Author: Delta Prime.

Spoiler warning: this may well reveal the identity of The Hyperionian, a non-canon advertisement-only character to whom I've been referring only by nickname in the main story for reasons that will be clear once I finally reveal the name. You have no idea of the reaction once someone figured it out in the Spacebattles thread...

So, here's my next omake exploring the 'Disney' side of this AU. It will, unfortunately, not star famed rebellion hero Agent P. But I hope you'll find it enjoyable nonetheless.

The Thirteenth hour

And as this undertaking has been mine to lead, so too will it be your's one day, my padawan.

He still remembered their talk, so many years ago. When his master had confided in him one of his sacred duties. The faithfulness he had in his student that day, that he too could take the reigns of such an undertaking.

Thoughts of his missing master continued to pass through his mind with increasing frequency as he neared his objective. He checked to make sure the artifact was securely fashioned, for once it began there would be no other chance to do so. He knew that one day, this responsibility would fall to him, but even he never pictured these circumstances. How could he? His master, vanished without a trace. The Jedi order, all but destroyed. A Sith, ruling the galaxy. And all in the galactic year that this whole ordeal was going to go down.

He took a moment to calm down, to breath out the traces of frustration and fear building up within him. He would need a clear head once it began. True, only the foolish wouldn't be afraid of such a task, but fear can easily lead to the Dark Side, and giving into that now would be suicide. Still, how can one be brave when facing what a group of master Jedi would find dangerous, at best?

He'd have gotten help if he could've, but sadly there was no one who could, at least that he could find. Obi-Wan had dropped off the star charts, he wasn't even sure if Yoda still lived, and his master had disappeared some time before the day the Empire was born. He only knew of three others he could possibly call upon; neither his own student nor Ahsoka had even graduated to Knighthood, the other choice was an untrained child. No, he would not drag them into danger. He would do this task himself. Besides, he had the artifact with him, said to have belonged to and endowed with the power of the Force user (for some legends said it was a time before the order) who had first fought the Beast.

Even thinking of it briefly sent an instinctual shudder through the Master Jedi. No one knew for certain how the Beast was born. Many considered it the ascended form of a great Sith lord. Others thought of it as an embodiment of the Dark Side itself. Some even believed that it had always existed, and that the initial ritual was what had first called it forth. All anyone knew for sure was that its first known awakening was brought on by an ancient clan of Dathomir Witches, led by one known as Walpurgis.

After that, the records were muddied and incomplete. It was known that a great Force user had faced and bound the Beast to the mountain it had risen from. It was known that once the celestial alignment was right once again, it awoke once more and created chaos and death. It was known that the planet was evacuated soon after, its inhabitants believing it to be safer to sacrifice a world than to face it. It was known that the next time it awoke, the planet was rendered desolate and lifeless within an hour. It was known that the time after that, catastrophe and disasters suddenly formed in nearby systems, all of them within an hour.

Since then, on the night of its awakening, a group of master Jedi would confront the Beast, to occupy its attention for the duration of its freedom and save countless lives. It was a task that they would never be thanked for, as the Beast was kept secret from the rest of the galaxy, lest some ambitious or depraved fools set foot on the cursed planet. He was honestly never sure how he felt about such a rule, but considering a power-hungry Sith now ruled much of the galaxy, figured it was probably for the best.

As the hour drew nearer, he considered the possibility of 'borrowing' a cruiser, and launching it towards that mountain at lightspeed. Then considered the possibility of the Beast surviving and being freed from its imprisonment, and decided that the masters of old probably had the right idea.

Well, nothing else for him to do now, but wait. And wait he did, as he stood upon one of the peaks of Mount Triglaf, overlooking an abandoned town. Strangely, despite being at least several millennia old, it still stood. As if it were a monument to the life that once lived on this planet.

Suddenly, he heard the tolling of a bell, coming from the ruins below. He did not stop to ponder the impossibility of such an occurrence. Instead, he prepared himself, one final time.

For as the bell tolled for a twelfth time, the standard length of this planet's night cycle, it suddenly rang one last time, signalling a thirteenth hour of night. And with it, the mountain shook.

The very peak of Triglaf began to unfurl, revealing it to be the wings of the Beast itself. As the lone Jedi Master finally gazed upon his foe, he felt short of breath, as every basic instinct within him screamed in fear, begging him to flee. It was somehow blacker than the night itself. A pair of horns stood atop its head, and its eyes burned with a sulfurous yellow. Yet its presence was the worst of it, for it felt as its very aura devoured light, a metaphysical black hole made from the Dark Side.

He had spent much of his time as a master traveling, making investments and collections. But he also spent a considerable amount of time reconnecting with his home's culture. And as he stood in the presence of this entity, a name from his world's main religion came to him. A dark god, the very face of Evil.

Chernabog. It seemed surprisingly fitting.

And yet, as he stood there alone, as he felt his very body prepared to give in for him, the artifact atop his head came to life with the awakening of its ancient enemy. It shined like the celestial bodies imprinted upon its blue surface, and suddenly the lone Jedi felt like he could move the stars themselves. At that moment he knew, perhaps for the first time truly believed, that he could do this.

This development did not go unnoticed though. The sudden light drew the Beast's attention, and once its gaze landed upon the artifact, its fanged maw drew itself into an enraged snarl. Fire burst forth from the ground, called upon by its rage. Its very shadow grew below it, encompassing the town below. From that darkness came spirits, victims from its rampages, stripped of any sense of self through the torments bestowed upon them. In its hands, it gathered the flames and condensed them to the point where they could be called plasma.

It roared its challenge as its minions surged forth, and the master accepted.

On that night, a single Jedi stood against what many would call a god. And the following morning, the Hyperionian left the planet in victory.

AN: Well, there we go. My second omake to this series. I did consider some possibilities for the fight itself (at one point, the Jedi would've arranged vast amounts of artillery and other pyrotechnics to give off a blinding 'fireworks' show), but then decided leaving it ambiguous may've been the better choice (not least of which because I doubt I could give such action its proper justice). If anyone actually wants to write our favorite Hyperionian Jedi fight against a living conduit of the Dark Side, feel free to. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed it!