Tyvokka exhaled and turned to Gunray. "Where is your shuttle, Vice—"
"No," Jin-Woo cut in sharply. "The C-9979 transport ship—the one that carries battle droids. That'll be more acceptable. Our group numbers thirty now, and a Neimoidian escort shuttle only carries eight. No one needs to play martyr."
Plo Koon tilted his head slightly. "Didn't expect you to be so… heroic, armored man. I'm impressed."
Gunray scoffed, brushing the dust off his robes. "I refuse to be cramped inside a ship with the likes of you all—including these Republic esco—"
Jin-Woo calmly raised his Sentinel Beam and aimed directly at Gunray's knee.
"Arm or leg. Your choice."
Gunray turned pale instantly, his breath hitching. "I-It's in the hangar."
Jin-Woo's gaze didn't waver. "Bullshit. When I came through, there was no such transport ship."
Gunray swallowed thickly, eyes darting around for an escape before finally caving. "I-I meant… another hangar! It's still part of the Invincible. A hidden bay. I kept it for emergencies."
Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes. "Or maybe for killing us, Viceroy."
Gunray had no response, his silence confirming the accusation.
Jin-Woo sighed and motioned forward. "Then lead the way before I make you."
After twenty-five minutes of navigating through dimly lit corridors and bypassing debris, Gunray finally reached a section of the ship that looked no different from the others. He hesitated for a moment, then reluctantly pressed a sequence of codes into a hidden panel.
With a mechanical hiss, the wall sank inward, revealing a concealed hangar. And inside—
A C-9979 transport ship, fully intact and prepped for launch.
The group hurried forward, but before they could even board, an ear-splitting alarm blared through the hangar.
Everyone tensed, weapons drawn, scanning for threats—
Then all eyes turned to the source.
Viceroy Gunray, frozen in place, foot still hovering over the alarm trigger he had just tripped.
Obi-Wan exhaled slowly through his nose. "Master Qui-Gon," he said, voice dangerously calm, "please… please let me punch the Viceroy."
Tyvokka wasted no time. His massive Wookiee fist shot out, slamming squarely into Gunray's face with a sickening crack.
"OOH MY EYE!" Gunray howled, clutching his bruised face as he stumbled back.
Jin-Woo shook his head in mock sympathy. "Tough luck, Viceroy. Wookiees hit hard."
Tyvokka flexed his fingers and grunted. "Felt good."
Obi-Wan sighed dramatically. "Master, you're lucky I respect you. That was my punch."
Jin-Woo turned to the Republic guards. "Get the damn droids off this ship. Lighten the weight while I hold off these Rakghouls."
One of the guards hesitated. "You sure you can—"
Jin-Woo raised his Sentinel Beam and fired a shot straight into the nearest Rakghoul, disintegrating it instantly.
The guard swallowed hard. "Yeah, uh… Got it. On it. Immediately."
Blaster fire filled the hangar as Rakghouls poured in from every direction, snarling and screeching as they lunged toward the desperate defenders.
The Jedi fought with precision, their lightsabers flashing in wide, controlled arcs, severing limbs and heads in fluid, efficient strikes. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan fought side by side, their blades moving in perfect synchronicity, cutting down anything that got too close.
Tyvokka, still recovering but too stubborn to back down, fought with sheer brute strength. He crushed a Rakghoul's skull with one swing of his massive paw, then hurled another against a bulkhead, cracking the durasteel wall.
The Republic guards, despite their fear, held their ground. They fired their blasters in disciplined bursts, focusing on headshots, knowing that body wounds wouldn't stop these things. One guard was tackled, screaming, but another shot the creature off him before it could bite down.
Jin-Woo, however, was different.
While the Jedi defended with discipline and the soldiers with desperation, Jin-Woo fought with ruthless, unrestrained brutality. He holstered his Sentinel Beam and opted for pure, raw violence.
He caught a Rakghoul mid-air and slammed it into the floor so hard its body burst into pulp. Another leaped at him—he grabbed its throat and crushed it with one hand, then threw its corpse into the incoming swarm, knocking them down like ragdolls.
One Rakghoul lunged with a jagged vibroblade from a fallen Republic officer. Jin-Woo sidestepped, ripped the arm from its socket, and stabbed it through the head with its own blade.
