WOOP WOOP! ANOTHER CHAPTER! AND WE JUST HIT OVER TWENTY FOLLOWS AND FIFTEEN FAVORITES, ALONG WITH OVER 11OO VIEWS. I CAN'T TELL YOU HOW HAPPY IT MAKES ME THANK YOU SO MUCH!
BUT OTHER THAN THAT WELCOME BACK, EVERYONE! I HOPE YOU ALL HAVE A GOOD FOURTH OF JULY! I HOPE THIS CHAPTER IS ENJOYABLE. THIS CHAPTER USED TO BE ONLY 6800 WORDS, IT NOW SITS AT 10000, SO HOPEFULLY, IT KILLED MOST OF THE BLARING HOLES THAT USED TO BE IN THIS CHAPTER SORRY I'M NOT THE BEST WITH POV'S
Christen smiled as he entered the shadow cast by his large hundred-foot-tall Temple walls. It wasn't so bad making it here. It took him only twelve grueling hours in the scorching sun of the Sith homeworld. Christen was more exhausted than he realized, stumbling up to the entrance of his Temple, his doorway made with carvings showing the actions of the hyperspace war close to five thousand years ago.
His smile faltered a little as he got closer. He started to make out giant cracks cascading across the face of his Temple, even more surrounding the edges of the Temple's foundation.
He just hoped the bunker beneath was alright. Knowing his luck, the hanger and the bunker had collapsed, destroying his entire life's work, or at least what wasn't used to make his Masters's plans and Schemes. If the bunker were collapsed, he would have to spend a few weeks getting it uncovered, or he could try to find another temple. But until that point, he would not leave until the Temple. Christen would need to empty everything within and put it onto the ship as that's where all his essential artifacts, weapons, and armor were. Hed Have to activate all his custom-built TY-CT1-5 loading droids and the dozens of HK-70 security units he had built within the Temple. Thankfully, instead of offloading metals and artifacts for the sith, he would now have them strip the Temple bare.
"two hundred and fifty years," he mumbled quietly to himself as he entered the Temple, the doors creaking open and shutting silently behind him.
"maybe today can be the first one that means something other than dealing with the Sith," he said a little louder, or maybe it was the echo from the bare dark grey concrete hallway he was in. It wasn't even a few seconds later that until he came near the bio scan computer that locked and unlocked all doors within the Temple, he was leaving this damn planet as fast as he could. He knew the Jedi and the Sith would feel his Mending with the nexus. It's not every day the force completely obliterates an entire section of the sith homeworld, and he did not doubt if his bunker was intact that by the time they were to be here, he would be long gone, and his Temple would be a simple shallow husk.
Christen had spent the next dozen hours in the upper levels of his Temple commanding the droids to take everything within the Temple and store them wherever they could fit on the ship.
He needed everything gone from this Temple. The droids had already cleaned out his chambers, along with the vast majority of the Temple's various closets and the training rooms. They had personally loaded them onto the first floor within the ship. They had informed him the vessel was already prepped when they arrived. He could tell that should the ritual had worked, The sith would have been raiding and using his Temple.
Christen envied the droids as they had a direct line to the hanger and bunker. In contrast, because of the force quakes, he induced the doorway outside the Temple to the underground hangar was destroyed, so now Christen had to go through the Temple's entrance which he built within the lower levels. He designed them to be a maze. A challenging obstacle, it helped him in lots of battles when caught. It was his little side route to access the hanger. After the droids had stripped everything from the upper levels, the droids had reported to him that the ship was at fifty-five percent capacity.
Sometimes he hated the size of the damn ship, or rather a freighter instead of a ship. He felt like he would stick out too much when he would inevitability landed on other planets. People wouldn't like him acting like having a fighter ship that was big enough to be a small transport vessel.
After directing droids for a few hours, christen stood motionless as he stared out into the sun's rays from his windowless meditation chamber.
His Temple looked over the tomb of XoXaan, and the Creator of the damned Timestaff that used to keep him in a constant time vortex, as long as he was within a hundred meters of the staff, he would be moving at a thousandth the speed of the world around him.
What should have been nine years were over two hundred and fifty-six for him. Bane had forced him to take it with his ship upon all his missions to ensure christen didn't break the bond created when Bane failed to tell christen that it would bond to the person who picked it up from the tomb on bogan. Christen scowled slightly as he knew now that he had absorbed the force nexus he could destroy the spear, he would live along time anyway with how many changes his alchemy did on his body, coupled with the long life span of his species, his yashan heritage might have made him live a couple of hundred years but being a living force nexus was utterly different.
He slowly turned away from the red sunset and made his way down the exiting hallway from the chambers, trying to recollect the maze of hallways on where the bunker would be, as even if it were outstanding, he would have a hard time finding it. Still, he knew better than not to think no hallways collapsed but thankful as he didn't build the fake hallways as sturdy as the real ones who went to the hanger.
Recollecting the memories hurt with how much information he tried to shift through. He hated having forced Eidetic memory. It flared up at the worst of times and went away at the best of them. The first entrance opened, and he could already see it would be a long day by the amount of dust from collapsed hallways hit him in the face, so he gave the last of the commands to the droids and sent them on their way to scour the Temples near his and clean them of any important or useful items, after that he realized he sent away all the droids and was stuck he having to empty the arsenal that was next to the hanger by himself, with a loud groan christen went into that maze.
It took hours of taking detours and retracing steps from going into dead-end hallways and walkways of the maze filled with rubble. It wasn't until Christen picked up the smell of droid oil, thanks to his yashan biology, He had finally gotten to the first large room in the hanger bay hallway.
