Meanwhile, Jin-Woo reappeared inside starwars galaxy, his presence slipping back into familiar space.
At the Stark Commercial Combine asteroid base near the Qotile system, inside the personal office of Iaco Stark, the air was tense.
It had been one and a half days since Joever Bideney —Real name is . Jin-Woo—had vanished into thin air. Stark had replayed the hologram feed hundreds of times, staring at the exact moment the man disappeared.
The same motion, over and over—tearing a piece of paper, then gone. No smoke, no flash, no portal. Just erased from existence.
It didn't make sense. Stark rubbed his temples, letting out a frustrated sigh. "What the Bloody galaxy even are you—"
"Stark." A voice beside him
Stark flinched violently.
Jin-Woo was suddenly beside him. Still in his heavy robe and his face half covered only revealing his eyes
Stark almost reached for his blaster—but stopped himself. He let out a slow breath, forcing himself to calm down.
"Don't do that," he muttered, rubbing his chest. "Seriously."
Jin-Woo didn't react, merely tilting his head. "What's the situation now?"
Stark exhaled, leaning back against his chair. "Still waiting. One and a half days left before my plan gets completely hijacked by yours, turning this into the worst plague in the history of space warfare."
Jin-Woo smirked. "If you want war, don't half-ass it."
Stark exhaled, rubbing his temples. "Hey, I need to know at least you're not turning the Trade Federation against us. The Republic is already gonna be on our asses—I don't need both of them teaming up just because you decided to turn this into a three-way war."
Jin-Woo crossed his arms. "Don't use the Navcomputer virus on the Lucrehulks. Their systems are already updated—those greedy Neimoidians don't want to die on their own ships." His smirk widened slightly. "As for luring them in… I have some ideas."
Stark narrowed his eyes. "I trust you on that," he said reluctantly. Then his tone shifted, curiosity winning over caution. "But before we get into that… You probably already know my bedroom had surveillance installed, right? So tell me—" He leaned forward. "How the Fuck did you just tear a piece of paper and vanish?"
Jin-Woo chuckled, his gaze unreadable. "That paper is the key to making you rich," he said. "And the key to making me— Joever Bideney —the most feared man in the galaxy." His smirk turned sharp. "By the time this war is over, my infamy will be unstoppable."
Stark leaned back in his chair, exhaling. "Better be the right key," he muttered.
Jin-Woo turned to leave, tossing a casual parting remark over his shoulder. "If you want to discuss something, see me at the nearest bar."
With that, he walked out, his cloak swaying behind him.
As soon as the door shut, a Paint peeled away from the wall, materializing into one of Stark's spies. The agent's voice was quiet, controlled. "Shall I surveil him?"
Stark didn't even look up. "No." He rubbed his temples. "The reason he wants to meet in a bar is because he's crazy. He wants someone to piss him off so he can start another plague just for fun."
The spy hesitated. "...Then what are your orders?"
"Tell everyone—don't pick a fight with him." Stark's voice was firm. "Stay out of his way."
The spy nodded. "Understood."
The bar fell into a hushed silence as Jin-Woo—under the infamous name Joever Bideney —stepped inside. Every notorious pirate, cutthroat, and mercenary instinctively moved out of his way, some pretending not to notice him, others subtly turning their heads to avoid making eye contact.
They all knew the titles that followed him.
The Plague Giver. The Ghost Slaver.
Jin-Woo casually sat at an empty table, unfazed by the fearful glances thrown his way. The Twi'lek waitress, a young woman with deep green skin, approached hesitantly. Her hands trembled as she held her serving pad.
Her voice wavered, but she forced herself to ask, "What can I get you, sir… Joever?"
Jin-Woo leaned back, resting an elbow on the table. "List me three drinks."
The waitress swallowed hard and quickly rattled off the choices, her voice rushed but professional.
"Black Nova— A strong Corellian whiskey, smooth but hits hard. Not for lightweights."
