Multiversal Anomaly Status: Normalized (Temporarily)
Threat Level: Depends how sober "Yoda" is today
It had been twelve hours since Omni-Man punched Homelander into low Earth orbit. Eleven since Butcher made a homemade milk-meme memorial for Scott Summers. Ten since SHIELD agents tried to sedate Anastasia and were promptly buried under her high heels and daddy issues.
Now?
Now I was in an abandoned subway tunnel with a Kyber shard buzzing in my hand, hallucinating about lightsabers that didn't exist in this universe, and trying not to scream while the Force whispered, "Build it, Rowan... or die alone."
So, yeah. Monday vibes.
[System Notification]
Quest Update: "Ashes of the Old World"
Objective: Forge the Kybersaber (1% complete)
Note: No Star Wars media exists in this world.
You're literally inventing galactic mythology from scratch.
Tip: Try not to make it look like a toy.
The shard pulsed again—deep blue, like a frozen scream—and I swore I heard a choir of Sith monks humming showtunes in the background. Or maybe I was just dehydrated. Again.
"Kyber wants form," I muttered. "Kyber wants focus. Kyber wants—"
"A lightshow and some blow, it wants, yes!"
I spun around so fast I nearly fell over the workbench.
There, perched atop a subway bench like a gremlin who had snorted too much glitter and watched Rent backwards, sat…
Well.
Let's call him "Yolo."
Three feet tall. Green. Ragged robes. Pupils like black holes in a sea of bloodshot white.
He stared at me. Then at my crystal.
Then at me again.
"Rowan Skywalker," he slurred. "Born of chaos, groomed by memes, and blessed by dead Force gods who don't return your calls. Hmmm?"
I blinked. "...Yoda?"
He sniffed. "Was. Still am. But different now. Less wisdom, more heroin."
He fell off the bench. "Ow. Floor greets warmly, it does."
[New NPC Unlocked – ??? (aka "Yolo")]
Species: Unknown
Claims: Former Jedi, now house elf
Personality: Unstable, loves jazz
Threat Level: Only to himself
Side Quest Available: "House Elves & Hyperspace Hangovers"
"What do you mean, 'house elf'?" I asked slowly.
He stood upright—sort of—and bowed. "Bound I am. To blood, to blade, to builder. House Elf of Skywalker, last line of madness and midichlorians."
"...You're MY house elf?"
"happy about it, Do not look boy."
"I'm not."
"Good. That means you're smart."
Yolo floated a little off the ground. "Task I have. Teach you, I will. Or die watching you fail. Both options amusing."
I groaned. "I don't need a cracked-out Goblin-Yoda babysitting me."
"You do," he grinned. "Force says you do. And the Force is never wrong... except that one time."
"What time?"
"The sequels ."
"…There are no sequels."
"Yet."
[System Update – Companion Added: "Yolo" the House Elf(?)]
Passive Ability: Chaotic Guidance – +5 Wisdom, -5 Sanity
You are now 1% closer to losing your damn mind.
Somewhere across the city, Professor X winced.
Cut to: Xavier Institute – Cerebro Chamber – Same Time
Professor Charles Xavier sat rigid in his chair, Cerebro pulsating like a migraine given form.
Jean stood nearby, fingers twitching, eyes wide.
"I can feel her again," she said softly.
"Anastasia?"
"No… her inside me. The other voice. The cold one. The possessive one."
Xavier grimaced. "Anastasia has begun imprinting."
Jean turned sharply. "On me?"
"No. On Rowan."
Jean's fists clenched. "Of course."
Charles exhaled. "And he… may be imprinting back."
She looked at him, furious. "You said he was dangerous, Professor."
"I said he was unpredictable. There's a difference."
Then Cerebro pulsed harder—like someone dropped dubstep into the astral plane.
"Rowan's Force presence just spiked. He's building something."
Jean narrowed her eyes.
And half the lights in the Institute flickered.
Back in the Subway Tunnel
Yolo hovered upside down, blowing bubbles with a straw made of Force-lightning.
"Kybersaber calling, is" he giggled. "Feel it you do?"
I nodded, slowly carving metal with a tiny plasma torch.
"not just a blade, It is ," Yolo whispered. "A fuse it is, hum beacon it is. Pole it is in the backside of destiny."
"You're not helping."
"not trying I am ."
He landed beside me. Eyes clear for once.
"birthing an empire You are, Rowan. want to Whether you or not."