It took him a few hours to set up the backup droids to help him clear up the closet filled with hologram-filled data pads for combat training or simple video logs. They were sprinkled in with other recording discs and datapads. The rest of the room was his private training room. It was the only training room in the temple that he felt he could go all out in. It was one of the last rooms he had the droids empty, as he could still see a few TY loader droids still emptying the training droids from their respective closets.
He left the droids to pack it up. He walked down the corridor as he passed a few large cracks in the walls. It truly sent shivers to know the amount of power he must have exerted to create that blast. The ruins would have haunted him if he wanted to stay on the planet, where the walls he built to be in pristine condition were now cracked beyond belief from the earthquakes, shards littered the floors. If Christen didn't create them with force alchemy, he would guess they would be broken down completely.
The force, for some odd reason, felt different since he had exploded. Christen knew his new body was strange, and he had to get used to an entirely new body, new bones, veins, muscles.
It was Horrifying.
But what was curious to Christen was that his force presence felt completely different, it wasn't like his old one, and it didn't feel like the force nexus he held inside him. It feels closer to a nexus in the force than a force user's presence. Unfourtantly Christen would need to be near another force user to make sure his theory was correct, and he just killed every single being on the planet.
The force now felt seducing, enticing, illuminating, and inviting, as if what happened to him made the force feel like a friend.
The force seemed connected to him on a deeper level than he's ever experienced, and that was saying a lot since he was connected with a naturally formed force nexus.
He just turned the corner to face what he recognized as the primary storage room within the bottom floor near the Bunker and hanger.
Christen lazily stretched his arms out in front and over his head. He quickly looked over his biceps and forearms. The faint light coming from his scars illuminating the faint lit hallway seemed like his body had accepted the new glowing substitute for his missing flesh. He traced the scars on his right forearm, they were warm when he hovered his fingers above the wounds, but that changed as soon as he would make contact. It would feel ice cold.
Groaning as he contemplates the scars, Christen doubted that he would never understand how it could have happened. It would be something that he would question until his death.
He was sighing as he lifts his head merely in enough time to see the door in front of him but not enough to stop himself from banging his forehead upon it.
He might be a force nexus, but he could never cure his clumsiness. His first damage o his body was a Kriffing capital steel door. Feeling incredibly stupid, Christen looked up at the door, taking a few moments to remember that the force could only open these corridor doors since, in truth, they were usually unlocked by the bioscan, but since the power flickered during his explosion, it defaulted to this extra security lock.
Lifting his left middle finger a little, christen smiled as his ears picked p the shifting of the metal gears in the doors. They slowly slid back into the walls for a few moments. Christen walked into a dark room, which turned into a brightly lit one in a few seconds as the opening lights came on. The grey walls of the room were lined with red lights illuminating the black floor on the left. The room's right sides are what made christen smile ear to ear, and there sat walls filled floor to ceiling with various weapons that he picked up on his missions.
There were countless Mandalorian blasters, along with hundreds of blastors made from planetary blastor shops on the planets he's visited when not on Korriban.
The back of the room, right next to the opening of the large storage locker, were dozens of boxes filled with Stygium crystals, along with enough thermite that he could easily blow a large warehouse to Correllian hell.
Sitting above the thermite was his stash of a dozen handheld Hypermatter bombs, seeing as his master forced him along with now-dead Correllian scientists to perfect hyper matter bombs, blasters, and railguns, though his master refused to let him keep any hyper matter Weapons, Christen had never given him the schematics for the thermal detonators, he inwardly laughed at the face Bane would be making if he saw the Bombs he had made, they could Hypothetically obliterate the surrounding five kilometers in every direction.
Christen smiled while admiring his stashes of explosives as he walked. Walking towards the storage locker's computer lock, he logged onto the computer imprinted into the door and lazily punched in the correct codes, his yashan hearing picking up the turning of the gears while a tiny hissing sound of the activated doors echoed the room.
Many locks seemed to click into place.
The doors revealed a square room close to a dozen meters wide and deep but only about twelve feet high for the ceiling. And like every time Christen entered this room, his heart hopped up into his mouth with affection at the sights of his collection of Mandalorian rifles, old republic heavy blasters, along with various sith empire heavy pistols and blasters hanging from the ceiling, along with the first shelf to his left being filled with Wookie bowcastors and various slug throwers, on the floor to his immediate right within a grey case with black foam innards looked to be an Ancient Trandoshan accelerated particle array gun. He didn't use it. Still, he was shot at by it, and he never wanted to let his hands off it.
On the back of the room, lightsabers covered the entire wall, dozens of lightsabers from sith or Jedi that uncountably had crossed him, or trophies from various temples he's visited. He had a couple of light whips, a dozen training sabers found within abandoned sith temples, a half dozen lightsaber pikes he picked up from Zakuul, a collection of a couple of odd pike form of lightsaber called Qichani, a few lightsaber canes from Yavin four, there was a box of shoto sabers on the ground, he had four cross sabers, multiple interlocking sabers. Along the wall, floor were medium-sized chests filled with kyber crystal-powered rifles and blasters.
"HK's!" he called out loudly, he built a few of the security Hk-70 class in the bunker, but he didn't remember if they were voice-activated or not. But he was answered faintly quickly once four two-meter tall bronze plated droids popped out from the ceiling. Their eyes shone blue as they all looked at him.
"QUERY: WHAT IS YOUR DESIRE, MASTER?" they all spoke in a monotone male voice. He leaned on his heels as he pulled his left hand out and nonchalantly shook it while he said.
" I want everything in this room to be put on the hip. After completing, I wish for you to charge in the droid chambers on the third floor. I do hope your wires aren't too loose that you can't find it," he spoke in a low growl. The droids all bowed to him.
