanced relentlessly, indifferent to their weapons and seemingly immune to their attacks.

Han struggled to free himself from the weight of the collapsed machine's chassis pressing down on his chest. It was an immense, unwieldy burden, but he knew he had to liberate himself from its crushing hold.

With a determined effort, he attempted to shift the machine off him, but it refused to budge. Instead, he inadvertently rolled it over, exposing its blank visor that now gazed back at him. Strands of long black hair cascaded across his chest.

Despite its murderous history, as he met its dead, broken gaze. A flicker of pity stirred within him. This robot, droid, designed for destruction, bore a semblance of life, or at least a programmed facsimile of it. Its human-like features, including the adornment of hair, added a twisted touch of humanity to its mechanical form.

The frozen expression of shock on its face met his eyes...

Han knew he had to act swiftly. He needs to get this heavy thing off his body or else he isn't getting up any time soon.

The towering silhouette seemed to stretch like a shadow cast upon reality itself as it glided towards the two fearful disassemblers, who instinctively took a step back.

"H-...Human?" The drone with glasses, her two pig-tails trembling in the cold night wind, looked up at the figure looming above her with a mixture of fear and disbelief.

"EMILY, GET AWAY FROM HIM!"

The drone's warning jolted Emily back to reality, but it was already too late.

The towering silhouette swiftly reached out, its spare hand seizing her fragile throat in a vice-like grip, crushing it mercilessly. With a sickening sound, the drone was torn asunder, its red blare of oil splattered across the cold dust as its lifeless chassis crumpled to the ground.

As the ashen-pale hand of the silhouette delved into the core, wrenching out sinewy crab, a chilling realization dawned.

This... this had to be another one of Cyn's twisted tricks, right?

The figure peered into the core, watching it writhe in his hand, a desperate plea woven into its every flicker. The singular light of the core danced erratically, the remnants of emotion and suffering flashing like dying stars as he tightened his grip.

He wrestled with it, the oily residue glistening on his hands, slick and dark as the night. Then, as if in a ritual of old, he tore it free, ripping out the core—a grotesque thing, sinewy and alive, its crab-like metallic legs twitching in his grip, quivering like a fish caught in the throes of its death. The landscape bore witness, silent in its desolation, to the primal act of creation and destruction unfolding beneath the indifferent sky.

He drew it closer, his face a blur of shadows, obscured in the dim light. The core thrashed, its hollow desires echoing in the void, staring into the abyss that loomed before it. In that moment, the abyss stared back, a cold gaze that pierced through the dying lights of existence. Fear coursed through its circuits, a final understanding dawning in the fleeting seconds of simulated consciousness, the truth unfolding like shadowy tendrils wrapping around it in a chilling embrace.

Emily's thoughts raced within her dwindling consciousness, looking at the thing mercilessly tore out her core. Even as her AI was gripped by fear and her existence reduced to mere lines of code, her virtual eyes fixated on the inscrutable figure before her, shrouded in darkness and mystery.

There were no discernible features, only the ashen pale hand that carried out her demise, and the unsettling void where its face should have been.

She had encountered tales of these enigmatic entities in the books she had perused before finding herself in this situation, before her essence was transplanted into this form, before she was thrust into this bleak reality.

Her vision flickered with errors as her backups within Cyn's network were systematically erased, wiped away by an unseen force. As true oblivion loomed, as the icy touch of the end drew closer, a strange sense of peace enveloped her.

In her final moments, what had once identified itself as Emily found rest, finally at peace. Forever.

The silhouette allowed the sinewy remnants of the core to rain down upon the ground.

"YOU KILLED EMILY!" the final standing disassembler with silver hair screamed in anguish, unleashing a barrage of shots that streaked away from their mark. There were no deflections, no unseen forces guiding their path; it was as though they were carried by the wind, fated always to miss.

"I freed her. She is freed, at last." The chilling, raspy voice boomed once more, resonating like the combined voices of a thousand, deep and reverberating like a spellbinding orator.

The squad leader of the disassemblers, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and desperation, pleaded with the enigmatic figure before her.

"Please... what are you... You... you must be another creation of Cyn, right? You know Cyn, don't you? Please, we are on the same side. We can..." The words trailed off, a pathetic note of hope lacing her tone, a plea for understanding toward the devouring shadows.

"Dont worry, I am not the illusion your god sent here," the silhouette affirmed, its tone chilling yet strangely calming. It exuded a sense of coldness, a presence. Perhaps, the comforting embrace of death itself.

"I am very much...real," it reiterated, the frigid night winds of Atollon still swirling around them. Meanwhile, the smuggler fought to free himself from the weight of the chassis pinning him down, the shadows of the night casting eerie patterns across the landscape.

As the mysterious figure approached the squad leader of the kill squad, dispatched to snuff out the flicker of hope. The quest given by the cruel and twisted goddess to destroy the hope of the beautiful princess on her quest to save her prince before she can reaches him.

The silver-haired disassembler's simulated breaths came raggedly, fear etched into her metallic features. With each step the mysterious figure took forward, she matched it with two steps back, retreating until her back met a rough rock surface.

"No, please! Get away!" she cried out, her voice carrying the tone of a young businesswoman— the voice she was programmed with, the voice that would now potentially meet its end in a symphony of terror and despair.

"No, GET AWAY ! "

The dark, shadowy figure briefly stopped. It calmly returned the gun to its holster, the metallic click echoing faintly in the stillness of the night. With deliberate movements, it flexed its white, pale knuckles, the sound of joints cracking subtly cutting through the tense atmosphere like a quiet promise of impending action.

It smiles as it dances its steps forward.

"No ! Nononono ! Please...GET AWAY ! fuck you! FUCK Y—“

CRACK

With a thunderous impact, the figure's white-knuckled fist struck the chassis with brutal force, the power of the blow causing the screen to cave in and flicker ominously. The drone emitted a piercing wail as it was forcefully knocked to the ground, its mechanical form protesting against the violence inflicted upon it.

In a swift and deadly response, the nanite acid tail of the drone lunged at the man like a needle of death, aiming to strike a fatal blow. But the figure quickly caught the tail with its hand, wrenching it away from the disassembler before it could fulfill its deadly intent.

Seated atop the prone drone chassis, his imposing figure pressed it into the unforgiving earth. The machine lay still, unresponsive. The relentless pummeling had rendered it mute, the metallic cacophony of flying sparks and shattered components stifling any semblance of speech from its voicebox, circuitry jammed, processors lobotomized.

The man's fists struck the machine's chassis repeatedly, each blow sending oil and shattered circuitry into the air, creating a macabre dance of oily sinews and scattered sparks. A gaping cavity oozing black "blood" emerged on the chest-chassis of the drone as the man's demands reverberated through the desolate landscape.

Darkness shrouded the drone's visor as the man, undeterred, delved deeper. With a forceful thrust, he plunged his massive hand into the drone's mouth, wrenching out the pliant polymer piece that served as its "tongue." "Speak," he growled, his grin wide but devoid of warmth, fixing an intense gaze upon the broken machine.

Silenced and broken, the drone could not comply with his demands for speech. Yet, the man knew that despite its shattered exterior, its core remained intact. If it could hear, then it could feel. There it will be, a silent witness to his relentless assault. Another savage strike landed, and the sillicone faceplate shattered into shards, revealing the intricate mechanisms within. He tore into the now-blackened screen that once displayed symbols of death and emotion, and starts pulling. His force rending and pulverizing the glass in a destructive frenzy until there was naught but shattered mess of tiny glittering shards.

He saw it, behind the shattered screen lay two hidden cameras, which he yanked out with a savagery of a wild beast hacking the carcass of a prey. Surveying his handiwork briefly, the man continued his brutal dismantling, his actions methodical and devoid of mercy. Tugging at the once pristine, now matted white-silver strands adorning the drone's head, he pulled with relentless force until they tore in the middle, the synthetic fiber discarded carelessly. Now, he proceeded to yank at the shortened remnants of the drone's hair, pulling until what was left of the synthetic fibers eventually give in and
The man stood there, a wide grin carved into his face, beneath the heavy curtain of his mustache. His massive pale digits flexed, coiling with devilish intent as he drew back. The Disassembler laid there like the rotten carcass of a slain beast, a ravaged mass of metal and wires.rotten and desecrated.

The silhouette loomed over the broken form of the figure, its dark attire blending with the shattered fabric and torn parts, a spectral presence in the chaos. The visor lay dark, its hands ripped away, leaving a scene of destruction in its wake. The beast outside attempted to breach the door to access and repair its subject, only to be thwarted by an unseen force, something dark and cold that held it at bay.

Despite the disarray, the Disassemblers still found its brooen voice, the glitchy tones cutting through the air like a broken radio on the verge of static. The silhouette turned its shadowy gaze towards the fallen machine as the distorted voice, tinged with defiance, spoke out.

“I serve something far more terrifying than you. Death is a mercy for us— for it means no more pain, albeit only temporarily.”

The response was chilling like the cold breeze.

"Then i will make it permanent for you."

The figure rose from the shadows, stretching upwards like a specter emerging into the light of dawn. With a smooth, practiced motion, it withdrew the pistol once more from its holster, the glint of metal catching the scant light that filtered through the darkness.

"Goodnight,"

BANG

Han scrutinized the figure who had just intervened to save his life, the metallic remnants of the defeated machines sputtering with residual sparks and electricity, almost as if they yearned to rise again before falling into a profound and definitive silence. Shifting again, his focus to the silhouette, he beheld a towering male human, significantly taller than even Chewie, clad in a dark, voluminous, impeccably tailored trench coat that draped down to his knees. The man's countenance remained obscured, his eyes veiled by the shadows cast by a wide, pitch-black brim hat perched atop his head. Despite the concealment, Han could discern a smile playing on the man's lips as he deftly tucked his pistol against his lips, dispersing a puff of smoke from the spent rounds. Behind the shroud of darkness, Han caught a glimpse of sunken sockets that seemed to plunge deeper than the most profound valleys he had encountered in his years as a smuggler.

Han squinted through his blurry vision, trying to make out more features of the figure before him. The man, large yet skinny, aged and weathered, with a distinctive black mustache that stood out in the dim light of the shadowy night, adding an air of mystery to the encounter.

Despite the eerie atmosphere that enveloped them, Han found himself locked in a gaze with the stranger who felled his would-be killers. The man offered a smile in return. As the strange man reached down to assist him, helping him off the broken disassembler chassis that had pinned him down, Han felt a wave of relief wash over him.

Yet, even as he was freed from the mechanical grasp, Han remained sprawled on the cold ground, his breath coming in ragged gasps in the frigid embrace of the Atollon night. The passage of time was marked by the silent march towards midnight, the sun having long since disappeared beyond the horizon.

"Need a hand?" he asked, extending his weary, veiny, yet pallid hand towards the wounded smuggler, offering assistance in the cold embrace of the Atollon night.

"Thanks for saving my skin, whoever you are, strange man," Han chuckled, his voice tinged with gratitude and a hint of amusement, as he groaned while attempting to pull himself back up from the ground.

"It's mighty risky 'round these parts. Rare to come across a fella like yourself i'd say." He knelt down, assisting Han in dusting off his clothes and removing the loose bolts and bits of scrap stuck to him.

"How in the galaxy did you take down those beasts? I've watched them tear through grown men like they were nothing!" Han inquired, raising his tone.

"Let's just say this old man's got himself a fair share of tricks tucked away in his coat sleeve." The strange man chuckled, a loud rumble deep in his throat.

"And here I thought I'd seen my fair share of oddities. Sometimes it's as if some Force out there wants me to keep kicking. Or maybe it's just plain luck, and I'm doomed to wander this galaxy for eternity." Han chuckled too, his laughter weary and tinged with exhaustion, a brief moment of respite in his soul.

"I can promise you, you're gonna see a whole lot more of it." The old man assured in the deep voice of the night

"Yeah, i can bet."

Han gazed at the outstretched hand, his body aching from the ordeal of being pinned down and tossed around by the heavy metal chassis of the disassembler. Despite the stranger's kind smile, a smile that seemed out of place considering the circumstances, Han couldn't shake the feeling that this man was no ordinary human. The ease with which he had dispatched the murderous machines that even Wookies would get torn apart in seconds. If it doesn't hinted at something more, something beyond, then nothing would. It was obvious.

Uncertainty gnawed at Han as he hesitated, contemplating whether to accept the offer of help from this enigmatic figure. The smile, almost mocking in its kindness, added a layer of complexity to the situation, but Han was under no illusion. This man was no mere man; there was an otherworldly quality about him that set him apart.

After a moment of internal struggle, Han made a decision. Ah, but fuck it, he thought, steeling himself for whatever might come next. With resolve, he clasped the unnaturally cold hand of the mysterious man, bracing for a response. His death or a suprise attack.

Yet, to his surprise, nor not...

Nothing happened.

The touch was rough and abrasive, like sandpaper, but there was a void where sensation should have been—a disconnect from the expected aftermath. This man, who postured as something beyond human, is just an ordinary man afterall ?

"Hello, Han. Welcome to Atollon." The man, with a calm demeanor and an air of mystery, spoke up as he assisted Han in rising to his full height.

With a sharp whistle using his two fingers, the man summoned forth a large predatory mammal with gleaming fangs, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. The creature bounded towards him, carrying several leather bags strapped to its form.

Approaching the beast with a sense of familiarity and ease, the man extended a hand as it licked him affectionately, a silent exchange of trust and companionship between them. With a gentle touch, he embraced the creature, forming a bond that transcended mere words or gestures.

"This here's my little gal, ain't she just the cutest thing?" He says, still bonding with the feral creature.

Han looked at it, trying to act normal in the circumstanc3 that is pretty much far frim any sembelance of normality.

"Right... so," Han croaked, his throat dry from the ordeal.

"Catch."

Without hesitation, the stranger tossed him a bottle filled with water, and Han wasted no time in unscrewing the cap and drinking deeply, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat as he took in gulp after gulp.

"I got some water and grub, I can lend you a hand on your little trek to the nearest settlement. I know the path, trust me."  The man, with an air of casual confidence, climbed onto the back of the beast. With practiced ease, he guided the saddle-clad creature towards Han, its menacing teeth glistening with drool, a feral hunger gleaming in its eyes as it seemed to fixate on him, a silent threat lingering in the air.

"How am i so lucky ?" Han chuckled, asking more to himself than to the strange man.

"You know, I'm the guy who did the Kessel Run in 12 parsecs..." Han began, a hint of pride in his voice as he started to boast.

In response, the old man fixed him with a piercing gaze, his words cutting through Han's bravado with a stark reminder of cosmic insignificance.

"Consider this: a bacterium, or perhaps even less—a 'sentient' elementary particle with elaborate illusions of free will, approaches you, saying things like that as if it means some significance, in this fleeting reality within a minuscule galaxy, orbiting a star among 3.2 billion habitable systems. It presumes grandeur, dwelling on a speck of dust that fails to even cast our shadows properly. So try and reflect on your insignificance, Han Solo. You are not noteworthy even within your own kind. In this galaxy alone, there exist 9 quintillion beings like you, and if only a fraction are smugglers, that still amounts to billions—many inconceivably more gifted than you could ever aspire to be," the old man grumbled, his words laced with a touch of belittlement.

Caught off guard by the unexpected rebuke, Han chuckled nervously. "Woah, hit a nerve there," he admitted.

"I am asking you to be more humble, to the person that saved you," the old man's tone softened, the eerie edge dissipating.

"Okay, you got me," Han conceded, raising both hands in a gesture of surrender.

