Chapter 366: Two Blasts to Heaven—The Emperor Falls! Brothers Survive the Storm!
"We didn't wait these past few months for nothing!"
Captain Cassian was trembling with excitement as he watched the Starkiller Base unleash its earth-shattering might in this galactic battlefield.
A strategic deterrence-class superweapon like the Starkiller was never meant to be used lightly.
Because once it was used, it had to deliver utterly overwhelming destruction—anything less, and it would lose its deterrent value.
Forged with peerless craftsmanship, the Starkiller alone could confront the Empire's might.
One shot—recognized by the galaxy.
Two shots—the Emperor struck down by Heaven!
From now on, regardless of which regime rose to power in the Star Wars galaxy, everyone would remember that it was during the Battle of Yavin that the Starkiller Base shook the stars.
The might of Universal Megacorp would be forever engraved in the hearts of all. Any schemer dreaming of seizing power would now have to seriously reconsider their worth.
"I can feel it—Palpatine's Force presence has vanished," Chirrut said with solemn conviction, having sensed the Emperor's "death" through his attunement to the Force.
It made sense. As Emperor of the Galactic Empire, Palpatine would certainly have been stationed in the Death Star's command chamber.
And with a point-blank energy cannon blast, not even the most powerful Force-wielders could have survived.
But then Chirrut's expression turned serious as he suddenly shifted tone:
"However, I still sense Darth Vader's presence. He must have sensed our arrival and left the command deck beforehand."
The thought that Vader was still alive made Paul instantly pop a vial of spice, readying himself for a final clash by enhancing his abilities.
"Where is he now?" Paul asked sharply.
Before Anyone could answer, Luke Skywalker suddenly seemed to realize something. His expression changed, and he broke into a sprint toward the corridor ahead.
Seeing Luke's panic, Paul immediately understood: "Damn it, he's planning to take us all down with him!"
The two of them didn't wait for the others. They rushed straight toward the Death Star's antimatter reactor core control chamber.
And just as they suspected, Darth Vader was already there—levitating a proton torpedo with the Force, preparing to drop it into the bottomless heart of the Death Star.
Given the fatal design flaw by Galen Erso, a single torpedo dropped into the core could trigger a catastrophic chain reaction, utterly destroying the entire Death Star.
From his interrogation of Princess Leia, Vader had obviously learned of this vulnerability. And now that defeat was inevitable, he had come to deal the final blow on behalf of the fallen Empire.
As a Sith Lord, Darth Vader still held pride and dignity. With the Galactic Empire on the brink of collapse, he would use the shattered Death Star to draw a final curtain on its former glory.
As Vader dismantled the torpedo from a TIE fighter and prepared to cast it into the Death Star's core, Paul and Luke arrived just in time.
Both men reached out simultaneously, using the Force and their abilities to halt the torpedo's descent and catch it mid-air.
"Darth Vader—no dumping trash here," Paul said coldly, cradling the live proton torpedo in his arms.
With Universal Megacorp now holding the clear upper hand, and only one step left to complete their integration plan, Paul couldn't let Vader sabotage their hard-won prize—the Death Star.
"You again… You damn persistent ghost," came the raspy voice from behind Vader's mask, heavy with emotion—be it anger or resignation. Paul's previous escape had gnawed at him ever since.
Now, seeing him again, Vader decided he would die with Paul—even if it meant going down with the collapsing Empire.
In this moment, the roles had flipped.
In the original Star Wars plot, the Rebel Alliance was the one to destroy the Death Star. But now, that role had fallen to Darth Vader.
Before the rest of the Rogue One team could arrive, Vader struck first, launching a fierce assault on Paul.
Fueled by unrestrained rage, Vader's blows—amplified by the Dark Side—were far more brutal than during their last encounter.
Paul didn't dare hold back. He handed the torpedo to Luke and hurled his Hunter Darts at Vader as he engaged in combat.
But even at full tilt, Vader's precognitive reflexes let him sense the hidden projectiles in advance.
