(a/n just edited this and I've added almost a thousand word to it and cleared up a few big mistakes.

Okay so here comes another one. And again I ask you for comments so I can know what you think of my story so far.

TIME SKIP* 23 BBY Korriban, Bane's temple

PAIN

The feeling was so calming at times, yet others were like an endless churning ocean enraged by the world around it.

so far, he had been with the so-called Time spear created within the World Between Worlds, along with his Master Bane for two hundred and fifty years for some ritual he had only found out about a couple of decades ago, and since his Master found out his definition of living was that simple yet powerful word, PAIN

It was all Christen felt anymore and all he needed to go on. He knew if time was going as fast as the Spear, then his family died at least a hundred years ago, his seven kids growing up to be fatherless, and his Wife would probably remarry to a Hapen slave since he was one of the only men that were allowed freedom on Hapes.

The pain he felt right now was a frustrating and mental one. He had just been sent on a couple of missions to mandalore. It lasted around seven years on both the planet itself and the moon of Concordia. Apparently, his Master came across some sith texts referred to a couple of sith temples upon mandalore. For some reason, he had been on edge since a change in the galaxies republic leadership. But christen had been on mandalore for a few years beforehand but had never heard or sensed a temple. But that mainly because he was sent to an ancient beskar mine on the planet's eastern side and want allowed to leave the sight bare of all its beskar, to which he competed very well.

But as terrible as it sounds, it wasn't all bad. Christen had lots of the sith acolytes to thank for making him his specially designed armor suits and other technology he developed, but his Master forbids him to create.

It had taken him a few hours of searching for the coordinates of his Masters's open Ship dock before he stumbled upon a few feet of human-made rock. Was this it? A few feet of rock was the temple? or could it be underground, and he would have to do this the hard way.

AGAIN! It was always the hard way.

And that's how that mission wrapped up. Christen even had to literally lift a whole temple out of the ground for a few measly sith holocrons, a battle sword, and a few scrolls for alchemy.

Currently, for some reason for such low results, he was being tortured, bound to a pole this time which completely surprised him , since the sith liked to see him jump around and writhe in pain, but this time felt completely different, the acolytes were here, and by that he meant all of them, hundreds littered the enlarged chamber room of his master Darth bane, he could see that at the head of the chamber room his masters holocrons hologram was wavering as a cloned body that seemed to mimic his own body that he had made from alchemy almost fifty years ago was laid before a circle of red symbols. He could tell they were of the sith language, so in between bursts of force lightning thrown by the acolyte's and his Master, he tried to read it, and he knew he was at least correct on at least five of the eight symbol meanings.

DRAGON

NEXUS

MORTIS

ESSENCE

REBORN

THE FORCE

SACRIFICE

TRANSFER

hold up, christens breathing suddenly stopped in the middle of a burst of energy that went throughout his chest. Was his Master trying to...

No, he wasn't so stupid to sacrifice my life to die by the explosion it will cause. Only the Ancient sith lordVitiate Revan told him about could accomplish something as powerful as to force an essence transfer. His Master was nowhere near the power he felt on tython, his little trip Zakuul or even ziost.

He soon found himself shedding a tear as his brain brought up his memories of his training with his multiple masters. He had found remnants of his other masters in his expeditions but wanted to see them in their holocrons. He searched everywhere for them on the Force forsaken planet Korriban since he got here but to no avail.

But now Christencould see it, the look in his Master's eye, all his training, all the time he was using ancient sith and Jedi rituals to absorb a few force nexuses he didn't even know the ship landed next to, and now it made sense that whenever he went out for long, he would have to wear four energy dampeners on him, they said to him it would wear out in time. Still, they didn't tell him that time would be when his Master literally snatches his force power and uses it to construct a whole new soul into a cloned Alchemy-based body.

After all the hundreds of years of learning the ways of the Sith, Jedi, and...Jedaii, the forebearers of the Force.

The ones who brought balance to the Force before the Rakatan war, when the Jedaii had freed the Galaxy from slavery for an eternity, he had found this fact out when on tython for a hundred years, it took him a decade to find one of the Tho Yor ships and then for the next forty years had traveled with the Spear to the several other triangle-shaped ships, there had learned the history of the universe starting from the year 36,453 to the time when the jedaii order fell and collapsed, he learned from the spirits and holocrons of hundreds of jedaii masters, he dares say it was home on tython. He felt peace and love there, even more so than his family, he couldn't really remember much cause of the various mental tests, but he could see the outlines of them in his dream of six children and a wife.

