And the two men in the inn expressing their astonishment were none other than the designated "capture" targets of the Spartan operation—Han Solo and Chewbacca.
Although the intel had been sourced directly through the Emperor's divine guidance, not even that could provide a perfect "prediction" of every unexpected turn.
Han Solo and Chewbacca had indeed been in a bar in Mos Eisley earlier, enjoying a rare moment of leisure.
However, once the battle in low orbit broke out, their situation quickly deteriorated.
Worse still, they were pursued by thugs sent by Jabba.
Jabba—one of the most notorious crime lords in the Outer Rim—operated from a massive palace deep in Tatooine's desert. Resembling a giant, legless, slime-covered slug, his revolting appearance belied the vast power that made gang syndicates across the galaxy tremble at his name.
As for how Han Solo had angered this underworld titan—it traced back to a failed smuggling mission.
Han had been hired by Jabba to transport a shipment of contraband.
But midway through the journey, the Millennium Falcon was intercepted and boarded by an Imperial patrol.
To avoid arrest, Han had no choice but to jettison the entire cargo into space, saving himself and Chewbacca—but enraging Jabba.
Ever since, Jabba's hired thugs and bounty hunters had been hunting them down to recoup the loss, forcing Han and Chewie into constant hiding.
When Jabba's goons stormed into the bar, the two had no choice but to fight.
Blaster fire filled the air as tables and bottles shattered during the fierce firefight.
Drawing on years of experience, Han quickly secured a tactical advantage, downing several enemies with precise shots from his blaster pistol.
Chewbacca roared with fury, swinging his bowcaster to repel attackers. But the enemies kept coming—far more than they had expected.
Fighting as they retreated, the duo made their way to the warehouse where the Millennium Falcon was hidden.
Yet what greeted them there caused their hearts to sink.
The Falcon had been damaged—its engines and control systems heavily compromised and clearly incapable of immediate flight.
Han's expression darkened. He cursed under his breath, fully aware they were now trapped.
Just as despair was about to set in, an old man clad in a brown robe, hair entirely white, suddenly emerged from the shadows.
He appeared like a phantom in the gloom of the warehouse, holding a weapon that many had believed long lost—a lightsaber.
Its blade hummed softly, emitting a pale blue glow, silently declaring its extraordinary nature.
The old man didn't speak. He simply activated his lightsaber and charged the thugs.
Though his frame appeared frail, his movements were swift and graceful. He faced the rain of blaster bolts without hesitation, wielding the saber like an impenetrable shield—deflecting every shot with ease.
More astonishing still, he redirected several bolts back toward his attackers, killing them with their own fire.
Faced with such "absolute defense" and near-supernatural combat prowess, the gangsters were caught completely off guard. They quickly fell back, no longer daring to charge head-on—any further aggression would only lead to sudden and inexplicable death.
Han Solo and Chewbacca stood dumbfounded, overwhelmed with disbelief.
But they didn't have time to dwell on the stranger's identity. Seizing the opportunity, they followed him and escaped the warehouse.
The trio climbed into a speeder and fled Mos Eisley.
As they left the city, the skies above erupted with thousands of drop pods streaking down like meteor showers.
The whole city fell into chaos—explosions and gunfire filled the air. For the Imperial forces stationed there, it was as if doomsday had arrived. No one paid attention to the earlier gang shootout—let alone the lone old man wielding a lightsaber.
Han and Chewbacca watched the devastation from their speeder, more confused than ever.
They had no idea what had just happened to Tatooine. The old man brought them to the remote town of Anchorhead.
There, he arranged for them to stay in an inn as a temporary refuge. Han and Chewie had little choice but to rest and wait for the battle to die down.
Han planned to return to Mos Eisley as soon as things stabilized, repair the Falcon, and get the hell off this forsaken rock.
A rogue at heart, yearning for freedom and credits, Han had no interest in being stuck on a dead desert world.
The endless dunes of Tatooine were like a natural prison—and the only thing on his mind was fixing the Falcon and hitting the stars again with his best friend.
But fate wasn't about to let him go so easily.
Not long after the mysterious old man left, and just as Han and Chewbacca lay down to rest, a clamor arose outside.
At first, Han paid no attention—assuming it was typical town noise.
But as the sounds grew louder and more intense, he realized something was wrong.
He got up, went to the window, and pulled the curtain aside—
And what he saw made his heart sink.
Thousands of Tusken Raiders were taking advantage of the distracted Imperial forces to launch a full-scale assault on Anchorhead. Their objective was clear: plunder people and resources.
Massive Tusken vehicles kicked up clouds of dust as armed raiders surged toward the town like a tide.
The townspeople were in a panic, fleeing in every direction. They had no chance of resistance.
Even the few desert stormtroopers stationed there quickly abandoned their posts—hopping into vehicles and fleeing the town, leaving the helpless civilians to face the onslaught alone.
Han stood at the window, brow furrowed, torn over whether to get involved.
He wasn't a hero, and didn't want to be dragged into a pointless fight. But the scene before him was hard to ignore.
Then—just as he hesitated—a piercing whine cut through the sky.
BOOM—!
