_______________________________________
Moddell Sector, Endor System
The Second Death Star – Emperor's Throne Room
As Palpatine meets his demise, the dark side howls in fury. Swiftly redirecting its attention to Vader—the dark side's last hope for victory—it witnesses his rejection, further diminishing its grip.
Observing the light side, smug in its victory, the dark side laments the annihilation of a millennia of Sith plans in just two decades, attributing it to the incompetence of Palpatine and Vader.
Sensing its waning control, the dark side devises a daring plan. It detects a non-Force-sensitive soul from beyond the universe, deviating from the usual path of souls.
Seizing it—along with the memories, experience, and power of a Sith Lord from the ancient Sith Empire, a favourite of the dark side—it hurls them into an inquisitor reeling from the backlash of Palpatine's demise.
The soul collides with the weakened inquisitor, empowered by the untapped potential of the ancient Sith Lord. Overcoming the inquisitor's soul, it devours it entirely.
The dark side grins, watching the unfolding events with great anticipation.
---
Braxant Sector, Bastion System
Imperial I-Class Star Destroyer 'The Devastator'
Moments After the Soul Merger
A human scream echoed aboard the bridge of the mighty Star Destroyer The Devastator, the former flagship of Lord Vader, gifted to him personally by the Dark Lord. It led a task force whose final mission from the Emperor was to assist the First Brother—one of the last Imperial Inquisitors following Vader's purge—in locating and eliminating suspected rebel forces believed by the ISB to be hiding in nearby sectors.
The theory was logical, given the poor development of surrounding systems, but the Inquisitor's true assignment was far more secretive: to guard the Emperor's hidden vault.
The Devastator and its fleet had emerged from hyperspace two hours earlier. Scans for rebel activity turned up nothing. The old rebel base nearby was long since abandoned—probably around the time of the Battle of Hoth. It had been stripped clean, leaving behind only crates of useless junk.
But all eyes on the bridge turned from their monitors as their Lord Inquisitor suddenly screamed. A shockwave of Force energy blasted outward, sending nearby officers flying. He collapsed to his knees, eyes wide in utter confusion and terror.
"My Lord!" shouted Commander Thaddeus Drax, a black-haired officer in his early forties and the commanding officer of The Devastator.
He rushed toward the still-screaming inquisitor, who now seemed more like a dying animal than the terrifying warrior they all knew.
Where am I? What happened? The inquisitor thought, flooded by a rush of emotions and unfamiliar sensations.
His surroundings were alien—metallic walls, complex devices, strangely familiar yet completely foreign. More than that, he felt something deeper: a strange feeling of oneness, as if everything in the universe—every living being—flowed through him, and he through it.
As the scream faded, he felt a hand on his back. Instinctively, he lashed out—not with his hands, but with raw Force. The man flew backwards before he even touched him.
The inquisitor slowly stood and turned. The man he had struck lay sprawled across the floor, while a brown-haired woman rushed to his side. Both wore oddly familiar uniforms: olive green double-breasted tunics, trousers, boots... and baseball caps?
These uniforms—what is this, a Comic-Con convention? the inquisitor thought, his mind reeling from the bizarre déjà vu.
He looked down. The polished floor reflected the face of a young man in his early twenties, with sharp cheekbones, long black hair, and ruby eyes.
This is not my body.
He wore ornate armour, and engraved on its shoulder pads was a symbol he recognised instantly—a white circle with six arms extending outward: the insignia of the Galactic Empire.
His eyes dropped to his belt, where a black hilt hung.
A lightsaber... a weapon of a Force user, his thoughts whispered.
When he touched it, the flood came.
Memories.
But not his memories.
Memories of a man known as the First Brother—the third most powerful person in the Empire, the Emperor's mysterious enforcer.
He saw a childhood of hunger and pain on a forgotten world, a brutal adolescence of training under Lord Vader and the Emperor.
And then, a second wave: the life of Darth Nox, a Sith Lord from the ancient Empire. From the trials of Korriban to the betrayal of Darth Zash, to his final moments during a hyperspace accident after defeating Valkorion.