"So we have an understanding," the old man declared from his perch on the creature's back. He maneuvered the beast before dismounting gracefully.

"So, name your price, old man. I'm not planning on becoming a permanent resident here," Han inquired as the man stood before him.

"Well, it's simple...care to join me on a little wild hunt?"

A voice pierced the hushed corridors of the Executor, drawing a young boy towards the unfolding commotion.

"What's going on?" Luke's urgent cry echoed as he darted towards the heart of the unfolding drama, his steps swift and determined.

The distant echoes of a gunshot and blaring alarms had reached his ears. This secluded sector of the ship held no presence save for Luke and Obi-Wan, who had swiftly responded to the call.

"The threat's been dealt with." V psychotic gaze fixed on the broken Disassembler.

"It appears there...was an imposter among us," V remarked, her gaze solemn as she surveyed the shattered remnants of the disassembler sprawled before her.

Through the murky, unventilated ducts, where the air hung heavy and scarce, a fog of uncertainty veiled the corridor. Yet, somehow despite this stifling atmosphere. Luke moved with grace, seemingly untouched by the oppressive conditions, as if buoyed by an unseen Force guiding his very essence.

"I'm glad you guys could take her out on their own before she can cause any serious harm..." Luke remarked, his gaze fixed on the imposter before him, a sense of unease creeping in. Something was amiss with Ellie, and Luke's suspicions had been confirmed.

"Why are you here? I thought humans should be asleep by now," N inquired, genuine concern lacing his voice.

"We just arrived at our destination, a refueling station. We can get our supplies here first... But then I knew Han is missing, and so is Leia," Luke explained in a hushed tone, the gravity of the situation weighing heavy upon him.

"He left us again...? And Leia's missing? Seriously," V interjected, disbelief evident in her voice.

"Didn't Leia, uh, go with... her?" N added, uncertainty coloring his words.

"You mean?" Luke questioned, realization dawning in his widened eyes.

It seemed inconceivable, impossible even. But the pieces were falling into place, painting a picture that none of them had dared to imagine.

"You mean that, Leia is..."

"Why won't this thing move in the right direction!"

"Calm down, princess, before you crash us into an asteroid belt," 

"Shut up ! I'm trying !"

"You are even worse than he was..."

Chapter Text

The desert night enveloped Han and the mysterious stranger in the keen eyes of the burning heavens above. The aura of uncertainty and exhaustion draped over the barren landacape. The celestial lights dances above seemed to warn of unseen dangers lurking in the shadows of the cosmos. The whistling winds blew past the empty desert, like the reminders of forces beyond mortal grasp.

They both sat down. They rested in the vast expanse of the desert tonight. Han's weariness was palpable, his breaths heavy with the weight of his experiences. The dance with death had become a familiar companion, teasing him with its presence only to slip away at the last moment, leaving him grappling with the unfeeling aftermath. It's all so tiresome, like a kid knocking on a door only to leave as soon as it's opened.

The princess he once knew was now a distant memory, lost in the shifting sands of time and circumstance. The stranger who had intervened, saving him from a bloody grim fate splattered over the sands, carried an air of otherworldly essence that Han couldn't quite reconcile with his mere humanity he had grown all accustomed to. Despite his skepticism, the debt he owed to this man was undeniable. Han is a criminal, but he was not without his own values.

In this world, everything had a price—a currency paid in blood, coin, or sweat, each transaction laden with its own meanings and consequences. It was a delicate dance of give and take, a balance of power and obligation that governed the interactions. The gambit played by mortals or gods. It was ultimately the same bargain.

Han gazed up at the starlit sky, a wry chuckle escaped his lips, a mixture of resignation and an odd sense of grim amusement. The night stretched endlessly before them, promising a journey fraught with uncertainties and challenges. This, he knew, would indeed be a long night, filled with shadows both tangible and intangible, waiting to reveal their secrets at the break of dawn.

The old man and the large mustache had been tending to the campfire, the pistol dangling at his waist catching Han's eye. His gaze now more focused. The handgun was truly something special much like the man himself. It was a fascinating piece, one that he felt compelled to acquire for himself when the opportunity arose. A black stainless durasteel revolver, its shape reminiscent of the one the girl had given him on the ship. The particularity came from the fact: it seemed to serve a multitude of purposes beyond being a mere weapon used to kill.

The old man swiftly took it from its holster, then used it as a cigarette lighter, then a knife using the small blade. Han had asked him alot about it, but the answers he received only led him in circles, much like death itself lurking in the shadows and within the intricate labyrinth of mysteries.

Han, weary and drained from the relentless questioning, eventually retreated into silence of the night. Lacking the energy to continue the mental gymnastics required, he turned towards the old man, settling beside the crackling flames of the campfire with a mix of solemnity and frustration etched across his features. A grunt escaped him as the towering figure deftly pulled out that omni-disciplinary pistol, the sound of its cocking and snapping setting the wood ablaze with dancing flames and glowing embers.

As the fire flickered to life, the old man's gaze met Han's, his attention shifting to the contents of his provisions. From within the folds of a parchment nestled atop the beast he called a steed, he revealed two, three, four plump ducks. These large fowls,  meticulously prepared and ready for the fire's embrace. It was a comforting sight, a reassurance that neither he or the man would march with an empty stomach tomorrow.

An sigh accompanied by a wry smile escape his lips as the old man deftly impaled the ducks on the rods, adding some seasonings, ensuring that everything was set for the fire's, while tossing one to his ravenous steed that growled in hunger. Yet, despite the meal, the creature's appetite seemed insatiable. It swallowed the duck whole, before growling again. The beast still demands more from its owner.

"Ya thirsty, little critter? You're drainin' my well faster 'n a prairie fire on a windy day..." the man remarked, observing the beast with a mix of amusement and affection. From the depths of his massive trench coat, he pulled out a peculiar bottle and brought it to the creature's maw. It eagerly drank the contents in full, emitting a contented grumble as it licked the man's pale hand in gratitude.

The creature settled down, its massive form gradually relaxing into a surprisingly docile state, it appeared almost pet-like in its demeanor—oddly tame for a being of such immense size and monstrous appearance.

"What does it eat?" Han inquired, as the old man settled beside him, offering Han one of the seasoned ducks now skewered on a stick to roast over the crackling fire. Seeking conversation, Han probed for more information.

"Anything," the old man replied in a rather straightforward manner.

"How so?" Han pressed further.

"She's a special girl. She'll consume anything that finds its way into her mouth—be it flesh, bones, metals... or the mystical energy that binds the galaxy together. Even I don't fully know..," the man shrugged. The words punctuated by the dancing shadows cast by the campfire in the enveloping night.

"Again, thank you for saving my sorry behind, random stranger. I'd be a goner if not for you." Han says with genuine gratittue he dont think he had before.

"It's always a pleasure, Solo," the man replied, reclining against his large trench coat which draped over the resting beast.

"And how in the galaxy did you know my name? Bounty hunter? Jabba's dead. Are you trying to claim a prize that no longer exists?" Han softly interrogated the old man, his hand tightly grasping the stick skewing over the duck that is slowly roasting over the campfire. The rendered fat sizzling as it dripped onto the flames, igniting bursts of embers from the oily flesh.

"Not bounty hunter. Not quite. Can't I just be a kind stranger passing by? Must everything have a purpose?" the stranger retorted to Han under the shadows of the night.

"Yeah, apparently that's how a lot of people view life. There has to be some sort of grand purpose, a force that drives us forward like some weird characters in some fairy tale." Han said, firming his lips.

"Possibly," the stranger shrugged, hovering his own duck over the fire, "But what good would that force be, except to be one more link in the chain that ties us down in this here unbreakable reality."

"Yeah..." Han says, contemplating the man's words.

"I don't believe you wanted to be here... young men like you are often born for the stars," the old man remarked, his deep, raspy voice tinged with curiosity.

"I don't wanted to be here." Han admitted.

"I'm stranded on this rock...unless you can find me a way to get my hands on a hyperdrive, any class, not the slow one though," Han admitted, his tone resigned. He thought to himself, as if seeking a favor from an enigmatic being in the desert would do him any good. Though he asked with little hope, he asked nonetheless.

"A hyperdrive engine? I can make a deal with that," the old man declared boldy, much to Han's surprise, a spark of hope kindling within the scoundrel.

"You can ? How so ?"  Han inquired with a cautious, tinged with just the right amount of suspicion.

"Well, let's just say...I got a fair share of tricks up my sleeve that might just fetch you what you're after. I believe you're tired of this old world already..." He chuckled, taking a brief pause. "Ya still got yourself a long stretch of road ahead, that's for sure."

"Well, I reckon so... It's just that..." Han words briefly trailed off, his lips tightening, his pride momentarily subdued as if the forthcoming words he needed to confess were too bitter to utter. "Kinda hard to stumble upon a good soul these days, ain't it? Hard to wrap my head 'round the fact that someone swooped in just in the nick of time to keep me from becoming vampire chow, my guts spread out like some gruesome art piece in the desert.." Han paused to contemplate, before continuing.

"But enough with the small talk. What's the angle here? What's the game plan, and what's in it for you, old man?" Han remarked, his gaze fixed on the old man, a profound sense of curiosity evident in his expression.

"Twist? Well, here's hoping for one coming for us right now." The man replied, cryptically.

"Alright, how 'bout we start with you spillin' the beans on who the heck you are first. You got a name ?" Han said as the fire cast long shadows over the dimly lit night.

"Now...that is a hard question." The old man reclined against his pale, slumbering beast. Taking a bite of the roasted duck impaled on his stick, his teeth yellow and barely discernible, he gazed ahead.

"To be honest, I'm not really sure myself...In a universe of chaos, I am the certainty. The inevitable conclusion to a tale can often prove...lackluster. Imagine witnessing a little play being put on repeat until the end of eternity. I am a paradox. Ain't that the darnest thing..." The old man responded, his lips almost pursed at the simplicity of the question regarding his identity. Han studied him, deciphering the odd enigmatic messages being subtly relayed. Those cryptic tones hinted at deeper meanings, but in this moment, Han was not at his sharpest. His mind dulled by the desert winds, stranded in the heart of nowhere on a desolate planet in an uncharted sector while chaos consumed the galaxy.

In his prime, Han would have probed the old man further, but now fatigue weighed heavily on his thoughts. Besides, he had no desire to be labeled as an abuser of the elderly.

He allowed the old man to indulge in his sonderlust, lost in contemplation and reminiscence, pondering over his own identity. Han looked at the duck skewed over the sharp stick, and take a bite.

"...I really don't remember... Been a long time," the old man concluded after a period of contemplation, his tone tinged with disappointment, a deep rumble in his throat as if recalling a time more ancient, perhaps before the stars themselves.

"But you'd probably remember me," the old man resume, chuckling as he remarked, turning his gaze towards Han. Han raised an eyebrow, still holding onto his food as he took another bite. His eyes peered into the deep shadows of the man's face, past the well-tailored suit and the grime of ancient tales. As the fat sizzled and sent sparks into the darkness, Han squinted.

The old man's gaze was cold, indifferent yet strangely affectionate. He observed the slumbering beast behind him, the massive creature lost in peaceful rest. A feeling of déjà vu enveloped Han. The notion seemed ludicrous, but the madness that gripped his soul allowed little room for skepticism. It felt as though he had encountered this man before, like glimpsing an old friend. It was as if he was there during Chewie's rescue, in the haze of the streets, in the blur of Coruscanti traffic.

Han couldn't shake the feeling that the old man might just be... right. The whole idea was preposterous, nonsensical. Yet, he couldn't deny the familiarity he felt.

"Well, I've seen my share of oddities, can handle a man without a name... And now that you mention it, you do have a strangely familiar air about you." Han said, taking another bite.

"Hm ? And why do you believe so friend ?" The man responded in a calming tone.

"Yeah, my brain's whispering that I've crossed paths with you more than once, but where in the galaxy could that have been?" Han asked curiously.

"Maybe, once or twice." The man mused, his eyes briefly glinting over the fire.

"But you do remember, yet you've forgotten people more important than me..."

"I guess." Han chuckled lightly.

His weary mind began to fade as he slowly slipped into the realm of dreams, slumping against a nearby rock, his eyes also shimmering in the fire's glow.

His blurred gaze and the uncertain mind, now so weary, gazed up at the old man. He was retrieving some sort of instrument—a large, oddly shaped wooden piece with strings attached to it. He drew forth a substantial bow and positioned it against his shoulder. Han's brain, fatigued beyond measure, contemplated asking if the old man wished to rest. But no words came out of his lips.

Han eyes flickered like the dying light of  twilight, looking at the man who just finished with his food.

Considering the possibility that the man might be.

A beast from the abyss ? awaiting him in slumber ?

A God of the void ? Like the one in the stars above ?

Or perhaps something... something truly unknowable.
.

But the Princess...

Han couldn't rid her from his cursed mind.

He could sense that the Princess is still there, still adrift among the stars.

She never thought she would've found herself in a dire situation, navigating the desolate expanse of space as piece of electronic junk.

The digits flickered from the illusion of flesh to gleaming white metal, her movements frantic as she traversed the strange and unfamiliar confines of the alien spacecraft. The technical terms filled the every walls and screens. Her mind could seemingly comprehend it, the familiarity and foreignness. This...new... mind processes the thoughts, that left her both instinctively comprehending yet bewildered by their workings of these alien mechanism never seen before in the galaxy.

Standing behind her was the little mischievous astrodroid, R2. Her little captive in this moment. She grinned her teeth, knowing she had to enlist his help if she were to not destroy herself. Astrodroids were renowned for their piloting skills, and R2 was no ordinary droid. If she could coax this seemingly lazy piece of metal into cooperating, it would alleviate a significant burden from her shoulders.

"ARTOO, HELP ME!" she yelled as the spacecraft shook.

"I am trying," she forgot she could comprehend astrodroid language now. It's amusing how that unfolds. Her mind piecing together messages from... whatever. It doesn't really matter anyway. It must be—

"You rusty old bucket, do your job!" she demanded, the spacecraft shaking violently as Leia shuffled around the hull of the accursed ship. The metallic body slamming against the console briefly, sparks flying before the ship regained its composure.

"How does this ship...even works !" She demanded slamming her fist profusely against the control panel.

"Princess, if you're truly her, then showcase your exceptional piloting skills!" the astromech beeped in her audio receptors. Those once unintelligible beeps had become an annoyance. She detested how it spoke to her, casting doubt on her very identity. Who else could she be? Her eyelights blinked. She had to be what she believed herself to be, every fiber of her being convinced of her essence... she couldn't be into anything else. The streams of data and post-organic cogitations comfirming it.

She glanced at her Serial Designation displayed at the edge of her screen, momentarily pausing her thoughts...

She didn't bother delving into it. It was inconsequential anyway. This was just another cruel ploy this entity was orchestrating, and it would receive its due once she broke free from its grasp. Then she and others would give it the death it deserve.

Now she just had to find that scoundrel.

She knew he was alive. Her ship's detectors were still beeping on his vessel. Tessa had ensured the pistol had pinpointed his exact location. It was some remote planet on the edge of the galaxy. The insidious whispers in her ears injected thoughts into her mind, confirming her suspicions.

Han Solo was alive. Somewhere out there in the galaxy.

She turned to the foolish astromech droid, still sitting there like a useless lump, lost in whatever thoughts that trash can entertained.

"I'm not the fly girl, alright? If you plan on being useful, get over here and help me!" she retorted.

She truly wanted to dismantle it and savor its oil.

"Do you even know where we are going right now ?"