" DISSAPOINTED STATMENT: AS YOU WISH, MASTER" and with that they begrudgingly got to work.
He should have more than enough room for everything here in the ship's armory, and if not, he could use any space he could fit it in.
His love of weapons wasn't to be confused with his desire to be a Mandalorian.
He knew he fit the mantra of what it meant to be a Mandalorian, Satine's sister Bo Katan had made that VERY clear, but the Mandalorians of today's Galaxy were pacifist fools. He would fit more into that of the true Mandalorian clans of old. He loved the thrill of battle and the honor that came with it. And As much as he loved Satine, her ways were destroying everything about the Mandalorian culture he loved. At some point, he needed to deal with her.
But for the true Mandalorians to return, he would need to find someone to take the mantle of Mandalore for his Empire. He would need to infiltrate mandalore and find a candidate.
He walked to the middle of the weapons room as he was deep in thoughts of his Mandalorian dream. He used the force to live a large triangle that could be seen holding the holocrons of his master Revan along with a Holocron he made with all the knowledge of his expeditions. It kept his force alchemy Holocron with the knowledge he found on its creation. Sorzus Syn, a sith Acolyte, had wanted him to create a couple of Leviathan class battleships for his master's Empire through alchemy. He had done precisely that with the remains of seven old cargo haulers that the sith brought him. They bore the symbol of the Trade Federation. It put him in a kolto Tank for a week.
Silently he put the objects into a small metal container on the ground, it shut with an air compressing hiss, and he handed it to the droids that were still cleaning out the room to take to the hanger bay, damn droids and their secret doors—cursing himself for being such an asshole while building this place. His eyes went wide as he remembered he was still KRIFFING NAKED.
"HK!" he instantly cursed himself for yelling out such a broad statement as he hears a couple of things fall to the ground.
"YES, MASTER," he heard four voices answer back.
He sighed while bringing his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose
"leave the armor and weapons labeled specialty dash 1. I'm going to need them for the trip home."
"STATMENT: OF COURSE MASTER, WE ONLY DO AS YOU COMMAND," they responded. Almost immediately, he saw one of them put down his jetpack near a box of blastor pistols.
Thankfully, the Dash 1 Armor he was looking for was still hanging on the room's left wall, and it was in the back, so the droids would have gotten to them second to last anyway.
He strolled over to his favorite armor. Steel magnetic clamps held it up on the wall.
As he hummed his favorite self-made tune, the faint light of the room shined brightly off the pure beskar plating. He had got this specific beskar for his armor's from Mandalorian and Sith remains on Korriban, Yavin, mandalore, and byss sure it took a scraping few hundred full body armor's.
Still, he had gained almost thousands of pounds of beskar. With an ancient Mandalorian blacksmith text, he got his sixty pounds of pure beskar plating for his full body armor plating. Without the text, he would have only been able to make a Beskar mix with Phrik or steel.
Christen had gotten into making armor for a long time ever since he went to mandalore to visit Satine from time to time and went back for Bane's wishes. He had lived in an ancient beskar mine for a few years. Even more beskar, enough that after smelting the ore, he had earned a dozen gauntlets of beskar, along with breastplates, this included hundreds of beskar Vibro blades and almost a thousand singing birds.
But this armor was his first. Christen made it with multiple weapons built into it., as he puts the armor on, people would think the armor would hinder his movements.
But, since he had chosen to start training in it relatively early in his enslavement, he would feel very much at home wearing the armor. He felt more in control and somewhat happy when he wore it rather than without.
And to say that his armor was a replica of Mandalore the ultimate's armor, except his armor covered every inch of his body. He was glad he got a glimpse at a painting while on Concordia.
He just hoped the Mandalorians or what's left the real ones don't kill him for the design. Christen looked himself over in one of the ceiling-high mirrors that lined the room's walls, the natural silver of his beskar and the painted colors of orange and black blended in very well together, his master always hated the saturation, but he loved it was one of three armors he had engraved symbols onto.
Christen traced the Jedaii symbol that he engraved into his shoulder plating after he had returned from tython. He looked down to his chest as he saw the Jedi and Sith Symbles crossed out with black lightning bolts. He went back to tracing the other Jedaii symbol on his right while his eyes were on the mirror watching himself. Christen had to admit he looked menacing and overall damn big, with the Force already enhancing his Alemy ridden body. He stood at the size of a small Wookie, seven-foot one and around three hundred and five pounds. The armor made him look seven foot six, a pretty terrifying sight when coupled with the Mandalorian style of the armor.
Christen looked over to the ammo packs that lined the back of his waist, making sure he had everything filled to the brim. He went on to reloading all his hidden weapons that he had built into the armor.
Christen stepped to the left and plugged his gauntlets into the wall, which, when looked at closely, one could see had dozens of tubes embedded within. He twisted his wrists inwards, and the pipes started refueling his duel flamethrowers under the top of both gauntlets. It can shoot flames for five minutes even though it can only shoot upwards of five meters with a full tank.
His helmet held a built-in HUD. Most of the time, it was a sophisticated sensor-driven targeting system, added to the fact now that his master is gone, he could have it fully connected to the Holo net and several underground transmissions among the Crime syndicates of Crimson dawn, Black sun, the elusive Crymora's, the Hutt clans' and the Pyke syndicate, he wouldn't be surprised if his master has personnel embedded within each organization.
The other features include night vision and inferred, even though he had night vision with his natural u=yashan heritage. Additionally, it had an environmental full three hundred and sixty-degree field of vision.
Christen flexed his wrists, and two separate foot-long cortosis blades pushed out. He grabbed a metal block on the wall and began to sharpen the twelve-inch blades built into his writs and put in a power cell for his wrist mini blasters, the cells were only good for fifteen shots, but he had dozens of spares built into his armor.