A barrage of missiles came from nowhere, striking the Tusken vehicles and engulfing them in explosions.
Next, a storm of laser beams rained from the heavens, pounding the raiders' formations with deadly precision.
Han stared in stunned silence, barely registering the sudden intervention—until he saw twenty blurry humanoid figures hurtling into the town like bolts of lightning.
Their speed was unreal—darting ghostlike among the Tusken ranks, each step brimming with unstoppable power.
Wherever they moved, Tusken Raiders fell like wheat before a scythe—utterly defenseless.
These figures were the Spartans—who had jumped straight from the Pelican at high altitude for a rapid "hard landing."
In confronting an enemy force dozens of times their number, the four Spartan squads displayed cold, ruthless efficiency—like precision-engineered killing machines.
Jerome, Douglas, Alice, and the others, upon seeing the townspeople's plight, were filled with rage.
The Tusken atrocities had ignited their fury—and Intel had made it clear: this species could not coexist under Imperial order.
Thus, as they "culled" the enemy, there was no hesitation—only righteous judgment.
The sounds of battle became a brutal symphony: blaster shrieks, Gauss rifle fire, the heavy stomps of power armor, Tusken wails, and crumbling buildings—the backdrop to a one-sided war.
Spartans harvested lives with mechanical precision, their figures flickering amid sand and fire—like gods descending from the heavens with divine fury.
Watching from the window, Han Solo felt a wave of emotion.
He was glad the townspeople were saved—but shaken by the sheer power of these mysterious warriors.
He tried to study their movements, searching for clues.
But everything about them—their armor, tactics, and pitiless efficiency—left him feeling deeply unsettled.
"What the hell are these guys?" Han muttered in disbelief.
"Rrrgh~!" Chewbacca growled lowly beside him, as if echoing the question.
The Wookiee's eyes were locked on the battle too—clearly, the Spartans' power exceeded even his wildest expectations.
It didn't take long.
Red, Black, Gray, and Omega squads swiftly eradicated the Tusken forces, whose numbers had been many times greater. But to the Spartans, the encounter felt more like a cleanup operation than a true fight.
During the battle, their ammo, mags, and gear were quickly expended.
But that didn't reduce their effectiveness—instead, they employed a Spartan "traditional technique":
Breaking enemies with bare fists or kicks, and seamlessly seizing enemy weapons to continue the assault.
From the inn, Han glimpsed Jerome crushing a Tusken's skull with a hammer-like punch, then picking up the fallen blaster and using it immediately.
Douglas delivered a devastating kick, snapping a Tusken's ribs, then stole his spear and impaled another raider—pinning him to a house wall.
With such low-intensity street fighting, Jerome's squad didn't worry about running out of ammo.
Their combat was fluid and adaptive—combining lethal force with tactical finesse.
Above, the Banshee pilot—seeing the battle won—pulled up, retreating to orbit for resupply, unlike the Spartans, who could adapt endlessly.
The Pelican deployed its landing gear, settling gently in the town center.
By now, the town was mostly secured.
Black and Gray squads patrolled the outskirts, ensuring no Tusken survivors escaped.
Omega Squad, the heaviest-armed, swept through every building to confirm no enemies remained.
Meanwhile, Red Team gathered at the Pelican for resupply.
Jerome stood by the hatch and opened a comm channel: "Master Chief, this is Red Team. Mission complete. Requesting auxiliary or biological/mechanical reinforcement to ensure full security of Anchorhead."
"This is 117. Copy that," came John's reply. "Commander Sigismund has dispatched auxiliary forces to Anchorhead. Stand by until they arrive, then return aboard the Pelican."
"Understood, Master Chief."
Jerome replied curtly and ended the transmission.
He glanced at the Pelican's hull, preparing to step inside—when Alice's voice rang out:
"Hey! Don't move—stop right there!"
Her tone was sharp with warning, her helmeted eyes fixed on the Pelican's starboard side.
Jerome turned—and saw an old man in a brown robe standing alone in the sunlight. He had appeared without a sound, strangely out of place.
!
Jerome's eyes widened behind the visor.
The Mjolnir suit's sensors were supposed to detect any approaching bio or mechanical signals via dynamic and pulse scans.
Yet this old man had completely evaded them—like a ghost.
Jerome shifted his stance, weapon slightly raised, voice calm but alert as he spoke through the external speaker:
"Who are you? Why are you here?"
He also activated screen sharing to alert the other squads.
The old man didn't respond immediately. He slowly lifted his head, his eyes meeting Jerome's from beneath the hood—deep, calm, as if he saw through everything.
Douglas and Alice flanked to the sides, forming a containment triangle. Douglas stepped forward, preparing to make a stealthy grab.
Then, the old man finally spoke—his voice low and resonant:
"I am Ben Kenobi… just an old man nearing the end of his life. And I'm here to make sure some things don't spiral out of control."
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Fairy Tail: Igneel's Eldest Son (Chapter 256)
I Am Thalos, Odin's Older Brother (Chapter 336)
Reborn in America's Anti-Terror Unit (Chapter 542)
Solomon in Marvel (Chapter 924)
Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet (Chapter 1284)
Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1289)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1316)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1402)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 660)
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