Then when he happened upon lehon, he had learned the true potential of force training with the help of his Master and friend Darth Revan from his most personal Holocron and the dark entity Holocron of Makals, it wasn't even close to being as good as his masters, but it still held vital data on history and if he ever felt like it was a good source for torture methods.

A burst of lightning knocked him from any more thoughts, it had hit the side of his head, and he knew for sure his shoulder was broken, as was most of his ribs, blood leaked from his mouth as some even trickled down his nose, he couldn't help but look at how his former leather-clad shirt and pants he had gotten as a gift on Ziost were now simple remnants of themselves, tattered and torn the pieces of cloth now held bits of smoldering flesh and dripping blood from his broken body like a roasted wamp rat that wouldn't die even if every day it wished to.

He looked up to see the hundreds of hidden faces under the hoods of his Master's acolytes. They were surrounding the very man he hated with a passion. Bane was standing tall in his Holocron form, they were closer than the last time he looked up, or perhaps it was just an illusion of distance brought on by the blood loss.

Two hundred and fifty years ago, he thought his life would be amazing. His training was just about finished. He gave a chance to have life in the Galaxy and fell in love with a Mandalrion sister pair...satine and Bo-Katan. But it seemed to fall apart as soon as he fell in love with a Hapen named Abigail Revanchist. He was enamored with her and left Mandalore to becometh King and Husand of Hapes.

But no, Darth bane betrayed all of the teachings and wishes of his former masters, instead of training him to become a grandmaster of the reborn Jedaii order as he had promised as the other masters and simply letting him live his own life afterward, was thrown out altogether. The man broke him within a year and set him in the Galaxy to live freely and have a family, but it was all just a test. He knew it as soon he saw his Master turn up on his Wife's planet to return to Korriban.

Now here he was, once again nothing more than a glorified slave, a jedaii slave. Bane was staring intensely back at him, pale and striking corrupted yellow eyes stared into the deep lava pits, and tanned skin of Christen, his Master's face held a smug grin as he nodded slightly towards an Acolyte nearest to his broken and bloody slave.

Christen was soon hit with more lightning. The purple bolts of lightning shattered his skin upon contact, the energy dispersing into flesh and bone relentlessly. His eyes tried to close as the tears soon turned red with blood. They had begun falling on their own instead of being burned away. At the moment, he had no energy to hold them back as much as he wished to, but the shocks wouldn't let his eyes operate on their own. They were stuck open as he could clearly see his Master and the acolytes laughing at his weakness.

The hurled slurs and pieces of metal that they started throwing at him had broken his forearm, his nose was shattered, an eye socket caved in, and his left foot was dismembered during the chaos, all happened with a few seconds before his Master put a stop to it.

Christen could feel his organs and lungs waiting on his last breath so they could finally stop being forced to work. Christen, of course sense his death was coming because he could barely see anything within a few yards in front of him. He could feel his Force binders warming up as the energy from the nexuses he had absorbed started to stir from within him, rupturing in an attempt to escape their prison, the outside of his body glowing a magnificent gold.

As soon as that happened, the acolytes had started chanting in the Language of the Ancient sith, which he couldn't hear. Still, he could very well see they were chanting. The symbols of force alchemy and a couple of objects he had brought back from his travels were scattered across the room. They were covered in a red substance that would make from alchemy.

WAIT. Hw could now see that almost ninety percent of everything they were using for the ritual was familiar to him,

They were literally using all the things he had gathered for over Twi hundred Years for what happened to be his Master's ritual. Does that mean all his schematics, everything he created, discovered, and enhanced, had been used for some secret Kriffing pan that his Master thought of! He was building his own empire from the fruit of a slave, his anger dissipated as he could feel the Force swirling around him, and it told him one thing... he was about to die.

And yet, his mind was, for some reason worried about what alchemy substances they were using. They were highly dangerous, and even for how powerful his Master was in the Force, it honestly didn't matter.

His Master had never was trained by his Master, Marka Ragnos, one of the best alchemists of all time. Alchemy wasn't something any force user could harness.]