Reloading the thermal missiles for his gauntlet launcher, which had always come in any for treasure hunters, lone Jedi, and local gangs he had run into.
Christen flexed his writs outward, putting everything in the armor pulled out in an all-out display, making sure everything was set into place and didn't blow him up. Christen closed his fists, and within a fraction of a second, everything but the blades were pulled back into the armor. He went back to shape the cortosis blades again the ran the length of his arm when sheathed.
After the blades were sharp enough that he was confident it could cut through limbs, he sheathed them and pulled a pair of skin-tight cortosis weave gloves off the wall, they were a simple design, but because Christen enhanced them with force alchemy, they were a little hard to reproduce since his aster destroyed the texts during a fit of rage when he had found a jedaii symbol on his temple's door.
Kneeling to get better reach, Christen reached his right and opened the compartments on his shoulders. The half-inch beskar plating hissed out as it lifted.
Revealing the hidden door that discreetly hidden shoulder-mounted missile chambers, four in each, the hurt to use and always caused a bruising. Still, they packed a hell of a punch, caple of shooting down most shuttles In the galaxy with one hit. He should know how much they hurt, as he created them. Still, he was also the test dummy they were used on. he looked at himself in the mirror. The helmet's visor was deactivated, his orange eyes shining through the darkness, and he thinks about what had happened to him, what he anymore?
He was even Christen skywalker. He already knew a part of him died on this planet and was replaced by the Force, but just how much.
Was he the Force incarnated?
Was he a god?
Was he just a pawn in the game that Force played with? He begrudgingly admitted that the spear that had chained him to live longer than what was going on in the galaxy was terrifying to him. The logistics of what the spear did with time, Christen was an expert in many things, but time and that shit were not one of them. But he honestly didn't believe the Force was that cruel. It must have kept him alive for a reason. He would find out sooner enough. He was sure of it.
Christen Had no idea if everything he knew gone, was his family dead, Satine, Bo, Padme, his brother, were they all gone? Or had the spear made it, so the galaxy only moved around in a decade as his master told him. He truly had no idea if it was true. The world had permanently moved faster than him ever since the first moment while he's lived two hundred and fifty-odd years as a slave.
He looked in the mirror. His eyes were the same color. Perhaps they were a tad brighter. They were more vivid than his scars, but both his eyes and scars seemed to radiate a profound aura. It was strong enough that he knew it might frighten his kids and his wife... what was her name? Abie? akrik? No, it was Abigail, his wife's name was Abigail. he honestly had forgotten the name of the most important woman in his life besides his mother, he grabbed his head as poured every ounce of his power into the act of trying to remember everything he's forgotten to survive his time upon the sith homeworld.
(Christen POV, this won't often happen cause I'm better with the third point of view)
the sight of my weapons chambers slowly drifted out, as a flurry of memories hit my mind with such Force it would hurt if physical, it barged his way to the forefront of my mind, My mother, my wife, my children, my friends, but I couldn't REMEMBER to DAMN IT!
I could remember her name, though, Abigail, I could remember our honeymoon on shili to Naboo and Mandalore, the night before I moved to shapes with her as queen and me as the only non-slaving male, it only took a few months of being in love with her to end their brutal ways of enslaving the male race, and therefore the male race owed me more or less a life debt, hell at this point if I was replaced or disregarded as King the male race most likely would revolt.
My mind's next memory seemed to pierce through my brain when she gave birth to my firstborn and favorite daughter.
Amber
I heard a voice in my mind. It was pleasant, sweet, and soft, yet it felt commanding. The memories soon turned to other aspects of my life.
I saw memories of me growing up on Tatooine with my mother and brother playing in the junkyards or fighting playfully. He saw himself being taught on the Phantom from his masters of old when they had found him dying, a memory of his first time meeting Revan's Holocron, the memory of my mother screaming for me to come back the night I killed those men raping her.
I then saw a memory that was not mine that showed me a scene of my mother looking utterly distraught as my brother cried heavily with tears streaming down his face, screaming why I wasn't there, why I abandoned them.
Water pricked my eyes as tears fell onto my cheek as I backed up in disgust at Myself.
Before I could recall any more painful memories, a loud clanging sound reverberated throughout the room; I looked over to see that I had knocked over my favorite jet pack in my tirade of emotion. The tears dripped down my cheeks as the flooding of memories continues. Even if he couldn't see them, he could hear the voices of past friends and family.
(A/N sorry, I'm pretty bad with this kind of POV, I don't think ill do it again tbh)
Christen roughly pulled his jetpack to him with the Force. He blinked hard to get rid of the tears. He hardened his mind to block the emotions out, putting on the mask that kept him alive.
The memories of this past padded away as Christen's brain forced itself to replace them with the memories of making the gadget that laid in his hands. It originally was a Z-6 jetpack brought by an acolyte at the behest of Bane, and he was given it to practice his engineering, seeing as the day before he had no idea how to fix a jet pack, and thus his master had punished him and forced him to make one. He had spent almost four months on top of his travels making the thing., it originally was made to carry only two missiles. He had customized it to hold around fifty Mandalorian whistling birds retrofitted in the sides.
He had been able to make the fuel tank doubled in size. It could hold him up for up to three hours, and it used to have two exhaust engines to now three engines.
He didn't need an extra one, but as his master said
"he was to expand his engineering capabilities" Christen rolled his eyes at the memory.
He had also hollowed out enough room on the bottom sides to fit mini blast missiles. He could only fit two on either side.
Still, they could destroy a squad of troopers and destroy a shuttle class ship.
