"Don't come any closer—ahhhhh!"
The immense, chaotic power of the Dark Side had coalesced into the twisted consciousness of Palpatine's lingering soul. His face was contorted with rage as he screamed endlessly within the mad, formless void. Pale, crackling lightning of Force energy flickered and twisted around him, his soul-wrenching shrieks echoing like stones tumbling into an endless well.
Had there been any Sith Lords or Jedi Masters left within the Endor system, they would have sensed the vast, turbulent waves of negative emotion pulsing through the Force.
Anxiety, confusion, shock, fury, disbelief, pain, bitterness, terror—and finally, despair—spread endlessly across the dimension of the Force.
Everywhere, there was screaming. Everywhere, the sound of suffering.
"Nooooo—!!"
But in the next instant, Palpatine's voice was abruptly cut off. The escaping consciousness of the Dark Lord shattered with a chilling, splintering crack.
A massive, radiant silhouette had appeared around him without warning—surrounding him on all sides. The stars themselves seemed to draw together into the shape of an immense, divine hand, its five fingers closing slowly over him.
In the endless, deep void, there came a sound like shattering glass.
Time and space ceased to exist. Past and future, cause and effect, life and death—all were crushed at once. The heavens and the earth of the physical universe were as fragile as a thin membrane, and even the Force fell silent, as still as a dead lake.
Only one thing moved: the slender, luminous hand, its delicate fingers glowing with the light of the stars, curling inward to seize the broken, corrupted soul.
As Palpatine's final screams echoed, his yellow eyes frozen in hatred and horror, his monstrous face twisted in eternal fear, Selene moved with the precision of a master artisan, as if shaping amber from starlight. She gathered the last remnant of the Sith Lord between her fingers.
"To traverse the void of the cosmos as pure consciousness... fascinating. The Force, whether of darkness or of light, remains pitifully limited in its ability to twist physical reality. Yet in its study of life, thought, spirit, prophecy, and awareness—it holds a certain... instructive value."
Selene's crimson eyes glimmered with cold detachment. She watched, unimpressed yet intrigued, as the consciousness of Palpatine—whose body had perished—raced through the void faster than light, fleeing the Endor system. She saw every moment of his desperate escape.
Refine.
With a single motion, Selene shattered the sealed space that contained the entity known as "Palpatine." A mist of Force energy began to drift outward—swirls of dull gray-white, vivid scarlet, and sickly yellow merging into an unnatural, luminous haze.
In that dreamlike, illusory glow, Selene's movements were graceful and absolute. She absorbed the remnants of Palpatine's existence with divine elegance, unraveling every strand of knowledge and power he had left behind.
Longevity and enhanced physiology—these were the fundamentals of any advanced Force adept, and Palpatine had mastered them well. Yet to resist the physical decay caused by the Dark Side's corruption, he had chosen another path.
A fusion of Coruscant's galactic technology and the ancient sorceries of Sith alchemy.
The old coward had built himself a vault of young clone bodies and used forbidden Sith techniques to transfer his consciousness into a waiting vessel.
Thus, Palpatine believed he could live forever—as long as the supply of clones endured. Again and again, he would renew himself, cheating death, wearing new faces, prolonging his reign.
But he had not foreseen Vader's betrayal—or his own death so far from his cloning vault, aboard the Death Star II in the Endor system. When his body died, his consciousness was cast into the raging, formless void.
Through the sheer might of his Sith-honed will, he held his mind together and hurled himself through the abyss, struggling to reach the body he had prepared.
Unfortunately for him, his lost soul collided headlong with the one reshaping the very fabric of the Force within this universe—Selene, whose presence had already begun to etch itself into the foundation of this reality.
And that was the end of it.
With a casual flick of her will, Selene refined him—transmuting the essence of "Palpatine" into something far more useful: a shimmering elixir of pure metaphysical potency.
"Yes," she murmured, tasting the faint radiance that lingered in the void. "Far easier to absorb... and the flavor, the texture—so much better."
This refinement technique was an upgraded version of one Selene had adapted from the Ōtsutsuki clan—the cosmic tree-keepers of another universe—who refined the Divine Tree's chakra fruit into golden elixirs. She took the essence, discarded the impurities, and blended it with Honkai to create a superior form of absorption.
In the old days, Selene had been far more barbaric in her methods—devouring such things raw and whole. Uncivilized, truly...
But then again, that was one of the very reasons the Empress Selene's Great Crusade expanded without end—brute accumulation of quantity was one thing, but refinement of quality was another.