The pile of corpses around him grew. But the Rakghouls kept coming.
"Master Qui-Gon! We've got a problem!" Obi-Wan shouted between slashes.
Qui-Gon turned just in time to see Obi-Wan desperately jamming controls at a terminal.
"What is it?" Qui-Gon called back, slicing through another Rakghoul.
"The hangar doors won't open! It requires a manual override!"
Jin-Woo shot another Rakghoul through the skull and growled. "Then get inside the damn ship! I'll handle it!"
The Jedi hesitated for a moment—then nodded.
"Everyone, on board!" Tyvokka roared, covering the retreat with heavy swings of his saber.
One by one, they scrambled onto the transport. The moment the final Republic guard was inside, the C-9979 lifted off, hovering just below the locked hangar doors.
Jin-Woo moved quickly, striding toward a manual override console near the wall. He ripped it open with his armored hands, exposing the wires beneath. Sparks flew as he reached in and yanked a thick, reinforced lever.
With a heavy metallic groan, the hangar doors began to open.
Jin-Woo didn't hesitate. He aimed his Sentinel Beam upward— And fired.
A searing golden beam shot directly into the control panel above, scorching the circuits into slag. Sparks erupted as the emergency lockdown engaged, causing the hangar doors to slam shut again just as the transport ascended.
The Rakghouls screeched in fury, their deformed bodies writhing in frustration as they were trapped inside.
Jin-Woo exhaled. "Containment secured . these rakghouls can survive in space i'll hold them off ," he muttered.
In the transport, Tyvokka stepped toward the ramp, eyes locked onto the armored figure below.
"We cannot leave him behind!"
Plo Koon grabbed his shoulder. "Master Tyvokka, wait." He turned his gaze to Jin-Woo, something unreadable in his expression.
"Armored man… I was wrong about you. If I one day become a Jedi Master, and if you survive, I will vouch for you to become a Jedi."
Jin-Woo, standing amidst piles of corpses, covered in blood and soot, just smirked and raised a thumbs-up.
Then, he watched them leave.
As the C-9979 transport disappeared into the void of space,
Jin-Woo turned his gaze back toward the hangar. He was alone now.
And every Rakghoul in the room had turned their attention to him.
They surrounded him in eerie silence, dozens of them—some still clutching blasters, others twitching in place.
Jin-Woo narrowed his eyes. Something's off. "Offensive Bias," he muttered. "Have all cameras and holofeeds on this ship been terminated?"
The AI's response was instant. "Affirmative. No visual or data records remain. No external surveillance is operational. No entity beyond this vessel will know what transpires here."
Jin-Woo's helmet slid open with a sleek mechanical hiss, revealing his face beneath.
He exhaled sharply. "Alright, everyone. Show's over."
The effect was immediate. The Rakghouls dropped their weapons.
Some of them even trembled, their grotesque, deformed bodies shaking as they stared at him. And then— One of them started crying.
Jin-Woo's smirk faltered. His eye twitched. "...Don't tell me zombies have feelings now. ."
Offensive Bias responded in its usual cold, calculating tone.
"As Rakghouls originate from your flesh and blood, they recognize you as their progenitor. Much like a son hesitates to strike his father, they will not raise a hand against you, Supreme Executor."
Jin-Woo stared at the trembling creatures. Some of them were outright whimpering.
Offensive Bias continued. "I must admit, I have been manually overriding their neural functions to ensure they remain antagonistic toward you. Without my interference, their natural inclination is to submit."
Jin-Woo dragged a hand down his face. "I am the Lord of Shadows. The Shadow Monarch. Not the fucking Lord of Zombies."
One of the Rakghouls, seemingly emboldened, took a step forward.
It raised its twisted, clawed hands—
And then, in a rasping voice, it bowed.
Jin-Woo's expression deadpanned. "...Oh, for fuck's sake."
Jin-Woo walked through the ruined corridors of the Invincible, stepping over wreckage and corpses alike. His helmet slid back into place as he muttered, "Offensive Bias… does your universe have Joever Bideney ? That's why you didn't ask what he looked like? That's why it was the perfect persona?"