He had also retrofitted the same missiles into his knee plating, though they only had enough power to kill one man each. He took his helmet and set it down on the now-empty ammo storage box. He didn't need the HUD o the built-in tech at the moment. It would take a minute or two for it to connect to all its Networks anyway fully.
What was important was getting his blasters and lightsabers on his clams that littered his armor. He felt rather hollow with just his armor. Sure he felt like he was home when wearing it, but that home felt relatively empty without loads of firepower.
So obviously, that's what mattered to him above all else. Most of his custom weapons he was forced to make, but he still loved them. He might have been forced to make them, but he molded them to him like they were an extension of himself, and that's painfully true for his lightsabers.
They still had to torture him to build them, but Christen was a stubborn bastard, he hated the sith, and he wanted to make every second they used his genius to be frustrating. He would make them suffer for destroying his entire mental state in the name of helping the Sith Lord Bane.
Christen wasn't surprised the Sith reacted violently after finding out he decided to fully become a Jedaii after visiting Tython and its moons for over a hundred years, studying the crashed Tho Yor ships hidden beneath the ground. Bane didn't take too kindly to his apparent betrayal of the sith. They thought giving pain to the last of the jedaii was a chance they couldn't bear to miss
knowledge. Of course, the ancient jedaii were wiser the many of his masters. He had found that out quickly when reading many of the texts and holocrons that littered the planet, though he had to feel through the Force and dig for weeks until he unearths them.
Christen went to the far left of the wall, which mainly had emptied. The only thing left was a small durasteel box that sat opposite from another small door built into the wall. It held a splicer that he used for locked weapons, locked doors, and safes.
Using the splicer, he forced his way into his legendary sores of weapons. He always kept it locked up to the point that even the sith couldn't even get into it when they did random checks.
Christen, along with a couple of dead Corrillan and Trandoshan slaves, made the blasters that layed within from scratch, tho they were designed after known designs already known to the galaxy, as the doors unsealed with a slight hiss and clanking of gears grinding against each other, as the two doors slowly opened, revealing his custom blasters, that sat to the racks inside. The middle rack was the first he raided as it held his god-level rifle, a knock-off body design of the verpine Shatter rifle, but that's where the similarities ended. It outperformed the original blastor in every aspect.
It was black and white in coloring, and it was built to be completely silent. At the same time, being shot, and was customized to deal more kinetic damage per shot, almost tripling the out[put off the original, the fact that it fires physical projectiles allowed the rounds to ignore most shields as they mostly tended to block ion energy and plasma weapons.
Christen built the rifle to take any power cell, including armor-piercing, explosive shot, two stages incendiary ammunition, smart grenades, smoke grenades, laser dissipating aerosol canisters, EM dust tags, tracking devices, EMP grenades, acid rounds, poison rounds, frangible ammunition, and even rocks, nuts or bolts, and rivets could be used if nothing else was at hand, as long as it could fit into the electromagnetic (EM) chamber. Overall, something worth a starship in a regular weapon shop.
Next to that hanging from the wall on the same middle shelf was his go-to blaster rifle, made to look like a customized DC-17 as he could use the excuse he picked it offa republic soldier since he found out they used the model for their regular troops, it was among the top weapons and most widely used even in organized gangs and small militaries, the rifle was retrofitted to be lighter on weight for mobility and an overdoing on tuning the accuracy to an almost perfect setting.
Hanging on both sides of the secret chamber were the two weapons that saved his life almost as many times as his lightsabers. Two beskar cortosis plated Wester-34s shining in pristine condition brought a sinister grin to his face. These guns original would have blaster plasma bolts now did no more.
He built the shooting components to emit energy from kyber crystals in the chambers, a couple more shards of crystals lairs in the handles and trigger, the bolts of energy created from the crystals when triggered would be able to bat away lightsaber-wielding opponents, taking them down within a few shots. They could theoretically shoot a blast through the lightsaber itself. However, he had yet to try them on a force wielder, only testing them on a few smuggling gangs that had unfortunately gotten in his way when on Yavin. Two pistols took down over fifty spirits and smugglers that day in less than a minute.
Christen activated the Magnetic clams on his armor and began to equip all the Weapons. The rifles littered his back as the blasters hung from his hips or were holstered onto his thighs and arms. It took him a few minutes to get everything in place. The last thing he wanted right now was to continue his search with the sound of all his guns making countless pins of metal touching metal as they would initially.
Christen smiled as he saw himself in the mirror. He looked like a taller, Thicker version of Mandalore the ultimate, well adding the silver look of pure beskar coupled with the symbols of three orders, his helmet that sat on his belt was more of a rounder version of the typical Mandalorian style. He stood there armed to the teeth, his eyes glowing violently against the low-lit room.
Christen looked around the room to see no droids, nor could he hear any when he delved deep into the Force to enhance his hearing.
Had he gotten so lost in his armor that the droids had already cleaned out the entire temple and were awaiting on his ship for further instructions?
He walked out of the room, leaving the emptied case that was now useless.
He walks down the corridor, deeper into the temple underground only took a few minutes of waling passed hollowed and empty rooms when he walked up to a rectangular entrance in the dead-end he now standing in. it was engraved with a human-sized symbol of the ancient sith symbol Christen saw that the door looked to be locked he was glad his masters locked up when they were done refueling.
However, since they would have brought banes essence in his own body, it made sense that they would think the temple would instantly become Banes if the ritual were a success.
He laughed, knowing they only gave him so much armor and weapons because they brought him up to be the vessel for Bane. He had somehow destroyed the spear when he had his little mishap. He could feel its essence in one of the chambers ahead. The droids that were checking the other temples must have picked it up. He felt happy, knowing its essence was too weak even to affect time anymore.