I paused.
"…I just wanted a cool weapon."
Yolo nodded solemnly. "So did Vader."
[Weapon Progress – Kybersaber: 8% Complete]
Current Status: Blade core calibrated
Required: Hilt design, stabilization chamber, and ritual alignment
Warning: Every Force-sensitive on the planet felt that.
Far away, SHIELD scrambled.
Butcher woke up from a nap with a nosebleed and zero explanation.
And Invincible—hovering over the Empire State Building—turned to look toward Queens, whispering:
"…That kid again."
Somewhere above Queens, an illegally hacked TV satellite spiraled slightly off orbit, trailing popcorn, cigarette smoke, and the voice of God himself.
"Well folks," said Stan Lee, leaning into the world's most overpowered microphone, "we've got what looks like a teenage Force demigod, a redhead with the cosmic bird flu, and a cloned waifu who just declared psychic war."
Beside him, George Lucas sipped blue milk from a commemorative Phantom Menace mug. "I didn't write this, but I'd greenlight the hell out of it."
"Excelsior!" Stan beamed. "Now let's watch things fall apart. Again."
Midtown High – 8:02 AM
I stepped off the school bus still exhausted from late-night Force forging, accompanied by:
A vibrating Kyber shard in my pocket
A caffeinated Bucky in a terrible hoodie
And Yolo, clinging to my backpack like a Force-gremlin on meth
"I hate school," I muttered. "Feels like the plot's trying to sneak up on me."
Yolo licked a locker. "Like teen failure, it tastes ."
Inside, students milled around as if a multiversal war hadn't just reduced three city blocks to abstract art. Midtown, of course, was already immune to trauma. I mean, Peter once did a group project while actively bleeding from a rooftop fight with the Vulture.
Peter and Ned waved me over. "Hey, Rowan!" Ned grinned. "New robot parts came in for Robotics Club—"
"Cool," I said, pointing at Yolo. "Also, that's mine now. Don't ask."
Peter blinked. "Why does it look like Yoda after a rave?"
"Because life is pain and branding is everything."
[System Notification: Jean Grey Approaching]
Warning: Emotional volatility imminent
Phoenix Force resonance detected
Suggested Action: Smile like a jackass and deny everything
Jean rounded the corner. Her hair was frazzled, her aura sparking. And her eyes—yep, glowing faintly again.
"Oh," she said. "You."
I bowed. "Sansa Stark. We meet again."
Ned muttered, "He really doesn't know when to stop."
Peter: "He really doesn't."
Jean stepped closer. "Why is your aura bleeding into mine?"
I shrugged. "Maybe it's fate. Maybe it's cosmic shipping. Maybe it's… gas?"
She twitched. Her hand lifted—telekinesis flaring—and the hallway lights dimmed.
[Phoenix Force – Stability: 63%]
Force Resonance Triggered
Result: Unholy psychic pressure wave in 3… 2…
The floor vibrated.
Students ran.
I grinned. "If this were an anime, this would be our beach episode tension moment."
Jean hissed, "Stay out of my head."
"Only if you stay out of my plotline."
Then she showed up.
Anastasia.
Dark coat. Gloves. Slight bloodstain on the sleeve. Eyes wild.
She walked up slowly, calmly, and placed a hand on my shoulder like she was claiming a free sample at Costco.
"Hi," she said sweetly. "I'm Rowan's sister."
Jean narrowed her eyes. "You're lying."
Anastasia's smile grew. "Am I? Or is the truth just jealous?"
Peter blinked. "Sister?!"
Ned whispered, "Wait. Hot… sister?"
Yolo burped. "She wants to eat your soul. Just sayin'."
[Waifu War Level: Escalating]
Jean's Mind: Storming
Anastasia's Mind: Territorial Lock Engaged
System: This will only get worse.
Outside, SHIELD agents surrounded the block.
Inside Cerebro, Professor X grimaced. He tried again to reach Rowan through the psychic haze—but Anastasia blocked him. Deliberately. Forcefully.
"She's inside the school," Charles muttered. "Inside his mind."
Beast paced. "Do we intervene?"
Xavier closed his eyes.
"We're already too late."
And above them all, in their satellite snack lounge, Stan Lee and George Lucas high-fived as the public broadcast cut to live chaos at Midtown High.
Stan held up a bucket of popcorn.
"And here we go again, true believers."
TO BE CONTINUED…