Offensive Bias responded immediately. "Affirmative. Historical records indicate that Joever Bideney was the 46th President of Nations in the year 2010. Analysis of his administration reveals severe inefficiencies, economic instability, and widespread dissatisfaction among his constituents. Key failures include, but are not limited to:
— Mishandling of economic policies leading to inflation and increased national debt.
— Failure to implement effective foreign policy, resulting in weakened global influence.
— Significant declines in approval ratings due to perceived incompetence.
— Overreliance on scripted responses, leading to public questioning of cognitive stability.
— Multiple recorded instances of verbal missteps, generating widespread mockery.
— Ineffectiveness in unifying political factions, further deepening societal divisions.
Based on these factors, the persona of 'Joever Bideney ' is categorized as highly ineffective yet notorious. Utilizing this name as a false identity ensured immediate infamy and disdain, increasing Supreme Executor's notoriety among hostile factions."
Jin-Woo exhaled through his nose. "So, in short, he was a disaster."
"Affirmative. Disaster classification: self-inflicted." Offensive bias answered .
Jin-Woo smirked under his helmet. "Perfect."
Jin-Woo made a subtle hand gesture—one Offensive Bias instantly understood. Without a word, the AI activated the holo-feed inside Jin-Woo's helmet, displaying a live news broadcast from Coruscant.
A female Togruta reporter appeared on-screen, her expression grim.
"We bring breaking news from the Qotile system, where peace negotiations have turned into a full-scale disaster. The Republic has suffered catastrophic losses, including the destruction of one of its prized Venator-class Star Destroyers. Meanwhile, the Trade Federation's fleet has also been severely crippled, with four Lucrehulks sustaining heavy damage from Republic counterfire."
"Additionally, Senator Ranulph Tarkin has been reported missing. His body has not been found, and his current condition—whether alive or dead—remains unknown."
The screen shifted to show wreckage drifting in space, Republic and Trade Federation ships burning in the void. The devastation was unimaginable.
"There are, however, survivors," the reporter continued. "A Trade Federation droid transport ship managed to escape the battlefield carrying key individuals. Among them—Jedi Master Tyvokka, a contingent of Republic guards, several Jedi Knights, and, most notably, Viceroy Nute Gunray himself. Brief communications and distress signals have confirmed their survival."
Jin-Woo's smirk faded slightly as the report continued.
"Master Tyvokka, now in safe communication, has identified the primary culprit behind this catastrophe—Viceroy Nute Gunray."
Jin-Woo almost relaxed—until the screen cut to a frantic Nute Gunray, his voice shrill with desperation.
"LIES! ALL LIES!" Gunray shouted, his eyes wild as he pointed at the camera. "This was not my doing! It was Joever Bideney! The man who eats ice cream! He is the one behind this disaster! The Republic must hunt him down at all costs!"
A brief clip played—the infamous holo-video of " Joever Bideney " floating in space, eating ice cream with Kamahaha.
Jin-Woo's eye twitched. The broadcast cut back to the news anchor.
"Despite conflicting statements, Supreme Chancellor Valorum has declared Joever Bideney a criminal of the highest order. A bounty of 5 million credits has been placed on his head for orchestrating this catastrophe."
Jin-Woo stood there, fists clenched. His teeth ground together audibly.
That damn Wookiee.
Tyvokka should have shut up and let Gunray dump the blame entirely on Joever Bideney .
Jin-Woo inhaled sharply, his patience wearing thin.
"Tyvokka..." he muttered through gritted teeth. "You should have just kept your mouth shut and let Gunray take the fall."
Offensive Bias's cold, calculated voice responded instantly.
"Suggestion added: Senator Tarkin is still alive. He remains aboard this vessel but is in hiding. Should I publicly broadcast his brutal execution to amplify the infamy of 'Joever Bideney '?"
Jin-Woo shook his head. "No. Use the second plan. The war isn't over yet. Therefore, we're going to use Zeta Halo to fire a very specific bullet at the nearby planet, Troiken. We'll destroy it to the core."
A brief silence, then Offensive Bias spoke again. "Acknowledged. However, strategic clarification is required. Purpose of planetary annihilation?"