If What Bane has told him and taunted him with was true, then only a decade has passed while he has lived just over two hundred and fifty years, and this belief was cemented when christen momentarily reached into the Force for the answer. He hated this spear, but a part of him held it up in high regard. Whether he liked it or not, it meant a great deal to him in the sense that it made him who he was. Sure, Christen knew he had become less human, he had learned about his warrior race, the yashans, and he embraced it, he could see people calling him a monster, but for him, it was what he felt was right.
Turning his attention back to the door in front of him, Christen knew the door was the first way to his hanger. The hanger's entrance was beyond the first door, around a forty-meter walk through a tall tunnel meant for supply runs. The walls were engraved with hundreds of figures, old Sith, Jedi, and Jedaii.
The opening was adjacent to the secret entrances to three tombs within the sith Temples surrounding his own.
All of them happened to be his masters of old, the ones who trained him on the damn ship he was trying to get to in the first place. He cursed himself for making those unique walkways within his temple walls for his Hk droids to move more discreetly around the temple. As his thoughts wandered on his masters, he walked through two more durasteel doors.
Christen knew that even if they weren't tombs of his old masters, he would have known them anyway since he was forced to know this planet like the back of his hand.
However, he knew it was all worthless Knowledge now sense he destroyed the foundation of almost a third of the planet.
Still, he somehow missed the early days of his slavery, waking up, go through hours of experimental procedures and punishment, then being sent to unknown tombs to copy down their Knowledge for his Master to take away then or have him enhance the Knowledge and when christen would make a breakthrough, his Master would confiscate everything.
Reaching the final door, christen take a sharp, deep breath as he reaches out and uses the Force to activate the countless gears used to lock the door. The cracks in the faker ceiling momentarily blinded him, and it dilated his eyes to early black so he could see even if he was staring into the sunlight. Still, nothing could make him happier than the sight of his beautiful Phantom ship. It laid a hundred feet in front of him, the rest of the hanger all fitted within the vessel. The entire place was empty, barring broken parts, dead bodies, and other junk, along with the dozen droids welding on the outside. He guessed the ship had to be retrofitted to hold everything within and buff any dents or scratches out. He hoped the rest be inside deactivated by now.
But christen did see one eye-opening change that he saw the droids made were the words on the sides of the craft, written in Wookie sized letters
THE JEDAII'S REVENGE
it almost brought a tear to his eye. Christen inhaled ad could pick up the smell of brand new paint. It was perfect,
He was finally getting off this talent without being frightened of dying from Bane and His sith. He was more than happy to see that the acolytes didn't make any changes, seeing as they thought Bane would return to life at his body's end of the ritual.
He had stripped the old capital steel on the outside with the rarest metal in the universe, well, at least to his and His Master's Knowledge. It was a miracle in itself that he fell out of Hyperspace in the Maw cluster and found a local facility and thus took over said hidden facility. It didn't take long for him to figure out the metal they were extracting was an anomaly he took full advantage of. He had been stuck there for several months, his Master even sent out teams of sith to bring him back, but they couldn't get through the Maw. His Master was stuck for months, thinking that his slave had tried to run away.
In that time, he had forced the people of the facility to replace the outer layers of capital steel with what they called Quantum-crystalline Armor.
He gave them no choice but to provide him with any amount of the metal. He took all that they had readily available, enough for plates of armor, gauntlets, along with a coating of two inches around the outside of the ship.
He left the facility a hated man, but jokes on them, he was now a man with an indestructible ship.
Curiously, he noticed something different about the ship's weapons array. He didn't remember putting on what looked to be a couple of hyper matter cannons on the ship's underbelly. He noticed they were on his design. A design bane had taken from him.
"huh well, not that I'm complaining, but those kriffing sith better not have messed up the wiring," he grumbled to himself as he slowly went around the ship, checking every inch of it to see what else they had changed during the last couple days since he was captured for his annual torture which then turned into a failed transfer ritual.
On top of the hull additions, he had enhanced the hull will sith alchemy. Of course, this was at his Master's bidding. It took him a few weeks of no sleeping to get done, but the Craft was a marvel to behold.
It could take on a whole sectoral fleet by itself before being destroyed. The only way to defeat the ship would be to capture it. And years of living in the ship, christen could honestly say they built the ship to be an entire fleet in one freighter-sized vessel.
Christen used the Force to activate the ramp and waited patiently as it descended. He already saw a droid scurrying in the hallway adjacent to the door. He walked up the ramp, quickly making his way to the ship's main storage room, and checked to see if it was packed.
Along the way, he checked every entrance, and sure enough, The droids filled each closet and room in every hallway of the ship with his temples belongings along with whatever the droids took the temples around it.
As he reached the storage room, he saw a dozen packing droids scurrying inside and out the room. He decided to leave them be.
He returned from the storage hallway on the first level; he set his sights on the Bridge. He passed hundreds of droids on his way. He could see that the vast majority of them were his TY Models he created with a couple of men his Master enslaved. The other group of droids on his ship were of the HK variant.
Most of the HK models of his own design created six successful variants of the model and had exciting unique personalities.
He could see a dozen of his variant HK-70's guarding the door leading to the Bridge. They nodded and greeted him as "Master."
The door opened, and christen was now in a room filled with another two types of HK Variant droids. His HK-69 Defense class was lined up near the doors and walls. His HK-57 Pilot class was sitting in all the chairs lined up near all the control panels and weapon systems. Seeing all his droids nod to him while calling him Master made him smile with a happiness he hadn't felt many times in the last hundred years.
He walked up to the HK pilot that was on the command module.