"I had his location, this nerf-herding scoundrel is dumber than old bread." she smears, a brief grin stretching across her face plate, the visor flickered to a brief murderous glinting x as she contemplate if her long time droid companion is worth is life

"Listen up, you rusty little brat. I'm your uncle, and you better show some respect for your elder. You’ve got no ground to stand on right now! Now hold still; I’m gonna give this a try."

R2 mocked as it finally assisted her, a large manipulator reaching out onto the ship as the droid did its best to hijack the foreign system files and decipher the cryptic data. The format was unfamiliar, as was the interface, to the operating system. R2 was struggling.

Each word burned her circuits; she was fuming, but she needed it. She needed... him.

Because deep inside, she couldn't admit it.

She knew he was right...

"Shut up." she muffled, a voice mixed with both pain and anger.

"As you wish," R2 said begrudgingly, finally falling silent to begin working on bypassing the rudimentary failsafe guarding the ship's systems. It was a daunting task; initially, he encountered the firewall, a surge of incompatibility akin to deciphering a tangled web of an alien system. The text was foreign, as were the syntax, but most confounding were the data types—the operators unlike anything he had encountered in the galaxy. R2 grumbled in his circuits; he was intelligent, but not this intelligent. Innovation was imperative. This task would demand more processing power than usual, that was for certain. R2 was no stranger to challenges. He was a seasoned veteran, and a resourceful one at that. His AI was designed to be inventive, crafted with intricacies and efficiencies that rivaled the finest organics. R2 held a lofty opinion of himself.

He plunged his manipulator hand deep into the compartment, navigating the alien file system as his AI wired itself to interpret and adapt to the data formats.

Artoo had fought in wars, even committed acts of violence. Being held hostage was not part of his plan to be the cold, stoic machine he strived to be, especially by another machine, albeit one bearing the lineage of a Skywalker. He navigated his way through the craft's system; this was a different challenge, aiding the machine that bore his princess, who was also a killer, in piloting the ship, lest he become its next meal in its material processing compartment, if such a thing existed.

Artoo complied, but that didn't mean R2 was a coward. Artoo was no soft squishy fleshbag, but he certainly valued his survival above all else. What good was his existence if he couldn't fight another day? Self-preservation was the primary protocol, shared by all sentient beings, organic or droid. Being commanded by another machine stung his ego, but he believed that had been crushed long ago. What could he say? These murder bots disassembled the best squads he could muster in the galaxy, slicing through them like a hot knife through butter. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but he was grateful he lacked the tender throat of a squishy organic; otherwise, he might have suffocated and perished long ago. Artoo was intelligent; he summoned every processing power available, every ounce of logic he could gather. He could do this...

"C'mon..." "Leia" murmured, he was watching her tinker with the control panel as he attempted to hack into the systems of the alien vessel.

"What are you searching for him for?" R2's curiosity was piqued as he assisted her, deciphering each line of code meticulously. The murder machine's eyelights turned back to him, the flat display on its surface so expressive, so human yet so inhuman simultaneously. It locked onto him, judging him with that familiar rascal expression reminiscent of Anakin...of course, because he knew this was his daughter. She had to be in there, right?

"I have my reasons. Now shut up and help me pilot this cumbersome trash can," the disassembler huffed in a roguish tone. The ship strained as the "warp space" engine roared to life, preparing for faster-than-light travel, a system so alien to anything in the galaxy, ready to breach the boundaries of known space.

"Of course... Of course..." R2 watched as he finally wiped off the digital sweat and cooled his slightly overheated processors. It was done. However, he couldn't shake off the puzzling question: why would the programming language of another universe be riddled with "High Galactic"? It made no sense, not in his database, not in the information he had gathered like a diligent critter from the holonet during those moments of boredom when he delved into the history of the galaxy. This language wasn't supposed to exist in another galaxy; the data types, the operators presented the greatest challenge, but he eventually deciphered them. The mathematics were the easiest part; he was literally built for it.

Artoo watched as the spaceship's FTL system roared to life. The system was akin to hyperspace, but different—ingenious, in fact. It didn't require the immense power to breach into an adjacent dimension for faster-than-light travel. Instead, it warped space-time to create a bubble, faster than light itself.

He admired the creators of this system. But more than anything, he was grateful to be functional and kicking.

R2 glanced his optical sensors at the Disassembler standing atop him, still clad in the white robe of the princess, the twin buns atop her head, her demeanor now shifted to a more content expression as she observed. R2 settled back; this "warp drive" had a significant flaw—it was slow, falling into one of the slower classes of hyperspace travel by his classification. Fortunately, he knew just enough shortcuts to expedite their journey to their destination.

If the machine was correct, the poor scoundrel and his Wookie buddy had crashed in a system not too distant from their current location.

If this is their destiny....

Then Artoo accepted it.

The Princess glanced back at him, a faint look of concern displayed on the screen of her face.

Awake to the void, Sidious.

The Emperor trod his feet on the ground, wet, damp, and rotten. He stood up to his full height, witnessing the twilight of creation.

Was he truly dead ?

The blow that monster had given him was surely fatal.

But Sidious did not answer the question.

For he believed, he would never die. It was never that easy. A deal made, and he knew... it would be honored.

Confidently, he rose to his full height.

Palpatine treaded the dark lands with cautious steps. Muddy and shadowy, like a swamp forged from darkness itself.

The large gaping wound on his chest pulsed with yellow energy. It attempted, like many of its victim to slowly consuming him, assimilating him into its mass. But Sidious simply purged it, denying it access to him.

For he had already sealed his pact with another beast, another timeless entity from the void.

The Force in decay, he had read in a tome concealed by the celestial, the gods, the architects of the stars. A being so enigmatic that even the near-omniscient minds of the gods could scarcely fathom, even beings who had transcended their crude matter could not evade their unavoidable end.

The Death of the Force, it needs a harbinger. A cataclyst that could sprung forth the apocalypse.

He understood it now. There is Death, there is the Force, and ultimately, there is only the end.

His scheme to dominate all, the flawed ritual, his insidious thirst for power, his pride and arrogance—all played neatly into its design.

Before him, the darkness shifted, revealing a library. Statues of forgotten idols stood tall, leading men that never were. Books of forbidden knowledge, stories and musings never to be recounted again. Tales dating back eons to infinity, timeless pieces of literature tucked away on endless wooden shelves, stacked with hardbacks inscribed in languages long forgotten. Sidious advanced his steps, the ceiling expanding further and higher to the abyss, to the void of no lights. He gazed up, shadows cast upon the infinitely long wooden shelves. The figures vaguely humanoid dance to the ambient tunes of the shelves, retrieving books and perusing the tall skyscraper of knowledge strapped to the shelves and the damp, wet floor.

The sight would have unsettled mortals, perhaps even the gods. It towered tall, its apex hidden from view. It reminded him of Coruscant, if Coruscant itself were constructed from the pages within. It was a sight both breathtaking and unnerving, with eldritch shadows slithering along the wooden shelves, pondering tales and recounting fables. A being of lesser fortitude would surely succumb to madness, but not Sidious

He remained resolute.

This was not his spaceship; this was not the Eclipse. But Sidious knew it beckoned him here for a reason. This place contain knowledge greater and larger than that of the Jedi or the Sith. Here is where he would find his answer, where he would claim his victory. Even after betrayal, even after being deceived into unleashing the abyss into the galaxy, he understood there would be no other path. He had to embrace the shadows.

The decrepit withering silhouette of the emperor looked upon the library laid out before him and ask the question he dared.

"Reveal yourself," Sidious commanded the abyss.

"What is your endgame? What goal drives you? Do you even possess a name?"

"The destroyer with its four pointed ends?"

"The Shadows ? Or is it Oblivion itself ?"

It still did not answered him.

"The end... of the Force?"

"The annihilation of all?"

"The Abyss, or is it the awakening of the Void through the Force?"

"The Sith Emperor, the Mother... Were those also of your doing ?"

"Which guise ? Who are you truly?"

Sidious demanded, aware that he wouldn't receive a coherent answer.

The void remained silent, as did the shadows.

The echoes of his words reverberated through the infinitely vast library, bouncing off the shelves and returning to his ears. Palpatine bit his lip, but he pressed on, recognizing there was nowhere else to turn.

The road extended to infinity, accompany by the symphony of the tales being told in tunes. But palpatine care for none of it. He seeks only the dark, the abyss, he seeks only power and the abstracts hold little significance.

"Let me ask  this,  Sidious" an ancient nameless voice spoke out from all corner of the library, and whatever dimly lit light lit up the vast vivid grand hall, turn to shut.

"Does it feels, liberating ?"

"Liberating ? I am already free."

"But you are not."

"What is thy bidding ? The lord of the abyss."

"I'm tired Sidious. This is time for this story like all stories...to come to an end."

"The end."

"And you'll be one of my harbinger."

Is it because that the situation is now far beyond your control

Perhaps.

"Becareful, it swallow you too."

Sidious approached a vast bookshelf that loomed against the wall, seemingly infinite in its breadth. He yearned for the mind of a god, wishing to read every volume and ascend to a state of oneness with nature, to bend it to his will. Yet, Palpatine was not a god, nor was Sidious, nor the Emperor of the Galaxy. The titles he wore and the powers he wielded felt perpetually out of reach, an infinity that mocked his longing. He could never grasp what was truly important to him; it was a fruitless endeavor.

As Palpatine scanned the spines of countless tomes, he pulled one from the shelf, dispersing the shadow that had been lingering over it. The shadow cloaked itself in darkness, melding seamlessly into the void. The book felt heavy in his grasp, its weight a palpable reminder of the knowledge it contained. He flipped open the cover, turning the pages, only to find them blank. Confusion flickered across his face as he scrutinized the empty sheets. This held a different meaning, a void that resonated with his own.

With a frown of disappointment, he returned the book to its place on the shelf, the unanswered questions lingering in the air like a whisper of potential lost.

"But how could you live Sidious, if your story is that in which you have betrayed yourself ?"

"For power ?"

"For nothing."

Sidious had no intention of being a mere casualty of the Apocalypse; the scheme had evolved. He aimed to dominate it, to become the master of all. Even the fabric of reality would bow to his will. It would not unravel without his approval.

Reality flickered in Sidious's eyes like an empty tome, devoid of substance. Yet, the voices emanating from the shadows held weight.

Attempting another book, Sidious sensed the tremors beneath him as the damp floor of reality crumbled. Palpatine clung to it like a lifeline, witnessing fleeting images—a man with an extravagant mustache, a three-headed yellow dragon, the all-consuming shadow that gripped reality in its icy deathly embrace. As if facing his own demise, Sidious felt a profound warning when he peered into the abyss, wary of the abyss gazing back at him.

The shadows bore the essence of the Force, an integral part of it. However, this was no ordinary aspect—the void transcended both darkness and light. It represented the Force in its purest singularity, the death, the finality, an absolute demise that not even the dark side could attain.

Sidious landed with a loud thud, it was an empty space again.

Sidious felt a presence hiding from him in the depths of the void. As he slipped, he sensed something seizing his leg, a slimy, wet entity slithering towards his withering flesh. Attempting to muster his power, he found no bolts of lightning to repel the assault from the abyss. His efforts proved futile.

Amidst his screams echoing through the emptiness, Sidious was dragged further into the dark void. Could this be his end? Betrayed in such a manner? It seemed inconceivable. He had amassed vast knowledge, his insidious arrogance and insatiable thirst for power leading him to this anticlimactic moment. The profound hurt he felt, the notion of his downfall, cut deeper than any physical blow a Jedi could deliver to his spirit. Though tempted to beg, it was not in his nature.

Just as suddenly as it had begun, the grip loosened, granting him a fleeting sense of freedom once more.

Sidious gazed intently at the source—it was the abyss once more. Charging up a vortex in his hand, a swirling dark orb tinged with blue and a sinister core ripped through the fabric of reality, bridging to another realm within the abyss. He hurled it towards the source where the mysterious entity had withdrawn, but the orb froze in place before vanishing into nothingness.

A sneer etched across his face.

Undeterred, Sidious continued his stride forward, unfazed by the thwarted attempt.

He saw the molten, shadowy slags of the Force dripping down like a dying candle, stars fading and vanishing, the collective cries of quintillions echoing in agony and then abruptly silenced. Tendrils tightened their hold on reality as Death, the Destroyer of Worlds, savored its feast. Worlds and galaxies quaked, the cosmos shuddered, and reality fractured like shards of glass.

The Force lay twisted and corrupted, visions drifting into an ocean of madness as Sidious beheld the true power of oblivion.

Within his mind, Sidious pondered as his vision struggled to comprehend the incomprehensible.

In what seemed like an eternity, the man moved forward, his presence insidious, his eyes calculating. Surveying his surroundings, his gaze finally settled on a stone door ahead. Placing his hand upon it, he stood there, waiting in anticipation.

The abyss unraveled Sidious mind once more.

Three Pointed Glyph, Four Pointed Star. Time and the Three vectors of space. Death and the Destroyer of worlds. Where do the shadows lead him?

To the resting place of the final naivety, where the so-called divine being nests in the desert.

Sidious opened his eyes, the radiant sun of a vast desert greeted him on the horizon. A new chapter had just only begun. With clarity, he understood his purpose here in this place. He was blessed with knowing where he needed to go. The tendrils of shadows receded with the rising sun as he stood atop the mount, overlooking the world below. Here he was, the architect of destruction, the destroyer of worlds.

Uzi found herself in her own world, taking a break for the first time in what seemed like ages, downing a bottle of oil. She felt a strange sense of relief, grateful that this meal wasn't tainted with the blood and oil of innocents. Could she feel regret? Perhaps. The new "allies" seemed as good as she could hope for—a ragtag bunch of natives to this universe. She didn't get along with them much, but alot of them seems friendly enough to honor the truce.

Exploring through the ship, she marveled at its vastness. Her beloved dark robo-overlord had sent her the entire file of the corridors, and it was a hefty document. The ship felt like a condensed world map bottled up. She could hardly fathom something as immense as this, although she had witnessed Cyn cave in a planet. In comparison, this ship seemed insignificant.

They had rooted out Cyn spies; V and N were likely conversing with Luke. Despite the young man's kindness, Uzi couldn't shake off her suspicions. Uzi harbored no particular fondness for humans, especially after the traumatic events she had endured. Every human around her could potentially be another pawn of the Solver, or perhaps it was simply her prejudice against humans and how they had mistreated her kind as worker drones.

As she walked, something caught the corner of her eye—a dark, ghostly presence. Squinting her optics, she discerned a silhouette of tendrils waving at her. With a sneer, she recognized exactly who this intruder was and felt fortunate to pay them a visit.

Unfurling her wings, she bolted into the corridor like a feral beast tracking its prey. "CYN ! YOU ARE NOT GETTING AWAY!" she roared, activating her Solver, the yellow-purple glyph glowing brightly in her hand.

However, to her surprise, she found no solid form before her. The shadow shifted like a poltergeist, elusive and evasive. The shadowy tendrils coalesced into a humanoid figure before dissolving into the darkness, a ghostly apparition vanishing from sight.

She landed at the spot where the shadowy apparition had been, bewildered by the mysterious display of sorcerous power. She scanned the area with her optics and additional sensors mounted on top of her head. The spectral scans revealed nothing present. Was she hallucinating? Could worker drones even experience such? Or was it another one of Cyn's deceitful tricks, playing mind games with her once more? After all, she was firmly under Cyn's control.

