Before anyone could answer, footsteps approached.
Mace Windu, his robes still dusty from his recent clash, stepped into the open with quiet resolve, preparing his stance.
Jango raised an eyebrow. "A Jedi now? Planning to outclass the legend himself? Even after he kicked your ass?"
Windu didn't flinch. "Don't underestimate me, Mandalorian."
He stepped forward toward the blade, gaze steady. "A Jedi's worth isn't decided by one defeat… or by the strength of their blade. It's decided by what they stand for."
He raised his hand, focusing.
The Force flowed from his palm—telekinesis in perfect control. A low hum vibrated through the air as he attempted to lift the myth-forged sword without physically touching it.
But the blade didn't budge. Not even a fraction.
Plo Koon stepped forward beside him, eyes narrowing beneath his mask. "Allow me."
He extended his hand, joining his strength with Windu's. The energy thickened between them. Still… nothing.
"It's useless, Master Windu," Plo Koon finally said, lowering his arm. "We are not worthy."
Windu didn't speak immediately, jaw tense. His eyes lingered on the blade, then shifted toward the quiet figure watching near the edge of the crowd—Yoda, leaning on his gimer stick.
"Even Master Yoda," Windu said, voice low, "who has fought for the Republic longer than any of us… deems himself unworthy."
Yoda's eyes half-lidded, contemplative as they turned toward the sword.
"Hmm…" the Grandmaster murmured, ears tilting slightly. "Armored Man's tale… different it is, than ours. So too, his ideals."
"Not justice through order. Nor peace through control. But strength… through struggle. Meaning… through sacrifice. Worthiness, hmm… more than titles, it is."
Yoda's eyes twinkled with quiet mischief as he turned slightly toward the onlookers.
"Hmm… Chancellor Valorum," he said with a playful tilt of his ears. "Wish to try, do you? Carry the myth itself, perhaps you might."
Valorum gave a chuckle, straightening his robes. "I'm a Chancellor, Grandmaster… a politician, not a warrior. And frankly, I'm far from clean enough to be a hero."
Not far off,
Duchess Satine glanced toward the refreshments where Obi-Wan was idly sipping from a glass. She raised an eyebrow and smirked slightly. "Obi-Wan might want to try instead. He's been eyeing the blade all afternoon."
Obi-Wan coughed lightly into his drink. "No, no… I'm just a Padawan. Nothing more. And someone who enjoys a good drink when he can get it."
Qui-Gon folded his arms, gaze resting on his student. "You still carry potential, Obi-Wan. Maybe not to pull the sword free… but to shift something. Even a little difference is still a difference."
Obi-Wan gave a small shrug. "A difference? Master, I'm still training under you. I haven't even completed my trials."
Qui-Gon said, his voice calm but firm. "There's a tale I might spin one day… about how a certain Padawan made even the Armored Man a little nervous. Because in his heart, the sword saw something."
Windu stepped in, skeptical. "You must be joking. No offense to you, Obi-Wan, but he's still too young. That sword isn't meant for—"
"It's not a loss," Qui-Gon interrupted. "Nor is it a fault. There's no shame in trying… right here, right now." He looked at Obi-Wan directly. "If the sword rejects you, it's just the sword's truth. But if it stirs… even for a moment… that's something no one else has done yet."
Obi-Wan Kenobi took a slow breath and stepped forward.
I'm not Arthur, he thought as the stone pedestal loomed before him, sunlight catching the golden edge of Excalibur Proto.
I'm not a knight that gleamed under the silver sky… but I just want a better future.
His hand touched the pommel first—steady, respectful. Then his other hand joined it, fingers curling around the hilt.
"I just want a better future," he whispered aloud.
Then—
CREEEEEAAAAKKKKK—
A sound echoed. The sword did not lift.. But it stirred. Just slightly. A twitch. A tension in the stone that hadn't been there before. The air shifted around it, as if it had acknowledged his wish.