"Spiced Rancor— A Mandalorian mix. Fiery, infused with rare Outer Rim spices. Burns going down, wakes you up real fast."
"Nebula Mist— A high-end Alderaanian cocktail, sweet with a hidden kick. Goes down easy, but sneaks up on you."
She stood stiffly, waiting for his response, desperately hoping she hadn't said anything to upset him
Jin-Woo tapped his fingers against the table, his expression unreadable. "The Nebula Mist," he finally said.
The Twi'lek waitress nodded quickly, her lekku twitching. "Right away, sir." She turned and hurried toward the bar, clearly relieved to get away from him.
Jin-Woo, now alone, leaned slightly forward, lowering his voice. "Offensive Bias, have you learned the details of this galaxy yet?"
A voice resonated through his mind—cold, precise, yet filled with an almost artificial amusement.
"Affirmative." "This galaxy is riddled with corruption. A failing empire of bureaucrats, a Republic ruled by indecision, Knights blinded by their own dogma, fighting the wrong battles while the true enemy manipulates from the shadows. Lastly…" Offensive Bias paused, almost as if for dramatic effect. "They have never experienced Flood infestation."
Jin-Woo's fingers stopped tapping. His eyes narrowed slightly. "Don't tell me you have Flood sealed at Zeta Halo."
There was a brief moment of silence.
Then—"Affirmative. Shall I release it on the upcoming war?"
Offensive Bias's response was instantaneous. "Directive acknowledged. Awaiting Supreme Executor's decision."
Jin-Woo tapped his fingers against the table, his mind already processing the possibilities. If I had a Gravemind under my control or as one of my shadow soldiers, I could manipulate the Flood completely. The Rakghoul infestation I've Gained is a lesser version, but still effective… He exhaled. "For now, I won't unleash the Flood. Too much of a mess to clean up."
Then, his gaze sharpened. "Offensive Bias, list three ways to make the Trade Federation the third force in this war. I want Stark's forces, the Republic, and the Trade Federation killing each other—without the Republic and Stark realizing they were being played."
Offensive Bias responded instantly, his voice calm yet methodical. "Processing optimal strategies to ensure Trade Federation involvement in the conflict without direct manipulation of Republic or Stark forces. Three viable options detected."
=========================================
Tactical Misinformation Disruption – By falsifying classified Republic transmissions and intercepting Trade Federation channels, it is possible to fabricate an urgent distress call from a high-ranking Republic officer. This message will claim that Stark's forces have obtained a prototype hyperfuel shipment—one that, if mass-produced, could make the Republic independent of Trade Federation shipping lanes. The Neimoidians, being both greedy and paranoid, will assume the Republic intends to cut them out of future profits and may attempt to seize the "shipment" themselves, leading to direct conflict.
Sabotaged Agreements – Using high-level infiltration methods, it is possible to forge a secret deal between a rogue Republic senator and Stark. This document will promise exclusive trade routes and weapons contracts for the pirates in exchange for betraying the Trade Federation. Once leaked, the Neimoidians will see no choice but to preemptively strike at Stark's forces, believing them to be the Republic's new privateers. This will force them into the war against both sides while still remaining outside Republic control.
Hostile AI Override – By infiltrating the Trade Federation's droid control systems, it is possible to subtly alter their battle algorithms. Instead of fully allying with the Republic, the battle droids will begin treating all non-Federation forces as equal threats—including Republic ships. This will create a three-way engagement, as the Trade Federation forces will no longer act as simple reinforcements but an unpredictable wildcard, attacking both Republic and Stark forces with minimal provocation.
=====================================================
"Awaiting Supreme Executor's selection," Offensive Bias concluded.
Jin-Woo's expression didn't change as he casually took a sip of his Nebula Mist, barely acknowledging the weight of what Offensive Bias had just said. "I will choose Sabotage Agreements and Hostile AI Override to escalate tensions once the Trade Federation's Lucrehulk-class battleships arrive."
"Affirmative," Offensive Bias responded. "Executing designated plan. Expected escalation of hostilities: 99.87% certainty. Awaiting further directives."