To take the strengths of countless worlds to mend the flaws of the Honkai dimension; to use the knowledge of other realms to fill the gaps in her own dominion.
"Ersego, quite a few good things here. Notify Dr. Stylish. Isn't he working on that experimental world-forging project? A little extra labor won't kill him."
Selene methodically extracted everything related to Palpatine's secrets—his hidden Throne World coordinates, the Coruscant Military Science Research Institute, the Death Star design schematics, hyperspace engine research indexes, Death Star II's improvement data, Star Destroyer forge-worlds, starfighter production sites, and more. She laid it all out, neatly organized into records.
Oh, and the ancient Sith alchemy, of course.
"The Death Star II's main reactor... total output exceeding that of a hundred supergiant stars," Selene mused as she cataloged the discoveries bound for the Empire's Science Bureau.
She had no doubt Dr. Stylish would be ecstatic.
Once everything was in order, Selene released the Force dimension from its suspended stillness, allowing its currents to flow once again. A faint, indulgent smile curved her lips.
Another galactic monarch, another self-proclaimed emperor had fallen beneath her iron heel—reduced, in the end, to a morsel between her teeth.
Like a divine being, she gazed down upon the Endor system and its warring fleets. Her scarlet eyes, radiant with divinity, shimmered with serene detachment.
Silent, crystalline explosions bloomed across the void, wrapped in red, purple, and green laser fire. The flares of guided missiles drifted like falling snow, molten fragments of steel floated gracefully through the vacuum, and the glittering dust of shattered hulls might as well have been blood and flesh.
To the Rebel resistance, it was a vision of hell.
To Selene, it was merely another symphony of conquest.
She continued her quiet work—staining the Force with her own color.
The Force is with me.
I am the Force.
...
Within the half-ruined audience chamber of the Death Star II, the golden-armored Imperial Guard, the Sisters of Silence, Darth Vader, the base commander, naval admirals, stormtrooper generals, and the 501st Legion's captives—Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa—watched the battle raging across the Endor system.
Beyond the Imperial Star Destroyer fleet, the battle group of the Sacred Selene Empire's Astartes strike force had joined the fray, fighting alongside the newly restructured Imperial forces.
"Do not worry, Sir Vader," said the golden Imperial Guard, his voice resonant beneath the majestic helm shaped like a spread-winged eagle. "The death of the false Emperor Palpatine is beyond question. What remains is merely a fragment of his soul—a petty alchemical trick."
He let the pause linger, so that the gathered governors and admirals of the newly enthroned Galactic Empire would appreciate the significance of the words.
"According to the Sith Code, you shall succeed Darth Sidious as the new Dark Lord of the Sith—and thus become Emperor of the First Galactic Empire."
Vader did not respond. He stood in silence, his gaze fixed beyond the window—toward the swirling maelstrom of stars beyond Endor. The celestial vortex gathered into a vast, graceful shape—a towering figure of light and shadow that appeared for a moment... and then vanished.
Only those attuned to the Force, or capable of wielding Honkai energy, could perceive that fleeting, terrible visage. They knew whose spirit it had been.
Palpatine.
But this time, he was gone for good. Before the Divine Empress, there could be no escape.
The Force, once wild and unclaimed, had found its absolute master.
"This new throne—will it exist for only a brief time?" Vader asked quietly, his voice low and unreadable.
"Our Empress is the Empire!"
The Imperial Guard's booming laughter rolled through the chamber like thunder, making even the aged sector governors and generals flinch and frown in discomfort. "You understand well enough. Still... it will make for a perfect entry in the records, won't it?"
"Your Excellency, my lord—the Death Star II's weapon platform has completed calibration and charging. It's ready for a test fire," reported Beval Lemelisk respectfully as he stepped forward.
As chief designer and engineer of the superweapon, he had swiftly and smoothly shifted his allegiance, pledging loyalty to Vader and the representatives of the Sacred Selene Empire—a power he still did not fully comprehend.
What Palpatine could give him, Darth Vader could just as easily provide. Moreover, Vader was no stranger—within the Galactic Empire, he had been second only to the Emperor himself. To many bureaucrats on Coruscant and planetary governors, he had always been the Empire's rightful heir.
Besides... Lemelisk swallowed hard, glancing toward the corner where the disfigured corpse of a dissenting officer still lay—a reminder of what defiance brought.
Opposition? He was no vassal of Palpatine.