Obi-Wan let go, exhaling . He turned back. "Sorry, Master Qui-Gon… I can't lift it."
Yoda's hands came together slowly. A single clap. Then another.
"Little difference… you made," the Grandmaster said, his voice carrying. "A candidate for the sword, you now are."
Qui-Gon only smiled—quietly, proudly.
Windu, standing beside him, remained silent for a long moment… then gave a small nod. A silent admission. Someone had surpassed him, even if only by a step.
Valorum, watching from the edge of the crowd, exhaled with a light shake of the head. "I always thought myth was meant for one man alone, But it seems this galaxy might just have two legends now."
As the crowd murmured—between quiet glances, awe, and the simmering conversation of Jedi and senators—something unseen stirred at the edge of perception.
Deep in the shadows beyond the crowd, cloaked in layers of silence and shrouded in the most advanced form of Force concealment, Darth Plagueis moved.
His presence was undetectable—his signature smothered by the Force itself. A perfect cloak honed over decades, bolstered now by the meditative amplification of his apprentice, Sidious, across the stars from Coruscant. Together, their meditative link formed an invisible web. One so refined that even Yoda wouldn't notice a tremor.
And yet, the Muun's eyes narrowed beneath his cowl as he observed the blade still half-buried in stone. Excalibur Proto. . A threat.
If I can't possess it… then no one will.
His hand slowly extended, blackened veins pulsing beneath pale skin as he gathered [Force lightning] into his palm. Crackles of violet energy coiled like snakes, silent, deadly. He reached for the hilt, lightning-infused fingers wrapping around its golden grip.
But the moment he touched it—
—FLASH.
Plagueis's mind was ripped from the present.
He stood in a lavish Coruscant apartment. Familiar. His own.
And he was dying.
Smoke curled from his skin. His body spasmed, charred and broken, collapsed across silken sheets. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. Only watch—
A figure stood above him. Cloaked in black. Face unseen.
A voice, cold and quiet, spoke through the static of death:
"Strange… for someone so wise, you died in your sleep."
Plagueis snapped back—gasping, retracting his hand—only to see it now burned with curling marks.
Etched into his palm were cursed sigils. Intricate and cruel. Fae in design—alien to Sith alchemy. He recognized none of them.
And worse— A part of his power… was gone. Severed.
He reached inward and felt a hole. A quiet, unseen piece of his Force mastery—something subtle—ripped away by the sword. He didn't know what it was. Only that it was.
Rage boiled in his chest.
He almost summoned more lightning to obliterate the blade.
But then—he felt it. His [ Force cloak] was… slipping. Waning.
The power that kept him hidden from the Jedi… was weakening. A ripple of detection crawled toward him.
No… not now.
Snarling under his breath, Plagueis pulled his cloak tighter and vanished into the crowd's edge like a ghost.
,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
At the edge of the Theed Royal Palace balcony, the Armored Man stood alone.
Sunlight stretched across Naboo's flawless skyline, casting long shadows that mingled with the golden-white towers. The cheers below had died down. The courtyard had returned to a hush. Yet above it all, Jin-Woo—unmoving—watched the flickering light of his system interface before him.
A single line blinked into existence.
.............................................
[Hidden Quest Completed]
Quest Title: Quarter Dark Age of Galaxy
Status: Completed
Description:
You have successfully destabilized the long-standing mythos and political structures across the galaxy.
• Darth Sidious, the future Emperor, has been publicly framed as a demented, unstable figure. His reputation is shattered. Any approach he makes toward Naboo triggers unrest due to his violent dementia episodes in your presence.
• Darth Plagueis, master of Sidious, attempted to claim or destroy Excalibur Proto — and failed. His power over midichlorian manipulation was severed the moment he touched the blade. It was absorbed into Morgan via the curse interwoven into the sword's nature.
• Drawn duel with Grandmaster Yoda was broadcasted to the entire galaxy. Established your strength as equal to, or greater than, Jedi leadership. Undermined the Jedi Order without bloodshed. You have presented yourself as a superior… without being their enemy.
