Jin-Woo stood still, the glow of alien letters flickering across his eyes. His fingers moved fast—cutting through menus, screens, archives—until he reached one section labeled under Hutt-controlled sectors. A list of slave contracts on Tatooine scrolled upward, categorized by date, location, and previous ownership.
There. Two names. Anakin Skywalker. Shmi Skywalker.
Their contract was small. A mere 2,000 peggats, originally held by the Hutt Cartel, transferred after a high-stakes podracing bet gone sideways. Now in the hands of a junk dealer named Watto.
Jin-Woo lingered for a moment… then kept scrolling.
Offensive Bias' voice echoed within his thoughts, cold and clinical.
"Supreme Executor, a query. Is the subject designated 'Chosen One'—currently residing on Tatooine—the prophesied entity who will bring balance to this galaxy… and also your mortal enemy?"
Jin-Woo didn't pause.
"Ignore Anakin. I'll deal with him once we meet face to face. Right now, he's just a brat who can't piss straight and plays marbles with his slave friends."
Jin-Woo's hand hovered over the console. The stream of data flickered, pausing on a single entry.
Elena Daru. He narrowed his eyes.
That name…
Isn't that… Malgus' wife? The Twi'lek from the old Sith Empire? Rutian skin, striking presence. But she's been dead for millennia. Or… should be.
The holographic profile expanded. A facial scan, slightly scarred. Listed under: Property of Lady Valarian—entertainer class, enslaved at the Lucky Despot in Mos Eisley. A second line caught his attention.
Relative: Unknown Twin – Presumed Deceased
Previous Owner: Jabba Desilijic Tiure
Incident Report: Severe abuse, multiple fracture logs. No legal inquiry.
Jin-Woo's expression hardened. This can't be a coincidence.
Offensive Bias responded in his mind, its voice as steady and cold as ever.
"Subject: Elena Daru. Classification: Civilian. Slave of Lady Valarian. Location: Tatooine – Lucky Despot Lounge. Genetic match confirmed with ancient Sith Era records. Evidence of twin sibling: 87.44% DNA match. Subject's biological twin presumed deceased following extended torture possible previous master, Jabba the Hutt."
Jin-Woo's eyes sharpened as the data flickered before him. Without hesitation, he raised his hand—two thin slips of glimmering light manifesting between his fingers.
"Voucher Fusion," he muttered.
A low hum responded as the two Companion Vouchers began to glow. Swirling together, their data threads entwined like strands of fate. In a flash—white-gold and deep violet—the light folded in on itself.
Then reformed. In his palm now rested a single ticket, its surface layered with dense, ever-shifting script:
[Premium Grade – Reality Companion Voucher x1]
A ping echoed in his system:
[NOTIFICATION]
Item Acquired: Premium Grade Reality Companion Voucher x1
Description:
A superior variant of the standard Companion Voucher. This voucher is tailored to fulfill the user's hidden needs. Custom target and summon. Fully customizable traits.
If the summoned subject is a twin or holds an unresolved past bound by fate, and the user meets hidden conditions, a one-time Sudden Mission will be created.
Note:
-No penalty upon failure.
-Mission rewards scale based on emotional weight and narrative entanglement.
-This voucher can bend temporal-lost timelines or galactic memory barriers.
Jin-Woo stared at the voucher, fingers tightening slightly.
His mind—sharp and absolute—focused like a blade.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Elena Daru… the deceased twin sister, . She will be reborn. Not as a broken slave. Not as a victim of the past.
His mana surged—dark and cold, laced with monarch will. He projected every detail into the voucher's frame:
— She would possess the body and presence of Darth Talon, crimson-skinned, but not marked by Sith tattoos. Instead, her skin would bear runic glyphs tied to jin woo dominion as she get powerfull .
— She would inherit the maxi-chlorian composition of Darth Tenebrous, an unstable, superior mutation designed to evolve beyond Sith doctrine.
— And she would awaken with the Force philosophy and techniques of Darth Traya—multiple Lightsaber , foresight, and the power to sever others from the Force entirely.
But she would have no name—until he gave her one.
I will name her Talon. Mine. My apprentice.. by force. and purpose.
Jin-Woo poured that intent into the voucher. Shadow-mana coiled around it—tendrils of black and violet wrapping tightly, the air warping with pressure as reality bent to his will.
And then— The voucher split like parchment ripping through the fabric of dimensions.
