Forgre

Chapter 18:

– Silas –

"Fucking ow!" I groaned loudly as I sailed through the air like a damn rag doll. The alien world spun dizzyingly until I crashed, thankfully, into a relatively soft pile of sand. The Nightingale armor hugging my body absorbed most of the impact, but damn if that didn't still hurt like a bitch.

Yeah, I'd definitely found a Tatooine Krayt dragon.

And, holy shit, was it big. Getting bitch-slapped by its tail felt exactly like I'd imagine being hit by a bus would feel.

Plus, the fact that Tatooine was hot as absolute balls certainly wasn't helping things. Sweat poured down my face, trickling annoyingly into my eyes, and I could already feel scorching sand slipping under my armor, sticking uncomfortably to every crevice of my body.

"You know what, Anakin?" I grumbled to myself as I staggered upright, brushing sand off my black armor with a grimace. "I'm starting to get why you fucking hate sand."

A deafening roar drew my attention back to the massive lizard looming ahead of me. The Krayt dragon was furious now, probably pissed off that its little tail flick hadn't turned me into a pancake. Its cold, reptilian eyes glared at me with predatory hunger.

"Alright, lizard breath," I called out, lightning already dancing along my gloved fingers in sizzling arcs. "You landed a pretty good surprise attack, gotta give you credit. But now? Now it's my turn." Grinning beneath my mask, I thrust both hands forward and unleashed a torrent of white-hot electricity straight toward the towering beast. Lightning surged forward, crackling and tearing through the air toward the giant creature.

Unfortunately, the Krayt dragon apparently had better reflexes— and survival instincts —than I'd anticipated. Before my blast could even graze its massive scales, the thing dove beneath the sand at incredible speed, vanishing completely from sight.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I groaned irritably, staring in disbelief as my powerful attack exploded harmlessly against the empty dunes, turning sand into glittering glass and nothing else. 

Before I could even curse again, my own dragon instincts suddenly screamed at me to move. Now!

I dove to the side in a frantic roll just as the sand beneath my feet erupted violently upward. Enormous, razor-sharp jaws snapped shut with an ear-splitting clack exactly where I'd been standing two seconds earlier!

The Krayt dragon hissed furiously, clearly pissed that I'd slipped away. It glared down at me, giant teeth gleaming ominously as it considered its next move.

I glared right back at the oversized reptile. Clearly, it hadn't gotten the memo about who was the hunter and who was prey in this scenario. Time to fix that.

With a flick of my wrist, the Nightingale Blade shimmered into existence, materializing comfortably into the grasp of my right hand. In my left, electricity danced across my fingertips, bright blue arcs snapping hungrily as if begging me to unleash them.

"Make your move, lizard…" I growled through gritted teeth, dropping into a ready stance. "Let's see who's dinner today."

Maybe this thing was smarter than I gave it credit for, because its cold, furious eyes narrowed sharply at my taunt, as though offended by the insult. Before I could get another sarcastic comment in, it dove beneath the sand again, vanishing instantly beneath the dunes.

This shit again?

Fine. I was ready this time.

I felt it coming before I saw it—the vibrations rumbling beneath my feet, shifting rapidly around me. I pivoted swiftly, blade raised just as the giant monster erupted from the sand behind me. It burst upwards with another ear-splitting roar, jaws wide open, razor-sharp teeth aiming straight for my head.

"Shit!" I didn't have time to line up a proper lightning blast, so I reacted on instinct. Pivoting sharply, I swung the Nightingale Blade upward in a vicious arc.

The enchanted edge sliced cleanly through tough scales and sinewy muscle like a hot knife through butter. Blood spurted out in a satisfying crimson spray, splattering onto the sand as I rolled deftly out of the dragon's snapping jaws. Immediately, the enchantment on my blade flooded me with healing energy, washing away every ache and restoring my stamina.

Man, magic was a beautiful fucking thing.

When I came back up to my feet, the Krayt dragon had staggered a few steps away, thick blood pouring steadily from the long, nasty gash I'd carved into its hide. Its eyes were no longer just burning with wild fury. They held a calm, calculating anger that put me on edge.

I tensed, readying myself. "Come on, big guy," I muttered under my breath, "don't you dare run on me now."

But strangely enough, the beast didn't run. It just stood there, watching me, eerily still. It was waiting.

My eyes widened sharply as it finally clicked. "Ah, fuck…" Too late. Before I could move, the sand directly beneath me shifted violently again.

There was a second Krayt dragon!

– Missy –

Missy chewed her lip nervously as she watched Silas vanish behind some sand dunes. He'd better not get himself eaten by some giant alien dragon-lizard-thing, because if he did, she was totally going to kick his ass later. 

After he got pooped out of course…

Shaking off her worries, she glanced around at their ragtag little party. It was herself, Qui-Gon Jinn, the "secretly-not-so-secret" queen of Naboo (Padmé), and R2-D2. Why they'd decided to bring the droid along, Missy had no idea. Not that she was complaining, mind you—R2-D2 was awesome. 

She'd love to get an autograph…except, you know, he was a droid and probably didn't do autographs. Plus, it would look super weird just asking.

"Come on," Qui-Gon said, breaking into her thoughts as he gestured toward the seemingly endless sands ahead of them. "We have a long trek through the desert sun to reach Mos Espa. If we keep up a steady pace, it'll only take an hour or two."

Padmé visibly grimaced, looking just as thrilled about walking across miles of blistering desert as Missy felt.

"Nope. Absolutely not," Missy declared, scrunching her nose in distaste. She wasn't exactly looking forward to becoming a sweaty mess. Sand and sweat? Gross.

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow at her. "Pardon?"

Missy smiled confidently, stepping forward and holding out her hand theatrically. "Trust me. I've got a better idea."

She called upon her power, channeling it through the Force. 

Reality shimmered and twisted before her outstretched fingers, and suddenly the entire vast desert ahead of them seemed to fold inward, warping like a carnival mirror.

Padmé's jaw dropped, and Qui-Gon's eyes widened noticeably.

Missy grinned broadly. "Ta-da! Instant shortcut. You're welcome."

R2-D2 beeped excitedly, clearly approving of the change in plans. Without hesitation, the little droid rolled forward on his wheels, bravely plunging straight through Missy's distorted sort-of-portal through space.

"Come on, hurry up!" Missy urged impatiently, waving the other two forward. "It won't stay like this forever."

"Incredible…" Qui-Gon muttered softly, a slow, appreciative smile forming beneath his beard. With only a moment's hesitation, he stepped cautiously into the warped passageway.

Padmé took a deep breath, clearly steeling herself, before following quickly behind him.

The very instant they stepped through, the endless stretch of desert vanished. Instead, they found themselves standing right in the bustling heart of Mos Espa's crowded streets, surrounded by dusty stalls and noisy aliens of every description.

Missy smirked triumphantly, hands on her hips. "See? Much better than trudging through miles of hot sand."

Qui-Gon glanced down at her. "Missy, how exactly did you manage to do that? I've never seen or even heard of a Jedi being able to warp space like you just did."

Missy folded her arms and smirked proudly, sticking out her chin just a little. "Of course you haven't! It's not a Jedi thing—it's my superpower."

Padmé tilted her head skeptically, clearly unconvinced. "Are you still insisting on calling yourself and Silas 'superheroes'?"

Missy huffed indignantly, her smirk fading into a pout. "Hey, we totally are superheroes! We already saved a whole bunch of people back on Naboo, didn't we? And when we get back there, we're gonna kick out all the evil aliens and robots and everything."

Qui-Gon cleared his throat softly, giving Missy a gentle yet firm look. "Missy, please remember— not all aliens are evil. It's important not to generalize so broadly."

Missy blinked, her confident stance faltering a little as embarrassment crept in. Damn, now she felt like kind of an asshole. "Sorry, Qui-Gon," she mumbled awkwardly, feeling her cheeks warm slightly. "I honestly didn't mean it like that. It's just…well, Silas and I have never even met aliens before today. Our home planet doesn't exactly have any."

Padmé stared at her incredulously. "What? How's that even possible?" she blurted out. "Where the hell are you two even from?"

Missy's playful smirk instantly returned as she leaned in toward Padmé, voice dropping into a teasing, almost seductive whisper. "Maybe we'll tell you later, Padmé. If Silas and I decide we like you enough." She winked. "Otherwise, I guess you'll just have to ask the Force for answers."

Padmé rolled her eyes dramatically, clearly both amused and exasperated. "Ugh, I didn't even think the Force was real until today," she muttered with a resigned sigh.

Qui-Gon chuckled deeply, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth between the two young women. "This conversation has been fascinating," he said lightly, "but perhaps we should continue. Missy, thanks to you we've made fantastic time, but we still need to find a shop that sells spare ship parts. Our friends back on the ship are counting on us."

Missy, Qui-Gon, and Padmé wandered through Mos Espa, weaving through dusty streets and bustling crowds in search of anyone who might sell the spare hyperdrive parts their spaceship desperately needed. It wasn't exactly going well.

"Sorry, nothing like that here," said one shady-looking guy after another.

Missy bounced lightly on her toes, excitement building with every rejection. She knew it was just a matter of time until someone gave them the exact directions she'd been waiting for—

"You folks should try Watto's," a scruffy, grease-covered mechanic finally suggested. He wiped his forehead with a grimy sleeve, smirking wryly. "That little flying space rat's got damn near everything—if you can afford it, anyway."

Missy bit her lip, practically vibrating with anticipation. She fought hard to keep the delighted squeal trapped inside, but judging by the curious look Qui-Gon shot her, he definitely sensed something. She just flashed him an innocent smile, trying her best to look composed.

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "You seem… unusually excited all of a sudden, Missy."

