Yoda's eyes narrowed, his voice deep in thought.
"Strange… the armored man, he is known to give nothing. not even mercy. Why you, then? Why give to you?"
Anakin tilted his head and thought for a moment. "Maybe because I threw something at him."
Mace Windu raised an eyebrow. "You what?"
"I threw a wrench at his head." Anakin continued, completely earnest.
"He asked me something after that. He said: 'Why did you not accept your fate… when fate is cruel to anyone weak like you?' There was more. A lot more we talked about, but I forgot some parts. What I do remember…"
"I answered him with one thing: 'I'll challenge you to a fight. In whatever you're good at. And I'll win—just like I'll win the pod race later. Because my friends count on me.'"
The Council fell silent again.
Then Anakin's repeating the last thing the armored man ever said to him. "He laughed. Left something behind. And said…"
Anakin looked down at the arc reactor in his hands. "'The next time we meet… it will be face to face. I will wear no armor. Farewell… hero of the story. I will await how you end your chapter.'"
Anakin's voice faded with the last echo of Armored Man parting words. Then, without warning— An invisible weight crushed the chamber like an imploding star. The air became heavy, suffocating. Stone groaned. Steel trembled. Even the lights flickered as if choking on the presence now flooding Coruscant's sky.
Several Jedi Masters fell to one knee... Plo Koon staggered, his respirator wheezing. Ki-Adi-Mundi braced both hands on the floor, his breathing shallow.
Mace Windu's hand went to his saber as sweat formed across his temple. "Master Yoda… are we under attack?"
Yoda's eyes closed, then opened again slowly. "No… not attack. Presence."
He turned his head toward the far skyline—toward the Galactic Senate building.
"An immense, powerful being. One I hoped we would never feel again."
The sky above Coruscant darkened unnaturally. Thunder rolled without clouds. The sun dimmed as if afraid to shine. But amid the quake of power, amid the invisible maelstrom that pressed down on titans of the Order…
Anakin Skywalker stood untouched. He blinked once, tilted his head, then looked around. "Uh… Masters? Why don't I feel anything?"
The Jedi Council looked at him, stunned. . The ten-year-old stood like a pillar while the Order bent.
Mace's eyes narrowed. "Impossible."
Depa whispered, "He's not even shielding himself…"
But Yoda… Yoda stared long. Deep. His thoughts drifting beyond time itself. Unshaken… not because the power avoids him. Perhaps . Because it knows him.Jin-Woo… that power. It must be him.
Then another thought settled in the Grand Master's ancient mind, quiet and chilling: Perhaps the Chosen One… was never meant to bring balance to the Force. Perhaps… his destiny is to stand against the one even the Force itself cannot bind.
The Daughter appeared beside Anakin in a flash of radiant light, cloaked in wind and shimmering force strands. She didn't speak at first—only placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.
Master Yoda's eyes narrowed, locking onto her presence. "You… are one of the Mortis?" he asked cautiously.
The Daughter didn't turn to him. Her eyes stayed fixed on Anakin. "No time for your usual do-gooder questions," she said flatly. "If you all want this planet to remain intact, then right now—focus your Force onto him. All of you."
The Jedi Council hesitated—uncertain.
The Daughter finally looked to them with sharp, divine irritation. "Now."
Yoda, Windu, and the rest obeyed without another word, drawing on the Force in unison and quietly directing its currents toward the child at the center of the room.
She turned back to Anakin, kneeling slightly so her face matched his. "I need you to do one thing, Anakin," she said softly. "Think… think that everybody will be fine. That this planet won't be harmed. That no one will die today."
Anakin furrowed his brow, confused. "Lady that has beef with Jin-Woo… you again?"
The Daughter's face twitched. "You need to stop calling me that."
Anakin blinked. "Then what should I call you?"
The Daughter's said "If you can't say my name, then just call me 'the Lady,' alright? That's close enough."
Anakin looked down, then back at her. "But I'm not a Jedi. I don't have what they have. I'm just—"
"No," the Daughter interrupted, firm. "You have it. The Force birthed you here for a reason, and this is part of it. You may not understand it yet… but this is your beginning. ."
