And across the city, high above on the balcony of the Senatorial Building, two figures watched it unfold.
Palpatine, arms folded behind his back, a faint smirk curling his lips.
"Well, well…" he said mockingly, "Looks like your brilliant plan to hijack my Yinchorri
backfiring, Mr. Daybit." "Your precious comrades… they might not last another hour."
But Daybit Sem Void stood beside him, still silent. Hands in his coat pockets. , he just… smirked—subtle, knowing.
Palpatine noticed and scoffed lightly. "I suppose a smile as a sign of giving up is what people use when they have no cards left to play—"
A pulse of immense, suffocating pressure erupted from the direction of the Jedi Temple. It swept across the capital like a tsunami of dread, laced in something darker than fear, heavier than death. The skyline distorted. The air grew still.
Even Palpatine froze mid-sentence.
His breath hitched. His spine stiffened. He felt fear.
A sensation he hadn't tasted in decades.
Then—BZZZZT—his secret holocommunicator lit up with a crimson glow. It was encrypted. Only one connection. Darth Plagueis.
A message flashed across it—short, frantic, for once stripped of Plagueis's calm:
My apprentice—GET OUT of the Senatorial Rotunda. NOW.
My Battle Meditation—cancelled. Overridden..
Palpatine's throat tightened.
SHHHHRRRRRAK—BOOM.
A thunderous crack split the sky above the Jedi Temple. Everyone on the upper levels of Coruscant turned skyward.
One of the massive pirate ships—still firing down upon the surface—was cleaved in two. Not vaporized. Not blown apart.
Cut—clean—through its core.
Both halves spiraled into burning wreckage, trailing smoke as they fell toward the lower districts, disintegrating mid-descent.
Then came the silhouette. An old man, hovering calmly above the chaos . His palm still faintly glowed with residual power. A power that had just sliced a warship in half without effort.
Joever Bideney.
The man who could destroy entire planets with a single attack—the infamous Bideney Blast.
Palpatine's eyes widened in horror as the Force screamed in warning across his nerves.
He turned sharply toward Daybit, voice low, rattled, cracking at the edges.
"Who are you? Are you… Joever Bideney's subordinate?"
Daybit said nothing. Just silence. A smirk. Unbothered.
But Palpatine wasn't going to wait.
With a flick of his fingers, he activated his secondary holocommunicator. A secure line built into the bones of the building—triggered only in the gravest emergencies.
His voice dropped into cold calculation.
"I've enjoyed our little meeting, Mr. Daybit… but since you clearly know my true identity—" his eyes darkened, "—you need to be disposed of."
The ceiling shattered.
Darth Maul dropped down like a falling blade, red saber igniting mid-air with a screech. His eyes burned with savage glee, spinning into a beheading strike toward Daybit's neck.
But— Daybit didn't move. Because Daybit wasn't normal.
As a child, he had died. Vaporized in an unknown incident. And rebuilt—reconstructed—by a fragment of something not from his own . An Angelic Artifact. Its power still lived within him. Rewired into his being. Translated into his terminal— Dark Star.
The air split open behind him. Angel Relic Entities emerged—four shadowy beings, humanoid yet wrong. They resembled Foreigner-class Servants, but these were no heroes. No legends. They were constructs. Old alien beings in humanoid form, called by the artifact.
Each one surged forward in silence—blade limbs, spiked halos, twisted veils of shadow wrapped in ethereal light.
They weren't Shadow Soldiers. They weren't even close to Jin-Woo's power. But they were still monsters.
Maul's saber clashed with one of them mid-strike—only to be parried by a thousand shifting limbs in the dark. His snarl broke into surprise as his momentum halted.
Then—another portal tore open behind Daybit.
A familiar voice called out: "The plan already worked, just like you said, Daybit! And the rest of the Crypters already evacuated. We've done our job. Except Ivan and Zeus. Honestly, I don't know what's in their thick heads—they refused to leave!"
Kukulcan. She burst from the slipspace tear, wild joy in her eyes,
Without hesitation, she grabbed Daybit's collar with one hand and flung him over her shoulder like cargo. "Come on, secret boss man. Time to go."
She dove backward into the portal, laughing. FWOOSH—they vanished in an instant.