"Just happy to finally have a lead, Master Jedi," she replied sweetly, doing her best impression of calm. Thankfully, he didn't push it further, and the trio set off toward the grimy outskirts of Mos Espa.

The area grew progressively dirtier, sketchier, and more rundown as they moved forward. Padmé glanced around warily, clearly less than thrilled with their surroundings. Missy, meanwhile, felt a surge of adrenaline and excitement with every step they took closer to their goal.

And there it was. 

Watto's junk shop, looking exactly like it should—dirty, crowded with scrap metal, and screaming "shady dealer" from every rusty corner. Missy couldn't contain herself any longer. Without waiting for Qui-Gon or Padmé, she bolted straight through the doorway, practically bouncing into the cluttered shop.

"Missy! Wait—!" Padmé's voice called out behind her, but Missy hardly heard her.

Her new Force senses, combined with her innate spatial awareness, were already guiding her directly to the small, lone human standing quietly inside the dimly lit workshop.

"Hi there!" Missy called out excitedly, quickly spotting Anakin Skywalker standing near a cluttered workbench. He was small, cute, and exactly how she imagined he'd look at nine years old. Aww— tiny future Darth Vader was adorable!

Anakin turned around, blinking in surprise as Missy eagerly leaned in, blatantly staring at him with wide, fascinated eyes. There was an awkward pause. He blinked at her again, his young face filled with curiosity.

Missy smiled wider, hoping she didn't look too weird.

Anakin tilted his head shyly. "Are you an angel?"

"EEEHHHHHH!?" Missy squeaked in sudden panic, her eyes going wide. Wait a second—that was supposed to be his line for Padme! Wasn't he supposed to say that cheesy stuff to her instead?!

Anakin stared at her with growing confusion, clearly unsure how to react to her freak-out.

Missy sputtered for a moment, feeling her face heat up furiously. "Uh—no, no! I'm definitely not an angel." She straightened up, trying her best to salvage her dignity. "I'm a superhero," she declared proudly, putting her hands on her hips.

Anakin's eyes immediately lit up like a kid seeing presents on his birthday. "Really?" he asked eagerly, stepping closer to her. "That's wizard! What kinda powers do you have?"

Missy grinned, feeling a burst of pride swell in her chest. "Well," she announced dramatically, throwing one hand out theatrically, "you're looking at the Mistress of Space herself!"

Anakin's jaw dropped open. "Whoa!"

Maybe she was a bit too excited, because without thinking twice Missy decided to show off just a little. The air shimmered and warped subtly around her fingers, creating a cool ripple effect like water swirling in midair.

"See?" Missy winked at the amazed boy. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"SLAVE!" a rough, irritated voice shouted suddenly from the back of the shop, jolting them both out of their fun. "What the hell is going on over there?"

Missy winced inwardly. Uh oh. She should've known Watto wouldn't be far away. Now things were about to get complicated.

A loud, angry screech made Missy jump as an ugly blue alien came flapping around the corner, shaking his fists and glaring furiously at her.

"Jedi!" Watto shrieked, his stubby wings buzzing furiously. "You trying to use your evil mind powers to free my slave, huh? Get out of my shop! Your kind isn't welcome here!"

Missy felt her temper spike instantly. Hands on her hips, she glared defiantly up at the hovering alien. "Hey! I'm a customer, you flying creep. I wasn't doing anything wrong!"

Just then, Qui-Gon and Padmé rushed into the shop behind her, both clearly confused by all the yelling. R2 wheeled in behind them.

Qui-Gon quickly stepped forward, holding up a calming hand. "There's been a misunderstanding," he said soothingly. He locked eyes with Watto and waved his hand gently. "The girl was just talking. You've been seeing things. There's no Jedi here."

Missy cringed internally. Oh crap, she didn't get to warn Qui-Gon that mind tricks wouldn't work on Watto.

Sure enough, Watto's expression darkened, pure rage spreading across his wrinkled face. "What? You think you're some kinda Jedi wise guy, huh? Trying your stupid tricks on me! I'm calling the Hutts! They'll deal with Jedi scum trying to rob me!"

Missy's heartbeat spiked, and her panic spiraled out of control. All she had wanted to do was meet Anakin and have a fun little chat, and now she'd managed to completely screw up canon. THEY'D BE STUCK ON THIS STUPID DESERT PLANET FOREVER, UNABLE TO GET BACK TO NABOO. EVERYONE WOULD BE TRAPPED, AND IT'D BE ALL HER FAULT, AND—

Her mind continued to panic!

She barely heard Qui-Gon calling out her name, concern edging into his usually calm voice. The world blurred for a split second, followed by a loud, wet squelching noise. Something warm splashed across her cheek, making her flinch.

Missy blinked in stunned horror, slowly wiping her face with trembling fingers. She stared blankly at the empty space where Watto had just been. Or rather, where what was left of him now hovered in a mangled lump.

Oh shit. Her powers had totally ignored the Manton limit…and she'd crushed Watto. 

Squished him like a flying space bug.

Missy swallowed hard, her stomach twisting uneasily as she slowly turned to Qui-Gon and Padmé, who were both staring at her with wide, stunned eyes. Padmé looked queasy. Qui-Gon looked somewhere between worried and deeply impressed.

Before anyone else could speak, a small, amazed voice broke the awkward silence next to her.

"…That was wizard," Anakin declared.

Missy glanced down at him, her face heating up again. Well. At least someone wasn't totally traumatized.

"Uh…" she muttered sheepishly, giving the others an awkward, apologetic smile. "Oops?"

Qui-Gon stared at Missy for a long moment, a deep frown etched onto his usually calm face. He shook his head slowly, clearly disappointed. "Missy," he said firmly, "didn't we just discuss this? I thought we agreed that not all aliens are evil. What you've done here… this was unnecessary."

Missy winced and looked down, feeling a sudden pang of guilt tightening in her chest. "I—I didn't mean to!" she stammered nervously, desperately searching for words to defend herself. "It was an accident, I swear! And anyway, he was a horrible slaver! Doesn't that count for something?"

Padmé stayed completely silent next to Qui-Gon, still wide-eyed and looking more than a little shaken. 

Suddenly, a small hand grabbed Missy's own, warm fingers squeezing hers reassuringly. 

"She's telling the truth!" Anakin declared boldly, his voice firm despite its childish pitch. "Watto was always mean to me and my mom. He kept threatening to blow us up, yelling all the time! He was really bad!" His little face twisted into a frown. "Missy didn't do anything wrong."

Surprised, she glanced down into Anakin's determined eyes. The boy had barely known her for two minutes, and here he was already standing up for her.

Qui-Gon blinked, clearly caught off guard by the boy's passionate defense. His harsh expression softened quickly, replaced by thoughtful curiosity. He sighed lightly and offered Anakin a gentle smile.

"I see. Thank you for telling me," Qui-Gon said kindly. He lowered himself to Anakin's level, holding out a hand politely. "My name is Qui-Gon Jinn. What's yours?"

Anakin smiled shyly, clearly relieved he wasn't in trouble. "I'm Anakin Skywalker," he answered, shaking Qui-Gon's hand earnestly. 

Missy felt her face heating up again, this time from a mixture of embarrassment and pride. Well, at least Anakin thought she was pretty great, even if she'd just messed things up in spectacular fashion.

Qui-Gon turned his gaze back toward Missy, giving her a calmer, more understanding look this time. "I sensed your panic before— that happened , Missy. You clearly need a teacher to help you control your powers if they can kill people so easily," he said softly. 

"I've never been able to do that to— people…" she trailed off. Did Watto count as a person? Maybe the Manton limit only worked on humans? Did she even want to test that again? 

"We can discuss this further later. Right now, we need to handle the… immediate consequences." Qui-Gon told her.

Missy took a deep breath. Qui-Gon was right, they definitely needed to handle the immediate consequences.

She squared her shoulders, trying to sound confident despite the chaos she'd just caused. "Okay, so first things first: we need to steal the hyperdrive parts, grab Anakin and his mom, and get off this sandy space rock ASAP!"

"Beep Boop!" R2-D2 started shaking and making noises in what she figured was agreement.

Padmé sighed deeply, glancing at the messy remains of Watto's shop with a resigned expression. "…Yeah. At this point, that's pretty much our only option." She shook her head softly, muttering under her breath, "Maybe I should've just stayed on the ship…"

Missy winced slightly, guilt creeping back in. "Sorry, Padmé."

Anakin, meanwhile, had perked up at the idea of leaving, but only for a moment. His excitement faded quickly, replaced by a heartbreaking sadness. "I… I can't leave Mos Espa," he said quietly, eyes downcast. "If I go too far, the bomb inside me and my mom…it'll blow up."

Oh, crap. She'd completely forgotten about that. Missy's stomach twisted. Then, suddenly, a crazy, but maybe brilliant, idea flashed through her mind.

Could she test her powers again? Maybe just…a tiny bit?

Stepping closer to Anakin, she closed her eyes and reached out carefully with her spatial senses, searching gently through his body. Almost immediately she found something unnatural and nasty lodged just under the skin at the back of his neck—something cold, metallic, and absolutely gross.

Missy opened her eyes and held out her hand. The air shimmered around her fingers, rippling like a mirage. An instant later, a tiny blood-smeared device appeared in her open palm.

"Ewwww…" she muttered, nose scrunching in disgust. That was seriously nasty.

Qui-Gon's eyes shot wide open. "Careful!" He quickly lifted one hand, using the Force to whisk the small bomb safely away to the far side of the room.

Anakin stood frozen in shock for a few seconds, his eyes huge. Slowly, he reached back, touching his neck with trembling fingers. Realization dawned across his face, tears welling up in his eyes.

