### **Chapter 190**
The Temple was quiet.
Too quiet.
Dagon stood alone near the wide viewport of his quarters, Coruscant's endless skyline stretching out before him like a sea of light. Speeders moved in perfect streams, towers pierced the clouds, and somewhere far below, billions lived their lives unaware of the war that shaped their fate.
His reflection stared back at him in the glass.
White armor.
Scar across his face.
Eyes that had seen too much.
And yet—
"…Who am I?"
The question came without hesitation.
It wasn't new.
But it felt heavier now.
The original Dagon Marek… the one whose body he inhabited… had been nothing remarkable. A quiet Jedi. A meditative type. Studious, disciplined in theory—but lacking drive. The kind who would spend hours in stillness, seeking balance instead of action.
A Balance Corps initiate.
A path most Jedi respected…
…but few feared.
He exhaled slowly.
"That Dagon… is gone."
What remained was something else entirely.
A ghost from another life.
A soldier.
No…
A survivor.
Memories flickered through his mind—burning skies, shattered cities, the relentless march of machines. The metallic shriek of war engines. The hollow, emotionless glow of red optics cutting through nuclear ash.
Skynet.
Legions of them.
Endless.
Unstoppable.
And yet—
"I survived."
Not just survived.
He fought.
Commanded.
Endured.
Through wastelands where the air itself tried to kill you. Through battles where humanity wasn't just losing…
…it had already lost.
And the machines were only part of it.
The cultists…
His expression darkened.
Humans who had abandoned reason. Who worshipped destruction. Who embraced chaos like it was salvation.
He had fought them too.
Blade against flesh.
Fire against madness.
Blood against blood.
And he had won.
Every time.
At a cost.
Always at a cost.
His hand tightened slightly.
"And now…"
Now he stood here.
A Jedi.
A general.
A symbol.
A lie.
Because none of them knew.
Not really.
Not Ahsoka.
Not Visenya.
Not any of them.
They saw Dagon Marek.
They didn't see the man behind the mask.
His gaze lowered.
"…Should I tell her?"
Ahsoka.
His Padawan.
She trusted him.
Followed him.
Believed in him.
And yet…
"She doesn't even know who I am."
Would she understand?
Or would she see him as something else?
Something… wrong?
His thoughts shifted.
Visenya.
The reporter who had somehow become more.
Friend.
Companion.
Something deeper.
Her empathy… her connection… her growing sensitivity to the Force—it made things complicated.
She felt things.
Understood emotions on a level most couldn't.
"If I told her…"
Would she feel the truth?
Or would it break something?
Then there were the others.
Kayla.
Stella.
Flare.
Different personalities.
Different paths.
Yet all somehow connected.
The Force bond between them…
…it wasn't normal.
It wasn't something easily explained.
And that made it dangerous.
"Am I even worthy of this?"
The question lingered longer than the others.
Because this—
This connection.
This… closeness.
It wasn't something a warrior like him was meant to have.
In his previous life, bonds were weaknesses.
Attachments got people killed.
Caring too much meant hesitation.
Hesitation meant death.
Simple.
Brutal.
True.
"A warrior's path is solitary."
He had lived by that.
Breathed it.
Survived because of it.
And yet…
Here he was.
Surrounded.
Connected.
Wanted.
His eyes closed briefly.
"…Would they still care for me?"
The thought lingered longer than he expected.
Then—
"Hey!"
The door slid open.
Voices.
Laughter.
Energy.
Dagon opened his eyes.
The moment shattered.
—
Visenya was the first to step in, arms folded as she looked around with a curious expression.
"…Dagon."
Her tone was already questioning.
He turned slightly.
"Yes?"
She glanced around again.
Then back at him.
"Are we still in the Temple?"
Dagon blinked.
"…Yes."
She narrowed her eyes slightly.
"Then why does your room feel like it's not part of the Temple?"
Ahsoka stepped in behind her, arms crossed with a small smirk.
"She's not wrong."
Kayla followed, glancing around with mild disapproval.