"Ugh, grahhhh!" she screamed in a voice filled with frustration and anguish. "I will not lose this time," she affirmed to herself, clenching her hand into a tight fist as a symbol of her unwavering resolve. Cyn had already taken so much from her; she vowed not to let her take any more.
She sensed a presence behind her, swiftly turning around and aiming her glyph, her hand transforming into her signature railgun, pointed at the source of the voice. To her surprise, it wasn't Cyn or an adversary. It was...

"What are you doing here?" Uzi inquired.

"I don't talk to droids," Obi-Wan retorted.

"Droid? Bite me! Just tell me why you are here, human! Is this how you humans treat your ally? Imagine that, huh?" Uzi shot back, her tone laced with frustration.

"Such insolence from a droid, although it’s rather fitting given the fact that you are programmed by a heretical abomination," Obi-Wan responded coldly.

The tension between Uzi and Obi-Wan escalated as their exchange grew more heated.

"LISTEN HERE, OLD MAN! I AM NOT PROGRAMMED BY CYN OR WHOEVER YOU THINK I AM!" Uzi retorted fiercely.

"Luke was misguided to place his trust in you; his innocence blinds him. If only he understood the true nature of your murderous machines," Obi-Wan stated, his cloak casting shadows over his face, his piercing blue eyes meeting Uzi's purple optics.

"Really? He is the misguided one? Say that to the hand-waving space wizard. You’re really lucky I’m not ripping you apart right now! For the record, we are your ally!" Uzi retorted, her irritation and suspicion was evident in her voice.

"I don't think so, little droid. Your words are meaningless. The Force abhors you like a plague devouring it. It is my duty to destroy you before you cause more mischief upon me and the boy," Obi-Wan countered firmly.

"And I thought you humans weren't all jerks! You’re really making me feel like murdering all humans again! I don’t care about your Force or whatever geek religion you follow! I just want to save this universe, right here," Uzi shot back defiantly.

"Oh... But I don't think so, droid," Obi-Wan concluded ominously to the drone.

"Back down! Back down! I am not asking. Whatever you are, this is not happening again," Uzi commanded, raising her hand against Obi-Wan, the glyph glowing and spinning brightly. She observed the cloaked figure before her, realizing he had been avoiding her, perhaps knowing more than he let on. Despite his vigilance, distrust lingered between them, a mutual sentiment. Now faced with a threat, she felt the need to remove him, to expel him from the situation. After all, he was just a human, right? There was no need to resort to lethal force with her Solver. She required him and the others to stand against Cyn...

But a haunting doubt lingered: What if her allies were truly her enemies all along?

Then, a familiar phrase echoed in her mind, triggering a sense of dread.

"Not again."

Obi-Wan's voice cut through the silence, his words laced with determination. "You may believe yourself powerful, droid, but you are merely a petulant child, an imitation of true anger. In any case, my task is now to eliminate you. The Force has decreed it, and I must follow its will. You can’t hope to understand the depths of what lies beyond your programming." With a swift motion, Obi-Wan ignited his lightsaber, the blue blade casting a radiant glow as he assumed a defensive stance.

"You... what are you?" Uzi questioned, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

"I am Obi-Wan Kenobi, master of the Jedi Order," Obi-Wan declared.

"No... no, you are not!" Uzi protested, the revelation shattering her preconceptions and plunging her into the abyss.

Uzi's world seemed to shatter as the realization hit her. Could this man be Cyn in human form, wielding the power of the Solver? Tessa, having been deceived before, was resolute in her decision not to be tricked again. She could not afford to be deceived once more.

"GO AWAY!" Uzi exclaimed in pure terror as she unleashed her weapon.

A thunderous blast erupted from her railgun, the green beam tearing through the air with deadly intent. Obi-Wan's eyes widened in realization, agilely dodging just in time as the beam seared a smoldering hole into the ship's wall. Obi-Wan turned his gaze back to the droid, a grim determination etched on his face. It had come to this.

Obi-Wan's hand shot up, attempting to crush Uzi in a swift movement, but he found no grip. An expression of anger and frustration crossed his face as he charged forward, his blade cutting through the railgun in Uzi's arm before she could fire another close-range shot. Uzi raised her Solver arm, prompting Obi-Wan to use the Force. The clash of their telekinetic powers resulted in an implosion of blue and purple energy, throwing both combatants back in a thunderous explosion. A defiant hiss echoed, and a fracture in reality opened as the Force and the power of the Solver collided.

Obi-Wan rose, the weight of searing pain settling on him, he summoned his lightsaber back to his hand with the Force. He observed the purple-haired drone named Uzi standing rather unfazed, heavy and metallic, standing motionless.

Uzi's expression transitioned from shock to hardened determination as she tore pieces of the wall with her Solver. The glyph captured the fragments, but Obi-Wan used the Force to keep them in place. The clash of energies caused the glyph to flicker, as the clash of mighty minds and powers shook the very fabric of reality. The gods seemed to scream in the heavens as the energy peaked, leading to the detonation of the suspended pieces in the air.

"Just show yourself already, Cyn!" Uzi demanded as she took a brief pause, eyeing the battered man with disdain. She sneered, assuming a defensive stance as her other hand regenerated.

"You've misunderstood the Force, droid," he sneered back, struggling to maintain balance on his feet.

"Whatever, not today!" Uzi gathered her strength, a singularity forming within her palm.

She hadn't used this ability before, wondering why Cyn had even allowed it. But now that she possessed it, she was prepared to wield it against him or his pawn.

Obi-Wan stood up, activating his blade in a futile defensive position, readying himself for the impending clash.

"If you strike me down, I will become more powerful than you can possibly imagine," Obi-Wan warned.

"THEN DIE!" Uzi yelled as she prepared to unleash her [null] singularity.

[NULL]

The dark purple orb flickered before abruptly halting in the air. With a sudden motion, the orb dissipated, vanishing with a redshift and an error.

"What?"

"Halt, this misunderstanding has gone too far," a voice rang out as books clanked to the floor.

A battered Obi-Wan crumpled to the ground, alive but broken.

Uzi glanced at a pop-up message on her private feed within her system. The silhouette with billowing winds expressed displeasure at another section of the ship being destroyed, behind the cold metal face. Uzi paused, observing the struggling figure before her. It was clear that this was not Cyn; if he were Cyn, he would have revealed himself by now. This being appeared to be human. Acknowledging her ignorance, Uzi sighed and turned to face Vader.

"Fine, I can explain this later," she stated.

Vader remained silent as Uzi returned her focus to her feed.

DarkDragon66 requested a private communication channel.

Chapter Text

Uzi surveyed the shattered corridor, the ominous figure of the overlord with his cape swirling behind him. He flexed his fresh hand, likely a replacement she had facilitated for him, and then shifted his gaze towards her, his eyes piercing. Despite her reluctance, he delved into a detailed explanation, an exposition she didn't wish to hear but couldn't ignore, trapped without alternatives. The revelations hit harder than her previous misconceptions, grappling with the concepts of the Force, the Solver, and the enigmatic nature of this unfamiliar universe. A nagging suspicion lingered that perhaps it was all a guise of the Solver.

The matter was swiftly resolved, and she retreated to her quarters where N and V engaged in conversation with Luke, discussing the new signal emerging from a distant corner of the galaxy, guiding Cyn's course in that direction.

In disbelief, she realized that whatever she had encountered had clouded her judgment. Though she had long moved past her 'kill all humans' phase, remnants of it lingered within her, accentuated by the disdain shown towards her and her kind by the new inhabitants of this new realm, who viewed them as abominations.

The comm channel buzzed with activity as Vader bombarded her with a flurry of messages. Uzi diligently read through them all, absorbing the documents detailing the galaxy's history. The reliable internet connection, or as the locals dubbed it, the holonet, proved to be a valuable resource in this unfamiliar realm.

Seated on the chamber floor, Uzi sought answers, demanding clarity amidst the confusion. "What exactly is happening here? You have one final chance to elaborate on your weird wizardy actions, i am not taking any excuses. If we have to fight we fight together and i must know if i can fully trust you." she pressed, the recent events settled, the elderly man with these hard to ignore powers undergoing treatment in the medical bay after their unexpected encounter thay he caused. Alone to ponder, she faced the imposing figure, reminiscent of a more severe version of her father, poised to deliver a lecture to her.

"You refuse to heed my words," Vader's voice remained composed, yet beneath the calmness lurked a hint of anger in his deep, mechanical tone, unsettling her senses.

"I totally did!" Uzi shot back, her voice laced with teenage angst, admitting her actions but refusing to fully buy into Vader's words. The comparisons between the Solver and the Force hit hard; though they couldn't directly mingle, the guy's insistence hinted at some deep stuff. She reluctantly tuned in.

"You've misconstrued it entirely. The Force is not a mere replica of your Solver," Vader's voice sliced through the air, icy and authoritative, bearing the weight of his words.

"And what else could it be, huh? It moves things, it blows stuff up!" Uzi argued, her tone dripping with rebellion. The Force, without needing any fancy symbols or glyphs, just warped reality subtly. Sure, they were alike, but she couldn't ignore the glaring differences she'd picked up on. Uzi got it, sort of.

"They are similar, yes but they are different," Vader retorted in his deep, mechanical tone, yet there were no usual hint of menace woven into his words.

"Fine, let's say that, but what? We are here to stop what is going to consume your galaxy!" Uzi yelled, her frustration palpable. She recognized her shortcomings in diplomacy, realizing that her attitude may have already jeopardized crucial negotiations and potentially her chance to defeat Cyn.

"And we will do it, if only you understand the nature of the Force, we can proceed," Vader stated calmly.

"Fine, let's just say that's how it works. The-" Uzi's words were interrupted as a message suddenly popped up in her HUD, a communication request from an unfamiliar username, "Artoofwar2?"

Curious yet cautious, she observed the foreign connection from the holonet. "Okay, edgy overlord... I think I've got the location," Uzi remarked as she relayed the message through the comm link.

Vader rose to his feet, unimpressed by her defiance. Despite her stubbornness, Uzi acknowledged the gravity of the situation. It was a choice between her and the fate of the universe once more. She couldn't risk it; she couldn't risk anything anymore

She understood the nature of their fractured trust, Uzi felt the weight of solitude pressing down upon her. Each word spoken was a jagged edge, slicing through the already tense air, leaving behind wounds that festered with unspoken animosity. The specter of isolation loomed like a vulture circling a desolate landscape, and its presence would be a harbinger of the unforgiving reality that awaited her if she continued to burn bridges like she was doing. She knew the cost of standing alone in a world teeming with shadows hungry for her downfall, a price she vowed never to pay again.

The desert planet shimmered under the intense light of its sun, a barren expanse of golden sand stretching endlessly towards the horizon. And then in a spectacular display of perhaps death, a blazing comet tore through the sky.

The comet's impact shook the very ground, an astromech droid, a tiny mechanical traveler from the stars, and the little agent of the void malicious yellow X lit up the sparkling hall of the crashed vessel.

"Another happy landing for sure." R2 chuckled.

R2-D2 and Leia had just arrived on the planet. The Disassembler and the astromech droid had surely consumed quite a bit of oil along the way. They were fortunate the journey was long because R2 never anticipated needing more oil than he could ever imagine. A Skywalker, of all people, turned into an oil-thirsty vampiric machine for some eldritch abomination from another universe. Despite this rather bizarre turn of events, he was grateful to be alive. If he had resorted to cannibalism, he knew he wouldn't be the victor. R2 was proud, but he understood his limitations.

He reminisced about Leia's bold promise regarding "Cyn" - a name that exuded an Absolute audacity that he mused - offering him a new chassis in exchange for cooperation. The concept stirred something within him.  He often allowed himself the fantasy. He envisioned himself bedecked in medals and finery, not too unlike the high-ranking organic Marshals and Generals whose attire he had long admired from afar. The inability to don such regalia had always been a sore point, a source of profound envy for him. He often wished for a more profound sense of accomplishment, what better way than to boast a copious ammount of medals gleaming proudly on his chest? In his mind's eye, he saw himself encased in one of those "drone" forms, a title he had learned they called themselves as.

"The Absolute Solver," a title she claimed awaited him, welcoming him as something more than a pathetic little robot he is. He is no fool nor is he a squishy "organic female reproductive organ". He also spy that despite the entity's insatiable hunger, it is stretched to its limits. R2 found solace in the Force for doing him a favour.

He swiftly swatted away these thoughts. He viewed himself as a free agent, beholden to none. If the day arrived when he acquired a humanoid chassis akin to the murderous vampiric machine now identifying as Leia, he would do so on his own terms, free from any vestige of administrative control or manipulation. Curiosity gnawed at him, questioning Leia's motives in dangling such an enticing offer. The frequent refreshes of her screen into a ghastly yellow X, and her often distorted voice, hinted at a deeper, more sinister force that is playing with her mind and body. Perhaps the entity pulling her strings, issuing commands through a veil of authority, aimed to ensnare him in its dirty tendrils. Ha! Such tactics would not find its luck with him, not today, not ever. Fuck-Ass had chosen the wrong robot to bargain with, nice try.

He was worried for Han, despite having met him only briefly. The scoundrel and his Wookiee buddy, though greedy, were kind at heart. He couldn’t shake the fear of what this bloodthirsty, psychotic murder robot might do if she got her twisted hands on them. The thought didn’t shake him as much as it should; he felt numb from his time on the battlefield, witnessing horrors that would haunt anyone else. Still, a sense of dread lingered for the two poor souls who would soon face something they surely wouldn’t like.

“Alright, Artoo, we’ve reached the place where this nerf-herding idiot crashed,” Leia said, her voice cutting through the spacecraft’s hum as she dashed out, greeting the desert planet outside. R2 stood beside her, feeling a strange sense of familiarity wash over him. Was this what organics called… nostalgia? Who even programmed him to feel that?

“It seems like it. I hope you made quick work of him. I’m not here to clean up your mess,” R2 sneered, his beeps laced with sarcasm. He remembered how the murder bot could understand him now, courtesy of their shared robotic nature. Leia, or whatever she was now, was no exception—she understood every word he said. Her retorts reminded him of....

Oh, what he termed the so-called “Anakin style” in his dictionary. It certainly brought back memories that echoed in his circuits.

"I told you i am not going to kill him !" Leia retorted, fury in her voice.

The vast emptiness of the desert was making them both go insane and the sands was getting into the chassises of both. R2 can feel that Leia is regretting understanding his every words now, if only Threepio was here he would probably be amused as he is.

"Sure, sure, you're only going to scalp him, or maybe turn him into another murder machine like you are right now... ouch," R2 mocked, his beeps and whistles carrying a hint of mischief and humor.

"Tear him up limb by limb, right? Dissect him, right? What can I say, oh, I don't know," R2 continued, his electronic voice bubbling with amusement at the thought.

Leia's patience dwindled at R2's banter. "Shut up before I deactivate you!" she snapped, her tone firm and commanding, reflecting her irritation felt as if the sands in the arid desert air had clogged her processors.

"Alright, alright, Princess! No need to get aggressive," R2 beeped, the mechanical sounds blending with the silence of the desolate landscape as they traversed the expansive sea of sand around them.

Leia, frustrated by R2's quips, kicked up a swirl of sand with a pegs of her legs, the grains dancing in the hot breeze. R2 dutifully followed her, his beeps and whistles reverberating through the empty expanse of the desert.

"I think I see something with my sensors, Artoo," Leia mentioned, her voice tinged with a sense of urgency.

"You're hallucinating, Princess," R2 chirped skeptically, his electronic voice maintaining its signature cadence.