It was an art, and his Master Bane had little patience for such an art. He didn't care if his Master's plan failed, but he would most likely die if he were a part of it. To be truthful, if he survived, he would probably be changed by the Alchemy, as minimal effects can change the way a man thinks. The worst effects can change the way his body works on a molecular level.

Christe thought it was an odd ritual for a force essence transfer... But a pit feeling in his stomach told him that he would be fine. That even if he was injured, he could get out of this alive. Christen shoved that voice to the depths of his mind to not get any hope of ever seeing his nameless families grave's or hopefully the time outside the Spear wasn't so long, and his family was alive.

Christen wondered after getting his thoughts back under control, well as best as he could under torture he was enduring, he internally wondered what the Force wanted from him, why did it lead him to the ship on his home planet in the first place if this is what it leads to.

Did the Force just decided to play a cruel joke on him? did his other masters even know the pain he would be put through and said nothing while they treated him like their own child? But what if he was meant to go through this? What if he was meant to endure the unthinkable?

His only Master, who he could think of, warned him of his painful future. His Master Revan was always honest with how painful his life would be but could he had known this? Did he know when he had gotten his Holocron on lehon?

Still, within himself... a word bane had called him a lot these days," a nexus," then it all clicked.

He finally closed his eyes as he tuned out the sounds of his torturers and bathed in the new power that the voice of the Force called to him. And the images of Tyrion and his first mission there entered his show him the birthplace of an order of old that would rise anew in HIS image Of the Saviors Empire

185 YEARS AGO (7 years real-time)

Tython was his stop. His masters of old always talked about tyhton while on the ship but had refused to let him go there. Now his sith Master... his last Master who had been torturing him and calling it training had sent him here to learn a lesson on the Jedi for around fifty years he was supposed to survive on the planet, then, of course, he would have to complete ten years on both moons.

Christen didn't have a clue as to what his Master wanted him herefore, he didn't mind from what he knew it was the homeworld of the Jedaii, and he would search for years, even a hundred years, for his answers. But to his Master's knowledge, this planet was for Jedi, so that begged the question of why would his Master send him here. He threw the thought from his mind as he trudged onto the surface of the planet.

He marched across the wastelands. The sun was sinking quickly below the horizon. He had been walking for hours, undaunted by the sun's heat or the length of time. He passed up many old Temples, but they were mere specks in the horizon, and if he were to look back, they'd hardly be specks able to view.

He didn't look back. Refusing to do so. He marched onward. The blazing heat hadn't slowed him any. He wouldn't be affected by the temperatures that were about to drop to freezing with the sun's setting. Physical discomfort-cold, heat, thirst, hunger, fatigue-had no significant effect on him, sustained as he was by the, he was set foot on this world. He could sense the power of the planet. Tython was alive with the Force. Yet the feeling remained too fleeting and distant as if it were sequestered-like it had been wounded.

When he'd left the old temple and the starport behind-having destroyed the second unknowingly by landing, he'd expected that feeling to grow stronger as he trudged through his destinations. With each step drawing him closer to the ancient temples where the Je'daii pursued harmony with the Force...

He had been expecting the Dark Side to grow in its ferocity, to become so overbearing that he'd have to grip his head in pain. But, also for the light to be so consuming that there was serenity, the ferocity, and reservation to temper it.

Instead, he felt the same thing. As when he first landed, a faint pulse went through his body.

He wasn't sure what he expected to find at this place, but it wasn't just barren waste. Some Jedi came here thousands of years ago, only to be slain by his Master Bane and his apprentice Zannah, so there had to be something here.

The spirits of the ancient Je'daii were beings of pure energy. They were eternal, just like the Force is. They stuck to the world of the living. The spirit would linger for centuries and millennia. Or so the texts in the Jedi Archive had led him to believe. Those who passed and couldn't accept it or their feelings were too great...They'd remain behind, waiting for someone to free them or to teach those that stumbled upon them their secrets.

Even though Christen had been spurred by some ambition to find what he should have, he found more than he could have ever imagined.

Nothing except ancient temples, but he could feel the riches that led inside those temples; otherwise, the planet was a bust.

There was nothing but waste-barren and desolate. The sky itself was weeping, colored a cruel gray with a haze of black-the planet still trembled from the war that took place tens of thousands of years ago-when the Hypocritical Jedi were formed, when the cruel Dark Jedi were created and split off was when the Je'daii slowly faded into extinction as they years went on.