Jin-Woo set his drink down and leaned forward slightly. "However, before we proceed, you forgot to mention something crucial. What is it?"
There was a brief pause before Offensive Bias answered. "The absence of the Forerunner fleet. Despondent Pyre did not disclose that Zeta Halo does not contain any Forerunner warships. The Grand Edict's orders were to relocate all fleets to a classified location beyond this galaxy, in accordance with the Mantle of Responsibility directive."
Jin-Woo chuckled softly, his fingers idly tapping against the glass. "I already knew that."
"Elaborate," Offensive Bias requested.
Jin-Woo smirked. "It's obvious. The Forerunners never truly intended to wipe themselves out completely. The Mantle of Responsibility was their entire purpose, their obsession. If they wanted humanity to inherit their legacy, they would've left their most valuable assets—such as their warships—somewhere accessible." He exhaled, his mind piecing the puzzle together. "Problem is, where exactly did they stash them?"
Offensive Bias processed for a moment before responding. "Analysis of historical Forerunner data suggests several potential locations, but certainty is impossible. If the Grand Edict deployed the fleet beyond my galaxy, since Supreme Executor's galaxy and mine are very different, then the most probable explanation is a dormant, hidden fleet reserve."
Jin-Woo's eyes gleamed with amusement. "Let me guess. If I wanted to find it, I'd need someone like you to sift through layers of security protocols to get the right coordinates."
"Affirmative." Offensive Bias answered.
Jin-Woo smirked. "You don't have to worry about that. I have a way to get it."
He leaned back, thoughts racing. The Mantle's Approach Teleportation Location… Once he secured his 10 million credit bounty under the identity of Joever Bideney, the system would reward him with it. A Forerunner warship larger than the Death Star itself, spanning 371 kilometers. It would house an entire fleet—an arsenal unmatched in his galaxy.
His eyes darkened. If I can claim it, then this war will be the beginning of something greater.
Jin-Woo spoke again. "The war must succeed in getting me a 10 million credit bounty. If my galaxy still doesn't give me that reward, prepare the Halo Array to fire a specific bullet capable of destroying a single planet."
There was a pause. Offensive Bias's core pulsed with uncertainty. "Doubt detected. Recalculating. The only structure capable of such a precise planetary attack is a Guardian Construct. No known material in this galaxy is sufficient for that level of destruction."
Jin-Woo let out a low chuckle. "For you, perhaps," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "But in your galaxy? My power reaches 100 percent. That's more than enough for me to cheat my way out of any limitation."
Offensive Bias processed his words for a moment longer before responding. "Acknowledged. Awaiting Supreme Executor's command."
Jin-Woo's expression darkened slightly as he felt something—an anomaly. A presence with a dense concentration of midi-chlorians, something he hadn't sensed when he first arrived at the asteroid station. It wasn't just a Jedi or Sith presence; it was different, something new. His fingers tapped lightly against the table as he whispered,
"Offensive Bias, initiate the first step. Sabotage the agreement in exactly 24 hours. For the next 12 hours, ensure that both Republic and Trade Federation forces arrive, each with their own agendas. As for the hostile AI override, wait until Stark's forces are fully deployed. I have other matters to attend to."
"Affirmative," Offensive Bias responded through the implant.
At that moment, the Twi'lek waitress cautiously approached his table, placing the drink down with careful hands. "Here it is, Black Nebula, sir… Joever."
Jin-Woo barely acknowledged her. He reached into his cloak, pulled out a handful of credits, and placed them on the table—1,000 credits, far more than the drink was worth.
"Keep the change," he said as he stood up and turned to leave.
The waitress's eyes widened as she looked at the credits, then back at the untouched drink. "But… sir, you haven't even taken a sip."
Jin-Woo didn't stop walking. His heavy cloak draped behind him, his presence parting the crowd of pirates . The moment he exited the bar, the patrons whispered among themselves, keeping their voices low as they muttered about "Joever Bideney , the Plague Giver" and "the Ghost Slaver."