The Hunter Darts—though launched at blistering speed and impossible angles—were caught mid-air by the Force and then sliced in two by Vader's crimson lightsaber. Useless.
The same weapons that had helped Paul capture the Devastator were now effortlessly neutralized.
But that, too, was expected.
Vader's mastery of telekinesis and situational awareness made such tricks utterly ineffective.
Realizing Paul was only trying to stall him, Vader immediately turned his attention to the torpedo, using the Force to wrest it from Luke's arms.
Luke resisted fiercely, engaging in a tug-of-war with Vader using the Force. The proton torpedo hovered in deadlock between them.
Fortunately, Paul's constant disruption kept Vader from winning the struggle. Otherwise, the Death Star might already have been doomed.
Frustrated, Vader raised one hand to wield the Force and the other to swing his scarlet blade, bringing it down mercilessly on Paul.
This time, he wasn't holding back. There was no more "admiring talent"—he wanted this meddling brat dead, now.
Paul blocked as best he could. Only the spice coursing through his veins—and the fact that Vader was splitting his focus—allowed him to survive the onslaught.
But the gap in strength was still immense. Vader quickly drove Paul back to the edge of a narrow catwalk. Behind him yawned a bottomless pit leading straight into the Death Star's antimatter reactor core.
One step back, and Paul would either be crushed to paste by the fall—or instantly vaporized by the core's radiation.
Seeing his enemy about to fall, Vader unleashed a flurry of savage blows, his lightsaber howling like a storm, each strike nearly fatal.
Paul clenched his teeth and held firm. He could feel his organs straining to their limits. The spice coursing through him was now the only thing keeping him upright.
To Vader's surprise, the man he once easily overpowered was now holding his own through countless deadly strikes. It was unbelievable.
But Vader had no time to ponder Paul's sudden growth. He needed to finish this, to kill the boy and bury the Empire's enemies once and for all.
Red and blue sabers clashed above the reactor, scattering blinding sparks.
Nearby machinery crumbled like tofu—nothing could withstand the violence of their duel.
Luke Skywalker clutched the torpedo tightly. He wanted to help Paul, but feared that any slip could let Vader seize the warhead and destroy everything.
So, like a sidelined teammate during a teamfight, all he could do was pace the edge, waiting and watching.
Vader dominated the fight, but still couldn't finish Paul. The battle dragged on into a deadlock.
CRACK—!
Their lightsabers clashed once again, faces lit by the glow of blade and fury—blue and red, locked in fateful opposition.
But then, Vader's saber slid toward Paul's throat.
One flick was all it would take to end him.
Seeing Paul on the verge of death, Luke cried out desperately and held up the torpedo:
"Don't kill him—we surrender!"
At Luke's shout, Vader froze mid-strike. He glanced at Luke, then back at Paul.
And then, true to form, he couldn't resist monologuing:
"Your courage and determination are admirable… but tragically misdirected. You chose the wrong side."
Sure, taunting an opponent mid-fight risks getting killed—but for Vader, this was a prime moment to strike a pose and drop a line.
After all, the Empire's last crystal was shattered. Victory was no longer an option. But taking down the enemy's strongest asset before it was over? That still felt good.
But Paul wasn't about to let Vader have the last word.
"You say I chose wrong—but I won. The Empire you served… your Emperor… they're gone."
"A new era begins—the era of Universal Megacorp. You still have a choice, Vader. Think about why you joined the Empire in the first place. Did you ever really achieve what you sought?"
Paul flipped the script—trying to turn Vader, appealing to his doubts. There was no point shedding more blood for a dying cause.
And suddenly, Vader faltered.
He was the one left stranded—alone, defeated.
Once, he had been a Sith Lord, second only to the Emperor.
But now, with Palpatine dead and Megacorp's power looming, everything he believed in was crumbling.
He had joined the Empire to gain power, to protect his wife, to earn the galaxy's respect.
But in the end, all he had left was a shattered body—dragging himself forward in a broken shell, propping up a lie.
His wife was lost. He had become the Empire's greatest monster.