• Jedi Order publicly humiliated. Their moral authority destabilized. The myth of Jedi supremacy in combat and philosophy—shattered.
• The Confederacy of Independent Systems will now grow weaker due to earlier moves against Shu Mai, forcing her into economic and political collapse before the Clone Wars even begin.
• You have introduced Excalibur Proto, a myth weapon from the Fate-verse, into the Star Wars galaxy. Its presence now radiates through Force, legend, and technology alike.
• A portion of the galaxy now reveres you as a living myth. A savior. A force neither Jedi nor Sith can control.
• Obi-Wan Kenobi, even during the Phantom Menace era, has become the first official candidate with a 5% chance of lifting Excalibur Proto. You've created a rival legend in the making.
====================================================
[Hidden Rewards Unlocked]
• Avalon: The Everdistant Utopia (Sheath)
— Soul-bound to Jin-Woo. Automatically restores life, body, and spirit while nullifying most forms of conceptual death. Passive.
• Skill Unlocked: Garden of Avalon – Eternally Secluded Utopia (Noble Phantasm)
— A world separate from reality. Once activated, Jin-Woo creates a bounded inner realm of perfect healing and time suspension. Only those he permits may enter..
• Skill Unlocked: Senrigan Eye – Divine Clairvoyance (Derived from Ada's Eye)
— Amplifies Jin-Woo's Flow-Walking. Allows viewing, influence, and redirection of past timelines. WARNING: Abusing this skill can destabilize or erase the current timeline.
• Skill Unlocked: Voucher Fusion
— Fuse up to two Vouchers into a custom entity, artifact, or skill. Cost and risk scale with rarity.
• Locacaca Tree (x10)
— Each tree bears fruit capable of rewriting biological structures. Equal exchange required.
• Locacaca Fruit (x10)
— Induces full biological reconfiguration. For every gain, something else is lost.
• Prime Grade Voucher (x1)
— Can be exchanged for a unique S-Rank or higher companion, artifact, or advanced tech.
• Coaxium Pack (x50)
— 10kg per unit of refined hyperfuel. Compatible with high-tier hyperspace vessels and planetary-scale reactors.
• Locacaca 6251 Capsule (x10)
— An advanced capsule that allows genetic rewriting with no physical trade-off, though mutations may occur.
Jin-Woo closed the window with a blink.
His eyes narrowed behind the visor.
I expected Force-based skills… maybe something from the Sith alchemy tree. Instead, I got half the JoJo verse and a time-warp clairvoyance gift...
He paused.
Voucher Fusion, huh? That's going to be tricky. Especially with the Companion Voucher. Risky if I rip it open by force.
But this wasn't the time for that. Not yet. His focus shifted.
Without hesitation, Jin-Woo activated his stealth protocol — [Perfect Unnoticed] — pushing it to its absolute maximum. Reality itself seemed to blink; not a single lifeform, machine, or sensor in the palace registered his presence anymore .
He raised his hand, fingers flashing a silent signal.
Offensive Bias.
The AI responded instantly.
the Armored Man armor dissolved — layer by layer — slipping into its micro-slipspace storage system. Now fully unarmored but still cloaked, Jin-Woo stood in the open, unseen by any watching eye
Then, with a slow breath, he reached into his inventory—
—and pulled out the Mantle Approach Voucher.
It shimmered with an eerie geometric ripple, humming with Forerunner frequency harmonics.
This'll take me straight to the place where the Didact still resides, Jin-Woo thought.
He stared at it.
But something kept him frozen.
His gaze shifted to his shoulder. There, beneath the skin and muscle, was the encoded Offensive Bias Control Mark, placed when he had first integrated the Forerunner AI into his system.
Offensive Bias is loyal to me… but what happens when I step into the Didact's domain?