"GREETING "Master, it is a pleasure to see you, I have had all ramps and exhaust ports closed and ready for flight, is there a destination you wish to go to?" Christen thought for a second if he wanted to return home right away to figure out what was going on, what were his Master's plans.
"Bring the ship into low orbit. Make sure all stygium shields are brought. I don't want anyone to pick up this ship until we're on top of them. Think you can do that, HK" he commanded the droid.
Christen swore he saw amusement within the sensors that made up its eyes. It simply turned as it shouted commands to ten other droids throughout the room.
"ill be in the inner command center HK. I'll come here when I wish to leave the system. If any irregularities bring me up on the comms," he got an affirmative nod from the droid as christen left the Bridge and went to the second floor.
Christen was finally was leaving the planet. He felt the ship left up as the gravity within the ship got turned on as the ship left the planet's orbit. He was ecstatic. There would be no mission to return from, he would never return, but before he went into Hyperspace, he needed to send a few holo messages he's been wanting to send for a few hundred years.,
Christen walked down to the second-floor command center on the north side of the floor, he used the Force to open the doors and ordered the rooms TY droid to activate the transmitting center, but as soon as he activated it, it blinks red, letting him know he was receiving an incoming transmission, and it was marked as an urgent message. He squinted his eyes and swallowed his spit when he saw it was sent at the same time the ritual would have ended.
Of course. His Master would want to start as soon as possible on galaxy-wide domination.
As he answered the call, it took a few seconds before the transmitter made a connection, and the holorecording started a life-sized image of an older looking Pau'an; he was dressed as an Admiral within his Master's Empire, he remembered reading about this man's species, there were an odd species that could rival the life span of a Yashans, more than five hundred at average, christen could the man had half-broken, jagged teeth, coupled with long nails that were the size of his fingers, the Pau'an had deep markings indicating royalty, how his Master ever got his man was a mystery, the name on the man's badge read he was an Admiral, the name was Captin Zero? Seriously his name was the captain?
While the recording was being reread for tampering, he finally decided to watch it when the transmitter finally deemed the connection safe. The man's hologram comes to life as the holo message plays. He watched the message. All it said was that they wanted him to contact them immediately.
He hit the redial button and waited for the other line to answer. He reached down to his hip and grabbed his helmet, putting it on as to not let the man see his face, a sense of an amenity in the galaxy, even within his forces.
Yes, it made him more of a monster than not if he kept the mask he had to put on for his Master.
The moving hologram took him from his thoughts.
"Greetings, My Lord," the man said with a firm salute over the head, so he was the emperor of his Masters Empire, good. Christen grinned.
"during your decade-long retreat, I have kept this Military and the Empire in check within the Spinward sector. We have been awaiting your orders on whether we should invade the neighboring black sun-controlled dalonibian and Veragi sectors. We have five of the fleets in position, though if it weren't for that slave of yours, none of this would be even possible. My Lord, his battle tactics, the deigns of warships, weapons, and material gathering has been surmountable to the success of the empire" the man paused as if he waited for christen answer. He nodded at the hologram to continue.
"Currently, the main Sith and force user base are set up on the planet of Tython, and its two moons, Currently, fifty students are there under tutelage from your dozen sith warriors and the hundreds of holocrons your slave collected. Other than that, around two hundred men and women from the Empire currently reside their
its the system home to the empire mini star forge. It might only be a tenth the size of the original used by Revan. However, it still puts out ten fleets a year. The system also harb..." the man's voice drifted away as christens eyes went wide when the man said tython. His jaw dropped at the mention of a working star forge he was thankful for the helmat once again, he was shocked to think His Master was going to start his reign of the sith on the Jedaii's homeworld as if to laugh in the face of his slave. He smiled.
'well, who laughing now,' he mused.
"so... we are well involved within the republic, from what I heard there was another group of sith there, the ritual has my mind left with blanks in information" christen asked with a cold tone, he saw the man shiver as he spoke.
"Y-Yes my Lord, we infiltrated the heart of the republic around thirteen years ago, you wished to be informed on the sith, Jedi and the republic, going on I will tell you about the primary outposts of the Empire, most of them reside in our sectors within wild space" he stopped when christen was giving no indication he was even listening, but christen was staring down the Admiral intensely seeing if the man was truthful after a few seconds he nodded so the Admiral continued.
"Our Sectors primarily reside in the first wave of sectors behind the Spinward sector, as per your order. We currently hold control of four sectors of wild space, whatever enters and exits we know about like the others, but since you advised me before the ritual that you would be a little... spent after the ritual, that's pretty much the empires sectoral overview. ."
"I will relay the outlook on our tech company. It has expanded well throughout the republic. Our company of Neuro-Saav Corporation has boomed. We have a ninety percent share within the black markets of cybernetics and implant and around thirty-three percent of the legal cybernetic economy. The company legally owns the Spinward sector now onto the bases you highlighted for the Empire's highest priority planets."
the man took a breathe as he was then handed a different data pad from a uniformed female torguta
Byss Base within the sector that was home to the sith Empire four thousand years ago, the planet has been turned into a hundred facilities on the planet, all of them are to be used for designs and different ways to maintain the Empire's armor and weapon emplacements from the star forge and the empires planets own locally made armor, their primary duty is to find ways to upgrade and customize the Empires Weopanrty and armor, trying to keep us ahead of the entire galaxy.
As such, this station is made for research based solely on warfare and the like. Currently, there are Two hundred thousand people now maintaining the base, along with five times that number in planetary inhabitants" the man paused, and again christen had to nod for him to continue.