'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
Suddenly:
[NOTIFICATION: Premium Quest Condition Fulfilled]
Quest Title: The First Apprentice
Description:
For nine years in this galaxy, you have taken no apprentice. Rey is no apprentice—she is an apostle. Her powers fuse both the Force and your mana, placing her far beyond the role of a student.
But now…
The time has come. One who was buried, forgotten, and enslaved. One you shall name. One you shall rebuild through the Force—not mana.
Objective:
-Locate the unknown Twi'lek slave known as Elena Daru twin sister—presumed dead—has now been revived due to your creation of a rupture in space and time.
-She is held within Jabba the Hutt's grip.
-Liberate her.
-Guide her through the path of Force manipulation, rebirth, and dominion.
-Name her Talon.
Reward:
-Starforge Core Components (Required to activate your incomplete Starforge.)
Hidden Reward:
-[??? – Undisclosed until objective complete.]
-''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
Jin-Woo's smile remained subtle—just enough to hint at the storm behind his silence.
Offensive Bias spoke, its voice resonating through his internal neural thread.
"Supreme Executor, I've received a message from Jabba the Hutt. It was transmitted to this Lucrehulk's encrypted channel. He states the Twi'lek slave in his possession has suddenly returned to full health… and that he has changed his mind—he no longer wishes to reclaim 'the merchandise.'"
Jin-Woo's eyes narrowed slightly, amused. The voucher did its job.
He gave a faint nod. "Good. Then the timeline adjusts itself without my hand."
He turned to the glowing holo-consoles still displaying Federation records. "Bias, have you finished copying everything?"
"Affirmative," Offensive Bias replied instantly. "The Trade Federation's entire financial, military, and political architecture is now Copied and stored in my databanks. Would you like me to collapse their economy?"
Jin-Woo shook his head. "No. I still need them. The Clone Wars must happen."
"Acknowledged," the AI responded. "The Clone Wars will proceed… because the Supreme Executor wills it so."
Without another word, Jin-Woo stepped backward—his body slipping into a blooming patch of shadow, folding into the dark like vapor vanishing from light.
And even as he vanished, the small sentinel of Offensive Bias remained… embedded deep within Nute Gunray's internal organs. Silent. Watching. Ready. Just in case.
............….
Onboard Jin-Woo's ship—the Old Republic-class light corvette—darkness still lingered in the hangar bay. Dim emergency strips blinked along the walls while the hum of recently restored systems echoed through the hull.
From the cockpit, Ric Olié's voice crackled over the internal comms.
"Engines are online again. We're good to go."
Back in the main chamber, where the makeshift meeting had been held, Sabé—still in her Queen Amidala persona—stood near the center of the room, posture firm, expression composed.
"We should wait for Jin-Woo first. He's still out there, buying us time—making sure we're not followed—"
Suddenly, the sealed door at the back of the room slid open with a hiss.
Jin-Woo stepped through, his long coat trailing smoke-like remnants of shadow, his mask in hand. He looked around at the gathered group, his tone casual.
"Let's get moving. I'm done playing hide and seek with those tin cans."
Ric Olié, catching the message through his headset, gave a short laugh from the cockpit.
"Hang on to your butts."
The corvette's engines flared silently. Then, cloaked in stealth and Forerunner dampeners, it disengaged from the Lucrehulk's hangar clamps and drifted out, ghost-like, through the breach it had accidentally made—slipping away without a single alarm raised.
Inside the ship, Obi-Wan approached the navigation console, checking the readings.
"We can't jump to Coruscant directly," he said, frowning. "The hyperdrive's still partially damaged from the impact.
Inside the corvette, Obi-Wan leaned over the navigation console, eyes narrowing at the flickering readouts.
"We can't jump to Coruscant directly," he said, frowning. "The hyperdrive's still partially damaged from the impact."
Qui-Gon stepped beside him, his tone calm but resolute.
"Then we'll have to land somewhere. Somewhere isolated. Somewhere we can refuel, repair… without drawing attention."
Obi-Wan nodded once, tapping a few keys.
"Here, Master. Tatooine… It's small, out of the way, poor. The Trade Federation has no known presence there."
Jin-Woo, standing near the far viewport, said nothing. But a subtle smirk curled across his lips—like a man watching dominoes fall exactly as he'd set them.
As planned. Go to Tatooine.
Obi-Wan glanced toward him, catching the expression.
"…Jin-Woo. That smile you're making—it's unnatural. Don't tell me visiting poor people makes your merchant instincts flare up?"