The logic path was simple. Offensive Bias was a War Ai logic tier construct built to counter Mendicant Bias. But the Didact—Ur-Didact—was a figure it might still register as a superior, given his direct authority in the Forerunner hierarchy.
Will he switch allegiance?
Jin-Woo's fingers hovered near the glowing insignia on his shoulder—the mark that signified his bonded control over Offensive Bias.
Do I need to rip it out first…? he thought, already knowing the answer.
Without hesitation, he whispered through the link, Morgan. Come here.
A tear in space bloomed silently beside him, casting a pinkish-purple glow against the Theed royal palace balcony. From it stepped Morgan, her expression serene as ever.
"Yes, my husband?" she said with a calm smile, her presence bending the surrounding energy just slightly, like a ripple of elegance laced in chaos.
Jin-Woo didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached up—and tore the mark off.
CRACK—SHING.
A sharp surge of light burst from the ripped sigil. Instantly, a miniature slipspace rupture formed in front of him. From it descended a small construct—sleek, angular, and glowing with golden lattice lines.
"Supreme Executor," the AI's voice echoed out, perfectly cold and analytical. "Query acknowledged. Why did you sever your connection with me?"
Jin-Woo narrowed his eyes behind the visor. "Because I have a crazier job to do. One that doesn't involve you—for now."
He motioned toward Morgan. "She'll replace me temporarily."
Morgan blinked. "…Eh? You sure?" Her gaze flicked between Jin-Woo and the construct. "I mean, I don't mind handling Despondent Pyre or even that Adjutant Resolution, but Offensive Bias? That AI is absurdly smart. I can't even equalize my brainwaves to match its core process frequency…"
Jin-Woo nodded toward her, unwavering. "I believe you can."
Morgan gave a slow smile, touched with a faint spark of pride. "Then I'll make sure I don't fail your expectations, my husband."
She held up her arm and, without hesitation, pressed the severed Offensive Bias mark to her wrist. The moment it latched on, a sharp flash of light surged through her body. Her knees buckled, and she dropped to one knee, fingers gripping the balcony rail for stability.
The AI's voice rang out again, calm and unfeeling.
"Acknowledged. The Queen of Winter, designation: Morgan, will serve as temporary executor. However, data surge indicates cognitive instability—my processing rate exceeds the host's synaptic limit."
Morgan blinked once, eyes glowing faintly—then again, slower, as her breathing leveled. Her body stabilized, posture straightened.
She looked up sharply. "Don't underestimate me, Forerunner construct."
"Even if I come from a primitive world, I once carved a Lostbelt from proper human history itself. A singularity so strong, it stood alone against pan-humanity. And I did it before I agreed to transfer it—willingly—into the World of Eternal Slumber under my husband's rule."
Jin-Woo gave her one last look, his voice steady. "I'll leave you two to handle things. I'll be back as soon as I can."
Without hesitation, he pulled the Mantle Approach Voucher from his inventory. The parchment-like construct pulsed once in his palm—then tore through reality itself as he ripped it open. A spiral of cosmic energy wrapped around him, and in a blink, he vanished—gone from Naboo, leaving behind a shimmering fracture in space that sealed itself seconds later.
Morgan stood still for a moment, eyes fixed on the place where he disappeared. Then she slowly turned to Offensive Bias.
"Bias," she said calmly, "did Jin-Woo tell you what this mission is about?"
Offensive Bias hovered in silence for a fraction of a second—calculating.
"No, Morgan," the AI answered. "Supreme Executor did not relay mission parameters. My processing estimates he left in considerable haste. However…" the sentinel orb drifted in closer, its tone unwavering, "…based on his current configuration and reality-state, probability of his death is effectively 0.00001%. That is to say—no one can kill him. Not now."
Morgan exhaled slowly, a quiet pride in her eyes. "…As expected."
Without another word, a pinkish-purple portal swirled open behind her. Her cloak fluttered once, then she stepped through, vanishing into the vortex and leaving the balcony—and Naboo—quiet once more.