Tap, tap.
As soon as the old man's words fell, he moved forward with startling speed, entirely belying his age. His lightsaber traced a pale blue arc through the air as it shot toward Jerome.
Vmmm—Vmmm!
The blade hummed ominously, as if whispering to Jerome of its lethal power.
!
But Jerome, prepared for this, reacted instantly. His Mjolnir armor's servos synchronized with his peak-human reflexes, and he lunged left, narrowly dodging the high-energy blade.
The lightsaber passed within inches of his pauldron, its superheated edge leaving a brief glowing scar in the air.
Behind his helmet, Jerome's eyes stayed locked on the old man, his mind racing to analyze the true intent of this sudden attack.
From the man's robe and, most importantly, the iconic weapon he wielded, Jerome instantly identified him as a Jedi.
And his helmet's HUD quickly confirmed it—cross-referencing facial features and pulling up a brief dossier: Obi-Wan Kenobi, also known by his alias "Ben Kenobi."
Jerome understood the significance. This was no ordinary hermit, but a living legend in Universe 17 (Star Wars)—a Jedi Master who had witnessed the rise and fall of the Jedi Order, lived through the decline of the Old Republic, and once trained Anakin Skywalker—now Darth Vader.
Even in the age of the Galactic Empire's dominance, Obi-Wan had never fully abandoned the cause of resistance. His presence was a beacon, illuminating the path forward for many in rebellion.
Despite Obi-Wan's aggressive advance, Jerome quickly judged that the Jedi wasn't aiming to kill. Every attack carried restraint, as if designed to test Jerome's reflexes and technique.
A man as principled as Obi-Wan would never attempt to slay warriors who had just saved Anchorhead's people—unless he had a higher purpose.
Indeed, this confrontation felt more like a trial—a probe of the Spartans' strength and, more importantly, their conviction.
And in truth, the Imperial Intelligence Division had long designated Obi-Wan as a high-value contact and "reclamation" target.
As a genuine Jedi Master, Obi-Wan represented a rare, intact conduit to the Force. His knowledge and mastery could reshape the Human Empire's entire future strategic approach to Force-sensitive phenomena.
For context, the Intelligence Bureau had already gone to great lengths over Chirrut Îmwe, a mere Force-sensitive. Compared to him, Obi-Wan's value was in a different league.
"Obi-Wan Kenobi," Jerome's voice rang out through his helmet's external speaker, "we are not your enemies. Our mission is to protect the innocent—not to fight you."
But Obi-Wan didn't pause. He landed lightly from a spinning flip, evading Douglas and Alice's flanking assault.
Tap, tap!
Vmmm—!
As he touched down, Obi-Wan whipped his lightsaber in a wide arc, forcing both Spartans to retreat before they could press their attack.
Then, his gaze shifted from Jerome to Douglas and Alice, just visible beneath his hood. A faint smile tugged at his lips—approval.
Moments later, the Jedi Master spoke, his voice calm: "Your strength is impressive, young warriors. But in this chaotic galaxy, conviction is as vital as power. I needed to see if you were worthy of trust."
And with that, Obi-Wan suddenly surged forward again—this time, toward Alice.
…
Beneath her helmet, Alice remained calm and focused.
She, Jerome, and Douglas had trained, lived, and fought together for years—even endured punishments together. Their synchronicity needed no words.
In perfect unison, the three discarded their scavenged weapons from the Tuskens, reaching to their sides and drawing their combat vibroblades.
Though called "knives," these weapons, with their hilts included, were nearly 60 centimeters long. Their gleaming blades flickered with cold steel light—closer to shortswords in form.
And each was a marvel of craftsmanship—but their deadliness was far more than aesthetic.
Vmmm—
As each Spartan's hand made contact with the weapon's hilt, the blade let out a low hum—vibro-modulators activating and sending subtle force fields shimmering along the edge.
But however well-forged, a vibroblade was no match for a lightsaber.
A lightsaber's plasma blade could slice through nearly any material with ease. Even a vibrational short sword—advanced as it was—stood little chance.
Alice struck first. Her attack was quick and precise, aiming to parry the saber with her vibroblade.
But the moment the two weapons clashed, the outcome was clear.
The lightsaber sliced through her blade like butter. Fragments of the broken vibroblade scattered through the air with a metallic chime.
Yet Alice had anticipated this.
She immediately flung the useless hilt aside and dropped into a crouch, her armor emitting a subtle hum as she coiled her power for a strike.
Then—she launched a full-powered punch toward Obi-Wan's abdomen, the blow charged with devastating force.
!
This time, even Obi-Wan was surprised.
He hadn't expected such a swift and forceful counter—let alone from someone who had just lost her weapon.
Reacting instinctively, he drew on the Force.
An invisible wave of energy halted Alice's strike mid-air.
!!
Frozen in place by the Force, Alice's body trembled slightly—locked in silent struggle against the intangible pressure. She couldn't move a muscle.