He ignored them. But then—something small collided with him.
Jin-Woo barely shifted as a girl bumped into his chest, nearly falling backward. She clutched a piece of bread in her hands, a drink sloshing dangerously in its container. Her face was smeared with dust, her brown hair tied back in a messy ponytail. Her breathing was rapid, panicked.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
The fuck? Jin-Woo thought. What is Rey Skywalker's twelve-year-old self doing here? This is the Republic era—shouldn't she be in the Empire era?
Before he could dwell on the absurdity of it, movement caught his attention.
A group of mercenaries and pirates stormed through the crowd, their boots clanking against the station's metal flooring. They were clearly looking for someone. And when their eyes landed on the girl, their expressions twisted into cruel satisfaction.
"There you are, brat," one of them sneered, cracking his knuckles. "You thought you could hide from me? You know the penalty for running—"
Then they saw him. Joever Bideney. The color drained from their faces.
The pirate leader, a scarred Devaronian, immediately raised his hands, stepping back. "J-Joever Bideney, sir," he stammered. "I apologize—I didn't recognize you. This girl is—"
"I know," Jin-Woo interrupted. His voice was calm, final. "She's a slave."
Without hesitation, Jin-Woo pulled out a stack of credits—100,000 to be exact. He tossed it onto the ground in front of them, the crisp notes scattering across the metal floor.
"I'm buying her. Now. Fuck off."
The pirates hesitated. They looked at the credits. Then at him. Then back at the credits.None of them moved. Not a single one dared to test him.
Jin-Woo's gaze flicked to the girl. "You. Follow me."
She hesitated for a fraction of a second, then quickly obeyed, keeping her head low as she moved behind him.
The pirates stood frozen for a moment, watching them go. Then, the leader—a scarred Devaronian—suddenly let out a nervous laugh, wiping sweat from his brow.
"We got profits, alright!" he shouted, his voice carrying through the alley. "We bought her for fifty thousand, and Joever Bideney—that crazy bastard—just gave us a hundred thousand! RIGHT?!"
His crew, still pale and visibly shaken, nodded frantically—so fast their heads nearly detached.
"Right! Right! Right!" They echoed, still trembling from the near brush with death.
The Devaronian grinned wide, slapping a hand against the nearest pirate's back. "Now we DRINK! No complaints! We almost fucking died!"
"YES!" The crew roared, shaking off their fear as adrenaline and greed took over. "WE DRINK LIKE MAGGOTS WE ARE!"
The entire group stampeded toward the nearest bar, eager to drown the memory of their encounter with the Plague Giver in as much alcohol as possible.
Jin-Woo sat at an outdoor restaurant table, his cloak draped over the chair, a glass of untouched water sitting beside him. Across from him sat the girl—Rey, though she did not yet bear the name Skywalker.
He eyed her for a moment before speaking. "What's your name?"
The girl hesitated slightly, then answered. "Rey."
Jin-Woo smirked. "Not Skywalker yet?"
Rey frowned. "Sky-who?"
Jin-Woo let out a short chuckle. "Just a joke." He leaned back slightly, studying her. "Tell me something. Did someone drop you on Tatooine?"
Rey's face scrunched up in thought. "I... don't remember much." She played with the edge of her worn-out tunic. "I think I was on some planet first, but then I was sold to a cruel pirate... and then you bought me, sir Joever bideney ."
Jin-Woo's eyes flickered as he considered her words. Twenty thousand midichlorians? No... maybe more. If my first anchor in this galaxy capped me at twenty-five thousand, then with my second, I pushed it to fifty thousand. And this girl... she's practically the same as I was back then.
Before he could dwell further,
Rey tilted her head. "Sir Joever? You spaced out."
Jin-Woo snapped back to the present and waved it off. "No, nothing. No problem."
Rey hesitated, her voice quieter than before. "Sir Joever Bideney... can I ask you something?"