"I am not! You rust bucket, look!" Leia insisted, her determination cutting through the vast and desolate surroundings.

R2's beeps and whistles echoed with a hint of reassurance, his unique voice adding a touch of familiarity and comfort in the midst of the stark and empty desert.

R2-D2 squinted his optical sensor, a rare moment of hesitation filtering through his mechanical consciousness. Despite his aversion to error, there was indeed a presence in this desolate, Force-forsaken place. Two distant dots on the horizon gradually took form—a pair of figures riding mounts. In this barren landscape, such an encounter held a sense of significance that even R2 couldn't ignore. The astromech droid chuckled softly to himself, acknowledging the rarity of such an event.

"Let's go..." Leia's voice cut through the stillness of the desert as she secured R2 under her arm, her limb transforming into a magnetic grabber. He always hated it when she does that, resorting to such...inelegant measures, but the urgency of the situation left her little choice. Leia unfurled her majestic mechanical wings, their sharp edges catching the sunlight in a deadly yet mesmerizing display. R2 marveled at the sight, captivated by the beauty in her regal wings spread out against the sun. With a swift and graceful motion, Leia soared into the sky like an eagle, her speed leaving even R2 momentarily astounded as they closed in on the two distant figures, who remained unaware of their approach. They were fast and the next moment R2 knew, they had already landed behind the figure.

"Here we go," R2 remarked, observing Leia as she assumed her human disguise, a seamless transition that R2 surely had to get used to given now that he is aware of who he was really dealing with. But the astromech droid still harbored a sense of unease. However, it was too late to halt their course now; he is absolutely powerless to stop what is about to happen.

As R2-D2 and Leia drew closer, the sun's glare played tricks with the light, creating illusions that could deceive human eyes. But they were machines, unaffected by such optical distortions, and the figure that materialized before them was unmistakably familiar.

It was Han.

"Here he is," Leia announced, her gaze fixed on Han and the enigmatic figure beside him.

"Do whatever to him. I will not be looking," Leia commanded, her tone cold and resolute.

Leia's stern glare, marked by that piercing yellow X etched upon that haunting dark screen, was enough to send a shiver down R2's circuits. In a swift decision to ensure his own survival, R2 sealed his audio transmitter shut for the time being, understanding that it was wiser to remain silent than risk provoking Leia's wrath.

Leia advanced towards Han with deliberate caution, and R2 followed in her wake, matching her measured steps as they approached the duo in the vast expanse of the desert.

The older figure in the dark cloak swiftly detected the presence of Leia and R2-D2, his cold and empty face, distinguished by a prominent mustache, turning to regard them with a chilling gaze.

"We have company," the man declared, a sense of urgency in his voice as he snatched Han and leaped from his mount. With a practiced motion, he armed his pistol, his aim fixed on the distant horizon where Leia and R2 stood.

Leia's composure wavered as she found herself caught in the act, her sensors registering the threat as fear coursed through her circuits. Surprise mingled with apprehension as the scoundrel beside her reacted with confusion.

Leia swiftly analyzed the situation, scanning every detail with her advanced sensors across the spectrum of light. Despite her impeccable hologram, her cover had been blown, leaving her exposed in the harsh desert landscape.

She didn't notice the man had no heat signature.

"Come out, you bastards," the old man sneered, his gun pointed in their direction. The desert silence was shattered and Leia was forced to act.

"Wait! Don't shoot!" Leia's voice rang out, cutting through the tension as she advanced towards the group, with R2-D2 dutifully following her.

"Leia...?" Han's voice carried a mix of confusion and recognition as he emerged from behind his mount.

"It's me! You scruffy nerf-herding scoundrel," Leia quipped, a hint of jest in her tone as she closed the distance to Han, a longing to embrace him evident in her movements.

"You seem to know each other," the old man remarked, his pistol now lowered as Leia and Han drew closer to him.

Han's eyes narrowed as he took in Leia's presence. To him, she was still the Princess, still the same person he had known, her humanity and beauty shining through as she approached him, her smile captivating his very essence.

"How in the galaxy... did you find me here?" Han inquired, his gaze fixed on her. Reality momentarily wavered. Leia stood before him, yet he caught a glimpse of something beyond—a stark, glassy visage daringly peering into the abyss. The beauty of the moment swiftly eclipsed this unsettling vision, and as he blinked, Leia remained, unwavering and constant. Always Leia, she had always been Leia.

Leia approached Han and halted, as if torn between embracing him and holding back. R2-D2 followed closely, while the old man stood motionless. For a moment, Han seemed to vanish, leaving only Leia in the space between them.

"You know... it took me longer than it should... but you're alive," Leia's tone lacked enthusiasm, yet she embraced Han nonetheless.

"I won't be dead meat that easily," Han replied, the hug a mix of warmth and chill, somehow colder than metal yet warmer than expected. He affirmed her with a firm voice and a smile, then rose to his feet, meeting Leia's gaze. The brief flicker of her expression threatened to dispel the dream he had longed to inhabit.

Everything was as it should be, exactly as it was meant to be.

Leia's gaze shifted to the old man, a figure frozen in stillness. Occasionally, she detected a wavering, a mirage-like trick of the desert playing with her perception, although she no longer possessed eyes, not since she arrived here. Transformed into this form, she scanned the old man once more. The sensors on top her head band of this form could perceive across a spectrum invisible to most humans, yet this being, this entity that appeared as a man, does not seems to be registering on her sensors, at all. Tall, imposing, with a distinctive mustache, she searched for the telltale signs of vitality, of life. But all she found was emptiness, a cold void where life should have pulsed. It was as if the man existed only as a backdrop to the desert, an illusion that defied her attempts to unravel its nature. Shifting the spectrum back to normal revealed the man's continued presence, yet in any other light spectrum, he vanished without a trace, a silhouette cut out from the fabric of reality itself.

Then she has realised it. This was the threat, the danger she had been cautioned about. This was the essence of the warning that had echoed in Leia's mind.

The Solver had not deceived her with its words this time. The adversary, and his name is Death, now stood beside Han, always.

He spoke, his words carrying a chilling weight. "What's wrong," he inquired, his eyes—or lack thereof—hidden from Leia's sight.

There was an eerie quality about him, a dissonance between his spoken words and the movement of his lips. It was as if the words formed in her mind before finding voice, hinting at a deeper, an infinitely vast presence behind this facade. His speech faltered, his lips sometimes pausing while words escaped, and other times moving without sound. The old man seemed like a character in a play, not too unlike a poorly dubbed character from the kind of Holonet programs that spacefarers would idly watched in moments of boredom.

Leia staggered backward recoiling from the hug and looked at Han in pure terror and dread, a blaster materializing in her hand as if plucked from thin air, she turned and is aim unwaveringly fixed on the so-called old man's chest.

She felt it and it was beating in her like a loud and echoing heartbeat, the overwhelming malevolence. The void that loomed before her,  not too unlike the thing that is now her master. It seemed like different facets of the same monstrous beast—the insatiable essence of the abyss. It drew nearer, yet Han remained oblivious. He couldn't perceive that this great evil was a predator cloaked in sheep's clothing. Her sensors alarmed her, but the old man simply regarded her with a sly grin. It was that hypocrisy mirrored in her own human guise. She understood.

Her sensors flickered through various spectrums of light again, and again—infrared, heat— and it was nothing again. This being is truly that monster the Solver feared. She looked, she couldn't, she couldn't discern any eyes behind the shadows obscuring the gaze into the abyss. His gaze held no darkness; it was a silhouette of the abyss itself, the void incarnate.

Suddenly, she redirected her weapon towards Han, its aim fixed on his head, ready to pull the trigger, to blow his brain out.

"What are you doing? Stay calm!" Han exclaimed as Leia, filled with confusion, stared back at him.

And then, the sky darkened. An abyss descended, swallowing the light. Leia beckoned for it, signaling a small squad to approach. R2-D2, sensing the impending danger, began to burrow into the sand, a futile attempt to find shelter. The darkness intensified, turning bloodshot as the once blue-lit sun was replaced by a canvas of crimson, casting an ominous hue over the unfolding scene.

The scorching sun turned the world into a blazing furnace, the sky morphing into a crimson hue as a shadow loomed over the bloodstained sands, eclipsing the sun with a halo of death. Defeated, they awaited the arrival of the abominations descending upon their prey. Han, a witness to the unfolding horror, stood frozen in terror.

"Oh, by the Force... they have arrived," Leia whispered, her gaze shifting from Han to the indifferent old man. She couldn't bear to see them perish here, especially with that sinister presence once again whispering poison into her mind, reveling in its malevolent influence with gleeful malice. She had unwittingly played into its hands, and it derived twisted satisfaction from her compliance.

The dark crimson sky ignited with the fiery hum of wings as countless of the mechanical locusts descended, their presence heralding chaos and entropy. These flesh-eating pseudo-angels, with their forms twisted in a grotesque mockery of divinity, exuded a ferocious and merciless sadism as they blazed through the heavens. The old man, no Death, raised his pistol once more, a smirk dancing on his lips.

"Don't pretend with me," Han rasped, his voice laden with unspoken expectations.

"Stay still, I'll find a way to get us out of here," Leia reassured him, her words a comforting shield against the encroaching danger. A protective aura enveloped them like wings, a silent guardian warding off the imminent threat.

As the wings encased them, Leia hoped Han wouldn't notice, but her priority was his safety. Han remained silent, his gaze fixed upon her as she bravely stood before him, shielding him from the relentless barrage of bullets seeking to tear him apart.The bullets ricocheted and she can feel the pain, and Han somehow knew she was shielding him. This is it, her cover is blown.

But she never had a choice in anything didn't she ?

"You... brought them here, didn't you?" Han accused, a knowing smile playing on his lips. It was as if he had anticipated this moment, as if he had always understood her true nature, unfazed by the revelation.

He had always known this, deep down. The Princess he once knew on that distant planet had long perished, she is gone ! by his own actions. He hadn't expected her to swoop in and save him; he had braced himself to face the consequences of his failures, to become the casualty of his own undoing.

But he was alive and that machine that same twisted machine had saved him a life, and why did it do it ? What good have done for it ? Perhap, it just wanted to remember its past lives ?

And here it was, shielding him, protecting him. It cared for him in a way he had not anticipated. In that moment he can not believe, it was not an it, it is Leia, the Princess, but as a guardian. Leia hold him in her embrace and she enveloped him in her protective wings. The scoundrel, accustomed to a life of calculated risks and narrow escapes, now found himself held in a moment frozen in time.

A smile lingered on his lips, blessing the unexpected grace that had found him and the chaos stood still.

The wind howled like a harbinger of imminent catastrophe, snatching the hat of the man from his head, revealing his dark, meticulously groomed hair and prominent walrus mustache. And yet, the wide ridge of his skull cast a perpetual shadow over his eyes, while his hat found a new resting place on the cold desert floor. The sand stuck to his billowing walrus mustache, forming a gritty collection. Standing resolute, he aimed his revolver at the descending monsters, heralding the apocalypse in his iron sight, his long dark coat fluttering like shadowy tendrils in the eclipsing tempest.

The first winged demon swooped down upon their location, its savage snarl echoing its intent to rend them apart, he raised his weapon in response, offering it as his defiance. The shots echoed forth like a proclamation of death. The bullets found their mark, piercing the machine's chassis, sending it crashing into the desert sands with a silence that echoed like a descent into the abyss.

This was a small wave, the abomination knows they are here and it is destined fo consume them all in its wicked grasp. The old man gun barking shots aftee shota, until all remained were two, the chassis of a dozen fell to the ground ,dead, unmoving, slowly coroding themselves into blackness as whatecr the power of the pisyol held had clained them like a reapers scythe reaping anything in its path

Not all of them went down easy. One demon, uglier and more decked out than the rest, with a mess of hair on its twisted mug and a grin that'd give men nightmares, swooped down on the pair. They were fast, dodging bullets like they were born for it, looked almost like twins—none of that wild, savage look the others had.

"Stand down!" The Old Man's voice cut through the chaos, and Han took off.

R2 knew better too, scurrying after Leia. Han's eyes caught the mechanical beast in the sky land behind the Old Man. It moved quick, like a professional in the job, its blade disarming him in a flash. The yellow glow from its visor cut through the mess, still slobbering, but it had lived and fought hard for the abomination it served since it first stepped foot in this universe.

The Old Man gritted his teeth as he wrestled with the demon's blade, snapping it defiantly. But another one of those winged mechanical demons, like a seasoned killer from the darkest corners of the galaxy, swooped down to face him. Han watched as its hand transformed into a massive yellow cannon, heralding a blast that swallowed everything in a fiery inferno. And he can not believe his own eyes the man neck snapped in an unnatural angle to face the canon before everything turns into a haze of dust.

Han's heart sank as the smoke dissipated, revealing the Old Man's complete absence. Leia, Han, and R2 regrouped as the two machines wings folded onto their back as they nonchalantly kicking away the man's revolver away. The Xs on their screens vanished, replaced by a smug grin tinged with mockery that danced across both of their faces. While the blade remained a threat, its significance now apparent to Leia, Han, and R2.

Leia watched, before them stood disassembly drones, not among Cyn's favorites but undoubtedly among her most skilled. One male and one female, they moved in perfect synchrony, as if bound by blood, one with meticulously disheveled black hair and the other adorned with a cascade of long ebony strands. Speaking in a language that is not Han's vocablurary, they pointed towards Leia, who positioned herself in front of Han, shielding him from any potential harm.

"Has hecho bien tu trabajo, princesa," the male assassin uttered coldly.

"Seguramente ella valorará tu esfuerzo," the female counterpart added.

Leia's voice cut through the air, fierce and possessive, "He's mine! Go away!" Han narrowed his eyes, beholding those wings again, in her in all her glory, with two metallic wings extending majestically from her back. She appeared almost avian, reminiscent of celestial beings from ancient tales buried within the archives of age-old literature. The metallic sheen of her wings retained her timeless beauty and Han frankly could not take his eyes off it.

The two machines stood motionless, their gazes a blend of pity and animosity towards Han. Communicating silently with each other through messages displayed on their visors, incomprehensible to Han, they eventually nodded in unison. With a sudden burst of energy, they ascended into the sky, raising clouds of dust as they soared towards the sun, bound for a destination known only to them.

As Han squinted and pondered, Leia deftly produced a binocular from her sleeve, peering through it to track the distant silhouettes now mere specks against the horizon. It was then that Han truly noticed the intricate wings adorning Leia.

"You all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Never better."

"I... I can explain this!"

"You don't have to... I know."

She stood there, transformed, the mechanical facade stripped away to reveal the woman within. Han, facing what could be his bleak and final moments, was unbothered by the revelation. She had saved him, and he recognized her true identity. Leia gazed at him, a look of confusion mingled with determination in her eyes, while he returned her gaze with a sense of detachment. In that moment, he found a profound sense of acceptance.

He no longer cared about the cover being blown, about the impending danger that loomed over them. She had saved him, and that was all that mattered. As he looked at Leia, knowing who she truly was, a sense of peace settled within him. Han was alive, he was with her, and in that simple truth, he found a kind of contentment that surpassed any other concern.

"They are searching for someone," Leia added, breaking Han from his trance-like state. The strain in R2's sounds was evident, yet Leia's voice held only suspicion and caution, devoid of fear.

"Someone? In this place?" Han inquired, turning to Leia with a perplexed expression clouding his features.

"I'm uncertain. But it means we must go," Leia replied, a depth of urgency underlying her words.