"This place is… empty."
Stella quietly peeked inside, eyes wide.
"It's… kind of lonely…"
Flare leaned against the doorway, observing.
"Not even decorations."
Dagon looked around his own room.
Simple.
Minimal.
Functional.
"I don't see the issue."
Five pairs of eyes stared at him.
Ahsoka sighed.
"That's the issue."
Visenya walked further in, her fingers brushing lightly against the wall as if trying to *feel* the space.
"It doesn't feel lived in."
Kayla crossed her arms.
"It feels like a storage unit."
Stella tilted her head.
"Or a meditation chamber…"
Flare smirked.
"For someone avoiding everything else."
Dagon raised an eyebrow.
"…I was told to prepare for a meeting."
Visenya turned sharply.
"Yes."
Ahsoka stepped forward.
"And you're not going dressed like that."
She pointed at his armor.
Dagon glanced down.
"It's practical."
Kayla scoffed.
"It's not appropriate."
Flare added casually,
"You're not going to a battlefield."
Stella nodded softly.
"It's… a formal meeting…"
Dagon looked at all of them.
"…I see."
Visenya clapped her hands once.
"Good! Then we're fixing this."
—
The next hour was chaos.
Pure chaos.
Dagon sat—reluctantly—as the girls moved around his quarters like they owned the place.
Kayla was the most aggressive.
"No. Absolutely not."
She tossed aside a set of robes.
"Too plain."
Flare picked up another.
"This one's not bad."
Kayla shot her a look.
"It's boring."
Ahsoka leaned against the wall, watching.
"You're all overthinking this."
Visenya turned.
"No, we're not."
Stella held up a tunic.
"…This one?"
Kayla didn't even look.
"No."
Stella lowered it slowly.
"…Okay…"
Dagon watched silently.
*This is… unnecessary.*
Visenya suddenly turned to him.
"What do you think?"
"…It covers the body."
Silence.
Ahsoka burst out laughing.
Kayla pinched the bridge of her nose.
Flare shook her head.
"He's hopeless."
Visenya walked up to him and crouched slightly to meet his gaze.
"This matters."
Dagon met her eyes.
"…Why?"
She didn't hesitate.
"Because people will see you."
A pause.
"And?"
"And what they see… shapes what they believe."
That made him pause.
Because that…
…was true.
Ahsoka stepped in.
"Lantilles wasn't Coruscant."
She gestured around.
"Here, appearances matter."
Flare added,
"Especially when you're already… well…"
She gestured vaguely.
"Famous."
Kayla smirked slightly.
"Or infamous."
Stella smiled softly.
"…Or admired…"
Dagon exhaled slowly.
"…Fine."
That was all they needed.
—
Eventually…
They found it.
A black and silver outfit.
Fitted.
Layered.
Elegant—but still functional.
Visenya stepped back, studying him.
"…Yes."
Kayla nodded.
"Much better."
Flare crossed her arms, approving.
"Now you look like someone important."
Ahsoka smirked.
"Not bad."
Stella smiled warmly.
"It suits you."
Dagon looked down at himself.
The design was… familiar.
Structured.
Balanced.
Almost reminiscent of something from another world.
"…Interesting."
Visenya tilted her head.
"What?"
"…Nothing."
But internally—
*Kingsglaive…*
A faint memory surfaced.
Warriors.
Elite.
Disciplined.
Guardians of a king.
*Fitting.*
He looked back up.
The girls were still watching him.
Evaluating.
Waiting.
"…Is this acceptable?"
Visenya smiled.
"Yes."
Kayla shrugged.
"It'll do."
Flare smirked.
"You won't embarrass us."
Ahsoka grinned.
"You might even impress someone."
Stella nodded eagerly.
"Definitely."
Dagon allowed a small exhale.
"…Then we're ready."
But as he looked at them—
At all of them—
That earlier question returned.
Quiet.
Persistent.
*Am I worthy of this…?*
For now—
He said nothing.
Because for the first time in a long time…
He wasn't alone.