Without warning, he rushed forward and wrapped his arms around Missy in a tight, grateful hug. "Thank you, thank you!" Anakin sobbed, squeezing her hard. "You really are a superhero! Please, can you save my mom too?"

Missy felt her cheeks warm with embarrassment and pride. She smiled softly, patting his messy hair reassuringly. "Of course I can."

Even Qui-Gon was smiling again, the earlier tension completely gone. He gave Missy a proud nod, approval clear in his voice. "Nicely done, Missy."

Missy grinned brightly back at him. Sure, things were still a mess, but she'd fix it. She'd made this crazy situation, after all. It was only right she saw it through.

She wondered if Silas was faring any better than her?

– Silas –

My armor had taken one hell of a beating— rips and tears all over —but I felt fantastic. Honestly, I probably should've been dead. The only reason I wasn't currently turning into lizard chow was the enchanted Nightingale blade in my hand. Every time I cut one of those oversized lizards it healed my wounds and pumped fresh strength back into my veins. 

Magic swords, man. Fucking lifesavers.

Even with my new Electromaster powers, though, things had gotten dicey more than once. But now those two giant dragon-lizards were finally down. Covered head to tail in deep gashes and lightning burns, lying dead and motionless in the sand.

I threw my fist into the air, adrenaline and excitement rushing through me. "Fuck yeah!" I cheered loudly. Damn right I'd just taken down two giant fucking space dragons solo.

Suddenly, both of the fallen Krayt dragons began to glow a fiery golden-orange color. I stopped cheering immediately, eyes widening in surprise and anticipation.

"No way…" I breathed out slowly. I knew exactly what was happening next. It looked like even giant alien space lizards counted as proper dragons, because their bodies rapidly broke apart into streams of brilliant orange and gold lights. The glittering motes spiraled around me, surging directly into my chest, flooding my body with raw, radiant energy.

The rush was intense, almost overwhelming. My muscles flexed and rippled, and I gasped as fresh strength surged through every fiber of my body. A powerful, tingling sensation pulsed beneath my skin, my magic— or whatever the hell counted as magic now —surging through me. I felt stronger. Faster. 

Hell, maybe even sexier!

Okay… Maybe not that last one because it was hard to already mess with peak perfection!

But it wasn't just a physical boost. Something strange happened inside my throat, too, an oddly satisfying tightness that felt like… reinforcement, somehow? It was tricky to describe, but I knew instinctively what it meant. I could shout more frequently now, without shredding my vocal cords. And considering the bullshit I'd probably have to deal with later, that upgrade was seriously appreciated.

With the dragons nothing but giant piles of bones now, I strolled over and started poking around the skeletal remains. I was hoping my memory of Star Wars lore was still sharp, there was supposed to be something valuable hidden in these things.

"Jackpot!" I grinned broadly when I finally found exactly what I was looking for. Two perfectly round, glossy Krayt dragon pearls. If my nerd brain wasn't letting me down, these bad boys were extremely valuable. I slipped them securely into my inventory, figuring they'd probably come in handy later.

"Alright," I sighed, straightening up and stretching my aching back. "Side quest complete. Time to find Missy and the others in Mos Espa. Hope they haven't gotten into too much trouble without me."

As soon as those words left my mouth, though, I noticed movement in the corner of my eye. I quickly spun around, spotting a floating droid hovering nearby. The thing was covered in a patchwork of mismatched cameras, lenses glittering in the sun.

For a split second, panic hit me. Shit, was that one of Darth Maul's creepy spy drones? But I quickly shook that idea off. Maul's drones were sleek, high-tech, and painted "edgy Sith black." This one looked like a science fair project made from space junk. Before I could wave or shout at it, the scrappy little droid abruptly zipped away toward Mos Espa, quickly disappearing over a dune.

"Huh," I muttered, rubbing my chin thoughtfully. Someone just watched and recorded my entire battle with those Krayt dragons. Interesting.

A smile crept across my face. Maybe later I'd track down whoever owned that little scrap heap and ask for a copy of the footage. Sophia would absolutely love seeing how badass I looked fighting giant space dragons. I'd probably never hear the end of it.

But first, I had a long, hot walk ahead of me through miles of scorching desert. 

Ugh...

I glanced toward Mos Espa in the distance, eyeing the dark clouds swirling ominously on the horizon. Definitely didn't want to get caught in a sandstorm, and who knew how long it'd take me to get there—

Wait. I suddenly remembered one of my Dragonborn abilities. Could it really work here?

Grinning recklessly beneath my mask, I planted my feet firmly and inhaled deeply, focusing all my newfound strength.

"WULD NAH KEST!" I shouted with everything I had.

Instantly, I rocketed forward like someone had strapped a jet engine to my ass, hurtling across the dunes at an insane speed.

"HOLY FUCKING SHIIIIIT!" I screamed—part excitement, part absolute terror—as the desert blurred around me. Wind tore at my armor, adrenaline surged through my veins, and suddenly walking felt incredibly overrated.

This day was officially awesome!

…

It took me roughly an hour to get back to Mos Espa, thanks to chaining multiple Whirlwind Sprint shouts like some kind of crazed, dragon-powered speedster. Damn, my voice had definitely gotten stronger after taking down those Krayt dragons.

As I stepped into the dusty city streets, brushing sand off my ripped-up armor, I immediately felt eyes on me. Not just a few eyes either. 

It was like everyone had stopped what they were doing to stare at me.

"What the hell?" I mumbled under my breath. Sure, my armor was torn up a bit and could use some self-repair time, but looking around at some of these aliens, I was definitely not the worst-dressed dude around. Half these guys looked like they'd crawled out of a garbage chute this morning. So why the staring contest?

Before I could ask anyone what the big deal was, my system popped up again, flashing a new message right in front of my face.

[Quest Updated!]

"Wait—updated? I didn't finish it already?" I muttered, reading the message with a sinking feeling in my gut.

[The Path of the Liberator: Part 2! For decades, the slaves of Tatooine have whispered about an ancient prophecy. They speak of a liberator—a warrior clad in black armor who will march alone into the desert without supplies, face a Krayt dragon in single combat, and emerge victorious! This mysterious figure would then rise up against the Hutts, freeing every slave on Tatooine and sparking the revolution!]

I blinked dumbly at the screen. "Uh…what?"

No way. Was this seriously happening because someone had recorded my fight out there? It had barely been an hour! How in the actual fuck had news spread across Mos Espa this fast?

Before I could fully process the situation, two shady-looking thugs pushed their way through the crowd and pointed blasters directly at me.

"You there!" one shouted, his voice gruff and demanding. "Jabba the Hutt wants to see you— immediately!"

Chapter 19:

– Silas –

The first pair of alien tits I ever saw up close were…honestly, pretty fantastic.

I'd just been shoved into Jabba's palace by the pissed off guards when she caught my eye, a gorgeous, half-naked Twi'lek with vivid blue skin and curves that definitely belonged in some sci-fi pin-up. The gauzy strips of cloth draping her body did little to hide the gentle sway of her breasts, capped by dusky, dark-blue nipples that were impossible not to notice.

Goddamn. Alien biology clearly knew what it was doing.

But my enjoyment faded fast when my eyes traveled up to the harsh metal slave collar around her slender neck. Her expression wasn't the seductive tease I'd imagined, it was timid and cautious. 

She glanced my way, meeting my eyes for just a second, and the desperate, fragile hope I saw there hit me hard in the chest.

That same look was on nearly every slave's face as we passed. Human, Twi'lek, and dozens of other species I couldn't name—all sneaking glances, hopeful glances.

How the fuck had news about me spread this quickly? Had my epic dragon-slaying already gone viral? Tatooine had an internet? Seriously, was there no other gossip on Tatooine?

My angry escort clearly didn't appreciate all this newfound hope I was unintentionally inspiring. They grew more agitated with every passing slave's expectant glance.

Finally, one of the thuggish guards snapped, turning suddenly and kicking a young human boy who'd dared to stare at me too long. "Get back to work, scum! Quit gawking! None of you worthless pieces of shit are ever getting out of here! That damn prophecy's a joke!"

My fists clenched at my sides, electricity prickling at my fingertips. I could practically taste ozone in the air, my rage begging me to fry this sadistic asshole into crispy bits right now.

But no. As much as I wanted to make an example of him, starting a fight in Jabba's palace probably wasn't the smartest move. Not yet, anyway. I needed to figure out exactly what Jabba wanted first.

Though, to be honest, I was already pretty damn sure of what it was going to be. Jabba had probably summoned me just to try and kill me.

The moment I was marched into Jabba's throne room, every pair of eyes turned toward me. I felt the heavy stare of slaves, bounty hunters, and shady-looking merchants alike. The tension was thick enough to choke on.

I swept my gaze calmly over the room. It was crowded, more slaves here than I'd expected, their weary expressions instantly lighting with a mixture of excitement and desperation when they spotted me. 

Guess the word had definitely gotten around. I had barely been on this planet for half a day, and already I was some sort of legend. If I hadn't been right smack in the middle of it, I'd have laughed.

Scanning further, my eyes caught a group of bounty hunters off to the side, armored from head-to-toe. 

Mandalorians. 

Well shit. The way they all stiffened up when I entered made it clear they'd heard the stories too. I smirked to myself beneath my mask, wondering briefly what was going on behind those helmets— especially with the female Mandos. Even beneath all that battle-scarred armor, it was obvious some of those ladies had curves tight enough to make me curious. 

Shame about the helmets, really. Bet they had pretty faces too. And yet no one would ever see them. Talk about a lame custom.

The guards shoved me closer to Jabba's grotesque slug-like form sprawled lazily on his stone throne. The guards wore proud, cocky expressions, like they honestly believed they'd dragged in some helpless prisoner. As if their blasters— which were already secretly shorted-out with a quick zap of electricity from my new electromaster powers —could actually keep me in line if I decided to start attacking. 