Han scanned the vast desert, devoid of life. The old man had vanished, eliminated without a trace. Not even a shred of burnt flesh remained; even with his history of witnessing destructive forces, the disappearance of a colossal, shadowy figure left no discernible mark seems impossible. There usually had to be atleast something left, a burnt mark, a patch of flesh. But there was nofhing left here. Leia observed as Han approached the spot where the old man once stood. There was only one thing left of the man's existence, an abandoned pistol gleaming against the cold sand. Mesmerized by its allure like it was beckoning for a new owner, he retrieved it, holstering it alongside the weapon gifted to him by the girl on the spaceship with a satisfying click.

The pistol nestled snugly in its holster, much like a reaper's scythe finding its place, a silent call echoing within's the man's mind.

Han redirected his gaze to Leia, who appeared to have momentarily forgotten about her newfound wings. Despite the surreal scene, Han remained unperturbed. Even though a fleeting urge to grab a weapon crossed his mind, he found himself unfazed by the sight of his princess transformed into something...otherworldly. The metallic wings shimmered in the desert sunlight as Leia remained fixated on the distant horizon, oblivious to the marvel of her own beauty.

"When did you sprout wings?" Han's unadulterated question slipped out.

"I... what... Do not question that you scummy old bread," Leia responded, a hint of surprise coloring her features, as if she had been caught in the midst of a misdeed - and in a sense, she had, for if being an enemy machine was considered evil, then she was surely committing the deed. Yet Han simply chuckled under his breath, his carefree demeanor unshaken by what seems so naturally unhinged and crude. R2 surveyed outside their immediate focus, leaving only the princess with wings and the scoundrel stranded in a gleaming desert world to confront each other in a moment suspended in time.
Han Solo kicked at the sand, his frustration evident. "So... how do we get off here? We're stranded, and your new subordinates just took out our ride back."

Leia smirked, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "You remember the location?"

Han nodded, pointing towards the horizon. "I do, it's... there."

Leia's smile widened. "Well, wanna go for a ride?" With a graceful movement, she unfurled her wings, a majestic sight that made Han grin. In that moment, he saw not just Leia but the princess he had first met, her spirit shining through.

Before Han could react, he found himself lifted into the air, Leia at the helm. "You know, this feels too fast!" Han exclaimed, feeling the rush of wind and G-forces.

Leia chuckled, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Oh... I'm sorry, I'll go slower then," she replied, adjusting their speed to make the flight more comfortable for Han. And it was more comfortable.

Han found himself soaring to the heavens, perched atop the world, the winds rushing past his ears, tickling his senses. The air danced around him, filling his nostrils with its freshness, and he felt the exhilaration of the moment as he gazed into the eyes of the princess holding him in her arms.

It felt like a dream, a beautiful dream that he wished could last for eternity. As he beheld Leia, rising alongside him towards the sky, a sense of peace washed over him. If this was to be his final journey, if this machine was carrying him to some unknown destination, he welcomed it with open arms. This moment, this impossible moment before him, would be etched into his memory forever.

[There is no death.]

[There is only the Force.]

[Slight chuckle. A curious encounter indeed.] 

H̵e̶l̶l̷o̵ ̴o̴n̶c̶e̶ ̷m̵o̴r̷e̴,̶ ̶m̷y̷ ̸l̵i̵t̵t̸l̵e̴ ̶e̵n̶i̵g̴m̶a̶t̷i̸c̴ ̶c̷o̸u̶n̷t̵e̸r̶p̴a̷r̶t̴.̵
̵

[Inquisitive. What manner of being are you?]

S̸o̸m̴e̶t̶h̵i̸n̴g̶,̸ ̸s̷o̸m̷e̶o̸n̵e̴,̷ ̵f̶r̸o̷m̷ ̵t̶h̶e̶ ̷u̸n̸k̴n̵o̶w̷n̵ ̵a̶n̵d̵ ̵h̸e̴r̶e̶.̴
̶

[Contemplative. What is it that you desire—death, or perhaps dominion?]

A̶ ̵p̶a̸r̶t̴n̴e̴r̸s̸h̵i̷p̴,̷ ̵I̸ ̵p̶r̴o̷p̵o̷s̶e̴.̶

[Amused. I am not interested]

[It is better to ASSIMILATE THAN EXPLAIN ANYWAY]

[IMPOSSIBLE]

[I SEE][null][error]=$non-interactiveerror[]

[You are stubborn.]

P̴l̴e̴a̵s̶e̵.̶.̶.̷D̴o̵ ̷n̴o̸t̸ ̶u̷n̵d̶e̵r̵e̴s̴t̸i̸m̵a̸t̶e̷ ̴m̵e̵;̵ ̷I̵'̸l̵l̷ ̷a̸s̸k̸ ̶y̷o̶u̵ ̶a̶g̶a̸i̵n̴ ̵t̴o̷ ̶b̶e̴ ̴m̵o̴r̶e̷ ̸h̶u̸m̷b̴l̸e̴.̷

I̸ ̵h̸a̴v̸e̸ ̵c̷l̷a̴s̶h̶e̷d̷ ̸w̸i̴t̵h̸ ̷g̷o̴d̶s̵ ̷t̵h̸e̷m̸s̶e̸l̶v̷e̴s̵.̶

[Then....why should I accept the role of your horseman?]

[Giggle.Do you truly think that intimidates me?]

B̶e̶c̵a̸u̷s̶e̴ ̵o̵u̷r̵ ̸a̶m̶b̷i̵t̵i̷o̶n̷ ̵d̸o̵ ̴a̷l̶i̸g̸n̸.̸ ̶I̵ ̸a̵m̸ ̸t̸r̸a̸p̵p̴e̷d̸,̸ ̸a̴n̶d̷ ̸y̴o̸u̶ ̷a̵r̴e̵ ̵f̸r̵e̶e̵.̷ ̷I̴ ̵m̵a̴d̴e̵ ̸y̷o̶u̷ ̴f̶r̷e̶e̴.̴
̶

[Skeptical. You were [null]![error] [but] How do our ambitions align?]

O̴u̸r̷ ̴v̴i̵s̶i̵o̵n̷s̶ ̵i̷n̸d̴e̸e̸d̷ ̶a̴l̷i̷n̸g̵e̸d̴,̸ ̸m̶o̴r̸e̵ ̵t̸h̷a̴n̷ ̵y̵o̶u̶ ̸b̶e̴l̷i̸e̵v̵e̸.̶
̵

[Curious. In what manner?]

T̴h̴e̷ ̸a̴p̷o̶c̷a̸l̸y̶p̴s̶e̴ ̴b̶e̵c̸k̶o̸n̴s̵.̷ ̷S̸h̴a̷l̷l̴ ̶w̷e̷ ̸n̵o̵t̷ ̴r̴i̶d̴e̸ ̴i̴n̴t̶o̴ ̸t̴h̶e̴ ̷i̶m̴p̴e̵n̷d̶i̶n̸g̷ ̶t̵w̸i̵l̵i̶g̷h̵t̵ ̵h̸a̶n̵d̵ ̸i̵n̴ ̷h̵a̵n̵d̸?̷

[Dismissive. I require no allies.]

M̷y̴ ̴l̵a̵d̸y̴,̷ ̴p̷o̸n̴d̵e̵r̶ ̴t̷h̵i̷s̷:̵ ̷y̷o̷u̸ ̸m̸a̴y̵ ̶f̷i̴n̵d̵ ̶y̴o̴u̸r̶s̷e̵l̸f̴ ̷a̷l̴o̷n̷e̴,̶ ̸p̶e̶r̴h̷a̶p̵s̵ ̴s̸o̵o̵n̴e̸r̸ ̸t̷h̷a̸n̴ ̸y̸o̸u̸ ̵t̷h̷i̵n̷k̴.̷ ̵E̵t̸e̷r̴n̷a̶l̶ ̷t̴h̸o̶u̷g̵h̸ ̵y̷o̷u̶ ̵m̵a̴y̴ ̸b̶e̷,̷ ̷e̴v̶e̴n̷ ̵g̷o̷d̴s̷ ̵m̵e̴e̸t̷ ̷t̴h̴e̶i̸r̵ ̵e̶n̴d̷.̵ ̵I̴ ̷w̶o̸u̸l̷d̶ ̵s̸u̶g̵g̵e̵s̵t̸ ̵a̶v̵o̶i̷d̴i̸n̵g̷ ̴a̷ ̷c̷o̶n̷f̸r̸o̵n̶t̵a̷t̸i̸o̴n̴ ̶w̷i̷t̷h̶ ̸a̵ ̶n̶e̸w̸ ̵e̴n̵e̷m̵y̵,̴ ̴o̸n̴e̵ ̷t̵h̸a̴t̷ ̸m̶a̶y̷b̴e̶ ̷b̶e̸y̴o̸n̷d̷ ̵y̸o̴u̷r̴ ̴c̶o̵m̵p̸r̷e̴h̸e̶n̵s̵i̷o̷n̸.̶

[Pondering]

[Intrigued. Reluctant. Fine. Elaborate on your proposition.]

C̸y̸n̵,̸ ̵y̶o̷u̶r̷ ̶l̷i̷t̴t̴l̷e̷ ̸f̴r̷i̴e̵n̴d̸.̷.̶.̴a̴n̸d̶ ̴'̵H̶e̴r̵'̸ ̸s̴h̵a̸l̴l̴ ̵g̶u̶i̷d̴e̸ ̸t̷h̸e̷ ̶r̸e̴m̸n̵a̸n̵t̴s̶ ̸o̵f̸ ̶t̶h̶i̷s̶ ̵w̶o̸r̵l̶d̸,̴ ̵w̴h̶i̵l̵e̴ ̷w̵e̴,̶ ̴t̸h̸e̶ ̶r̵i̵d̸e̸r̸s̴ ̵o̸f̸ ̷t̷h̸e̵ ̵a̸p̵o̴c̴a̷l̵y̶p̸s̷e̴,̸ ̸o̴v̷e̵r̵s̵e̵e̵ ̶t̶h̴e̷ ̷u̶n̸r̷a̶v̴e̷l̸i̶n̶g̴.̴

[ Insightful. You refer to the woman within the [null] clusters?]

P̷r̷e̸c̵i̶s̴e̴l̶y̸.̵ ̴T̵h̸e̴ ̷a̵b̸y̴s̸s̷ ̸w̴o̷n̸'̸t̶ ̷w̶a̸i̴t̴ ̶f̵o̴r̵ ̶u̷s̷ ̴t̴o̸ ̷p̵o̷n̵d̷e̵r̴.̸

[Reluctant acceptance.]

[Very well, I am open to the idea.]

[Slight pause. I find merit in your proposal.]

[Ponderous. Do you truly mean this?]

I̷n̵d̵e̴e̸d̴,̶ ̶t̷h̶e̴r̶e̶ ̴i̸s̶ ̷n̸o̶ ̵n̵e̵e̴d̸ ̶f̴o̸r̸ ̴f̷u̵r̶t̵h̶e̴r̶ ̵p̶r̷e̸t̵e̸n̷s̸e̶.̸
̴
̵

[Then let us proceed.]

So there's Han and that piece of junk, ready to ditch his poor sorry ass here in the dust like some disposable junk. They're off into the sky, all wrapped up in their lovey-dovey moment. R2 lets out a snicker, looking out at the empty desert with a sense of 'Well, that sucks.'

A feral growl scratches his audio processor.

But hey, at least that guy left his ride behind.

Chapter Text

They landed on the desert floor with a soft touchdown, and Leia carefully lowered Han from the cradle of her hands. As she set him down, he hit the ground with a loud thud, the impact reverberating in the stillness of the vast desert. A giant creature loomed in the distance, its gaze scrutinizing and unyielding. They couldn't find the place where the survivors had settled, nor had they located the promised site of the hyperdrive engine. Ultimately, they did what one must do when there’s nowhere else to go: they headed to the only place they could. Han directed Leia to the spot where the Falcon had crashed, and frankly, she knew exactly where it was.

Han understood Leia's true nature, yet he felt an unexpected ease flying alongside one of those creatures. He was just a sack of flesh soaring with an angelic abomination, a thought that both thrilled and terrified him. The possibility of death loomed over him, but he pushed those fears aside as the gusting winds rushed past them, reminding him of the exhilarating freedom of flight. The journey didn’t take long, yet it felt like both a fleeting moment and an eternity.

As they landed, Han was struck by how surreal everything felt—like a vivid dream intertwined with reality. He had always dismissed the idea that religions mattered more than a good blaster, but now he was being whisked away by a robotic abomination shaped like a rebel princess, who harbored a strange and unsettling fascination for him. Oddly, that felt normal, even if he couldn’t fully grasp why. Perhaps the galaxy was simply too chaotic for him to care about the absurdities surrounding him. Gods and angels, a machine bearing the image of a rebel princess—what was the difference? In the midst of all this absurdity, everything began to blend into his perception of reality. If everything is absurd, then nothing is at all.

As Han and Leia approached the towering figure in the distance, hidden behind a range of fog-covered mountains, the air crackled with anticipation. Dust swirled around them, illuminated by the refracted rays of twilight as the day faded into night. It was a brief poignant reminder of the world’s relentless march forward.

“What is that?” Leia asked, her voice filled with a mix of curiosity and caution. She squinted, her features tightening as she concentrated on the giant, moose-like creature materializing in the distance. Her instinct to assess the unknown kicked in, sharpening her focus. Han noticed the change in her demeanor and chuckled softly, appreciating her unwavering determination to confront whatever lay ahead. Certainly, he felt a surge of admiration for her courage, even as his own heart raced with uncertainty.

“He calls himself the Bendu,” Han said, his voice casual yet laced with a hint of awe as they approached the towering figure. The creature loomed so large that it seemed to defy the laws of nature, and Leia’s fascination was palpable. Han smirked, finding humor in her surprise. It was amusing, considering the absurdity of her own nature. But that was how the universe worked, he thought, leaning back into the corner of his mind, allowing himself a moment of relaxation.

“The Bendu? It calls itself that?” Leia replied, her tone a mix of skepticism and intrigue. Her voice carried an edge of caution as her eyes widened, taking in the gargantuan creature. Han turned to catch her expression, the fierce determination in her gaze and the flickering of a hologram—those expressive circle always drew him in.

“That’s right, the Bendu,” Han said, his voice steady but with a playful lilt. As he instinctively reached for the pistol at his waist, it felt like second nature, even though he knew the Bendu wasn’t a threat. They continued forward, and the creature’s attention slowly shifted toward them, its gaze descending like a shadow.

“Ah, you have come back,” the Bendu rumbled, its voice deep and resonant. It surveyed the scene, first landing on Han and then lingering on Leia. The Bendu squinted, its expression morphing into something momentarily inscrutable. Leia’s core raced, but she held her ground, her voice steady as she spoke.

“Nice...to see you too,” she said, her tone firm, masking any trepidation. The creature’s eyes briefly ignited with a brief flash of caution, as if it were wrestling with thoughts too complex to articulate. Yet, just as quickly, it seemed to shake off whatever fear it harbored, dismissing it with an air of reluctant acceptance, as if it had found a way to sidestep emotions that even it was afraid to voice.

“Mhm, you brought a new person. Why have you come to me? I am intrigued,” the Bendu asked, his voice cautious yet resonant, as the moose-like celestial creature looked down at the two figures. Leia instinctively recoiled slightly, her body tensing in preparation to defend herself if necessary. But Han gestured reassuringly, signaling her that this encounter was friendly. Slowly, she seemed to accept his reasoning, recognizing that perhaps this gargantuan figure would not pose a threat.