Their limited gene pool not allowing them to continue as the other two, and after some generations, they were gone entirely.

Tython was a planet of myth and folklore, the birthplace of the Je'daii. The planet itself was saturated in the Force and was a lush-verdant world that spanned on for kilometers.

It was orbited by two moons-Ashla and Bogan, one being a nexus of the light, the other being of the Dark, and from these two moons and the planet itself, the Je'daii strived to be in harmony with the Force, never tipping to one side or the other. As they learned from Tython itself, harmony and balance are crucial. Storms and all different kinds of disasters would happen if a single Je'daii weren't in total harmony.

One single Je'daii being out of harmony could cause planet-wide earthquakes or worse."The Jedi and Sith...To become such hubris. To abandon the original teaching-the original creed."

Though he didn't find anything worthwhile on the planet, he did come away with a valuable lesson. The Force always maintains balance on its own, and it's through the machinations of the Jedi and Sith-not the Je'daii that cause disruptions and imbalance in the first place. The Jedi hold to the light, and the Sith hold to the Dark Side, and there is no balance or harmony.

Just as his Masters told him when he was still a child, a Jedi's need to protect and self-righteousness has caused countless wars, and the hypocrisy has caused schisms, their ignorance has forsaken many who abandon all forms of attachment, their perpetual need to vanquish the Dark like it is their calling, is only arrogance. Hubris. The Sith and their senseless cruelty, the suffering and pain they inflict on each other, on other people, the need to conquer and be ruthless, how the Dark Side degenerates people.

All of it has thrown the Galaxy into war after war-the Jedi declaring war on the Sith, the Sith declaring war on the Jedi and Republic, and vice versa, and so forth.

The Republic and how it wants all the systems and planets in its domain-how the Outer Rim systems wish to be out of the Republic...It was all so nonsensical, so pointless...He pondered why the Jedi ever became politicians-why is it that they became hounds for the politicians. The Ruusan Reformation-the Jedi Army of Light was disbanded. Many planets that wanted to break away or were about to break away were brought back into the Republic.

Because they wanted their independence Jedi were sent to quell these rebellions-Republic dignitaries and transports were sent out to colonize.

The Jedi became slaves, and in turn, they were enslaving. This vision-slash memory was broken, and Christen found himself once again caught in the clutches of the indescribable pain.

Back in the Present

Bane watched his new body's life force fester out of the slave. His numerous sith acolytes, or rather slaves poured incoherent amounts of force lightning upon him., driving the nexus from its safe haven while chanting the Ancient tongue of the sith.

His acolytes were strong from when they trained on the boy when he was on leave from missions across the Galaxy, he loved using the boy as a training pit for his students, and it was rather fun to see the boy's broken body he had picked up on Tatooine. Those other masters had hounded him for his plan for the child. They hated him, called him a monster for planning to corrupt there...child hahaha such weak sith and Jedi. They just couldn't understand the Force meant for him to be his Savior. Why else would it give him such a specimen, the last of his kind for now?

It would take a few years for the child's yashan clones to be ready from the Planet of Dxun, it was one of his sales best designs and discoveries, but it was nothing to when the slave had found and remarkably improved countless designs by the Kree and Rakata that his Master and the maker of the Holocron he found, among the schematics, included the star forge, which was only a few months away from completion of its new construction though it was around a fifth the size of the original. It had been two hundred years or rather eight years since the slave found what remains of the star forge upon the surface on Lehan and had some then brought the pieces back together above the sun of Korriban, it had had off a few decades of construction, within a few years into construction he ordered it to be moved into an unknown regional system, well away from the false sith and modern Jedi of the Republic.

But he scowled at the look of anger on his slave's face. WHY WAS HE STILL ALIVE!? Bane had to give his little pet everything in its unnatural long life of the Time spear. he had given his slave many trinkets of armor from the various metals he had recovered for his Savior's Empire and even gave the slave a whole temple himself, gifted him the Phantom X-70B, The ship Bane was found on was now the property of his slave along with everything the ship held, though he had the place searched every six months, if his slave kept artifacts from him, he would torture him for days on end until his next mission. And that's all it had taken for his little slave to follow him without fear of betrayal.