I kept my expression neutral as the head guard stepped forward smugly and called out, puffing himself up with pride. "Mighty Jabba, we have captured the troublemaker! We've brought this false prophet to you for judgment!" He beamed, practically wagging his tail like an eager dog expecting praise.

I couldn't help it. I laughed. 

Not loudly, just a low, derisive scoff, enough to make heads snap toward me.

One of the guards jabbed his useless blaster roughly into my lower back. "Shut it, filth!"

I didn't react. No point in ruining the surprise just yet. Instead, I crossed my arms and stared blankly at Jabba under my mask. 

He narrowed his yellowish eyes at me. His massive, slug-like body shifted slightly on the throne, the rolls of fat rippling unpleasantly. Honestly, how this disgusting space slug managed to intimidate anyone was beyond me. Maybe it was the smell? 

Whatever it was, it was fucking rank. Did alien slugs even bathe? 

The Hutt started to speak in his deep, booming voice, each word sounding more like a wet belch than actual language. Next to him stood a sleek, well-dressed Twi'lek—definitely not a slave—judging by the arrogance radiating off him.

The Twi'lek cleared his throat and spoke in clear Galactic Basic, translating Jabba's guttural noises. "Great Jabba is pleased with the swift actions of his loyal guards. You will be rewarded greatly for silencing this disgusting prophecy."

Cheers rose briefly from Jabba's lackeys, the guards puffing up even further at the praise.

Finally, Jabba turned his massive, ugly head back toward me. His rumbling words oozed arrogance, dripping off him almost literally. The Twi'lek translated smoothly: "Great Jabba wants to know…what should he do with you, false prophet?"

– Missy –

Missy grinned as she carefully held out her hand, concentrating hard on the tiny metallic object embedded just beneath Shmi Skywalker's skin. Her powers flowed through the air, distorting the space around her fingertips as the slave implant appeared safely in her palm with a quiet pop.

Shmi gasped softly, touching the back of her neck in shock. "Is…is it really gone?"

"It sure is, Mom!" Anakin shouted enthusiastically, bouncing on his heels beside her. "You're finally free!"

Shmi's eyes brimmed with tears, and Missy had to fight down a proud lump in her own throat. Being a hero was amazing… 

If also a bit troublesome…

Missy looked around the small home, noting with a grimace that their little operation had drawn quite a crowd. Qui-Gon stood near the entrance, watching cautiously as more and more slaves quietly trickled in, eager and nervous to be freed. He offered Missy a reassuring nod, clearly approving, even if the growing crowd made him wary.

Initially, Missy had planned to grab Anakin and his mom and get off this sandy hellhole as quickly as possible. But then Padmé— deciding to suddenly be the moral compass, apparently —had spoken up. "We can't just leave all these people behind," the queen had said softly, her voice gentle but firm. "It wouldn't be right."

And damn it, Missy knew she was right. Even if it was a royal pain in the ass. Still, Missy couldn't help but think Padmé wasn't exactly focused on the whole "being queen of Naboo" thing right now. Maybe worrying about literally everyone except the people who'd elected you wasn't exactly top-tier leadership?

Wasn't your planet currently in the middle of an invasion? 

Well, whatever. It wasn't her place to judge, not while she was literally pulling bombs out of people's necks like she was plucking coins from thin air.

Besides, they couldn't leave right away even if they wanted to. Outside, the sandstorm roared loudly enough to rattle the walls of the house. Missy frowned slightly, keeping one hand outstretched to hold the swirling sands at bay. Oddly enough, the storm seemed to be seriously messing with her spatial senses. Every time she reached out with her powers to warp the space back toward the ship, her focus slid off-track, her grip on reality slippery and uncertain. It felt like trying to grab smoke with her bare hands.

"Stupid sand," she muttered irritably. 

Anakin shot her a quick grin, clearly agreeing. "Sand sucks Bantha doo doo!" he grinned before his mother scolded him for his "language."

At least R2-D2 had finally located the exact ship part they needed back at Watto's shop. Getting back home—well, back to Naboo, or Coruscant?—at least, would be straightforward enough once the storm cleared.

She paused briefly in her work, glancing toward the front door. Where the heck was Silas anyway? Her stomach fluttered slightly at the thought of him, but she quickly squashed down the feeling. Nope. She definitely wasn't going to daydream about the sexy older guy she was totally not crushing on. 

She had bombs to remove and slaves to free.

Still, she couldn't quite ignore the quiet whisper of the Force tickling at the edges of her consciousness. It was telling her, almost gleefully, that Silas was perfectly fine—actually more than fine. In fact, the Force seemed to think his current situation was… funny? Important?

Turning back to the line of freed slaves waiting eagerly for her help, Missy took a deep breath and refocused. One by one, she carefully extracted their control implants, each success earning her more grateful, awestruck stares. Pretty soon, she realized they weren't just grateful— they were looking at her like some sort of goddess.

Kinda like how people would sometimes look at Panacea now that she thought about it. 

"Thank you, Lady Vista," said a young Twi'lek girl with wide eyes. "You're amazing!"

"Uh, thanks," Missy mumbled awkwardly, suddenly wishing her mask was still on to hide her flaming cheeks. "I'm just doing my job, as a hero, you know? No big deal."

Beside her, Shmi smiled gently, placing a reassuring hand on Missy's shoulder. "You really are incredible, Missy. For a moment, I almost believed you might be the prophesied liberator from legend…"

Missy tilted her head, confused. "Liberator? Wait, what are you talking about?"

Shmi waved her hand. "It's just an old Tatooine legend, about a great warrior who will free all the slaves. They say this liberator will wear black armor and face down a Krayt dragon alone in the desert, bringing freedom to everyone."

Missy stared at her blankly, trying to process that. 

Black armor? Slay a Krayt dragon? 

Silas wore black armor. And he had gone off to the desert by himself earlier to kill a Krayt Dragon! That couldn't be right…? But then again, hadn't his "system" said something about the "Path of the Liberator?" 

Qui-Gon, obviously eavesdropping from nearby, abruptly choked on the water he'd been sipping. Coughing, he stepped closer, eyes narrowed in sudden concern. "Excuse me? A warrior in black armor slaying a Krayt dragon? Miss Skywalker, can you tell us more about this legend…?"

– Silas –

I slowly glanced around Jabba's throne room as his slimy translator's question hung in the air. Beneath my mask, I couldn't stop a cocky smirk from spreading across my face, even knowing damn well that things were about to go to shit in spectacular fashion.

The slaves crowded around the edges of the room stared at me nervously, their eyes wide with desperate, cautious hope. Something twisted sharply in my gut as I looked at them. If I backed out or tried to sweet-talk my way free now, what kind of hero would that make me? 

Screw that.

Maybe my system had put me on this insane path, but I was the one choosing to walk it. Hell, I'd already killed two giant dragons today. How much worse could a giant gangster slug be?

Taking a deep, steadying breath, I squared my shoulders and faced Jabba directly, making sure my voice rang out clearly across the throne room. "I am Dragonborn, and I am the Liberator!" I declared firmly, electricity humming eagerly along my fingertips. "You're going to free every single slave on this world, Jabba, and never deal in slavery again."

A stunned silence spread across the room. Jabba just blinked at me slowly, as though he couldn't quite believe anyone would dare speak to him like that. 

From the bounty hunters and shady merchants scattered around the chamber came muttered insults, some snickering in disbelief at my apparent stupidity.

"He's got a death wish," sneered one particularly scruffy-looking mercenary nearby.

"Let's fucking kill this asshole!"

"No one talks to Jabba like that!"

I flicked my gaze briefly toward the group of Mandalorians watching from the corner, expecting them to be reaching for their blasters, but instead, they simply lounged back against the walls, observing me carefully. 

Interesting... 

Well, I'd figure them out later, assuming I survived the next few minutes. But I liked my chances!

Jabba finally rumbled something deep and menacing, and although I didn't speak a word of Huttese, I knew exactly what the hell he meant.

"Kill him!" the translator cried out, though the translation was completely unnecessary. The whole room erupted into movement.

The mercenaries pulled their weapons immediately, and I heard the guards at my back squeeze the triggers on their blasters—

CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!

And then curse loudly when nothing happened!

"What the hell?" one of them shouted in confusion, shaking his useless blaster.

I grinned savagely beneath my mask. Idiots. I spun around, throwing a fist into the first guard's jaw with all my strength. A sickening crunch echoed as his head snapped violently sideways, his body crumpling lifelessly to the floor.

Holy shit! I paused for a split second, amazed at the raw power now pulsing through my muscles. Those two Krayt dragon souls hadn't just juiced up my magic, they'd seriously boosted my physical abilities too. 

Useful upgrade, for sure.

The remaining two guards scrambled desperately for their backup weapons, but I wasn't feeling generous. Electricity surged from my fingertips in blazing arcs, crackling violently into their chests. They collapsed to the floor, bodies twitching wildly until they finally went limp, smoke rising faintly from their armor.

And then all hell broke loose.

Blaster bolts streaked toward me from every direction, red flashes sizzling through the air. A couple of shots hit my battered Nightingale armor, sending sharp jolts of heat through the fabric and scorching the skin beneath. The enchanted leather held up remarkably well under the barrage, but I definitely couldn't afford to take many hits to the spots where my armor had torn open earlier.

I dove behind one of the nearby stone pillars, dodging another volley of blaster fire. The pillar shuddered against my back as blaster bolts pummeled the other side relentlessly, chips of stone flying past my head. I quickly reached into my inventory, the Nightingale Blade materializing instantly in my right hand. My left hand crackled eagerly, electricity sparking across my fingers.

I waited, muscles tense and ready, my breath coming in short, controlled bursts. Blasters had their perks, sure. But one major drawback? They overheated if you spammed them too fast.