Jin-Woo raised an eyebrow. "Go ahead."
Rey swallowed. "Please spare me from your plague. I don't want to die."
Jin-Woo didn't respond immediately. Instead, he made a subtle hand signal beneath the table—a silent command.
From the depths of his shadow, Beru, the Black Ant King, moved unseen. With an unnatural grace, he materialized just enough to press a clawed hand lightly against the back of Rey's neck. A soft, nearly imperceptible pulse of dark energy surged into her skin, overcharging her body's natural regeneration to an extreme degree.
The result was immediate. A tiny clink echoed in the air.
The slave chip embedded in her neck was forcibly expelled, its now-redundant circuitry detaching as her flesh healed too rapidly for it to remain inside.
Rey gasped, reaching for the back of her neck. Her fingers traced the smooth, unscarred skin where the chip had once been. "What…? Why did my chip come off?"
Jin-Woo leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "You're free." His voice was casual, as if it was nothing more than a minor afterthought. "And I don't like burdens. I need to do some carnage quests in the next one and a half days."
Rey blinked, processing his words. Her mind reeled—not just from the fact that she was suddenly free but from the sheer indifference in his tone, like her fate had been decided in a single breath, with no effort at all.
Jin-Woo moved toward the docking bay, heading straight for his Defender-class Light Corvette—his ship now. It housed a freezing coffin, one very angry kuso baba imprisoned once again, and everything he needed before the war kicked off.
However, as he walked, he noticed Rey following him.
He stopped, turning slightly. "Rey." His voice was sharp. "I'm a bad guy. You didn't hear what everyone said about me? I'm a crazy bastard who can kill anyone without a second thought."
Tears welled up in Rey's eyes, but she didn't stop. "I don't have anyone." Her voice cracked. "And this is the first time I've received kindness. Thank you. Can I join you?" She swallowed, fists clenched. "If you want me to be a bad girl, I'll be a hundred times more than your expectations."
Jin-Woo clicked his tongue. "First off—" He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. "People who misbehave for other people's sake? Those are the ones I hate the most."
Rey stiffened, but he wasn't finished.
"You need to be selfish for yourself. That means you do this for your own feelings. Not for anyone else. Not for some idea of loyalty. Not for me." He tapped her forehead lightly with his finger. "For your own arrogance. Your own need."
Rey wiped her eyes, nodding rapidly. "I understand."
Jin-Woo turned back around and continued walking. "Good. Now keep up."
As Jin-Woo and Rey stepped inside the ship, Rey's eyes wandered around, taking in every detail. Her gaze soon landed on a lightsaber resting near one of the storage compartments.
She pointed at it. "Sir Joever… are you a Jedi?"
Jin-Woo barely glanced at her. "Nope," he said flatly. "But I'm probably a hundred times worse than a Sith."
Rey frowned. "I heard the Sith are bad guys. Is that true?"
Jin-Woo let out a dry chuckle. "Yeah, the Sith are bad guys, alright. A bunch of bollocks and power-hungry idiots who can't think beyond their own greed." He shook his head. "Why can't they just be businessmen? Huh? Leave a peaceful life, make money, build a legacy—like my master."
Rey blinked. "You have a master?"
Jin-Woo smirked. "Yeah. He's a businessman. And he has powers similar to mine. He can control ghosts."
Jin-Woo gestured toward one of the ship's quarters.
"Go get some rest. Tomorrow's a big day."
Rey hesitated for a moment, then gave a small nod. "Goodnight, Sir Joever."
"Yeah, goodnight," Jin-Woo replied absently as she disappeared into the room.
He didn't move toward any of the beds himself. Instead, he settled into a chair, his gaze drifting toward the floor beneath him. Hidden beneath the ship's surface, locked away in Dreypa's Oubliette, was Celeste Morne, still sealed in stasis.
Jin-Woo's fingers tapped idly against the armrest. Good. That kuso baba is still there.
With that final thought, his eyes closed, and he let himself drift into sleep.