But now, the fear was coming back to him as he watched the Slave fighting back. After all this time, hell, even he suspected this child knew he was not meant for survival. His life was only a means to an end. The torture going on now was to activate the nexus inside merely, then he would need to trigger the boy somehow, or the ritual to work he needed the boy I a state of infernal rage. Bane nodded to the rest of his students as they now have more force-based powers at the child.

Perhaps he would use the memories of his mother, and maybe the Force was willing to play on his side for once. Bane closed his eyes and smiled as he soon felt his slave's birth mother on the planet of Tatooine enslaved here with...sand people? Perhaps getting his ritual wouldn't be so hard. All he needed was to send his slave's conscience there to say goodbye to his dear old mother, and that will make him come to his clutches.

His thoughts were thrown as a force push to the right arm of his slave backfired on one of his students, and a large crack of a force eruption was heard throughout the temple. Bane could very well see the acolyte's neck was broken, pity.

He was more prone to hurt the boy lately from returning from his expeditions, and he was only frustrated as the Force seemed to call only to the boy. The acolytes and himself found it hard even to throw lightning. That's why he had the entire sith council chambers enhanced with alchemy, or rather the slave did. He had to hate to admit the slave was far more knowledgable in the Force and its history.

But what made his blood boil enough to force the ritual a few months early was the fact the Force no longer seemed to call to him, sure he and his acolytes were able to use the Force. Still, for the past couple hundred years, his followers had been dying from losing their force energy. Still, it didn't bother him until the month when it had started even to affect him. He only answered as the only being on the planet that the Force called to was the boy.

NO! how was this damn slave was more IMPORTANT to the Force than HE?

No, Bane wouldn't allow this at this point.

He was desperate for his power. He could care less now if his precious salve would die even if it didn't work. As he stared holes into the mess of flesh and blood he called his slave, he began to think back to his memories of the damn Phantom ship that had brought his Holocron back to its resting place on that damn planet, with those inferior Sith and Jedi.

His thoughts were taken away from him forcefully as the Force finally called out to him. Still, his newfound happiness was soon filled with dread as the Force wasn't coming back to him as a tool like he thought, instead, it came with a sense of warning. It emanated from his slave. Bane needed to start the transfer now if it was to be a success, for even if he knew it was the end, the Force was hammering in the fact that he could not stop was about to happen, Bane had dealt his cards, and now he must reap his reward, he could clearly see tears falling on the face of his bloodied slaves face, contorted in sheer pain and agony, yet the boy remained strong in the sense of no screaming.

Still, the boy's force presence was exploding through the Force, his acolytes could obviously feel it from the look of shock on their faces, but a certain number of them were now induced into a rage fit, shooting fighting at his slave just for the hell of it. The alchemy stones surrounding the slave were now shaking violently, it had become what he feared the most... a dangerous combination of multiple force nexus's that housed itself within a singular force sensitive, so much power, and it was seconds away from being unleashed. Then his soul and mind broke as the alchemy stones shattered.

He knew this would be his absolute and final death when he heard his newest acolyte speak and screamed at the boy, completely missing the point of the ritual anymore, as he broke the line into the alchemy circle, thus making the alchemy stones no longer protecting them.

"ENOUGH! we must START THE TRANSFER NOW!" he screamed, using every bit amount of power he had, it worked to perfection as it had stopped most of his students from attacking his slave, but he could still see a group just waiting to pounce.

The sudden silence was deafening and unnatural even to him.

Christen could no longer feel anything on the skin level. His had never been fried, his organs were failing, his spine broken, his legs broken, yet he could only be forced to stand on them as the pole wouldn't let him fall, the lightning of his masters stopped suddenly, Christen could barely believe he was still alive, he could see a dull the red beeping of the built-in camera of the chamber room above.

His breathing was haggard, but he soon couldn't beat at all as another vision sent him into a convulsing fit as his body shakes from the dream... the planet of lehan where he spent multiple years, Christen had discovered many schematics and the coordinates to the repair ship the rakatans made jut in case any of there machines, including the star forge, was destroyed, he had no doubt t there was one there. The vision of the place where he again met with his old Master Revan. The last Holocron of Revan, his great descendent. The one he set in place on the Rakatan homeworld of lehan.