I learned that one from video games…

And right now, the room was full of morons mashing their triggers in panic. 

And soon enough they all overheated.

The moment a lull in blaster fire finally came, I launched myself from cover, I moved faster than I'd ever imagined possible with just natural abilities. My newly upgraded body practically hummed with power, every muscle enhanced from absorbing those dragon souls earlier. My reflexes felt dialed up to eleven, with adrenaline sharpening my senses to an almost terrifying clarity.

"Oh fuck— he's a Jedi!" shrieked one wide-eyed bounty hunter, his voice cracking in panic as I blurred toward him.

"Nope, wrong guess, asshole!" I snarled, driving my sword cleanly through his gut without slowing down. He stared at me in shock, blood dribbling from his mouth, eyes bulging before I jerked my blade free, letting him slump to the floor in a gory heap. Whirling around, I faced the crowd of bounty hunters frantically scrambling to raise their weapons again. "I'm something way fucking worse," I declared, my voice echoing with raw power. "I'm a goddamn dragon!"

Then, pulling all my breath into my lungs, I let loose a powerful shout that shook the throne room itself.

"ZUN HAAL VIIK!"

My Disarm Shout exploded outward in an invisible wave of force. Dozens of weapons were instantly ripped from hands, flying wildly across the room. Panicked gasps and curses filled the air as mercenaries and guards staggered back, defenseless and terrified.

"Oh shit!" a Rodian squealed, his huge eyes wide in horror. He turned to run, but too late.

Instinct and fury surged hotly inside my chest, my Dragonborn nature urging me forward in a ruthless rush of violent intent. 

Usually, I wasn't the bloodthirsty type— I liked to think I had a decent moral compass —but staring at these slaving fucks, I felt no remorse. 

I lunged forward, carving through bone and flesh alike. Blood splattered across my mask and armor as screams echoed around me. My fingers sizzled with lightning, arcs of energy crackling violently as I blasted every asshole that dared step too close. Bodies twitched and convulsed, dropping to the ground as the scent of burning flesh filled the air.

A group of guards rushed me, desperately waving electro-staffs and backup knives. I ducked beneath the swing of the closest thug and drove my elbow upward into his jaw with enough force to shatter bone, sending him sprawling backward with a sickening crunch. I pivoted, slicing through the next guard's wrist before a surge of electricity erupted from my fingertips, leaving him spasming on the floor.

"Come on!" I shouted fiercely, adrenaline pounding through my veins. "You bastards love beating people who can't fight back, huh? How's it feel now, assholes!?"

Another wave of slavers surged toward me, desperation etched across their ugly faces. I threw out my hand, arcs of lightning snapping from my fingers, frying them into twitching heaps before they got within five feet. My senses felt impossibly sharp, every detail around me magnified. I could hear their panicked breaths, smell their fear, feel every movement in the air around me.

"Please, mercy!" begged a cowering slaver, falling to his knees, raising trembling hands towards me.

I paused for just half a second, looking down into his terrified eyes. Then the memories of those slaves outside flashed across my mind—the hopeless faces, the bruised bodies, the fucking collars. 

"Sorry," I growled darkly, feeling no sympathy, "fresh out of mercy today."

My blade ended him quickly.

Every swing felt natural, every strike driven by instinctive skill and fury. It was raw, vicious, and deeply satisfying, something primal within me roaring in triumph at finally unleashing its true power.

I glanced around the room briefly. Jabba was staring at me now, massive body trembling in rage— and, maybe, fear? The few surviving mercenaries desperately backed away, scrambling toward the exits. The Mandalorians hadn't budged from their spot, just calmly observing the carnage with cautious interest. I'd expected more trouble from them, but they seemed content just to watch.

Well, fine by me.

I turned slowly towards Jabba the Hutt himself. "So, Jabba," I said calmly, as if we were just having a casual conversation, "are you ready to reconsider freeing all the slaves?"

The giant slug narrowed his eyes at me, clearly weighing his options. His thick, slimy lips curled into a sneer as he reached lazily toward something on his throne.

My instincts screamed a warning, and my muscles tensed automatically. I'd seen Star Wars like twenty freaking times. I knew exactly what that fat bastard was going to do. He slammed his chubby hand down onto the large red button, his ugly face splitting into a triumphant grin.

"Nice try, asshole!" I growled, already in motion as the floor dropped out beneath my feet. I threw myself forward, sailing through the air in a smooth, powerful leap.

Below me, the rancor pit opened wide where I'd just stood. No thanks. I definitely wasn't up for playing Luke Skywalker today.

I landed on Jabba's raised platform, directly in front of his massive, slimy form. He reared back in panicked surprise, eyes bulging wide, his rolls of fatty flesh quivering grotesquely. "H-hrraa cha wanya!" he blubbered frantically in Huttese, eyes darting around desperately for help. But his cowardly translator had already bolted for the exit.

I tightened my grip on the Nightingale Blade. "Should've chosen wiser, Jabba," I said coldly. "Game over."

His slimy mouth opened again, spewing desperate pleas in a language I didn't give two shits about. Without hesitation, I swung my sword in a swift, clean arc. The magical blade sliced effortlessly through Jabba's thick, rubbery neck. For one surreal moment, his head hung comically askew, eyes blinking in stunned disbelief, before rolling off his shoulders with a heavy, wet thump.

I watched the headless mass shudder, then slump forward. Jabba was dead. 

Well— I was pretty damn sure he was dead. Honestly, if this slug bastard somehow survived losing his head, someone else could deal with finishing him off. I'd done my part.

For a long second, stunned silence stretched across the throne room. Then, slowly, the surviving slaves who'd taken cover behind overturned tables and pillars peeked out cautiously. 

Their eyes stared from Jabba's twitching remains back to me.

"The Hutt is dead!" an alien slave shouted in ecstatic disbelief. "Jabba is dead!"

In seconds, relieved cheers erupted, echoing loudly off the walls. They jumped and hugged each other.

"Liberator!" someone cried joyfully. "Hutt-slayer!"

I wiped a smear of blood off my mask, feeling oddly embarrassed and proud at once. 

Hutt-slayer, huh? Actually, I kind of liked the sound of that.

I dismissed my sword back into my inventory. Then I turned slowly toward the Mandalorians in the corner of the room, who hadn't moved a muscle throughout the chaos.

For a tense second, we just stared at each other. They watched me silently. Then, surprisingly, one by one, they inclined their heads slightly—an unmistakable nod of respect. Without a word, they turned and walked out together.

Huh. Was that like a badass warrior-to-warrior kind of thing? 

I'd take it. 

Better than a firefight against a squad decked out in heavy beskar armor. Those guys had clearly seen plenty of shit, and the fact that my brutal display hadn't even made them flinch meant they were a tough bunch.

Shaking my head, I turned back toward the celebrating slaves. We weren't finished yet. My eyes settled on an older slave nearby, a grizzled human man. This guy clearly had a lifetime of shitty experiences etched into his weary face.

"Hey, old-timer," I said urgently, stepping up to him. "Jabba's gone, but I need info. How the hell do we disable all these slave chips at once?"

His sunken eyes lit up as he nodded eagerly, clearly glad to help. "Jabba had a master control room installed in his palace, Liberator," the old man explained quickly, his voice hoarse from years of hardship. "He could activate or disable any slave chip on Tatooine whenever he pleased. That's why no one ever rebelled against the Hutts. It was a guaranteed death sentence."

"Well then," I said firmly, clapping the old guy on the shoulder gently, "we'd better haul ass. We have to shut down every slave chip before the other low-level Hutts on this dusty rock realize Jabba's worm-food and try something desperate."

He nodded sharply, eyes brightening even more. "Yes, Liberator! Right away! I know exactly where it is."

– Yoda –

Master Yoda sat quietly in the Jedi Council chamber, the soft hum of the city-world Coruscant a familiar background noise as he listened to the murmured discussions of his fellow masters. The Force moved gently around him, calm and steady— until suddenly, it did not.

A powerful, roaring tremor surged through the Living Force, so strong it felt as though someone had struck a giant cosmic bell. Yoda's eyes snapped open sharply as the energy crashed over them all. Around him, younger Jedi Masters gasped, several nearly falling from their chairs, clutching their chests as the echo passed through them.

"By the Force—what the hell was that?" Master Mundi exclaimed, voice trembling slightly as he steadied himself against his seat.

Yoda took a deep, slow breath, his small fingers gripping his cane a bit tighter as he reached out through the Force, exploring carefully, delicately. The feeling wasn't dark. 

Not pain, nor grief. It was… something else entirely. Something rare in these trying times.

Slowly, Yoda turned his gaze toward Mace Windu. 

The powerful Jedi Master looked just as startled as the others, though his composure had returned swiftly. Windu hesitated before speaking, choosing his words carefully, his voice subdued. "That…felt like hope."

Yoda inclined his head slightly as he nodded in agreement. "Correct, Master Windu is. Hope, indeed it was. From the far edges of the galaxy, felt this we have. A place of darkness and despair, that sector often is. Believe, I do, that Qui-Gon Jinn is involved."

At Qui-Gon's name, the assembled masters murmured, exchanging uncertain glances. 

Mace frowned thoughtfully, folding his arms as he leaned back in his chair. "Then that means the strange armored warrior and that incredibly powerful young girl Qui-Gon spoke of must be involved as well. Whatever just happened— they must have triggered it."

Yoda hummed thoughtfully, eyelids drooping as he considered. Qui-Gon's recent reports from Naboo had spoken clearly of two mysterious figures. 

"Answers will soon arrive. Sensed it, I have. The path to Coruscant is open for them now. Not long shall we wait. Soon, all our questions answered will be." Master Yaddle spoke up, nodding at Yoda.