The relic creatures turned—blocking Maul. Maul bared his teeth and spun his saber.
"Master!" he shouted, rage crackling through his voice, "I'll cover your retreat. I'll kill these black things.
He lunged forward, his saber cleaving through the chest of the first construct—only to watch it regenerate instantly. Shadowy flesh reformed, and the creature lashed out with tendrils of solid darkness, wrapping around Maul's arms.
He growled in fury. "These things won't die!"
From behind, Palpatine raised a hand.
A Force Lightning erupted from his fingertips—arcs of blue-white energy crashing into the creatures. Sparks flew as the shadows screamed, their ethereal forms fracturing. Thin cracks spread across their armor-like skins.
Palpatine's eyes narrowed.
"These aren't creations of Sith alchemy…"
"…Now I understand. Why my tricks—my mind probes—never worked on Daybit. He's already died once. And something brought him back."
Maul twisted free from the tendrils, snarling again. With one powerful spin, his saber plunged deep into the cracked chest of a writhing entity—striking the glowing core at its center. The creature let out a hiss and shattered into pieces of dissolving black mist.
Palpatine lowered his hand, stepping forward, voice calm, cold.
"My Force abilities can weaken them… but your saber, my apprentice… you will finish them."
Maul grinned, fangs bared like an animal. "With pleasure… Master."
He turned toward the remaining twenty, their halos flickering, limbs sharpening again as they reformed their lines.
Maul crouched low, crimson blades spinning. "Come on, then."
———
Elsewhere—just beyond Coruscant's upper atmosphere.
A massive battalion of pirate starships, dozens strong, loomed in orbit. Haphazard in design—salvaged armor, mismatched engines, spiked hulls—they were all drawn by the same blood scent: the Jedi.
Their orders were simple—descend, raid the Temple, wipe out the Order.
But now… One of their ships, the largest of the forward assault vessels, had been cleaved clean in two.
No warning . Just a single, surgical cut through hull and reactor.
And floating in the air just above Coruscant's burning skyline, he hovered.
Joever Bideney.
An old man in a black coat, his hair swept back like static silk. His eyes were closed, as if he didn't need to see. One arm glowed faintly, pulsing with unnatural energy—stable and unstable all at once. Each pulse shimmered like a nuclear countdown wrapped in flesh.
One pirate commander stumbled backward from the holoscreen on the bridge of his ship.
"N-No one told me…" he stammered. "That he was here… The most wanted man in the galaxy…"
Another officer shouted from behind the console, panic in his voice. "What do we do?! We came here to kill Jedi, not fight him! That's a Bideney!"
But their terror was already too late.
Suddenly—every screen, every terminal, every navicomputer on all the pirate ships went dark.
Then flashed red. A glowing circular glyph began to spin—Forerunner script, .
All at once, every single pirate ship was hacked.
Orbit shifted. Engines flickered and stalled. Automated systems rerouted navigation.
The entire battalion of ships began to move—not in retreat, but into formation. Unwillingly.
They clustered into a vast, silent ring around the Jedi Temple like a metallic wreath of impending doom.
The lead commander gripped his console, his voice dry with dread.
"We… can't escape."
He looked at the glowing red sigil hovering on the screen. "This… this will be our grave. And the Bideney Blast… will be our mercy."
A streak of silent, dark energy descended from the sky —cutting through the smoke and flame near the ruins of the Jedi Temple. The shockwave that followed shattered windows across the nearby districts, sent debris scattering, and silenced what remained of the firefight in the lower streets.
Joever Bideney landed. Superhero-style.
One fist against the cracked durasteel street, one knee grounded, head bowed , his glowing arm humming faintly as it stabilized the impact crater beneath him. For a moment—nothing moved.
Then—he stood. Eyes still closed .
He lifted his head slowly, turning toward the towering behemoth just ahead—
Ivan the Terrible, still in his full mammoth-fused Lostbelt King form, divine lightning across his tusks and trunk-mounted spear.
Joever's voice came low. Calm. Unshaken.
"Ivan. Your role is done. The rest will be up to Kirschtaria."
Ivan's massive eyes narrowed. His hooves cracked the durasteel beneath him as he stepped forward.
"No."
"These Jedi… need to pay. For what they've done to Anastasia. Unless—"
"—you want to stop me yourself, Shadow Monarch."