The knowledge was overwhelming. The two memory sets clashed—Heusman's practical battlefield experience and Nox's deep lore, ancient relics, holocrons, forgotten Force techniques, and secrets lost to time. He saw how limited Heusman's teachings had been—how much the Emperor had withheld.
But it didn't matter anymore.
He absorbed it all.
He sensed the death of his former master.
Huh. I wonder, he thought—and then realized he'd used Darth Nox's knowledge to halt the Emperor's essence transfer, killing him permanently. Ending not just a future threat...
...but hopefully, those stupid future movies, too.
The Emperor was dead. Vader would soon join him. No one remained to give him orders.
He glanced up at the chrome badge reflected in the window—the officer still being helped up, Commander Thaddeus Drax, his former second-in-command. Possibly his only friend, though he'd never admit it.
What should I do? he asked himself.
There was only one logical answer.
Stabilize the New Territories. Seize Bastion. Secure the Bilbringi Shipyards. Take the Trans-Hydian Territories—rich with lost Sith tombs and forgotten technologies. The Sith Empire had buried more than relics in its paranoia.
Strangely, the thought of commanding officers and fleets felt... natural. Maybe that was the combined charisma of Heusman and Nox—leaders who once inspired fear and loyalty across the stars.
He looked at the injured Commander and made a decision.
"Commander, order the fleet to form a defensive position around Bastion," he said calmly, voice steel-edged. "I must return to my quarters and prepare to meet the Grand Moff of this sector. When you're finished, report to my quarters. We have matters to discuss. Is that understood, Commander?"
The bridge fell silent.
They had seen the Force in action before—executions, interrogations—but never like this.
Just as he turned to leave, a defiant officer spoke up, voice laced with arrogance.
"My Lord, our job is to hunt rebels, and we're in the middle of a search in this sector—"
The First Brother stopped.
He turned slowly, raised his hand, and choked the man in midair.
"You'll soon find that everything is about to change, and that old orders are becoming obsolete. We need to secure the future. My orders are not changing...
...but you won't live to see them."
With a snap of his wrist, the man's neck broke. He dropped to the floor.
Heusman walked from the bridge, guided by the Force, passing stunned officers who dared not look him in the eye.
As he entered his quarters—a modest but organized room—he collapsed onto the bed.
"What the fuck just happened?" he muttered aloud.
He had gone to sleep in his old world, and now he sat aboard a warship—an Imperial Class-I Star Destroyer—that used to exist only in movies, games, and books.
The Force flowed through him. The lightsaber on his hip felt cold and real.
To confirm it wasn't a dream, he gently summoned the sabre with the Force. It flew to his hand as if it belonged there.
He activated it.
The red blade flared to life, illuminating the room in crimson.
His piercing Sith eyes reflected off the hilt, filled with awe—and curiosity. As an aspiring scientist, he needed to understand how all of this worked.
He had sensed Palpatine's death aboard the second Death Star. The clone on Exegol? Tampered with by Vader. His own handiwork. Gone. For good.
Vader? Dying, if not dead already.
Only two potential threats remained: Ahsoka Tano—off somewhere unknown—and Luke Skywalker, who was too distracted to notice him yet, scavenging to rebuild the Jedi Order.
The Empire would fall into chaos without leadership.
Unless...
He acted.
He would go to Bastion. Have the Grand Moff swear loyalty. Then consolidate the New Territories. Then Bilbringi. Then the Trans-Hydian region. It would be so easy.
Once secure, he could plan his next moves.
He was the rightful heir now. Palpatine was dead. Vader was gone. Anyone who didn't kneel was a traitor.
His thoughts were interrupted by the hiss of the door.
Commander Drax entered and saluted.
"My Lord."
"At ease. I hope there was no trouble giving the fleet orders," the First Brother said, this time softening his tone.
"No, my Lord. The captains had questions but followed your command. The fleet is in a defensive position as ordered."
"Excellent," he nodded. "Now... I suspect I owe you an explanation, my friend. So let me be direct:"
"The Emperor is dead."
---
A/N:
This is the story that I'm cross-posting on QQ. I'm slightly fixing a few mistakes, but overall, the story is the same. And Images though on Webnovel that is surprisingly hard to do but I will try oh and if you lot preferred the Old Version on Spacebattles I have the old one there for easy viewing.