"Or more mysteries unveiled," Mace Windu added dryly, skepticism creeping into his voice despite his composed expression. "This girl Qui-Gon found—if the stories are even half true, we could be dealing with the Chosen One herself. But what of her companion, the armored stranger? We must consider the possibility he could be Sith."

"True that is," Master Yoda conceded gravely. "Yet darkness, clearly, I have not sensed. Strange, unusual…yes. Dangerous? Perhaps. But evil…I am uncertain."

Another master spoke up cautiously, a trace of worry in her voice. "This armored warrior is still clearly dangerous! Especially if he has an influence on the Chosen One!"

"Careful, we must be, then, but not paranoid" Yoda murmured thoughtfully, tapping one small finger against his gimer stick. "Easy, suspicion is—yet open minds, we must maintain."

Yoda couldn't help but admit he was looking forward to the Qui-Gon's return and meeting the two anomalies he'd picked up on his latest excursion. Lately, the future had been nothing but dark and clouded with uncertainty, but today for the first time in years, he'd gotten glimpses of a better path forwards.

– Darth Maul –

Darth Maul descended the ramp of his cloaked stealth ship, his boots crunching lightly on the metal. His mind was sharp, intensely focused, his senses attuned to the task ahead. 

The strange armored warrior, possibly Sith, and a girl whose raw power in the Force defied reason.

He would find them. But he would not capture them like his master wanted. He would destroy them. 

Failure was not an option.

And then, without warning— the Force itself screamed.

A massive tremor surged through him, slamming violently into Maul's consciousness like a tidal wave. It hit him so hard that he staggered mid-step, his footing slipping from beneath him. Maul gasped, twisting helplessly as he flipped over the side of the ramp. 

His world spun chaotically in midair for a brief second of humiliating panic, before he crashed head-first into the hot, gritty sand dunes below with a muffled thud. Pain spiked through his pride far more sharply than through his body. For a moment, Maul lay there, blinking in disbelief, sand stinging his eyes and filling his mouth. 

…A sharp, humiliating embarrassment twisted in his gut, followed swiftly by burning rage.

"What the fuck was that?" Maul snarled, pushing himself to his feet, sand cascading angrily from his robes. He shook violently to clear his head, glaring hatefully around the empty desert landscape as though daring it to mock him further.

The Force still reverberated with powerful intensity, but now that the initial shock had passed, Maul felt something else radiating across Tatooine. His senses stretched out, probing, analyzing, feeling—

Hope.

His lip curled with disgust. 

The revolting sensation saturated the entire damn planet. Someone had freed all the planet's slaves— every single fucking one —and triggered a simultaneous, massive uprising. He felt the echoes of their rebellion clearly, passionately surging through the Force.

Maul clenched his fists, teeth grinding together as he breathed heavily, rage building rapidly in his chest. "The Jedi..." he growled through clenched teeth. "They must have—" He stopped short, eyes narrowing sharply as realization struck him. No. Not the Jedi. They were far too predictable, too cautious for something so brazen, so chaotic.

This wasn't the Jedi's work. It was them. The two unknowns his master had sent him after—the mysterious warrior clad in black armor and the impossibly powerful Force girl. 

It had to be them!

"They dare humiliate me again…" Maul whispered, voice trembling with barely-contained fury. The memory of their display on Naboo burned in his mind— how he felt so utterly weak watching them wipe out an entire army!

A deep, primal fury blazed in his chest, demanding vengeance, craving their destruction. No more games. No more humiliation. These fools would pay dearly for their insolence!

Maul stabbed a finger down onto the communicator button strapped to his wrist, his voice hissing with rage. "Speeder. Now." Within seconds, it hovered obediently in front of him. He swung his leg sharply over the bike, gripping the controls tightly. Sand whipped around him, stinging his tattooed face, but he barely felt it. His entire body trembled with pure, focused hatred. "I will find you," Maul vowed darkly, his voice tight with lethal promise. "I will hunt you down and cut you both into pieces. I will prove myself the superior being— the true Sith!"

XXX

Chapter 20:

– Silas –

"Death to the slavers!"

"Rise up and kill them all!"

The rallying cries echoed through the dusty streets of Mos Espa, punctuated by the frantic sounds of violence erupting all around me. 

Former slaves, human and alien alike, stormed through the town, unleashing years— decades —of pent-up rage on their former masters. Knives stabbed, fists beat, and stolen blasters fired wildly, leaving no doubt that the slave rebellion was in full swing.

I felt a smirk curl beneath my mask. Seriously, having one master control station to disable every slave chip on the entire planet was monumentally stupid, even for a slug-brained gangster like Jabba the Hutt. 

But hey, his idiocy made my mission a lot easier, so no complaints here.

"It's the Liberator!" voices shouted excitedly.

"Make way! The Liberator is here!"

"Bless you, Liberator! Bless you!"

Gratitude flowed toward me from every direction, a flood of hopeful faces praising me as if I were some kind of hero-god. 

Honestly, it was a little embarrassing, but also pretty damn cool.

I nodded awkwardly as I strode forward in my battered Nightingale armor. Thankfully, I'd spotted earlier that the armor had begun repairing itself. Tiny fibers and threads were weaving slowly together, closing blaster holes and mending slashes. A few more hours and it should be good as new.

Navigating Mos Espa wasn't tough, especially with my enhanced speed. After pausing briefly to ask for directions from an enthusiastic former slave, I quickly found my way to Watto's junk shop. 

Missy had to be around here somewhere, and this place seemed like the best lead I had.

As I stepped inside, I found the shop already crawling with freed slaves who were eagerly looting anything remotely valuable. Mechanical parts, weapon pieces, and starship components were swiftly disappearing into eager hands.

Immediately, the slaves recognized me, halting their looting to stare in awe.

"It's him," a young Twi'lek woman whispered reverently. "The Liberator."

An older Rodian man stepped forward cautiously. "Liberator," he said, bowing his head slightly. "What brings you here? How can we help you?"

I raised a hand reassuringly, trying to keep things calm and straightforward. "I'm looking for Watto. Anyone seen him around?"

One of the slaves grimaced, jerking his thumb toward a gruesome heap on the floor. My stomach turned slightly as I stepped closer, confirming my suspicions. Yep, definitely Watto—or what was left of him.

"Gross," I muttered, trying not to gag. 

Seriously, that was nasty. 

"He was like that when we arrived," the Rodian said hurriedly. "I swear it."

"I believe you…" I didn't really care either way. Shaking off the unsettling sight, I focused on my next priority. "Does anyone know where the Skywalkers live? If my friend is following the plan, she should be there. A younger girl, blonde, wearing green. Probably with a Jedi named Qui-Gon, a girl named Padmé, and a droid."

Immediately, the slaves around me brightened with recognition.

"The blessed child!" a human woman exclaimed excitedly. "She's staying with the Skywalkers!"

I raised an eyebrow beneath my mask. "Blessed child?"

"Yes," the woman continued earnestly. "She's been removing slave chips from all of us for hours, even before you disabled all of them! People are still going to her for help. She's been at it nonstop."

That made me grin beneath my mask. Good for her, she was making her own legend on this alien world too. "Can someone take me to her?" I asked quickly.

"Of course, Liberator," the Rodian replied with a fervent nod. "It would be our honor. Follow me."

He led me swiftly through the chaos-filled streets, the rebellion raging fiercely all around. It wasn't long before we reached a small, modest home nestled among others like it. Dozens of freed slaves stood around outside, anxiously waiting their turn.

As soon as they spotted me, the murmurs started up again.

"It's the Liberator! He's here!"

"Make way for him!"

The crowd parted immediately, allowing me through. I stepped inside the small home, my eyes quickly finding Missy kneeling beside a tired-looking woman, one hand stretched out carefully, a tiny metallic device suddenly popping into her palm. The woman cried in happiness before moving out of the way.

Missy looked up, her eyes widening in relief when she saw me.

"Silas!" she called with a tired sounding sigh. "Took you long enough! What have you been doing?!" 

"Hey, someone had to start the slave rebellion," I shot back…

Missy stomped right up to me the moment she spotted me, her eyes blazing with indignation. She planted her hands firmly on her hips and gave me her fiercest glare. 

Which was more adorable than fierce.

"THIS WAS ALL YOU AFTER ALL!? I can't believe you started a slave rebellion," she snapped, practically vibrating with irritation, "WITHOUT ME!"

Awwww, she was mad because she felt left out....

"I can't believe you squished Watto into paste," I teased, smirking beneath my damaged mask. 

…Yeah, I had figured out it was her on the run over here.

Her cheeks flushed deep pink, embarrassment swiftly overtaking her earlier annoyance. She crossed her arms defensively. "I didn't mean to kill Watto! It just… happened." 

I laughed again, shaking my head slightly. "Yeah, well, seeing his remains kinda gave it away. You know, it looked like he got compressed from all directions at once. Didn't think you could bypass the Manton limit like that. Pretty terrifying stuff for a space girl." I grinned. "Bet your power rating just skyrocketed."

Missy's face turned an even brighter shade of red as she sputtered out a half-hearted protest. I reached over and lightly ruffled her hair, earning a playful swat in return.

"I'm serious! It was an accident," she mumbled.

Qui-Gon approached slowly, his expression shifting from concern to mild exasperation as he eyed the burned and torn sections of my armor.

"Silas," he began carefully, his voice carrying a hint of reprimand, "I'm relieved you're mostly unharmed, but did you really find it necessary to start a full-scale slave rebellion?"

I smirked beneath my mask and flicked my wrist, summoning my system screen into view right in front of Qui-Gon. He was able to read the mission I had received, although I kept up the ruse on where the mission was coming from.

Cuz it was funny...