In that moment, uncertainty and sorrow overtook him.
Now's my chance!
Seeing Vader's hesitation, Paul seized the opportunity. He swiftly drew the Beskar-forged warblade hidden in his coat—
A gift from Din Djarin, a symbol of brotherhood. They had exchanged their most cherished weapons in mutual respect.
At that moment, the beskar blade lunged toward Darth Vader in a sudden, unexpected strike.
But Vader's reflexes were lightning-fast. Without even thinking, he instinctively countered—one swift stroke sent Paul's blade flying.
The move was familiar. The scene instantly brought both of their minds back to their first duel aboard the Profundity.
Only this time, Paul didn't stop—nor did he retreat in fear. Instead, he stepped in close, and his left arm's mantis blade snapped forward with a sharp thrust.
Shk—! A crisp, piercing sound rang out as the mantis blade struck Darth Vader square in the chest.
Vader looked at Paul, stunned. Never had he seen Anyone attempt such a reckless move. Paul wasn't fighting to win—he was aiming for mutual destruction.
Vader had the clear advantage—he could've killed Paul right after disarming him. But he hadn't expected Paul to use the advantage of close quarters for a lethal counterattack.
"So... you had one more trick up your sleeve," Vader muttered.
He raised a hand, splaying his fingers wide. With the Force, he pulled the proton torpedo from Luke's hands, gripping it tightly.
If he was going to die—then they'd all die together!
Vader swiftly slashed through the mantis blade, but the embedded tip remained lodged in his chest, wreaking havoc inside. He found himself struggling to breathe.
That meant the cybernetic respirator in his chest had started to fail.
"This time, I win," Paul said.
He quickly pulled back, avoiding a retaliatory strike that could've taken his left hand, and exhaled in relief as he watched Darth Vader's breathing grow heavier.
It was clear now—without his respiratory system, Vader was exposed, weakened. His body was rapidly deteriorating.
Ever since Paul lost to Vader, he had spent countless hours in private, analyzing ways to defeat him. He knew Vader had a habit of disarming opponents or severing their hands.
That's why he devised this desperate, do-or-die countermeasure. It was a move that could only be used once, with a low chance of success. Paul had gambled.
And he had won.
Huff… huff… cough, cough—!
As the respirator broke down, Vader's body began to tremble. Deprived of oxygen, his mind started to drift and lose clarity.
With that came a loss of bodily control—his strength faded rapidly.
Vader gasped harshly, struggling for air—but it was futile. He was already a half-dead man kept alive by machines.
Without his full life-support system, he was nothing more than a slightly more robust invalid. Barely clinging to life was hard enough—dueling a young man like Paul was no longer even conceivable.
"This torpedo dies with me!" he growled.
Using the last of his Force power, Vader clamped down on the proton torpedo, refusing to let Luke or Paul take it back. He was determined to fall into the abyss with it in his grasp.
Even in a weakened state, Darth Vader's Force powers were formidable—neither Luke nor Paul could pry the torpedo from him.
Before Luke could make another attempt, Vader leapt into the void, clutching the torpedo. If he could ignite the Death Star's reactor with it, at least he would guarantee one thing:
That there would be no victor in this duel between him and Paul.
But in the very next second, Vader never felt the expected sensation of falling. He realized that both he and the torpedo were being suspended midair—as if held by some invisible force.
No matter how hard he struggled, he couldn't escape. Nor could he force the torpedo to move even an inch.
What is this…?!
That's when Vader realized—it wasn't Paul who was restraining him.
It was another, stronger Force wielder, who had completely locked down his abilities.
Then, he saw the one behind it all—none other than the long-absent Obi-Wan!
Alongside him stood Panam Wells and a squad of Astartes warriors.
Without hesitation, Panam fired a grappling device, pulling the suspended proton torpedo back to safety. At the same time, Obi-Wan forcefully flung Vader into a nearby wall.
This was the greatest difference between Vader and Paul: behind Paul stood the massive Universal Megacorp—a systematic supercivilization.