The old emperor was dead. The new ruler stood tall. One must look forward.
"Hmm." Vader could not quite define what he felt in that moment. He nodded slightly, then turned toward the Imperial Guard and the Sister of Silence before stepping to the comm station. His voice was clear, deep, and commanding.
"I am Darth Vader, commander. Commence free fire. Exterminate the rebels."
"No! You can't! Vader—Anakin—Father! You turned against Emperor Palpatine; why begin another senseless war? Return to the Jedi way—you were the greatest Jedi of all—"
Luke Skywalker struggled violently against his restraints.
"No," Vader cut him off harshly. "My son, it is too late. To spare them now would only invite future rebellions and greater suffering across the galaxy."
He looked at Luke—his child, stronger than he had imagined, yet still blinded by the weakness of the Jedi's compassion.
"Take care of your sister." His gaze fell upon Leia Organa—Leia Skywalker—the fragile, disbelieving young woman who stared at him as though the universe itself had turned upside down.
He offered no further explanation—not yet. Turning away, his tone went cold. "Exterminate the rebels."
"Father!"
When one of the Rebel Alliance's frigates crashed against an unseen deflector shield and exploded into a fireball, Luke flinched in horror.
"You'll need to keep a close eye on those rebellious children of yours."
Watching the unfolding family tragedy—Single Sith Lord Father and His Jedi Son and Rebel Daughter—the golden-armored Imperial Guard remarked dryly, "If they ever cross the line and fall into the hands of the military judiciary, the law officers, or the Inquisitors, even you will have to pay a price."
"I will teach them," Vader replied firmly.
Vmmm—!
A moment later, the unfinished cannon aperture of the Death Star II released a colossal beam of energy. In an instant, the massive green ray struck a formation of Rebel cruisers weaving through the crossfire.
In the blink of an eye, the fleet vanished—vaporized into a cloud of incandescent particles.
The fiery glare reflected off Vader's emotionless, steel-cold face.
"The fractured galaxy must be unified."
...
Across the Endor system, the Rebel Alliance fleet burned. Explosions bloomed everywhere. Beyond the devouring flames, the crimson hue of blood spread across the stars.
Every moment, more allies were annihilated—comrades reduced to nothing. The fleet they had built with such effort was being destroyed before their eyes. The sense of doom and despair spread like wildfire among the ranks.
Aboard the largest vessel at the heart of the Rebel line—the former Republic command cruiser—hundreds of officers of every species and origin gathered in the war chamber, awaiting orders from the high command.
The whispers of courage that had filled the room before the battle were gone. What remained was silence, failure, grief, and hate.
Mon Mothma, a noble and graceful woman in her middle years, entered the chamber. She moved through the murmuring crowd like a calm wind, wearing a white robe trimmed in gold. She was the elected leader of the Rebel Alliance.
Like Leia's adoptive father, Bail Organa—and like Palpatine before them—Mon Mothma had once been a high senator of the Galactic Republic. When Palpatine dissolved the Republic, it had been she who organized the rebellion's foundation.
"Retreat."
Her voice was filled with sorrow. "Admiral Ackbar, lead the fleet in retreat. Scatter the ships, withdraw at once. This is my final order—preserve the spark of rebellion. The spirit of freedom must not die."
"Senator Mothma—what about you?" A few close officers turned, noticing her stillness amid the evacuation.
"I will stay."
The dignified woman lifted her tearful eyes toward the slaughter in the stars. Her expression hardened into defiance. "There will always be free souls willing to face the Empire's tyranny."
"To die for it—that time has come."
She closed her eyes. As she ordered the droids to push the engines to full power, weapons to maximum output, and the reactors to overload—
BOOM!
The viewport filled with fire. A dozen massive gunships of varying markings raced ahead, spewing molten plasma that illuminated the cruiser's armored bridge.
The high-temperature blasts tore through the reinforced plating, igniting a catastrophic explosion. The armor melted, the hull split apart, and those within were consumed by fire.
Limbs and shattered bodies filled the air. Burning officers screamed in agony, their cries echoing like slaughtered animals.
"Boarding combat! Purge the heretics!"
The sound of magnetic boots thudded over the charred floor beside the torn, bloodstained white robe. Armored giants stormed through the flames—black armor marked with white crosses, moving like thunder.
"No mercy! No regret! No fear!"
"For Selene! For redemption! For the Mantis Warriors!"
"The Divine Empress judges! We rise upon burning wings!"
—
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