Teth base is located in the farthest of our sectors within wild space. This planet is currently housing hundreds of more research stations' dotting the planet's surface. Their sole purpose is to research and create anything pertaining to a medical nature. They are a primary resource in our legal services within the galaxy and only a little bit of the black market dealing. There are currently five hundred thousand people maintaining the planet with almost thirty million more within the Empire-controlled populace, my lord" christen thought about the number of men and women He had in his Empire, and this was only two bases in? How many were on the planet he left a few decades ago or somewhat less than a year ago? What happened to all the other planets he had visited when he left.
The Planet of Dxun is brimming with dozens of extensive cloning facilities, though because of your hesitance with the effects of the ritual, you have locked these files until you visit the planet, as it is above what even I can tell you, my Lord. I'm sorry, but it Redacted to even your codes.
All we can tell you right now is the projects for the lost race of your slave is very successful, there is three hundred thousand personnel currently maintaining the base along with just under a million in the local slave inhabitance, my Lord." when the man said slaves christens eyes burned dangerously, he would have to order his Empire to free all slaves and try to reason with them to stay within the Empire.
The last main base is on Odession. The Planet is the temporary homeworld for your sith. This main base stood out among the thousands of other facilities dotting the landscape was built upon an old decaying base that Some force-based group used somewhat three thousand years ago. This Planet is the backup for the entire Empire should the Jedi or other sith locates any of our existing or future bases or fleet within the known galaxy." the man stopped with an audible gasp of air.
Christen's mind was on the information of the jedaii homeworld and decided to direct the talk to that tython. "tell me more on the bases within the Tyhton system, how fares this miniature star forge Admiral" it could sound like a question. But both men could tell that it was a demand. Christen needed to show this man that he was No Bane.
He was No weakling Sith.
So when he threw out his hand and used the force to slightly crush the man's throat, before the man could ever open his mouth as the Admiral instantly reached for his throat as. Christen brought his hand up and into a closed fist, choking the man across the galaxy.
" and Admiral Zero, I think a news flash is in order, Darth Bane is dead, I am the slave, this is my empire now" he stared the Admiral down, and right before the man slipped into death's gracious arms, he let go.
"Now the Tython System, Tell me," he commanded. At the same time, the man coughed as though he would kneel over and die. after a few minutes, the Admiral looked to his new emperor's visor and continued his detailing of the Empire. However, he was sure of the man before him and lava-colored eyes that bore into his very soul.
"Well, My lord, the Empire has been very busy with the deep core resources and politics with certain empires within while we've waited for you. Finally, you're here though I guess we won't be with the sith any longer, I will bring the news that Bane has been usurped and the slave that has given us the Empire had now taken control I in the meeting with all the members of your order and the empires Militaries commanders, Admirals, and the entire Empire's generals. Along with that, I have a datapad with lists of information on your Empire for you to go over. The information should be downloading to a datapad within the command center.
I have also sent you the coordinates to get to Tython to start as soon as possible. We are all waiting for you to take command so we can follow your protocols, one though two hundred seventy-eight." after he finished instantly looking down as he gave another salute, this time a Mandalorian, one, huh why would a Pau'an give a Mandalorian salute and an imperial one, not that he was complaining.
"thank you, Admiral! I will relay with you in a few days on oddesion, I will indulge you and the others incorporating the flesh and bones of MY new empire, I'm sure the countless meetings we must go through, boring work I'm certain, but first I must return to my family. That will be all, Admiral" the command left no room for negotiations as the man who looked like he wanted to say more quietly nodded and left.
After the man's hologram flickered out, Christen's straightened form relaxed but was still a bit tense. He frowned as the salute stirred something in him. He still couldn't figure out what it was.
He always had longed to be Mandalorian, maybe he should answer the call and try when he found the time to visit Mandalore, but that was for another adventure. He needed to get home immediately, he had been gone to the galaxy for a decade, it was time to remind it that it should never forget his name.
Even though it was a necessity to have his empire take this control of the out rin and the deep core of the galaxy and bring it to its knees, but he knew that he could put it off for his kids, for his wife, for the first time in over two hundred years, at least for him that he did not have to be a slave it was time he tried to lie down and live with the people he loves remotely.
At least before his empire revealed itself.
Christen left the command center ad aked back up the bridge. On the way, he commanded the droids to bring all mandatory systems online and bringing the hyperdrive up to speed along with everything else, as he was the only one on the entire ship that could hold almost three hundred.
Still, at least he had nearly thirty droids on the ship to keep him company. He could say at least a hundred if he activated the ones embedded into the ship waiting to be activated.
He began Punching in the coordinates to his wife's home planet of Hapes. A shimmering nebula surrounded the Hapen system within the inner core of the Galaxy. The planet had several moons after sunset.
The planet never knew what darkness was. It rarely covered the planet for even an hour each day, therefore the entire species was near-blind as a bat in dark environments.
It took only a few minutes, but Christen finally got into the bridge. He was momentarily hounded with greetings by the droids as he took his place on a throne that the droids seemed to have built within the time he was talking with the Admiral,
"statement: Hyperdrive is Powering up, master," one HK57 droid shouted out
"coordinates 0-9, have been put in, Entering hyperspace in five, my lord." the Admiral HK pilot droid that walked up to his right told him.
The hyperdrive sounds began. Unconsciously Christen smiled without an ounce of malice.
It was one of achievement, or love, of a broken man who freed himself from the chains that bound him. He smiled as the ship shifted into hyperspace.
Left alone once again, the Sith homeworld was broken and shrouded in death and darkness, the only living being with an ounce of hope leaving the system, never to return.
And that's the chapter, one more chapter after this, which will finish up the rewrite of a single chapter from my story's original version. HOPE YOU ENJOYED, LEAVE A REVIEW ON HOW IT WAS AND WHAT YOU HOPE COMES IN THE FUTURE OF The Savior's Empire.
