Whoosh—whoosh——!
Inside the Imperial Palace, the hum of blaster bolts echoed endlessly, reverberating through the narrow corridors and vast halls.
Two tides of white were clashing violently—
On one side were the elite stormtroopers loyal to Darth Vader; on the other, the palace's defending stormtroopers.
However, the outcome of this battle was determined from the very beginning.
Vader's stormtroopers were the pinnacle of the Galactic Empire's military might.
Battle-hardened and scarred, their armor bore the marks of countless conflicts—each wound a silent testament to their glory and ruthlessness.
Their movements were swift and precise. Though they were still a far cry from the Spartans or Astartes of the Human Empire, each shot from their blaster rifles carried a deadly threat.
In contrast, the defending stormtroopers were in utter disarray.
They did not understand the current situation, nor could they comprehend why their former allies had suddenly turned on them. This confusion threw them into total disorder, preventing them from mounting any effective resistance. Many fought independently, some even turning on one another in suspicion and paranoia.
Blaster bolts crisscrossed through the palace corridors like a web, and Vader's stormtroopers tore through the defenders' lines like a razor-sharp blade.
Their advance was methodical, each step exuding unstoppable force.
The defenders, meanwhile, retreated in chaos. Some began firing on each other, doubting whether their comrades had defected.
In the midst of this chaos, Darth Vader's figure appeared all the more composed.
Surrounded by a hundred elite stormtroopers, his black cape flared in the firelight. His pace was steady and unhurried, as if savoring this game of power.
Each step carried an undeniable authority, as if declaring to the world that the palace's master was about to change.
Occasionally, there were still stormtroopers absolutely loyal to Palpatine who tried to block their advance.
"Unfortunately," these soldiers were swiftly cut down by Vader's elites before they could even get close.
Amid the hum of blaster fire, their bodies fell onto the cold floor, sacrifices to this shift in power.
Even those who managed to slip through the cracks were effortlessly dealt with by Vader himself with a simple wave of his hand.
Those who dared resist didn't even have time to scream before the Force crushed their throats or flung them against the walls, leaving nothing but mangled remains.
And this battle wasn't limited to a "meat grinder" within the palace. The entire planet of Coruscant had plunged into the fires of war.
This once-flourishing metallic metropolis—the very heart of the Galactic Empire—was now blanketed in the shadow of annihilation.
The occupying fleet showed no mercy, launching relentless orbital bombardments on Coruscant's metallic surface. From their posture, it seemed they intended to wipe the planet from the face of the galaxy entirely.
Orbital beams rained down like divine punishment, each carrying extreme heat and energy.
The seemingly endless cityscape twisted and melted under the blasts, igniting massive infernos.
Flames roared like beasts, devouring everything in their path, staining the skies of Coruscant a deep blood red.
Caught in this devastation, the residents who lived, worked, and thrived in these towers were swept into the catastrophe without warning.
Their lives were snuffed out in an instant—most never even had time to scream.
For those directly struck by orbital fire, one might call it a "mercy"—their deaths were swift, their suffering brief.
But for those trapped among firestorms and molten metal, fate was especially cruel.
They watched helplessly as loved ones died before them, while they themselves were left to endure unimaginable grief, fear, and despair amid the flames and ruins.
Their screams echoed through the fire like a mournful elegy, bidding farewell to a once-glorious city.
At this moment, Coruscant was overflowing with "negative emotion."
Fear, despair, anger, and agony all fused together, and an invisible force consumed it all.
And these emotions were the perfect nourishment for the Dark Side—or rather, for something beyond it, from another space, another dimension. Especially given that Coruscant had a population exceeding a trillion.
Meanwhile, the fleet not only carried out orbital strikes but also seized total control of Coruscant's orbital command.
Local fleets and orbital stations were instantly destroyed, reduced to burning wreckage. Even those units still capable of fighting were thrown into chaos by the sudden "civil war."
The command structure completely collapsed. Ships and soldiers scattered like headless flies.
Worst of all, once the garrison forces realized this coup was orchestrated by Darth Vader, they were consumed by terror.
Vader's name was an invisible shackle, pressing down on them with unbearable weight.
No one dared act recklessly in his presence, much less question his authority.
Even those loyal to Palpatine began to retreat in fear, knowing full well that standing against Vader was tantamount to suicide.
The sky lanes of Coruscant were filled with fire and smoke, painting a picture of the apocalypse. The once-bustling metal metropolis had become a ruin.
And Vader's fleet had not stopped at orbital bombardments. They deployed waves of transports, unloading tens of thousands of stormtroopers onto Coruscant's surface.
These troopers were not there merely to occupy or suppress—they were tasked with herding innocent civilians—human or alien—into designated holding zones.
The stormtroopers, with cold indifference, leveled their blaster rifles at unarmed civilians.
In truth, these actions were not for wartime containment of the population. They were carried out to facilitate mass slaughter more efficiently.
When the orders came down, many stormtroopers were confused.
Some whispered in disbelief—why were they being told to massacre civilians, especially human civilians?
After all, the Galactic Empire had long championed "human supremacy," openly discriminating against non-human species.
This was precisely why many non-humans flocked to the Rebel Alliance. Yet orders were orders, and the stormtroopers' discipline left no room for questioning—they could only execute mechanically.
As the massacre continued, a change began to take root within the stormtroopers.