"As you can clearly read, this was the Will of The Force!" I declared cheekily, dismissing the screen with a casual wave of my hand.

Qui-Gon puffed up indignantly. "For the last time, Silas, that's not how the Force works! It doesn't hand out missions in literal, written form! It works in much more mysterious ways than that!"

"Sucks to suck, I guess. Seems like the Force just likes me more than you Jedi..."

Missy shivered nearby before she burst out laughing. "I swear, the Force just laughed at that! At least, it felt like a laugh I think..."

Qui-Gon visibly shivered, his brow furrowing as he glanced around warily. Clearly, he'd felt something as well. He just pursed his lips.

"I'll just take your word for it," I said with a shrug to Missy.

Turning away from the annoyed Jedi, I spotted Padmé nearby, standing beside a small blond kid with wide eyes. Anakin Skywalker.

Well, wasn't this a surreal moment. 

"How it do?" I greeted casually.

Anakin immediately lit up like I'd just announced Christmas had come early. If this hellhole planet had a christmas of course.

"Oh my gosh, it's the Liberator! He's real! This is so wizard! Mom, he's in our house!"

"I can see that, Ani," Shmi Skywalker replied gently, her expression filled with the same awe and reverence I'd seen from the freed slaves outside.

Padmé sighed heavily, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "Listen, it's fantastic the slaves are free, really. But we need to get back to the ship now…"

Missy raised an eyebrow at her. "Yeah, we could have left earlier, Padmé, but someone insisted we stay before that sandstorm hit!" she gave Padme a pointed look.

Padmé blushed at that. 

I had no idea what they'd been arguing about, but frankly, I didn't care. From the sounds echoing outside, the slaves had everything under control now. Their former masters didn't stand a chance against the overwhelming odds. From what I heard, they outnumbered them around 20 to 1.

"Alright," I announced decisively. "Sounds like the rebellion's handling itself. Did you manage to snag those repair parts for the ship?"

Missy nodded confidently, giving me a bright grin. "Yup! R2 found exactly what we needed. We're ready to roll."

"Great," I said, clapping my hands together. "Let's ditch this sandy hellhole and head back to the ship. Mission accomplished!"

Before we could even start leaving the Skywalker's home, a bright blue screen suddenly appeared in front of my eyes, floating in mid-air.

"Great," I mumbled, already worried about what my system was going to tell me now.

"What's wrong?" Missy asked, quickly moving closer to see the screen. She read out loud: "The Path of the Liberator Side Quest—The Finale! Darth Maul is going to Jabba's palace to turn on and explode every slave chip on Tatooine! He wants to turn your moment of heroism into one of tragedy. To draw out Silas Thorn and Missy Biron so he can kill them!"

Missy gasped, her face turning pale. "Oh no! We have to stop him!"

Qui-Gon stepped up next to us, looking serious. "Darth Maul? The Sith have truly returned then? And they're here now???"

"Get with the times, old man," I said, trying to sound tough. "Are you helping or not? We have a Sith to deal with."

Qui-Gon straightened up immediately. Suddenly, the friendly man we knew turned into a serious warrior. Missy and I glanced at each other nervously. "I am with you," Qui-Gon said strongly.

"R-right on," I said, a bit surprised by how serious he was.

Missy quickly turned to Padmé, Anakin, and Shmi Skywalker. "I'm going to use my powers to send you all back to our ship with R2-D2 and the spare parts," she explained. "Anakin, you can install the hyperdrive so we can leave as soon as we're done saving everyone."

Padmé opened her mouth like she wanted to argue, but after seeing Missy's determined look, she sighed and nodded. "Okay, be careful."

Anakin jumped forward eagerly. "Wait! I want to fight too! Let me help!"

His mom grabbed his shoulder gently but firmly. "Absolutely not, Anakin. You need to stay safe."

"But Mom—" he started, looking upset.

Missy knelt down beside him, smiling softly. "Anakin, you're the best mechanic here. I know I can count on you to install the hyperdrive."

Anakin blushed bright red and nodded. "Of course! I'll do it…for my angel!"

I nearly choked trying not to laugh, looking quickly at Missy, whose cheeks were now bright red. She gave me a look begging me not to tease her about it later. 

I was definitely going to tease her. I had... questions, and she definitely had some answers!

"Alright, let's go," Qui-Gon said, sounding very serious as he headed for the door.

Missy stood up quickly, turning to the freed slaves who were waiting anxiously. "I'm really sorry," she called to them. "I can't do anything more for you all. I hope all of you stay safe!" 

The crowd murmured quietly but nodded, understanding the urgency.

Missy stepped outside, raising her hands with intense focus. I felt a wave of power ripple around her as she called upon the Force and her spatial manipulation abilities. The air shimmered, twisting visibly in front of us. She swiftly opened two distinct paths: one portal led directly back to the Naboo starship for Padmé, Shmi, Anakin, and R2-D2, while the other portal warped space directly toward Jabba's palace, where Darth Maul was heading.

Both groups stood facing their respective paths. Anakin eagerly waved at Missy, his blue eyes shining with excitement. "This space portal is wicked! You're the best, angel!"

Missy's cheeks flushed bright red, and she offered him a shy smile. "Thanks, Anakin. Stay safe, okay?"

Shmi placed a gentle hand on Anakin's shoulder, guiding him toward their path. "Thank you again, Missy. You're truly amazing."

Padmé paused briefly, concern etched on her young face. "Be careful, all of you," she said sincerely. R2 beeped nervously as they stepped through the shimmering gateway, quickly vanishing from view.

Qui-Gon glanced solemnly at Missy and me, his expression calm but determined. "May the Force be with us," he murmured, stepping confidently through the portal that led to Jabba's palace.

Taking a deep breath, Missy and I followed Qui-Gon, emerging instantly in the grim shadow of Jabba's palace. My stomach twisted violently as I took in the horrifying scene around us.

Dozens of recently freed slaves lay scattered across the palace grounds. Their bodies were brutally cut apart, limbs severed cleanly by a lightsaber. Their expressions were frozen in terror and disbelief, eyes wide and mouths agape in silent screams. Blood pooled darkly around their still forms.

"Oh my God," Missy whispered, covering her mouth in shock, her eyes filling with tears.

Anger surged hotly through me. These people had just tasted freedom, only to have it ripped away so cruelly!

Qui-Gon's voice snapped me from my dark thoughts. "Silas, we must hurry. The Sith is already inside!"

Missy regained her composure first, calling out urgently, "Come on, Silas!" She raced after Qui-Gon, both disappearing swiftly through the palace entrance.

I took one last sorrowful glance at the fallen slaves, my jaw tightening. But as I turned to follow, I hesitated. The slave chip control tower that Darth Maul intended to use to massacre every freed slave on the planet was located at the very top of Jabba's palace. 

If I could reach it first and destroy the control station, I could stop Maul's plan before he even began.

Decision made, I crouched low, muscles coiled with newfound strength from absorbing the Krayt dragon souls. With a powerful leap, I shot into the sky, easily soaring fifty feet upward. But I wasn't finished yet.

"WULD NAH KEST!" I shouted, and my body accelerated dramatically. My vision blurred momentarily from the sheer speed, the palace rushing toward me alarmingly fast! "Oh shit!" I gasped, realizing too late how fast and uncontrolled my ascent had become.

I smashed directly into the side of the highest tower. Stone bricks exploded around me as I crashed straight through the wall, tumbling onto a pile of rubble and dust. Coughing and waving away the debris-filled air, I pushed myself painfully upright.

"Well… task failed successfully," I grumbled sarcastically, examining the control room I'd unintentionally crashed into. Consoles lined the walls, filled with blinking lights and alien script. Massive screens displayed readouts of countless slave chips all over the planet. The old man had been the one to work all the equipment earlier...but he was dead now. Amongst the bodies in front of the palace. 

I let out a solemn prayer to the force that he finds peace in his next life. 

And then I called on the lightning inside me, always ready to be unleashed and run wild. And then I started breaking shit...

It was only thirty seconds later that I heard angry footsteps pounding their way up the stairs. Each heavy stomp echoed louder and louder, my heartbeat quickening with each sound.

Then, he appeared— Darth Maul. His yellow eyes blazed with fury, burning beneath skin covered in sinister red and black tattoos. Sharp horns protruded from his skull, and the air around him seemed heavy with pure hatred.

The dude clearly had anger issues to say the least.

"You!" Maul snarled, glaring at me before shifting his gaze to the wreckage of the control room. Sparks flickered from broken screens, and wires hung limply from shattered consoles. "What have you done!?"

"Stopped you from committing genocide, you horny evil asshole, " I retorted. 

…Admittedly, it wasn't the best insult I'd ever delivered, but after the insane day I'd had, I was just working with what I could muster.

"I hate HOPE!" Maul roared, igniting his double-bladed red lightsaber with a menacing hiss. Heat radiated from the glowing blades, instantly raising the room's temperature. 

A bead of sweat trickled down my brow. I really didn't want to test if my Nightingale armor could hold against a lightsaber. I quickly summoned the Nightingale Blade into my right hand, feeling the reassuring weight settle comfortably. My left hand began to spark with crackling electricity. There was no way I was letting the raging Sith make the first move.

Raising my left hand, I unleashed a torrent of lightning straight at Maul.

With an angry growl, Maul rapidly spun his lightsaber, expertly deflecting the initial bolts. "My master uses lightning almost exclusively! That won't work on me!" he sneered.

"Let's see about that!" I shouted back defiantly, channeling even more energy into my attack. The air around me crackled with intense power, my skin tingling as the lightning surged and intensified.

Maul's eyes widened in sudden panic. He staggered back, visibly straining to block the overwhelming electrical assault. His confident sneer vanished, replaced with desperate struggle. My heart swelled with pride— I was actually overpowering a Sith!