His master bane sent him there to find the schematics to the star forge, and he found much more, but Still, Christen also saw something more important, he had found his purpose, to follow in the footsteps of his bloodline, Christen would build an empire, he would build an order of balance, he would become a jedaii, and from then he went back to Korriban to his sith masters unaware of what laid before him.

-—-

150 YEARS AGO {6.1 years In real time}

Christen took a slow step forward before stopping short. He shook his head to clear it. The dark side was strong here, so strong it made him feel light-headed.

That meant this was a place of danger; he couldn't afford to be wandering around in a stupor. According to the accounts he'd read in the archives, this temple had once been protected by a powerful energy shield, one that required an entire Rakatan tribe...Which each individual had been powerful in the Force to bring it down.

He didn't sense any such barrier, but only a fool would proceed without caution. As he had done in the tombs on Korriban, he began to probe the area around him with the Force. He looked at his surroundings, walked around the entire itself, and just paused to stare at it.

He felt the echoes of the safeguards that had once protected the temple from danger, but they were so weak they were close to nonexistent. He wasn't surprised. The shields around the temple had been fueled by the power of the orbiting Star Forge.

Naturally, the shields had failed with its destruction, along with all the other defenses that had made the Unknown World a graveyard of ships. He vaguely wondered what else had been lost in the Star Forge's violent end. Information. Holocrons. Weapons. The entire Armada. He crossed the surrounding courtyard and jumped up and over the temple steps. The staircase was steep, comprehensive, and the stone was neither worn nor cracked despite its age. It ended at a small landing leading to the stone archway of the entrance.

Christen paused at the threshold, then passed through. He had a brief sensation of what it must have felt like for those who came before him. The anticipation, the thrill of discovery. The frustration of complacency. Once inside, however, it only took a few minutes of exploration for his excitement to fade.

He should have expected that the temple had been stripped of anything of value. He searched for hours, beginning with the top floor where he first came in, and proceeded more profound until he reached the bottom level. He combed every centimeter of the empty halls and deserted rooms, sparing no attention to detail, even if he was in a single room for an hour.

Even though his search was proving futile, he didn't despair.

He refused to accept another failure.

It was in the temple's lowest level, far below the planet's surface, that his quest finally ended. When he first ventured into the room, his attention was immediately drawn to the remains of a massive computer, but it was clearly beyond any hope of repair. The technology was thousands of years outdated, and he was confident most of the parts weren't even made.

Then he noticed something on the stone wall behind the computer. The surface was etched with many arcane symbols. The language of the Rakata, perhaps. He couldn't guess, and more to the point, they meant nothing to him, and he would have dismissed them without a second glance. Except that one of them was glowing.

He almost hadn't noticed it at first. It was subtle. A faint violet hue tracing the edges of one of the unusual shapes. It was almost perfectly level with his eye, staring right at him with a sense of glee. As he focused his eyes, the glow grew stronger. He stepped forward and reached out tentatively with his hand. The light winked out, but it didn't startle him or deter him from his way. He reached out again, but this time, with the Force.

The stone character flared to life.

Struggling to contain his eagerness, he again extended his hand and pressed hard against the glowing symbol. There was the sound of turning gears and the grinding of stone on stone. Stone gears-the Rakata had been remarkable, in some ways good, but in most ways, not good. The seams of a small strange shape-less than a meter on each side took shape in the wall as a stone section pushed out. Christen took a step back as the chunk toppled down from the wall and shattered on the ground at his feet, revealing an opening behind it.

With no hesitation, he thrust his arms into the darkness to seize whatever was inside.

His fingers wrapped around something cold and heavy. He drew out his left hand first and stared in wonder. He drew his right hand next, unable to quell the trembling of excitement coursing through him. Both slightly larger than his fist, they had the shape of a four-sided pyramid. A tiny replica of the temple in which he stood.

Christen instantly recognized his prize for what it was.

a Sith Holocron.

Two Sith Holocrons.

The Holocrons of Revan and Malak... his old Master's personal Holocron was here!? Joy in his heart that had not been since he was brought to Korriban by death bane. And now, the personal Holocron of his old Master was here before him. Would he remember Christen? Or would it simply be a Holocron of recorded memories?