Jin-Woo exhaled, watching the holofeed. "The war isn't over because Stark's fleet is still fighting the Flood you released. The droid transport ship carrying the Jedi and Gunray is still flying at minimum speed. However, if the key players—the Jedi and Gunray—arrive at Coruscant, the war will end, and I'll receive a heavy penalty from this galaxy itself. Therefore, we need to hasten the chaos."
"Understood," Offensive Bias responded without hesitation. "Proceeding with planetary targeting. Slipspace preparations are complete. Supreme Executor, I will now return you to Zeta Halo."
"Good," Jin-Woo muttered. "Then do it."
A silent distortion of space rippled around him. In the next instant, he was gone.
Jin-Woo now stood near the Pulse Induction Cannon of Zeta Halo , the colossal structure humming with untamed energy, its inner mechanisms shifting and adjusting as Offensive Bias calculated the launch sequence.
The AI's voice came through, as cold and pragmatic as ever. "Supreme Executor, clarification required. You intend to use yourself as the projectile?"
Jin-Woo crossed his arms. "Yes. I am the hardest material this galaxy has ever seen—harder than anything the Sith or Jedi could comprehend. And it's the quickest way."
There was a brief pause, then Offensive Bias responded. "Understood. Adjusting the Pulse Induction Cannon's parameters. The radiation output will be minimized, with energy conversion focused on acceleration to near-light speed. The objective remains planetary core penetration."
Jin-Woo cracked his neck. "Good. Make sure the cannon still carries residual radiation, but only at the lowest possible setting. I don't want to be vaporized before I hit my target. Convert everything else into raw speed—enough to send me straight through the planet's core."
A slight pause. Then, Offensive Bias continued. "Warning: Despite radiation reduction, the remaining output is still significant. Prolonged exposure to the launch sequence will disintegrate most biological lifeforms. Probability of survival—"
"Yeah, yeah," Jin-Woo cut him off. "I already told you—I'm not most lifeforms."
"Affirmative," Offensive Bias acknowledged without argument. "Launch sequence calibration in progress."
Jin-Woo took a deep breath, feeling the sheer, raw power coursing through his form. His transformation into the Shadow Monarch was complete, unrestricted outside the cursed Star Wars galaxy, where half his abilities remained sealed. Here, he was free to unleash destruction on a scale beyond mortal comprehension.
Standing atop the Pulse Induction Cannon, his black aura rippled outward like a living storm, the darkness around him swallowing even the glow of the massive weapon.
Offensive Bias spoke, utterly unfazed by the reality-warping sight. "Three. Two. One. Fire the array."
A deafening hum filled the entire installation. The Halo Array fired.
The blast's radiation was immense—something that would have instantly vaporized any ordinary being. But Jin-Woo barely felt it. He had already died Multiple times , transcended mortality itself. This was nothing.
At the center of the array, a slipspace rupture formed, precisely calculated by Offensive Bias. The spatial tear connected directly to the planet Troiken.
Jin-Woo shot forward, his body compressed into an unstoppable force. He felt the sheer speed folding reality around him, time itself distorting as he tore through slipspace.
And then— He was there.
For an instant, just a fraction of a second, he was inside the planet's core.
His Black Monarch dagger was already drawn.
One single cut—so fast, so absolute that the planet itself didn't even have time to react. His blade, bathed in pure black flames, sliced through the core like butter.
Before the world could even comprehend what had just happened— He was gone.
Slipspace reactivated. Jin-Woo was pulled back.
The next moment, he was once again standing at Zeta Halo, his feet landing smoothly on the ground as if he had never left.
Jin-Woo exhaled. "Offensive Bias. Did it work?"
In response, the AI displayed multiple holofeeds from across the Star Wars galaxy.
The reaction was immediate. Shockwaves of panic, disbelief, and sheer horror spread across planets as every screen, every news feed, every transmission in the Republic played the same chilling message.
A grainy video appeared—footage of Joever Bideney eating ice cream. And then— The screen glitched.
"You've done well so far," the voice of Joever Bideney echoed, .
"But I've only used 5% of my power."
Then, the screen cut to static for a moment—before flashing back with a single phrase in massive, bold letters:
"NOW LET'S SEE IF YOU CAN HANDLE—BIDENEY BLAST!"