Anakin swallowed. He looked at the arc reactor still in his palm… then back up at the Lady.
The Daughter waited patiently. Then repeated, , "…Can you do that for us?"
He gave a small, silent nod. And in that quiet, as his eyes closed and his thoughts softened, something began to ripple from him—unconscious, instinctive. A radiant field, not like the typical Jedi battle meditation… smoother. Gentler. Subtle in its spread, like a calm sea washing over turbulent shores.
Windu's brow furrowed. He reached out with his senses and whispered, "Master Yoda… isn't this similar to your battle meditation?"
Yoda nodded very slowly. "Less refined… and unstable. But yes. Still… we need the boy's help."
Anakin's brows remained knit in confusion. His heart still stirred in conflict.
The Daughter stepped closer and rested her hand gently on his shoulder. "Anakin Skywalker," she said, voice quiet and firm, "you don't need to think so hard. Stop fighting it. Let it flow. The pain you suffered… the hate you carry… even your confusion—why someone like Jin-Woo appeared at all… let it all pass through you."
Anakin's lip trembled slightly. He looked down, voice trembling. "…I entrusted my mother to him. I thought… I thought he could safeguard her. But now… now I wonder—was that the wrong choice?"
A tear slipped down his cheek. "Isn't he my adversary?" he asked, his voice cracking. "If I'm supposed to fight him one day… won't he do something horrible to my mother?"
The Daughter knelt again,. "Anakin… your decision to entrust Shmi to him was not wrong. In fact, it may have been the best decision you've ever made. If he said he will safeguard her… then she is likely the safest person on the entire planet. Perhaps even the galaxy."
Anakin blinked at her. "Then why… why did he save us? Me and her? If he knows I'm a threat—if I'm meant to defeat him—shouldn't he have just…" He couldn't finish the thought.
The Daughter's voice was steady, but distant, almost reverent. "No one truly knows how the King of the Dead thinks," she said. "Jin-Woo… is death that walks. But if there's one thing I do believe…"
She looked him in the eyes. "He genuinely saved you that day. "
Anakin's breath slowed. His eyes gently closed as he tapped into something deep inside him. It didn't have a name. Something raw and ancient. Gentle, but immovable. A wellspring that hummed with life, with faith, with unspoken resolve.
And its effect was immediate.
Like a wave of warmth rippling through a frigid sea, the suffocating atmosphere that had gripped Coruscant began to lift. Jedi Masters caught their breath. Their lungs no longer fought against the pressure. The weight in their bones eased. The Force, once turbulent and darkened by Jin-Woo's overwhelming presence, was given a single, glowing thread of balance.
Even the streets of Coruscant—the civilians hiding in fear, trembling under the unknown terror radiating from the Senate—felt it. Some stood. Some wept in quiet disbelief. Some simply looked up at the sky, no longer so dark.
In the Jedi Council chamber, the doors burst open.
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan entered, both panting from their dash across the Temple. Qui-Gon stepped forward urgently. "Master Yoda!" he said. "We're under attack. The Senate—an unknown enemy—there's some kind of Force-wield—"
He stopped. The scene before him struck like a whisper. All the Masters sat with their palms gently raised toward Anakin, who stood at the center of a silent calm, the Daughter beside him.
Qui-Gon took a step closer, voice quieter now. "I… I guess Anakin is accepted as a Jedi?"
Yoda didn't look away from Anakin. His voice was steady, but somber. "That… we do not yet know. But one thing, certain it is…" His ears twitched faintly. "He is, in fact… the Chosen One."
Windu crossed his arms, face unreadable, but his voice carried weight. "He's too old. And his future is clouded. There is much to consider."
Yoda slowly nodded. "Strong… an immense connection to the Force, young Skywalker has. Rare… powerful. Unshaped. …But fear I have," Yoda whispered, "if trained as a Jedi… what path he may walk."
Plo Koon's voice cut through the lingering quiet. "Let's focus on the current problem. What do we do about the one inside the Senate building?"