"Damn, I'm awesome," I muttered with a smirk.

But Maul wasn't ready to give up. "I will not be defeated so easily!" he roared, diving sharply to the side, narrowly evading the stream of lightning. In one swift movement, he slashed his saber across the floor, leaving molten scars on the surface.

For a brief moment, I stood there in confusion, wondering what the hell he was doing. Then the tower began to shudder and sway beneath us.

"Oh, you bitch," I glared at Maul. 

He just cut through the tower's key support pillars! The entire top floor trembled violently as it started to collapse around us. 

Maul sprinted toward the nearest window and crashed through it, glass exploding outward in shards.

I quickly moved to follow, but as I took a single step forward, the floor beneath me gave way completely.

"Shiiiiiit!" I shouted, plummeting downward amidst falling debris and chunks of stone.

I was falling, and fast. The ceiling, or at least what was left of it, was coming down right on top of me in massive chunks of stone and metal. My heart was pounding wildly in my chest as I fell. Without time to think, I instinctively summoned my ghost bike. 

The black motorcycle appeared instantly beneath me, already roaring to life.

Swinging my legs over its seat, I slammed my hands onto the controls and immediately activated its flying and intangibility functions. Not a second too soon—the debris crashed through me harmlessly, and I could feel nothing but a faint, chilling sensation as I became "a ghost."

Around me, Jabba's palace shook violently as its largest tower finally collapsed, sending clouds of dust and smoke billowing outwards.

My ghost bike surged forward, passing effortlessly through walls and rubble. I heard sounds of fighting echoing through the halls—shouting, crashing, and the unmistakable hum of lightsabers clashing.

I pushed the accelerator and sped through another wall, the scene unfolding before me causing me to slam on the brakes sharply.

Qui-Gon Jinn was locked in fierce combat with Darth Maul. The Jedi master's green lightsaber clashed furiously against Maul's double-bladed crimson weapon, their movements a blur of speed and precision. Their blades sparked and hissed with every impact, illuminating the room with brief flashes of green and red light.

Qui-Gon skillfully ducked under one deadly swipe, counterattacking swiftly with an upward strike aimed at Maul's torso. Maul barely twisted away, the blade slicing through the edge of his dark robes. Snarling, the Sith responded by leaping high into the air, flipping acrobatically and landing behind Qui-Gon, who spun instantly to block another furious barrage of attacks.

Nearby, Vista was shouting angrily, her hands outstretched as she struggled to crush Maul with her spatial powers. "Where is he, you monster?!" she screamed, voice raw with fury and desperation. Her green costume fluttered around her, the air shimmering as space distorted dangerously close to the Sith warrior. "Tell me what you did with Silas!"

Maul was clearly overwhelmed. His tattooed face twisted into a hateful snarl, eyes blazing with fury as he barely managed to keep Qui-Gon at bay while simultaneously resisting Vista's powerful attempts to crush him. "You meddlesome brat!" he spat venomously. "I'll rip you apart!"

I couldn't help but let out a loud whistle to get their attention.

Vista's head snapped around immediately, her eyes wide and wild, panic quickly replaced by sheer relief and joy upon seeing me safe. "Silas!" she shouted, her voice cracking with emotion. "You're okay!"

Hopping off the ghost bike, I gave her a reassuring grin. "Of course I am. You didn't really think some angry Sith jerk could get the better of me, did you?"

Vista pouted up at me, her eyes wide and clearly upset. "I really thought you got hurt, or even worse, when the whole palace shook! And then that evil Sith said he killed you!"

I laughed softly, trying to ease her obvious worry, and gave her a quick hug. She let out an embarrassed squeak, her cheeks turning bright red. "Come on, Vista. You really think I'd let some pathetic side villain take me out of the game?" I teased, pulling back to look down into her relieved face.

A loud crash snapped our attention back to the fight. Darth Maul, his face twisted in rage, was pressing Qui-Gon Jinn hard. With Vista distracted, Qui-Gon was forced to fight defensively, sweat pouring down his forehead as he narrowly dodged Maul's vicious strikes.

"Oops," Vista muttered, eyes wide with guilt as she realized her distraction nearly cost Qui-Gon dearly.

"No worries," I assured her, summoning my Nightingale Blade from my inventory with a confident smirk. "I've got this. You ready to finish off this Sith trash?"

She hesitated for only a moment before nodding firmly, her determination returning in full force. "Let's do this!"

With a loud battle cry, I charged forward, my blade shining brightly in the dim light. Vista raised her hands, her green costume rippling as the air shimmered dangerously around her, clearly focusing her spatial powers once again.

"Fuck all of you!" Maul screamed, his voice echoing with fury and desperation. He was struggling badly, sweat mixing with the blood from fresh wounds Qui-Gon had already inflicted. He was barely managing to block Qui-Gon's expert strikes while using all of his force powers just to avoid being crushed by Vista's invisible grip.

Seeing an opening, I lunged forward, swinging my blade at Maul's legs. He twisted away, but not quickly enough—my sword sliced deeply into his thigh, drawing out a roar of pain. At the same instant, Qui-Gon's green lightsaber flicked out expertly, grazing Maul's upper arm and burning through skin and muscle.

Maul staggered backward, his yellow eyes wide with panic and pain. He glared between Qui-Gon, Vista, and me, realizing he was trapped. Vista's hands trembled slightly from the strain as she tightened her hold around him, her eyes fierce and focused.

"This is it, Maul," I growled, raising my blade once again, ready to strike the final blow. "You messed with the wrong heroes."

"No! I will not fall here!" Maul roared, gathering the last of his power in a desperate bid to break free.

Vista's eyes narrowed as she pushed even harder. "Oh yes, you will," she hissed, her voice tight with effort. "You're done hurting people."

I pressed forward aggressively, swinging my Nightingale blade with every ounce of dragon-enhanced strength I had. Each powerful swing echoed loudly as my magical sword clashed against Darth Maul's red lightsaber. Normally, a regular sword wouldn't stand a chance against a lightsaber, but the enchantments of my Nightingale blade kept it intact. Sparks flew each time our weapons collided.

"You can't win, Maul!" I growled through gritted teeth, putting all my energy into each strike.

"I will crush you!" Maul spat back furiously, his tattooed face twisted with rage as he desperately fought to defend himself.

"That's MY line!" Suddenly, Vista screamed loudly from behind us, focusing her powers even harder. "I've got him now!" she yelled.

Maul let out a pained grunt as the space around him seemed to squeeze tighter and tighter. He began to struggle visibly, his movements slowing and becoming more restricted as Vista's powers crushed him from all directions.

"Keep it up, Vista!" I encouraged her, sensing our victory was near. 

Qui-Gon was still at my side, blocking any chance of Maul trying to escape.

Finally, Maul's resistance snapped. His legs and arms froze completely, immobilized by Vista's crushing spatial powers. His angry yellow eyes widened in terror and panic as he realized he was trapped, completely helpless. "No!" he roared desperately, trying in vain to break free. 

But it was too late for mercy now.

I swung my sword horizontally with all my might. The enchanted blade sliced cleanly through the air— and through Maul's neck. His head flew from his body, landing heavily on the floor with a sickening thud, rolling to a stop nearby. His body collapsed, lifeless, onto the stone floor.

– Sidious –

Darth Sidious sat quietly in his dimly lit Senate office, his gaze fixed coldly on the sprawling city of Coruscant below. Suddenly, the Force trembled violently, causing him to gasp sharply. The sensation was powerful and unmistakable. 

A surge of the Light side had erupted as a significant piece of the Dark side was snuffed out.

He clenched his fists, knuckles white with rage. "No!" he hissed furiously, the word dripping with venom. He immediately knew what had happened. His apprentice, Darth Maul, had been killed. His carefully laid plans were falling apart, and he despised nothing more than failure.

"Incompetent alien trash!" Sidious seethed, slamming his fist onto the polished desk, sending small items clattering to the floor. Maul's defeat was more than just a lost apprentice. It was a devastating blow to his carefully orchestrated strategy. Without Maul, capturing the incredibly powerful girl— whom the Jedi already foolishly believed to be their legendary Chosen One —had become nearly impossible.

Sidious's rage burned hotter as he paced the office, his robes rustling angrily around him. Before he could calm himself, his communicator began beeping insistently, further fueling his irritation.

Glancing sharply at the device, he saw the caller ID: Hego Damask. A name known to others as a respected financier, but known secretly to Sidious as Darth Plagueis— his master. Sidious gritted his teeth in frustration, knowing full well Plagueis must have sensed Maul's humiliating defeat through the Force.

He took a deep, steadying breath before activating the communicator. The holographic image of Plagueis shimmered into existence, his expression unreadable yet filled with cold disappointment.

"You sensed it as well," Plagueis stated bluntly, his tone icy and unforgiving. "Your apprentice failed spectacularly. His defeat brings shame upon both of us. But mostly you, as YOU were the one who trained him. I expected BETTER…"

Sidious forced himself to keep his voice steady, hiding his internal fury. " Maul's failure is indeed regrettable, my master. I underestimated our adversaries, the Jedi."

Plagueis narrowed his eyes, his expression darkening further. "Underestimation is a weakness, Sidious. One we cannot afford. One you WILL be PUNISHED for. Later, at a time I deem appropriate."

Sidious cringed, Darth Plagueis' punishments were horrifying. IT had been years since the last time his master punished him for failure and Sidious still dreaded the memories…

The hologram vanished abruptly, leaving Sidious alone in the oppressive silence of his office. He slammed his fist down again, eyes blazing with pure hatred.

"Damn those anomalies!" he cursed bitterly, voice shaking with anger and humiliation. "They will pay dearly for this humiliation. Mark my words! I will have my revenge!"