And then— Troiken exploded. Not just a surface-level blast.
The planet shattered into billions of pieces, its very core reduced to nothing, the debris scattering across the void of space in a violent, cosmic eruption.
Jin-Woo grinned, watching the reactions of sheer terror and hysteria unfold across the holofeeds. Governments were panicking. Jedi were shaken. Military forces scrambled for explanations.
Marvelous
."Perfect score," he said, smirking.
Jin-Woo then glanced at one of the holofeeds provided by Offensive Bias.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
The emergency holofeed broadcasted across every Republic-controlled system, cutting through all scheduled transmissions. Coruscant, Corellia, Chandrila, even the farthest Outer Rim colonies—everywhere, the same image played: the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, Finis Valorum, standing before the Senate chamber, his hands gripping the podium far too tightly.
His face was pale. His lips slightly quivered. The entire chamber was silent, deathly so, as the Chancellor tried to maintain composure.
But the fear was evident. Valorum took a breath, but it was shaky.
"This… this is an emergency meeting. Not a drill. Not a joke," he began, his voice unnaturally strained. "A few minutes ago, we all witnessed—something—something beyond anything we could have ever imagined."
He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing as the holoscreens behind him replayed it. The moment. The proof of their new reality. BIDENEY BLAST.
A phrase that would now haunt the galaxy.
"We have received confirmation," Valorum continued, gripping the podium tighter, as if afraid his knees would give out. "The planet Troiken… has been completely destroyed."
The Senate chamber erupted into gasps. Some shouted in disbelief, others broke into whispered panicked discussions. A few Senators collapsed into their seats, stunned into silence.
But Valorum wasn't finished.
"Billions—" His voice cracked. He coughed into his fist, trying to regain his breath. "Billions of lives… erased in an instant."
A brief pause. A deep, quivering breath.
"Let me be clear. This was not the work of the Trade Federation. This was not a military strike by any faction we have ever known. This was an act of one man. Joever Bideney ."
The name sent a shiver through the entire Senate.
"His methods are unknown. His abilities defy logic," Valorum admitted, shaking his head. "We don't know what he is. But what we do know is that he is not like anything we have ever faced. The Trade Federation—an organization with vast armies of battle droids—is completely vulnerable to his abilities. We now know that he can override entire fleets, that he can shut down technology at will."
Valorum wiped his brow. His hand was visibly trembling.
"And worst of all," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, "we don't even know where he is."
The room fell into utter stillness. The weight of those words crushed every Senator, every official, every Jedi listening in from the High Council.
"He could be anywhere," Valorum continued, his breath picking up again. "The last confirmed footage of him was at the Qotile system, but beyond that—" He shook his head. "—we have no intelligence, no tracking, no defenses against him."
He exhaled sharply, gripping the podium so tightly his knuckles turned white.
"Our Emergency Powers Act cannot be enacted. We cannot wage war against an enemy we cannot locate, nor can we defend ourselves against a power we cannot comprehend."
He took another breath. His legs were shaking now.
"And so…" He hesitated, as if afraid to say the next words. Then, finally, he forced them out.
"All we can do… is pray."
A long silence stretched across the chamber.
"And—and—we must act," Valorum continued, regaining some steadiness. "The Jedi… must be granted further resources. They are no longer just peacekeepers. They are the last trueguardians of this galaxy. If we are to survive this new age of terror, they must be given every advantage possible."
The murmurs in the chamber returned, louder, more frantic. Valorum closed his eyes for a brief second before delivering his final statement.
"As of this moment," he declared, voice heavy with both dread and desperation, "the bounty on Joever Bideney has been raised to one billion credits."
Gasps filled the room.
"A sum never before placed on a single being in galactic history," Valorum admitted. "But given what we have just witnessed…" He swallowed again, gripping the podium. "It is necessary."
Then, finally, after everything, his mask cracked. He exhaled, staring at nothing. His shoulders slightly hunched, his face still ghostly pale.
"I… I am sorry," Valorum muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. "I think… I think I am trembling."
And across the galaxy, billions watched as their Supreme Chancellor—leader of the Republic—stood before them, hands shaking, barely holding himself together.
Because for the first time in recorded history of 400 hundred years — The Republic was truly afraid.