In truth, Obi-Wan had already sensed how extraordinary these Spartans were during their brief exchange.
Their reflexes, power, and technique far exceeded standard soldiers.
Still, he hadn't wanted to use the Force. Doing so would skew the fairness of this test.
But Alice's sudden, near-lethal counter had forced his hand. Any further delay might've cost him dearly.
Thud, thud!
As Alice froze mid-strike, Jerome and Douglas charged in from opposite sides.
Jerome's vibroblade gleamed in the sun. Douglas's armored fist pulsed with destructive energy—both aiming straight for critical targets.
"Enough…"
Obi-Wan sighed softly, his voice tinged with weariness and admiration.
Then, in a flash, he became as light as air.
He executed a majestic aerial flip, body tracing a perfect arc, landing over ten meters away in a fluid, practiced motion.
Perfect balance.
Obi-Wan turned to face them again, speaking clearly: "The time is not right. I've seen your resolve. There's no need for further blades between us."
He deactivated his lightsaber with a soft hiss, tucking the hilt inside his robes.
Simultaneously, he released Alice from the Force's grip.
She staggered slightly, but quickly regained balance—still poised like a predator, alert for further threat.
But it was clear Obi-Wan had no desire to continue the clash.
The Jedi Master now fully understood the Spartans' prowess. In close-quarters combat, especially without drawing on the Force, he would almost certainly lose.
Moreover, from what he had observed, the Human Empire—despite producing warriors like the Astartes—had shown no signs of senseless slaughter or tyranny like the Galactic Empire.
This gave him reason to consider contact—and even cooperation—with them.
Jerome, hearing Obi-Wan's words, sheathed his vibroblade. Douglas followed suit.
Then, Jerome addressed him: "Obi-Wan Kenobi. We are Spartans of the Human Empire. Our mission here is simple—liberate Tatooine.
We also seek to connect with local freedom fighters—men like you—so we can accelerate the collapse of the Galactic Empire's control."
"Of course I understand your intentions," Obi-Wan replied, his tone calm and measured. His eyes drifted toward the nearby inn—as if hinting at something. Then he added:
"And I've already brought certain… 'freedom fighters' worth meeting here to this town. So, shall we go meet your commander?"
Before Jerome could respond further, a transport formation appeared in Anchorhead's skies.
Several Luna dropships and Banshee fighters swept overhead, engines roaring through the desert air.
Reinforcements had arrived—auxiliary troops and clone soldiers coming in. The battle for Anchorhead had reached its conclusion.
Jerome raised his left hand and signaled toward the Pelican behind him.
His voice was calm: "Whenever you're ready."
…
Obi-Wan gave a simple nod and walked forward, boarding the Pelican without further words—his manner quietly confident.
Jerome then opened a secure channel and gave Omega Squad their next order: search the inn for any targets the Intelligence Bureau might've flagged.
Then, switching to another encrypted line, Jerome reported in: "Master Chief, this is Red Team.
Obi-Wan Kenobi's appearance has delayed our return. We will escort him back to the Valiant for a meeting with Commander Sigismund.
After that, we'll rejoin the operation at Mos Eisley."
John's response came quickly and simply: "Acknowledged. Prioritize the objective. Stay sharp."
"Yes, Master Chief."
With that, Jerome closed the channel, turning his eyes toward the Pelican.
Obi-Wan was already aboard—and now, the task was clear: ensure the meeting went smoothly.
The Human Empire might soon gain a powerful new asset.
Meanwhile, across the galaxy—in the very heart of the Star Wars universe—the capital world of Coruscant was about to experience an unprecedented upheaval.
Swish—Swish—!
With the flash and distortion typical of hyperspace exit, a massive fleet emerged on the sunlit side of Coruscant's orbit.
Over 2,000 warships blotted out the stars—an ocean of metal.
Among them, 260 Star Destroyers glittered ominously in the sunlight, massive and silent like slumbering leviathans.
The fleet's flagship? None other than the Ravager—a vessel that had once clashed with the Blood Ravens.
Its hull was scarred but imposing, a deep gray monolith radiating battle-worn menace.
By the looks of it, this fleet wasn't just here to support—it was coming to replace the existing Coruscant garrison.
And their arrival heralded a new challenge to the Galactic Empire's rule.
Soon after, a Lambda-class shuttle emerged from the Ravager's hangar.
Its blue-white thrusters lit the sky as it descended toward the planet.
Behind it, dozens of TIE Fighters launched in escort formation—heading straight for Coruscant's atmosphere.
Their target was clear.
Who they carried—or what they represented—was destined to change Coruscant's future forever.
Inside the shuttle...
Hhhh... hhhh...
The rhythmic, mechanical breathing filled the cabin.
Darth Vader sat in silence.
Around him, dozens of elite stormtroopers sat rigid and wordless.
The cabin was like a tomb—until a communication chime broke the stillness.
------------------
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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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