The art of constructing Holocrons had been lost for countless millennia, but now they were in high abundance, of course. Christen knew the basic layout of the Holocron. The information they contained was stored within an interwoven, self-encrypted digital matrix. A Holocron's protection systems couldn't be circumvented or broken. The data couldn't be sliced or copied. There was only one way to access the knowledge captured within.

Each Holocron was imprinted with the personality of the person who constructed it. When accessed by one capable of understanding its secrets, the Holocron would project tiny, hologrammic images of the device's constructers. Through interaction with the student, the program would teach and instruct in much the same way as a flesh-and-blood mentor.

However, all accounts of Sith Holocrons had made mention of the ancient symbols adorning the four-sided pyramid.

The Holocrons he held in his hand were almost completely blank. Could this possibly predate even the Holocrons of the ancient Sith?

Was this a relic of the Rakata themselves?

Would the guardians or constructer of the Holocron be the imprinted personalities of alien Masters from a time even before the Republic's birth? Before anything was even known in the Galaxy?

Moving carefully, he set the Holocron grasped in his left hand gently on the floor, then sat down before it. He crossed his legs and began the deep, slow breathing of a meditative trance. Gathering and focusing his energy, Christen projected a wave of power to engulf the small relic on the floor.

The Holocron began to sparkle and shimmer in response.

He held his breath in anticipation, unsure what would come next. It could explode. Its defense systems could activate. It would crumble into dust before anything else can happen.

But, a small beam of light projected out from the top, the particles scattered and diffused. They began to shift and spin, coalescing into a cloaked figure, its features entirely hidden by the hood of its heavy robe.

Then a voice spoke, crisp and clear. "I am..."

The empty halls of the temple above trembled with the reverberations of Bane's triumphant, booming laughter.

"I am Revan. But, I am and will be called many things. The Revanchist. The Revan. Revan the Butcher. Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Revan. The Prodigal Knight. Redeemed Jedi, Revan."

Christen held his breath-the hologram of his old Master shifted, Revan's eyes bored into his own.

"I believe...It was one called Darth Bane, who found my first Holocron, and first ventured to this planet in his own pursuit. What that pursuit was for, I can't guess. That was one thousand years ago. It was incomplete, that Holocron. It was constructed before I lost my memory and gained a full understanding after being on both sides. Light and dark. The fact you found this Holocron means you've been searching for something for a long time. This Holocron isn't what you may expect it to be. It is not like my first Holocron. Parts of that are in here, of course. Most Masters pass down their skills through these, but...I've chosen to do something different. I will speak about the paradox. Jedi and Sith. Light and Dark And, the Je'daii. I will also speak of my experiences, and why I made the choices that I did, and the Mandolorian Wars."

Revan's voice was crisp and sharp. It echoed over Christen's heavy breathing and shaking body. The voice struck the temple walls with echoes. Christen could only stare in wonder. When a group of influential dark side users got together, they could cause cataclysmic storms and events of mass destruction. Stars have been put into a supernova, and there is an old tale that a planet was destroyed by something along those lines.

But, this Holocron would only have snippets of that, most likely. This was a wealth of knowledge, something spoken from experience. Revan was on both sides of the spectrum, Sith lord and Jedi Knight. Light and dark. Even so, he wasn't sure what this Holocron contained entirely. Revan spoke about the Mandolorian Wars, which was scarcely touched on now considering the political events. So, everything was on the table.

Revan spoke again, voice the same, but yet the hologram looked alive... as if the spirit was still there, and it looked into his eyes and remembered the last time they met. Recognition doted the Force Lord's eyes. The spirit grew larger as it smiled like an old grandfather figure "it's been such a long time since I last saw you, child, though circumstances kept me only to teach you what the force allowed, here and now I'm able to teach you all that I know."

"Last time I taught you, Christen, you were but a mere child, I was only there to teach you the force, not the history of it, but I have been waiting for you as I said, and now that you are here, it is time for you to become what you were made to be but Let's start from the beginning shall we, my descendant." christens eyes went bug eyes, still somehow two hundred and dirty odd years later and his masters were sill surprising him. But he would have never thought he was a descendent of Revan.

The vision soon ended, and the voices of displeased sith acolytes surround him one more.

"OPEN YOUR EYES, YOU KRIFFING SLAVE," one of the minions to his left backside screams out, and banes world crumbled as Christen couldn't hold back what laid inside him.

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