An organization backed by the finest scientists, warriors, and trade networks across multiple universes.
But Darth Vader? He had no one. Not even Palpatine had ever treated him as more than a useful tool.
Paul had received a signal from Panam beforehand. That's why he risked everything with that desperate attack—he only needed to buy a little time. And he did.
As all his remaining hopes collapsed, Vader lay motionless on the ground, his breathing apparatus ruined. His body grew weaker and more numb with each passing second.
Soon, he would join the countless Sith Lords who had fallen into the eternal abyss of the void.
At this point, Vader asked only for one thing—a swift death. It was the least he could hope for, to die with the dignity befitting a Sith Lord.
"I'm ready," he said.
Vader barely managed to raise his battered body and stood before Paul, waiting for the final blow. To die by this opponent's lightsaber—it would not be a shameful death.
But Paul retracted his blade.
A prisoner like Darth Vader, with such high strategic value, couldn't be executed on a whim. The final decision would have to come from the boss— Li Ang .
"Don't be in such a hurry to die. Aren't you going to say hello to an old friend first?" Paul said, turning away and ignoring Vader.
At that moment, Obi-Wan stepped forward, approaching the fallen Vader. Looking at his former Padawan—now in such a pitiful state—he spoke with a hint of sorrow:
"Darth Vader… you can be Anakin again now. The Anakin who once believed in the light side of the Force."
When the storm has passed, brothers remain. Let a smile erase all past grudges.
Obi-Wan only hoped to awaken the friend he once knew. If Anakin could find his way back, it wasn't too late.
But Vader said nothing. He turned his head to the young, unfamiliar Jedi—Luke—and asked, "What's your name?"
He didn't know why, but Vader felt an inexplicable connection to this young man. Even during their duel, that feeling had lingered.
"Luke Skywalker," the boy answered firmly, gripping his lightsaber and glaring at Vader.
He'd long known that Vader was responsible for the death of his real parents. And that Obi-Wan had been forced into exile. So many friends and loved ones had been lost because of this man.
He felt no sympathy. Only the urge to strike him down and take revenge.
After learning Luke's name and sensing his Force signature, Vader fell silent. He turned to Obi-Wan, as if seeking confirmation.
Obi-Wan said nothing—but his silence was confirmation enough.
Vader's heart stirred. He never imagined that, in the final moment of his life, he would meet his son.
But this… this was no time for a family reunion.
What kind of father could stomach the thought of revealing the truth under such circumstances?
"Darth Vader, surrender now. If you do, we'll let the past be the past. You still have time to come back," Obi-Wan said.
The implication was clear.
Vader, you don't have to recognize me as your brother—but you should recognize your son.
Look at yourself—how can you face your child like this?
To appear before your own son as the galaxy's most infamous villain—then turn around and kill yourself? That would only traumatize Luke for life.
The Megacorp is offering you a chance—a fresh start.
They've already prepared a public redemption arc for you. All you need to do now is surrender and follow the plan.
Don't make the same mistake again. You failed to save Padmé—don't let Luke slip through your fingers too.
Do you really want to see the Skywalker bloodline end here?
Listen. Obey. Surrender.
Vader understood what Obi-Wan meant. He let his lightsaber drop and raised his hands in surrender, silently declaring his submission.
It wasn't for survival.
It was for the chance to see his son again.
Seeing him surrender, Panam mmediately ordered the Astartes squad to stabilize and extract Vader for transport back to the Megacorp's main base.
Vader didn't resist. This was his only shot at redemption and reconciliation.
Whether or not Luke would accept him as his father, he had to try.
Now wasn't the time for a reunion—but that day would come.
"Hmph! Lucky that old dog gave up when he did. Otherwise, I'd have chopped his damn head off!"
Luke watched as Vader was escorted away, fuming with regret. He hated that he didn't strike sooner—before this monster could escape justice.
Obi-Wan opened his mouth to speak… but said nothing in the end.
He simply placed a hand on Luke's shoulder and let out a quiet sigh.
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