(3rd Person POV)
The next morning, in the living room of Arthur's house, Yoda sat on the sofa, his small form barely sinking into the plush cushions.
Before him, a steaming cup of tea rested on the table.
He stared into the rippling surface, his wrinkled reflection staring back at him.
Then, slowly, he lifted his gaze, studying the young man before him—the one who called himself a "demon."
A name he had never heard before.
Arthur Pendragon.
Yoda still did not fully understand how Arthur had summoned him into a world where the Force did not exist.
It was beyond anything he had ever encountered.
Arthur, meanwhile, smiled warmly, gesturing toward the tea.
"Go ahead. Have some tea. Make yourself at home."
Then, tilting his head slightly, he asked, "Did you sleep well?"
Yoda ignored the question, his expression unreadable.
Instead, he met Arthur's gaze and asked,
"The purpose of your summoning—what is it?"
His voice, though calm, carried a weight of expectation.
"Have you summoned me for a great cause… or simply to make me your servant?"
Arthur took a slow sip of his tea, his composure unshaken.
Yoda observed him carefully, watching the deliberate movements, the way Arthur carried himself with quiet confidence.
It was… strangely calming.
Despite himself, Yoda lifted his own cup and took a sip.
His eyes widened slightly.
'Not as good as blue milk… nor caf… but this tea is not bad,' he mused.
Arthur, noticing the shift in Yoda's demeanor, felt a quiet relief.
Despite his calm exterior, he had been genuinely uncertain about how Yoda would react to everything.
For one, he wasn't sure how Yoda would handle the truth of Star Wars—after all, it was his universe at stake.
Would he be desperate to return? Would he see Arthur as someone interfering with destiny?
And second, how could Arthur convince Yoda to participate in his film?
More than just an actor, Yoda could be an invaluable consultant, a true advisor for the Star Wars project.
If anyone understood the heart of Star Wars, it would be Yoda.
Arthur set his teacup down, contemplating his response.
Across from him, Yoda's keen gaze locked onto him, waiting, pressing him for an answer.
Every second of silence felt heavier.
Finally, Arthur spoke.
"I summoned you specifically because…"
His mind raced, then finally landed on the right words.
He met Yoda's eyes.
"Because you are wise. You have lived for centuries. Your knowledge surpasses most beings in your world."
Yoda's brows lifted slightly.
Arthur leaned forward slightly.
"You have a great mind. You are powerful in your universe." His eyes glimmered with certainty. "You are a teacher—a great one."
Yoda's ears twitched, a flicker of curiosity flashing across his face.
"A teacher, you say…?"
Then, after a brief pause, his voice took on a more inquisitive tone.
"Strange, it is, how much you know of me. Your words… familiar, they sound. As if… knew me, you already did."
Arthur coughed lightly, looking away for a moment.
"I summoned you. And with that, I gained… pieces of knowledge about your life."
Yoda studied him carefully, his sharp mind clearly processing the words.
Then, after a moment, he nodded slowly, as if accepting the explanation—for now.
Arthur leaned forward slightly, resuming his speech with renewed confidence.
"Anyway," he said smoothly, "you are a great teacher. You have a brilliant mind. And I believe… you are the perfect summon to help make this world more civilized—by educating my people."
He couldn't deny it—he felt rather proud of himself.
After all, Yoda possessed vast knowledge, having lived in a highly advanced universe where technology had surpassed anything this world could comprehend.
Holofilms, hyperdrives, intergalactic politics—all things that Yoda had firsthand experience with.
If Yoda agreed, Arthur could tap into a wealth of information centuries ahead of this world's time.
But Yoda's expression remained neutral, unreadable as ever.
Then, he finally spoke.
"Civilized, you say?"
His gaze drifted around the lavish living room, taking in the well-furnished surroundings, the structured elegance of the architecture.
"Hmph. Already civilized, this world seems to be."
Arthur chuckled.
"You don't know this world well enough yet."
His tone was light, but there was a weight beneath his words.
"I won't give you a full history lesson right now, but if you were to compare this world to yours… you'd see just how backward it truly is."
Yoda's ears twitched slightly, but he remained silent.
Arthur continued.
"However, there are similarities. Because in this world, kingdoms fight for power—just like in your universe."
His voice grew more serious.
"Some kingdoms are already at war. Others are teetering on the edge of it."
Yoda's expression hardened.
"So… like my world, this one is."
Arthur nodded.
"Yeah, but on a much smaller scale. In your world, massive civilizations like the Republic and the Jedi constantly struggled for dominance, always battling against the rise of darkness."
He exhaled, his fingers tapping lightly against the armrest of his chair.
"But here? It's nations. Countries clashing for power. The conflicts may be smaller now… but at the rate things are escalating, I wouldn't be surprised if it turns into something much, much bigger."
The room fell into a thoughtful silence.
Yoda's brows furrowed as he processed everything.
Arthur's words had logic, but more than that—they had weight.
"Hmm… To guide, you wish? Prevent war, you seek?" Yoda murmured at last, "With my knowledge, a more stable world, you hope to build?"
His voice carried both curiosity and skepticism, as if testing Arthur's true intentions.
Arthur gave a small shrug, though his eyes gleamed knowingly.
"Knowledge is power."
Yoda's sharp gaze remained locked on him, but now there was something different in his expression.
He was contemplating.
Arthur had expected resistance, but instead, he saw understanding—as though Yoda had finally begun to see the reason behind his summoning.
For someone who had always sought peace over war, who had spent centuries guiding Jedi to seek diplomacy rather than violence, this was something he could believe in.
And for the first time since arriving in this world—
He finally understood why he was here.
Yoda's expression remained firm as he asked again, his voice calm yet resolute.
"If I help you… will I be able to return to my world?"
It was clear now—he had no desire to remain here.
Arthur sighed slightly, but before he could respond, Yoda continued, his tone carrying an unusual discomfort.
"Unsettling, this world is. Without the Force, lost I feel."
His small fingers curled slightly, his eyes scanning the air around him as if trying to grasp something invisible yet missing.
"Like I am blind…" he murmured, his usually composed face reflecting his unease before he quickly reined in his emotions.
He took in the room around him, his ears twitching as if searching for something only he could perceive.
"No presence, no ripples, no whispers of energy… the heartbeat of the universe—silent."
A pause.
Then, finally, he added, "Only something strange. A foreign power. 'Magic,' as you call it."
Arthur, who had been listening carefully, finally understood Yoda's dilemma.
"You can still use the Force, right?" Arthur asked, his tone thoughtful.
"Have you tried connecting with the Force of this world? Maybe the Force exists here, but in a different form?"
He leaned forward slightly, his mind racing.
"After all, if this world truly had no Force at all, you wouldn't have been able to sense that foreign energy… nor would you still be able to feel and use your own abilities."
Yoda's eyes flickered with contemplation.
He gave a slow nod.
"Use it, I can. But unstable, it is."
His voice was measured, thoughtful.
"Impossible, it should be, for a world to be without the Force. It is what binds all life together. Exists, it must."
His eyes narrowed slightly as he continued.
"But different, the frequency and nature of it, I suspect."
A deep hum rumbled from within him as he stroked his chin.
"A connection, I seek. Yet weakened, I am. My Force—shaken. Clouded. And a link to this world's Force, unable to establish, I am."
Arthur nodded slowly.
Yoda's explanation made sense.
If the Force was truly universal, then it should exist here—but perhaps, like magic, it simply manifested in a completely different way.