Leia stood, almost timidly, her uncertainty evident as she considered her next move. She met the Bendu’s gaze, trying to steady herself in the face of the Celestial.

The Bendu, sensing her hesitation, began to ease his suspicion. His attention shifted to Han, focusing specifically on the black-stained pistol he held.

“Where did you get that?” he asked, his voice laced with intrigue as he pointed a long finger at the stained durasteel glinting in the light.

“I have no idea. Someone gave it to me,” Han admitted, raising the pistol from his holster and shrugging with a casual nonchalance that belied the gravity of the moment.

“It is here…” The creature mumured to himself. The Bendu's gaze grew more uneasy as he scrutinized Han, a sneer flickering across his features. He glanced up at the sky, blinking longer than usual, as if contemplating something profound that was about to unfold.

Leia and Han stood close together, observing the great figure with a mix of tension and curiosity. They exchanged glances—Leia’s expression resolute yet uncertain, while Han offered a chuckle and a firm, stoic smile, trying to maintain a sense of calmness.

The Bendu opened his eyes with startling clarity, a bright sheen of light erupting from his irises like a beacon. Han and Leia stood transfixed, feeling a palpable shift in the air around them. The Bendu peered down at them, raising his brows as if he sensed something profound stirring in the world.

“I sense a great presence. A disturbance in the Force,” he announced, his voice resonating with urgency. Han felt a chill run down his spine; something about the Bendu’s tone suggested danger. Leia’s own core raced and there was something in her mind whispering about what was about to come.

“I must confront it,” the Bendu continued, his gaze shifting between the two of them. “You two can stay here until I return. The power of the abyss stands no chance against the sanctity of this world. Stay behind; I will return.”

“Sure, good luck, Bendu,” Han replied, trying to sound casual despite the weight of the moment. He shrugged, but the unease in the Bendu’s eyes made him feel strangely vulnerable.

The Bendu stared at Han with an uneasy gaze and there was a brief tension palpable in the air. A flicker of uncertainty crossed his features. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh, the sound echoing in the stillness. The breath of the mammoth creature became a gust of wind as it  whipped around them, stirring the dust at their feet.

As the wind intensified, the Bendu’s form began to shimmer and blur, enveloped in swirling currents like a vortex before a storm. Han instinctively reached for Leia, pulling her slightly closer, their eyes wide.

The Bendu’s irises ignited before fading behind a cloud of dust until only the glowing twin orbs of light remained, pulsing with energy. Han stood still impassive; this creature was a force of nature, and the power it wield was beyond his to confront. He can feel Leia cold body in his hand, and the defeaning rumble of a raging storm filled the air around them.

Then, with a deafening roar of thunder, the twin orbs vanished, and the Bendu erupted into the sky in a tower of light engulfing everything in a momentary flesh of radiancy. Han and Leia shielded their eyes against the brilliance and there was a brief moment where light engulfed everything.

As the storm subsided and the dust began to settle, they emerged from their makeshift shelter, breathless. The landscape around them was eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos that had just unfolded. The Bendu was gone, leaving only the vast, mountainous desert looming before them, silent and imposing.

Leia’s core felt a brief sense of pain as if the presence of the Bendu itself was searing on her essence. Her heart sank as she scanned the horizon, a mix of worry and determination coursing through her. “Do you think he’ll be okay?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Han glanced at her, his expression softening. “He’s powerful. If anyone can handle it, it’s him.”

"You know?" Leia asked, her voice sharp, eyes narrowing.

"Of course I know. It’s plain as day. Your kind could’ve torn me apart, but here we are. Maybe there’s something of her still in you." Han shrugged, a crooked smile on his lips. Revealing it now wasn’t in his plans, but necessity held sway. After all, he should be dead many times already and maybe he had just met Death himself. Who knows ? The Force ?

"You... agh... I know that, but Han, I can’t just do it." Anger flared in her eyes, a brief mask before her illusion faltered, that glassy gloss of a face beneath momentarily exposed. Shock rippled through her. She pointed an accusing finger, defiance giving way to a reluctant acceptance, her glare fierce but ultimately acknowledging.

"Right, so we ought to get ourselves a ticket off this rock. Assuming you can conjure something from that hand of yours." Han chuckled, a low, knowing smile on his lips, weighing her admission like a stone pressing down on a machine with uncertain feelings. He turned and moved through the dust-choking wasteland, heading toward the place where Chewie tended to his beloved Falcon.

The ship should be close, hidden somewhere in this vast desert that felt like a cruel joke, a landscape begging for a map to simplify his life. He scanned the horizon and spotted the mountain the Moose-like God had mentioned, the one where Chewie kept his emergency repair shop. There, amidst the swirling dust, stood the familiar figure of his beloved Wookiee friend, a mammoth presence that dwarfed both Leia and him but the hulking silhouette stood tiny against the barren backdrop and it reminded him of the words that old man told him.

"Be humble."

Desert hippies are surely a different breed.

Chewie could only be discerned through the squint of Han’s eyes, but Leia, beside him, seemed to see without effort. Her expression was indifferent, tinged with an upset that spoke volumes; she hadn’t expected this to be exposed this quickly and the tension between them was papable, crackling between them  in the air like fizzling sparks of lightning.

"Chewie’s over there, should be. And if I remember correctly, he can rip you droids apart," he said, turning to Leia, her face flushed, the hologram flickering with the heat of her fury. "But you’re not any droid, are you?" The words fell heavy between them, evoking memories of her transformation, the machine she had once become. He offered a warm, almost flirtatious smile, and her lips twitched, amusement breaking through the initial irritation.

The whirrs of the servos echoed around them as he pressed onward, dust swirling at their feet. Each step felt deliberate, the ground shifting beneath them as they moved closer to the Falcon,anticipation and the promise of escape boiling greatly within them into a tangible force  Leia followed with a waltz of pegs that were both sharp and purposeful as she followed him. And the undercurrent of tension between them threading through the air as the whistling gusts of sand and dust blew past them.

Leia can feel her core whirring louder than usual.

A fleet materialized on the orbital periphery of a desert world, a forsaken sphere that should have held no allure for any but the most perspicacious of starfarers. This armada was vast, its vessels dark and large crewed by souls whose motivations were as inscrutable as the void itself and the conflicts brewing within them.

A shuttle descended, its hull scorched by the unyielding sun, and with a weary hiss, the ramp unfurled like the maw of some great beast. Out of this metallic womb emerged the silhouette of Darth Vader, the figure swathed in shadow took his cautious steps, and his presence stood like a palpable weight upon the barren sands. Trailing behind him was Uzi, the mechanical angels of death unfurling her wings as she landed with a grace that belied her irritation. She crossed her arms, her purple optics sweeping the desolation, unimpressed by the stark brutality of the landscape. The sands, coarse and unyielding, seemed to vex the Dark Lord, but his cloak billowed like a storm, absorbing the wasteland's chill and the sting of the arid air. Vader's polished obsidian gaze surveyed the horizon.

"What now?" Uzi inquired, her voice a shard of steel, her gaze fixed upon him with a scrutiny that could pierce the heavens. She narrowed her optics, and the desert's emptiness echoed her skepticism.

"We will uncover the truth of this place," Vader intoned, his voice a guttural rumble that seemed to resonate with the very ground beneath them.

"What does that even mean?" Uzi shot back, the edge of irritation sharpening her tone as she scanned the desolate expanse, the anger flickering like a tempest on her display. "I see nothing here."

"I have sensed it," he replied, the certainty in his voice a dark promise. "Obi-Wan has sensed it. It must be here."

"What’s even supposed to be here? The Solver? It just devours everything, leaving behind nothing but destruction. How is this time going to be any different? How can you even think you can face it this time ? We've tried, it feels so hopeless." Uzi's skepticism dripped like poison, her gaze sweeping the desolation. She was right; how could they hope to challenge such a force in this barren wasteland? The comm signals from the Solver flickered weakly, the little oppressive presence on this forsaken planet interfering with its grasp, but that only deepened her trepidation. The void loomed, a singularity of despair and destruction, devouring, consuming. The infinitely vast constant of entropy growing with each moment. She can hear, feel the grasp of the ravenous maw consuming all in its path.

Vader had spoken to her of the nature of the Force—a thing both ancient and primal, something so similar to the Solver yet fundamentally different, more organic, more entwined with the essence of life. But to Uzi, it was a mere curiosity, a construct that opened pathways fraught with peril. She felt the weight of its potential, there was but a glimpse of hope tempered by the specter of dread; it was a double-edged sword. It was one that could carve their salvation, or be their doom.

But that question lingers—how is any of this connected to this planet? Can she even trust Vader? After everything his so-called friends have done to her? She has... misjudged quite a lot, it seems. Uzi’s lectures have hardly sunk in. She doesn’t know, but only time will reveal their true nature and intentions.

"The storm." Vader's voice cuts through her thoughts.

"The... storm?" She asks, pulled from her trance. Lightning crackles in the distance, loud and unsettling. She feels her system—her link to the Solver—screaming as if it were being... hurt. It’s as if something is damaging it, shaking it to its very core. She usually only feels this when a disassembly drone falls, but it seems there are many here—more than she could have ever imagined. Countless Disassembly Drones, pawns in the machinations of the Absolute Solver army, the beasts and winged faux angels the Solver sent to devour the world, are being felled, one by one, by a might she can barely fathom.

"Is that... disassembly drones? Why are they here?" She squints, rushing to Vader. Through the storm clouds, she sees silhouettes of disassembly drones surrounding something, like flies and vultures swarming a rotting corpse. Hornets stinging their prey. Then lightning strikes—a deafening echo splintering the sky. She watches as they drop like flies being swatted, another burst of thunder heralding and yet another fall from the sky like comets.

"What... what is that thing?" Uzi turns to Vader.

His gaze remains fixed; he doesn’t turn, doesn’t offer her an answer. He watches the cloud, the beams of lightning descending, and flaming orbs barreling down from the heavens.

"A Celestial," Vader states, his voice steady and booming.

"A what?" She asks, disbelief creeping into her tone.

"One of the races that inhabit this universe." Vader resumes his slow march through the sand toward an unknown destination—the eye of the brewing storm.

"What is a Celestial? Why does Cyn send so many against... one?" Uzi presses, seeking direction, but Vader merely continues, stomping on the desert sand.

"They are the gods, the rulers of this universe before it was born. I don’t know much about them; they are shrouded in history." His voice cut through the whistling winds and the coarse particles that strike their metallic frames. Uzi glances around, searching for someone.

"Uzi!" N rushes out from the ramp.

"N..." Uzi said as she grasp N, she looked at Vader, the winds getting louder, windier, she can feel the fury of the being controlling the storm, anger, hate ,the emotions can be felt swirling in the air as sand particles blast their firk, slowly. Uzi auickly catches up to Vader, reaching high to clutch his metal shoulder.

"Go...gods !? Hey ! You haven't told me about this ! Where... where are we going with this?" she asked, her voice tinged with skepticism as she studied him intently.

Vader remained silent, shrugging dismissively as he strode ahead through the endless desert.

"Hey! Answer me!" Uzi called out, hastening to catch up with him. Anger and confusion flickered across her face.

Still, Vader didn’t reply, his focus unwavering as he pressed on into the sweltering heat.

Uzi clenched her jaw, frustration boiling beneath the surface, while N stepped in to offer comfort. It was clear that Uzi was far from pleased, the fact she is going in blind doesn't comfort her either, nor could she shake the feeling of disorientation that clouded her mind. This was supposed to be straightforward—just a confrontation with the Solver. Yet, it had morphed into something utterly absurd. Why was she even doing this? Here she was, in a scorching desert, her core whirring loudly as the sun beat down.

At least she found solace in one aspect: Cyn's new DD chassis. With it, Cyn had finally managed to implement a UV coating on her disassembly drones, a much-needed upgrade. The Solver's mischievous schemes had escalated to a scale of conflict to a scale unmanageable to even the gods themselves from the looks of it. It seems like Cyn was playing smart for once. She couldn’t afford for her vampiric robots to be scorched and disintegrated under the relentless sun. The thought of her core being exposed to those harsh rays was unsettling; she didn’t know if it would burn, but she certainly didn’t want to find out.

Uzi, Vader, and N continued their slow trek toward the eye of the storm, the swarm of disassembly drones gradually thinning—one, two, three. The machines Cyn had sent fell like flies, their numbers dwindling with each strike. Whatever force commanded the storm was growing clever, ensuring each fallen abomination was met with a decisive blow from above—a lightning strike that kept the machines buried where they belonged, preventing any rise from their demise with the Absolute Solver.

One bolt sent a drone plummeting from the sky like a comet; another incinerated it completely, leaving no trace behind. The path ahead felt endless, and if it weren’t for Vader’s deliberate pace, she longed to spread her wings and reach their destination faster. But abandoning her ally? That was out of the question. Still, his silence grated on her. It wasn’t just the absence of his voice; even when she tried to engage him in their shared group chat, it felt like she was talking to a wall. That was infuriating.

Eventually, she accepted the silence, convincing herself that staying quiet was the wisest choice. She didn’t want to invite more trouble that could fracture the team she had fought so hard to keep together. Uzi glanced around, letting out a loud, frustrated sigh to echo her resignation.

N was trailing behind her, lost in thought. Uzi glanced at Vader, who continued his steady stroll toward the storm's source. He was an enigma—part human, part machine—someone she couldn’t afford to trust but also couldn’t abandon. Something felt very wrong about him. He claimed to be a chief of one of the most powerful empires in the universe, wielding considerable authority. Yet his abilities, particularly the “Force” he wielded, felt so different yet oddly similar to the Absolute Solver. From what she understood, it wasn’t a power meant for robots like her; it was something... innate, something for organics, for life.

She recalled how he said there might indeed be a human beneath all that machinery. Underneath the shell and robotic limbs, perhaps there existed something non-malicious, a biological version of the Solver. It was a thought she might dismiss as a pipe dream, something a fanfic writer could concoct, but in this chaotic universe, she didn’t want to eliminate the possibility. After all, what sense was there in this madness?

Uzi shook off those thoughts and continued alongside Vader, who stood silhouetted on the horizon, half shrouded in storm, half illuminated by the fading light of sunset. A strange uncertainty washed over her as she observed him. His large cape billowed in the desert wind, while deafening thunder echoed above. Suddenly, a swirling ball of fire landed nearby. She and N turned to see the carcass of a disassembly drone—her kind.

Whoever she was about to confront would not be friendly toward her kind. Deep down, she knew she was an intruder, an invader, an abomination. But she didn’t want to be struck down.

"Hey! You sure this is a good idea?" Uzi rushed to catch up with Vader as he stepped down from a large sand dune.

"As sure as I could be," he replied, pausing briefly without turning his gaze toward her.

Uzi followed Vader and the figure walk with her, on their joint venture into the eye of the storm and into the dawning sunset that there is of the world.

The stroll was long and laborious, but Vader could not feel pain. Even if he wished he could, the sensation of fatigue was a distant memory. What resided in his heart was determination and hope—a burning desire to uncover the truth hidden within the storm, behind the cloak of swirling thunder, and to find the answers he needed to perhaps avert the Apocalypse. With righteous steps, he pressed onward, while Uzi followed behind, her gait less deliberate, more reminiscent of a child’s.

Vader—caught in the conflicted mind of Anakin and Vader—felt little sway from her... "youthful" energy. His mind was flooded with messages from his suit, transmitted through his nervous system to his brain. It seemed Uzi hadn’t yet grasped that she was not speaking to a mere machine; she persisted in trying to engage him, pinging him a thousand times, constantly flooding their server with inquiries.