At first, they may have numbed themselves with the excuse of "obeying Lord Vader's command." But over time, some began to "enjoy" their bloody work.
The thrill of destruction and the illusion of power began to corrode their minds.
Beneath their helmets, their eyes grew more hollow and cruel. Their blaster rifles seemed to become their only faith.
Unknowingly, their fate, their souls—even their bodies—became bound to Darth Vader.
Their actions were no longer mere obedience. They had become extensions of Vader's dark power.
Every trigger pulled, every weapon swung, added to Vader's ambition. Their minds were swallowed by darkness, turning them into puppets under his rule.
Now, these elite stormtroopers stalked the ruins, their once-white armor soaked red in blood, like demons risen from hell.
Meanwhile, on the palace side—
Surrounded by over a hundred elite troopers, Darth Vader arrived at the threshold of the palace's central hall.
But just as they were about to cross the skybridge, Vader suddenly raised his left hand slightly, signaling them to halt.
The skybridge ahead was shrouded in pitch-black shadows, so dense they obscured visibility entirely. Even the enhanced detection systems in the elite stormtroopers' armor couldn't penetrate the darkness.
It was as though the blackness formed a barrier, cutting off their sight and intensifying the suffocating atmosphere.
Yet not one of the elites felt fear.
On the contrary, with the outbreak of this "civil war," their respect and "devotion" to Darth Vader had only deepened. Some had even begun to revere him as a "god."
In their eyes, Lord Vader was invincible. As long as he stood here, no enemy could ever stop them.
Their eyes burned with fanaticism and loyalty. They were ready to give everything for Vader.
Step. Step.
Just then, faint but heavy footsteps echoed from the depths of the skybridge.
Soon, a group of figures emerged from the shadows—clad in red robes and helmets, their silhouettes mysterious in the dim light. The crimson cloaks flowed gently in the air, like flickering flames.
These were the Emperor's bodyguards, warriors, assassins, and executioners—the Royal Guard.
Their presence symbolized the ultimate authority of the Empire. They were Palpatine's final defense.
The Royal Guard was exceedingly rare in number—never exceeding five hundred in total. Each member was handpicked from among the most elite Imperial soldiers, selected for peak physical ability, intelligence, and unwavering loyalty.
They were distinguished by their red robes and faceless red helmets, hiding their identities completely.
They wielded spears, specialized batons, and various advanced melee and ranged weapons.
Roughly four hundred guards now stood before them—four times the number of Vader's elite.
And even though Vader's stormtroopers vastly outnumbered the Guards, they were no match. Every Guard was a seasoned warrior, forged through endless trials. Their strength and loyalty could exact a heavy toll on any intruder.
Vader then waved his hand again, signaling his men to remain in place.
He stepped forward alone, onto the skybridge, facing what many called the "pinnacle of human power."
Hoo... hoo...
His deep breathing echoed beneath the mask. The Sith Lord betrayed no emotion.
The moment Darth Vader stepped onto the bridge—
Whoosh—whoosh——!!
The Royal Guards opened fire without hesitation, unleashing a barrage of high-powered blaster bolts.
The air filled with sharp hums and flashes of light.
But every attack was deflected by an invisible shield before they could reach Vader.
Buzz—buzz——!!
Blaster bolts exploded in the air, spraying sparks—but none touched him.
The Force surged around Vader, forming an impenetrable barrier. The Guards' ranged weapons were useless, like children's toys.
Then, Vader drew the lightsaber from his belt.
His movement was fluid, almost elegant, as if presenting a work of art. With a flick of his wrist, the red energy blade ignited, humming like the whisper of death.
And then—
Buzz~——Szzz——Szzz-la——!!
Vader's figure became a streak of black lightning, lunging into the Royal Guard with blinding speed.
His lightsaber carved lethal arcs through the air, each swing delivering overwhelming force.
The front line of Guards, armed with melee weapons, stepped forward to stop his advance.
But their efforts were meaningless. The saber cut through them effortlessly.
Bodies were sliced in half, heads severed. Blood spilled from cauterized wounds, pooling on the skybridge floor.
Guards in the rear, armed with ranged weapons, tried to support their comrades.
But before they could fire, Vader used the Force to crush their throats.
An invisible grip snapped their necks in silence—they fell without a sound.
Only a few exceptional fighters managed to exchange a blow or two with Vader.
Agile and skilled, they still looked pitiful before him.
In the next second, Vader used the Force to literally tear them apart.
Limbs, heads, and torsos were ripped from each other. Under crushing pressure, blood spurted from armor seams like bursting fruit, leaving behind nothing but mutilated corpses.
The elite stormtroopers watching from outside the skybridge wanted to rush in and assist.
But the speed and intensity of the Guard's movements were beyond them.
In the end, before they could decide whether to disobey orders and intervene, Darth Vader had already slaughtered all four hundred Royal Guards by himself.
Blood flowed like waterfalls from both sides of the bridge. The walkway was strewn with mangled bodies.
And Darth Vader simply continued forward, unfazed.
------------------
Enjoying the story? Support the author and get early access to chapters by joining my Patre@n!
Find me at: patre@n*com/Mutter
You can read each novel for $5 or get them all for just $15.
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)
[+50 Power Stones = +1 Extra Chapter]
[+5 Reviews = +1 Extra Chapter]