Jin-Woo didn't miss a beat. He turned, half-grinning with a spark of irony in his voice.
"Maybe. Or maybe it's just that Star Wars: Episode I – The Phantom Menace is truly my favorite."
There was a brief pause.
Obi-Wan blinked. "…What?"
Qui-Gon exhaled, shaking his head slightly as he placed a hand on his apprentice's shoulder.
"Don't bother, Obi-Wan. Jin-Woo has a flair for theatrics. A taste for opera, if you will."
Rey chuckled from the corner.
'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
In the humming meeting room of the corvette, Jin-Woo had already made preparations—a black-trimmed throne-like chair placed at the center, regal in its aesthetic. It was for Sabé, now fully embodying the role of Queen Amidala. She sat with practiced composure, head held high, the illusion complete. Beside her, Padmé quietly resumed her role as a handmaiden, hands folded, posture disciplined.
Sabé offered a nod of gratitude.
"Thank you, R2-D2. And you as well… Despondent Pyre."
R2-D2 let out a cheerful series of beeps and chirps, spinning his dome slightly in place before wheeling back near the bulkhead.
Despondent Pyre floated just behind, her monitor gliding silently with a low hum. She turned ever so slightly to look at Padmé.
"It is pleasing," she said in her signature flat, echoing tone, "that my contributions have met your expectations."
Padmé, still in her role but clearly amused, glanced up with a playful smirk. She subtly raised her hand in a small signal—a teasing 'cut it out' gesture.
Stop staring at me. You'll blow my cover. And my aide's.
Obi-Wan glanced curiously toward the floating monitor, his tone inquisitive but calm.
"Despondent Pyre, correct?"
The hovering construct turned smoothly toward him, its core light flickering once.
"Yes. That is my name, Sir Obi-Wan," it responded with its usual calm resonance.
Obi-Wan tilted his head slightly.
"I've never encountered a droid like you before. Or any series, for that matter. How did Jin-Woo find you?"
A quiet tension slipped into the room.
Padmé, beside Sabé, felt her breath hitch slightly.
Oh no…
She didn't dare speak—but her thoughts raced. Despondent Pyre doesn't lie. She hates it. And there's no droid on Naboo—or the galaxy—that could build a bunker the size of a city in five months… and evacuate its population without anyone noticing.
Padmé's eyes slid to Sabé, panic hidden behind poise.
Sabé caught it instantly and gave a subtle hand gesture beneath the armrest—barely a twitch of her fingers.
Don't, Padmé.
It was clear. Right now, the Jedi are curious. But if we answer laced with lie we risk exposing everything . And that crack… might break both Naboo's standing with the Jedi Order and its credibility in the Senate.
The door to the meeting room slid open with a hiss, and Jin-Woo stepped in alongside Qui-Gon and Captain Panaka. He took one look at the tension hanging in the air, felt the silent weight between Despondent Pyre and the Jedi, and immediately made the call to steer things away.
"Yoo," Jin-Woo said casually, hands in his coat pockets. "Everyone ready to head to Tatooine?"
Panaka didn't hesitate to speak up, tone tense with concern.
"Your Highness, Tatooine is very dangerous. It's controlled by an alliance of gangs called the Hutts. I do not agree with the Jedi—nor Jin-Woo—on this course of action."
Qui-Gon stepped forward, calm as ever.
"You must trust my judgment, Your Highness. We need a neutral location. Somewhere the Trade Federation won't follow. Tatooine fits that."
Sabé saw it immediately—an opportunity. The perfect shift. She rose from her seat with quiet grace, her voice composed.
"Then we go to Tatooine," she said firmly. "As the Jedi have recommended."
Padmé let out a silent breath she hadn't realized she was holding. The danger—at least for now—had passed.
In the cockpit, the desert planet loomed large through the viewport, its surface harsh under the twin suns.
"There it is," Obi-Wan said, arms crossed as he studied the dusty sphere. "Tatooine. A planet full of merchants… like you, Jin-Woo."
Ric Olié nodded from the pilot's seat, pointing out a glowing cluster below.
"There's a settlement… a spaceport, by the looks of it. in."
Jin-Woo leaned forward slightly, arms resting behind his back.
"Land there. At the spaceport. It'll be fine."
Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow, his tone low.
"You sure? A ship like this—equipped the way it is—it'll draw attention."
Jin-Woo smirked and gave Qui-Gon a firm pat on the shoulder.
"I got this."