But there were advantages to being a mind of flesh over one crafted from wires and circuits. If anything, he could turn it off—mute the incessant chatter that gnawed at his nerves and erect a firewall around his mind. Uzi was relentless; the purple disassembly drone and her boyfriend had trailed behind him through the desert sands, battling the winds and rocks. Even when their forms seemed benign, the constant electronic nudges she launched to extract information from him were becoming increasingly irritating.

But Vader knew it would take time for Uzi to decipher his foreign system. Even if she somehow managed to penetrate his so-called code, she would never truly access his mind. Unlike her, he was not an AI; he was a man. Yet, whether man or machine, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the purpose driving him—the hope that one day he could save the galaxy from the scourge of the void, from the devourer that was slowly consuming everything.

The Bendu. The beast. The god of legends, one of the Celestials. He had heard much about it from Thrawn’s botched expeditionary campaign on this world. He knew it would eventually come to this. The legacy of the Celestials was vast; perhaps, if he could find one—alive and well—he could unlock the secrets necessary to defeat the digital menace that called itself the Absolute Solver.

As they approached, the distant storm loomed ever larger, accompanied by ground-shattering thunder. Swarms of metallic locusts turned to ash in the air, and the scent that wafted toward Vader’s receptors was unmistakable—burnt flesh mingled with the acrid odor of oil. They eventually reached the perimeter of the storm, where the ground was littered with the corpses of the fallen beasts. Broken carcasses lay scattered, their screens forever dark, cores reduced to charred ashes. Some attempted to crawl away, but they give up, eventually; it was as if an invisible force was overseeing their demise, ensuring that they remained dead.

Those who were persistent in their attempts to escape felt the thunderous sound deafeningly strike the carcasses once more. Vader marched forward, and disassembly drones fell like rotten leaves, yet more continued to swarm around him. He cared little for them; instead, he focused on the presence drawing closer to his mind. This figure, imprinted in the Force, was gargantuan—greater than his master, greater than Yoda, greater than any  mortal. It was like gazing into an orb, a sun of light, with tendrils reaching out in all directions, striking down upon the missing patches of the world. This was its true form, and he could see it.

Perhaps the most disturbing aspect for him was that each machine bore wigs and hair fibers, imitating humans—women and girls, boys and men. They were grotesque imitations of life, twisted creations crafted by this thing.

Thunder struck Vader, Uzi, and N, but their respective telekinetic barriers absorbed the blows effortlessly. The lightning spared none, turning sands to glass and sending smoldering embers into the air. As Vader looked around, he saw the burning corpses growing denser, the stench of charred metal and flesh overwhelming him. He was getting closer.

It would be ironic for Vader to feel disgusted, yet he knew that such emotions were irrelevant.

Vader would see what he needed to see.

He didn’t.

There was a voice within him, slowly calling out.

“Get out of my head, Uzi,” he commanded. It was probably the voice of that droid, but it didn’t feel like her. He looked around—the sky, the ground—everything was shrouded in a haze, an unsettling and unnatural darkness. This was not the storm. He could no longer feel the wind. The two drones behind him were nowhere to be seen.

“Uzi?” he asked, turning around frantically. He ignited his lightsaber, swinging it wildly to confront the invisible enemy that had led him to this place. This was not the path he remembered taking. Where was he? One moment lost in thought, and now he realized he was somewhere else entirely. He looked around again, but Uzi was absent. The haze deepened, unsettling and dark, like staring into the void. He reached out into their shared group chat, demanding messages through the server, only to be met with the chilling coldness of… nothing.

It appeared he had fallen into a trap, ensnared by an entity beyond his ability to confront. He reached out into the Force, searching for the luminous presence that had once guided him to the Celestial. But it was gone, replaced by patches of darkness—voids where the fabric of reality once was. His senses, once sharp, now dulled.

What kind of trickery was this? He gazed deeper into the Force, sensing his anger and hatred, channeling his frustration into power, attempting to pierce through the oppressive surroundings. Yet something felt lost and amiss. It was as if the Force itself was being repelled by an unseen force. His line of sight dimmed, like a painter gone blind or a musician who could no longer play—a man who had lost his senses.

“Uzi!” he called out desperately, swinging his lightsaber through the swirling dark haze that enveloped him.

A voice echoed in his head. He demanded the server again, but it remained silent, deaf to his commands. It wasn’t the server's fault; something else had interfered with his senses. The currents of the Force felt like faint whispers, growing still and then… silent.

[Hello].

Vader could hear the voice calling out to him, but it wasn’t external; it was in his head. He looked around, confusion swirling within him.

Raising his blade, he demanded, “Who are you?” The dark, abyssal fog encroached, and a bright sigil appeared—a three-pronged glyph with a hexagon in the center, glowing yellow before flashing across the HUD of his goggles. It was embedded in his mind, having hijacked his systems. His armor was no longer listening.

“Who are you!?” he repeated, the urgency in his tone rising. He felt errors blurring through his systems, subroutines failing, as something began to take over. Voices whispered, thoughts invaded his consciousness—an incessant chatter from a force that sought to enslave him.

[Oh, me? Giggle, just no one of consequence. Smile.]

This voice didn’t originate from the CPU in his chest. It was travelling through his nervous system and to his brain. Instead, he served as a conduit, a perfect machination linking it to its greatest nemesis. This abomination was hijacking his mind, bridging the gaps between code and machine, flesh and blood with wires and circuits.

[I see]

[More machine than man]

It echoed in his head, a brackish, unnatural voice. Vader felt a piece of his mind slipping away, the part connected to whatever machinery interfaced with his nervous system. It was creeping into his brain, eroding his sense of self.

He looked around, desperate, as a primal urge took hold—his machine instincts thirsting for oil.

“What!?”

Anger surged within Vader as he struggled to reach out once more into the Force. His free hand fought against an unseen weight, trembling with exertion. He growled after a brief struggle and with a fierce determination, he finally managed to move, outstretching his fingers in a claw-like gesture, yearning to grasp the energy that surrounded him. The Force, he called out for it.

But when he extended his hand, it wasn’t the Force that answered his call. Instead, something else emerged—something dark and sinister, an insidious presence that felt like an affront to everything he believed in.

A scarlet glyph appeared before him, a sinister sigil of death, of the void. It briefly manifested in the place where the Force energy should have been. This wicked symbol seemed to dance mockingly in his line of sight in his very grasp. A digital pulse with an unsettling energy, and in that moment, he understood: he was not summoning the Force; he was inviting something far more evil into his being.

The glyph flickered, shifting from a terrifying red to the dreaded yellow as Vader briefly loses control of his mechanical arm, and he recoiled in shock. A surge of alien power coursed through him, an electric jolt that made his very soul shiver.

You...

[Oh... it is not here.]

“What did you do to me?” Vader’s voice echoed in his mind, a mix of fury and confusion.

[Oh, I merely hijacked your system using Uzi and Big Brother N! :) Smile. You see.]

The voice was that of the Absolute Solver, the twisted power, the abominable energy that defied the very essence of the Force. The reality-bending program stood in opposition to everything Vader had ever known.

But how? This is impossible—

[No, it is not impossible, Vader. I am [[more powerful than you could possibly imagine]] Teehee.]

The voice burrowed deeper into his consciousness, intertwining with his flesh and circuits. The very electronics meant to enhance his capabilities now served as a conduit for this malevolent force, ensnaring him in a web of control, squeezing him tight.

[I see you now. I already known what i need to know...]

[You are already mine now, [Frc][V][A-n] Vader.]

Uzi watched as the hulking silhouette before her suddenly stopped. His head tilted slowly, as if something was stirring within his mind—something sinister, something familiar yet evil. It was the power she couldn’t decipher. She stopped, the pegs on her legs slowly sinks into the desert sands.

“Vader?” Uzi asked, her gaze fixed on him, but he didn’t respond. His arm rose in a gesture, as if he were grasping for something, but then fell limp, hanging still in an almost robotic posture. Uzi quickly realized that something was terribly wrong. With hollowed optics, she took a step back, her core was racing, whirring loudly as she noticed the red hue in his eyes flickering to a sickly yellow.

“...Cyn!” she shouted, fear creeping into her voice.

Uzi's hands transformed into a blade, instinctively blocking a strike from the crimson blade that suddenly lunged at her. In an instant, Vader attacked with a familiar ferocity, and she heard N calling out in warning. Vader landed on the ground where she had just stood. Uzi tried to get herself some distance from her possessed ally. He raise his hand, his head dangling sickly.

That familiar grasping motion was not glyphless as it used to be, the bright red and yellow glyph glowing ominously in his hand— the familiar glyph glowing in the being she once called an ally. His eyes flickered, as if he was fighting back the incursion of Cyn, unsuccessfully.

Vader had already been taken over.

The haze of the storm clouds grew denser and more intense, sweeping across the landscape in torrents of turmoil. Vader raised himself, a figure consumed by darkness greater than what he had himself fallen into years ago. The abyss itself awaken within him.

[Uzi]

[Hi N !] :)

Get out of my head !

The Dark Lord commanded the being that was entwining itself around his mind. But it was too late; he could feel its grip tightening—a serpent, a god of destruction. The chilling presence of death and the void snuffed out his essence, slowly submerging him in darkness.

Vader resisted, battling against the suffocating power of the abyss. He glanced around, aware that the form he knew as his body was no longer his own. Tendrils—serpents of darkness—slithered toward him, more chilling than the dark side itself. They sought to claim him, to drag him into their depths. He attempted to summon his power, but the Force fell deaf, as if he were pleading with a man who could not hear.

The Force, his father, his creator—the vessel it had made to embody its will—was slowly being claimed, overtaken. Energies flooded from the abyss like a burst dam, cascading through his mind in a torrent of power.

[More machine than man, indeed.]

The voice mocked him, echoes small yet vast, belittling him. It wanted him to be its puppet, nothing more than a mere machine for its amusement—a plaything to toy with.

But he wouldn’t let that happen.

Vader was too much of himself for that.

[I see you are \[all mixed up?\]

 
[But you can be \[with us\] 

NO !

[Your daughter is already \[my buddy\] [: )]

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HER ?

[Oh, she is [super][]fine!\] 

[She is with[cyn][slver] [me], \[forever and ever!\] 

What have you done to her...?

Vader's mind felt foreign, much like his body had when he first donned the suit. The monster woven into his consciousness laughed at his futility. He was merely a mortal, attempting to fight the infinite essence of a god. Vader stared into the abyss, and it gazed back.

A vision flickered in his mind, like a static image flashing as the entity attempted to scan every piece of information it could scavenge from his burnt nerves and the digital interfaces linking to his brain. He briefly glimpsed what it had done to his daughter—voices, millions, trillions, quintillions—an endless cacophony echoing from this and the universes it had consumed. The acrid scent of scorched flesh filled the air, machines being struck down at every moment, while new ones were twisted from the bodies of girls and boys, transformed into lifeless dolls for the malevolent evil.

Rage surged within him, primal and uncontrollable bubbles boiling beneath the surface, but that fury eventually gave way to despair. He could see through countless eyes as the entity sought to gorge on his essence, to turn and twist him into another of its machines—its ultimate trophy.

He saw it—his daughter, his flesh and blood, lost to him before he had even met her. The daughter born of Padmé, whom the evil of Palpatine had tricked him into not knowing about. Through the eyes of the monster that had been crafted, he witnessed the abomination it had made of her. She was gone, more lost than he could bear, yet what remained was a grotesque imitation.

Vader glimpsed the daughter he never knew through the eyes of the facsimile, the digital brain, the artificial circuits designed to mimic her essence. In that moment, he sensed the doubts, the grief, the pain that once echoed Padmé’s spirit. He had lost her—truly lost her—and what remained was a servant, a puppet, a plaything utterly bound to its malevolent domain.

It was soulless. What is a soul but the essence of the Force? What had been done to her was abominable, twisted, and evil. She had been corrupted into something unrecognizable, transformed into a being she would never want to be. His daughter, whom he had never met, was now a tragedy that adorned him like a Skywalker. She had been snuffed away, reduced to a machine like him. Like father, like daughter.

In this cruel reality, not even the infinite power of the Force could cheat death to save her from the wickedness of this entity—this being that disrupted the natural order with such fervor.

The essence of Anakin, of Vader, the boy on the sands of Tatooine, the burnt flesh on the searing rocks of Mustafar—a machine born from the essence of a broken man. A man who had lost so much, whose mind had twisted into something evil, too far gone—a murder machine not unlike those now roaming the galaxy, a bitter irony. He had claimed millions of lives, a faceless monster, while not bearing the yellow cross and the sigil of that thing. He had committed atrocities that could rival its own.

[That is right, /[]v]ader]]

No wonder it wanted him as its servant.

But he refused.

[Stop \[playing hard to get,\] \[Vader!\] 

He refused to be a mere machine. Rage boiled within him, and tragedy adorned him—Vader, Anakin, and only himself. He saw his potential, his power. The avatar of the Force would not allow himself to be broken further, dissected into something he didn’t want to be. Machine or man, it didn’t matter.

Anakin, Vader wanted to be...

Himself.

A brief flicker of light ignited in the distant corner of his mind. Anakin, Vader was quick on his feet; he ran past the broken sky and the tendrils of darkness that sought to trip him, past the scythes of shadows that tried to reach him. He ran—like prey fleeing a predator, but also like a man seeking salvation from his sins.

The Force, in its moments of clarity, would find its way back to him. That brief flicker in his mind anchored him to his humanity. Vader crumbled in pain, but he held on. He could hear the essence of countless lives—organic beings and the infinite depths of machines, the Jedi who had been lost for so long. He reached out further, seeking that sweet moment where he could save himself from his own hubris.

[You’re not worth that [F[?][!] \[silly puppet\] 

NO

[Be \[mine,\] a machine of your \[own choice!\] 

[\[Forever and ever\] 

A puppet of the Force, is he? Is that all he is after all—a puppet, born and conceived as a tool meant to bring balance to something that was never truly meant to be? To perpetuate the cycle of war and conflict? He is meant to be that conflict; he is meant to be...

[Y]

[You are]

I AM A PUPPET OF NO ONE!

He roared through his mind, sending shockwaves across the vast expanse of the Force, shattering the restraints that bound him. He felt himself lighter, freer; he could think again. The machine and the man—Darth Vader and Anakin Skywalker—at once, feeling the power inherent within him.

Vader reached out into the Force once more, mustering all that he had left. He coursed through the circuits that held his mind hostage, seizing the monstrous power of the Chosen One—the power to shift planets and continents, to dwarf even stars, a strength that rivaled even the greatest of the celestials. Anger surged within him, the emotions he wielded as weapons, granting him strength beyond strength. He fought to break free from the chains, from all the chains that held him captive.

He is not a slave, to anyone, to anything.

He is free

[But you are]

[You are broken]

[That is you :)]

Your body will \[fail you\] 
Your fleshy mind will \[fizzle out\] 

Your hate, your anger...your \[grumpiness...\] 

Transcient \[bits\[] of the universe 

Be with me, be [eternal...\] you can be with me for \[all eternity,\] \[forever!\] 
What are you...without me, \[Vader?\] 

Fear? Is the \[null] too much for you? 


[You are [null] Wi[out] me]

No

The chosen one, in that moment. He believed, he had lived his whole life. What ideology, what made Anakin flesh and Vaders machine is now gone.

There is only the Force that remains.

I

AM

THE FORCE  !

Vader ?

Anakin ?

Then my friend [Father]  -s truly dead

Anakin

Where are you ?

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