Joever didn't react. But deep inside, Jin-Woo gritted his teeth.
His hand moved to his side. With a flash of black metal, he summoned it—
A beskar katana. Slim. Long. Unbreakable. A blade forged not from his world.
As the handle settled in his palm, his thoughts darkened.
…Morgan… if you can hear me. I need the disguise to hold. Keep my Shadow Monarch aura suppressed…
———
Not far away—atop a skybridge overlooking the chaos—Morgan le Fay stood in the center of a massive, glowing fairy runic circle. Wings made of arcane mist flared behind her as her hands trembled, sweat beading down her temples.
The circle pulsed, straining to contain what it shouldn't be able to. "Damn it…"
Her voice cracked as she forced more power into the containment glyphs.
"My husband's aura… it's too massive. The true aura of the Shadow Monarch. It's like trying to bottle a planet ."
The circle sparked, flickering at its edges. "I've bought us some time—but I can't hold this for long…"
———
Down below, near the fractured remains of the Jedi Temple, Joever Bideney stood unmoving.
Eyes still shut. One hand gripping the beskar katana. The air around him unnaturally calm—eerily silent.
Across from him, Ivan the Terrible, still a towering mammoth-fused nightmare, raised his trunk and slammed his spear into the ground.
"Chyornyj Oprichniki!"
Dozens of armored black phantoms erupted from icy slipstreams—Ivan's personal death squad, each one born of corrupted authority and frost-forged loyalty. They surged toward Joever, blades raised, voices distorted with zeal.
Joever Bideney opened his eyes. Just once.
A faint blue glow flickered behind the false visage.
He unsheathed his katana.
In a single flash, the entire Oprichniki battalion fell.
No delay. No clash.
Beheaded, disintegrated, gone.
Their forms crumbled before their shadows even hit the floor. Ivan's eyes widened slightly.
He can't summon his army right now… That suppression spell must still be holding. So this… this is my only chance. One single opening. One time to win—even if just once!
Ivan raised both arms. The sky above Coruscant darkened.
The earth trembled as frost and storm magic coalesced around him, forming an apocalyptic cyclone of pressure.
"Come forth and kill like a nightmare!
The time of enforcement has arrived…
Zveri Krestnyi Khod!!"
The Noble Phantasm ignited.
Frost split the clouds. Thunder cracked through the mammoth trunk . a phenomenon—charged like it could erase a country.
Joever Bideney exhaled.
And moved. One motion.
He unsheathe the katana as he make iai technique —then brought it down. A single slash.
FSSSSSHHH—KRRRRRRAAAAAMMMM! The sky split.
Ivan's entire mammoth form was severed, clean from the shoulder down to the opposite hip. His trunk, tusks, armor, and storm vanished—cut cleanly, without resistance. The impact didn't stop there.
The blade's aftermath scarred the ground—a black line that carved through five thousand levels of Coruscant, from the Jedi Temple plaza straight through the city's lower layers. Metal, stone, streets, supports—all cleaved.
Ivan collapsed to his knees, separated from his monstrous mammoth core, breathing heavily.
He didn't look angry. Just… tired. And with a bitter smirk, he muttered,
"…Even when you're holding back… I'm still nothing compared to you…"
Joever exhaled make a silent gesture to slipspace Ivan . Then looked forward.
"…Yoda. Aren't you going to reveal yourself?"
Then—a ripple in the Force. A nearby fake wall unwrapped like smoke. Yoda stepped forward, his small form solemn, eyes fixed on Joever.
Beside him: Depa Billaba, Oppo Rancisis, Yarael Poof, and Yaddle—all cloaked under Force Concealment, now revealed.
Yoda's voice was calm. Grave.
"Joever Bideney… What is your purpose? Why did you not destroy us… like you did the planet Troiken?"
Joever didn't answer. He simply placed one hand on the hilt of his katana, fingers tightening.
Yoda's gaze flicked to the weapon. That blade… he thought. It split a ship in orbit… cut through the crust of Coruscant… If he swings it now, the temple itself may not survive.
He turned to the others, his voice low—firm. "Jedi Masters. Evacuate. Take the Younglings and the knights . Seek the hidden safe vaults within the Temple. This fight… I may not survive it."