Windu's eyes narrowed. His arms folded tighter. "I will gather as many Jedi Masters trained under my guidance. Together, we'll apprehend Jin-Woo—if necessary, we'll bring the full strength of the Order."
The Daughter's voice sliced clean through the room. "Forget that thought," she said coldly. "Not one of you would even make it near him now."
Obi-Wan took a step forward, his tone calm but firm. "Lady… although you are indeed ancient, please—don't underestimate the Jedi. We've dealt with darkness before."
The Daughter didn't blink. Her eyes locked onto him with something colder than steel. "I think you need to look at reality," she said, gaze sweeping the room. "Jin-Woo is there, in the Senate building. And you—you're here. And even at this distance, you were all on your knees… helpless. Without the boy," she gestured briefly to Anakin, "this planet would be ash."
Her eyes landed on Mace Windu. "And you… I know what you're thinking."
Windu's jaw tensed slightly.
"Force-wielder," the Daughter said, voice now like a frozen bell, "even if you gathered one million Jedi—and you don't have anywhere close to that—and you all marched in perfect unity… you would not win. All you'd do… is send them to die."
Qui-Gon took a breath and stepped forward, eyes locked on the Daughter. "Then what must we do?" he asked. "We need your guidance… in this situation."
The Daughter turned her gaze toward him, then calmly spoke. "I'll speak with Jin-Woo. Try to convince him to seal his power once more."
Windu immediately shook his head. "I'm sorry, but that man is dangerous. He must be apprehended. No one should walk the galaxy with that kind of power unchecked."
The Daughter didn't respond. She only looked at Windu in a long, drawn-out silence. Her expression unreadable. Her presence alone enough to silence the air around her.
Yoda raised one small hand toward Windu, urging him to back down. "Calm yourself, Master Windu," Yoda said quietly. Then he turned his attention to her. "One of Mortis… the Daughter. Can you stop Jin-Woo yourself? For seen I have… strength like yours is not common."
The Daughter exhaled once, slow and even. "I'll put it simply," she said. "Imagine the combined power of all Jedi—every single one of you—as the size of the Jedi Temple."
She paused, letting that sink in. "Now imagine my strength… as wide as the skies of Coruscant."
Her eyes drifted to each of them. "Now ask yourselves—how strong do you think Jin-Woo is?"
Qui-Gon, cautious but hopeful, said, "Perhaps… he's as strong as a planet. That's why you're here, yes? With your help, maybe we can stop him."
The Daughter didn't blink. "You still don't understand," she said softly. "If Jin-Woo's power was the size of a planet… all of us—every being from Mortis—would've already struck him down."
Her eyes darkened slightly. Voice distant. Cold.
"Jin-Woo's strength…. is like the darkness between the stars. . That infinite nothing where light dies and time forgets. You cannot measure him. Jin-Woo is that darkness," she said. "And you can't fight something that existed before the war even began."
The Daughter's gaze lingered on the Jedi Council for a moment longer. Her eyes, ageless and weary, reflected not judgment—but frustration. Quietly, inwardly, she thought: Jin-Woo… you give me such a headache. You did all this—unsealed your Force power, caused the dark and light to nearly twist over one another—just so that boy would be accepted by this Council. You gamble on chaos like it's a coin toss.
She looked over the silent Masters one last time. Most of them remained tense,.But now, they were calmer. Humbled.. They've made their choice, she thought.
Surrounded by a shimmering aura of feathers and radiant light, her form began to lift gently into the air. Wings of translucent energy extended behind her. "I take my leave, then," she said calmly.
Yoda quickly raised a hand. "Wait… I must ask," he said, voice hoarse but earnest. "Why appear now? Always I heard… the Mortis beings never leave their realm. Why now?"
The Daughter paused in midair, her back half-turned.
She didn't look back—only let the words fall like a quiet verdict. "Ask Jin-Woo," she said. "Ask him why someone like him showed up in The galaxy."
And with a flicker of brilliance—wings folding inward—she vanished. Leaving only starlight in her wake.