Night had fallen, and a full moon lit the sky, shining brightly over the Midoriya household. The house was quiet and peaceful, reflecting the serenity it seemed to hold. Within the walls of the house, two boys lay fast asleep in their cribs, both male twins. They shared a striking resemblance in physical appearance, most notably their green hair and green eyes, a characteristic trait of their family. As they slept, the soft breathing of the two boys was the only sound that was heard, a symphony of innocence that brought peace to anyone who heard it.

As far as the parents of the twins are concerned, the father is sadly absent, leaving only the mother to bear the burden of raising them. She eagerly awaits the new day when she can finally cuddle up with her precious offspring and enjoy having them. The Force, however, has other plans in store for her.

An ominous figure, clad in head-to-toe robes, slowly emerges from the shadows. She wears a strange belt-like device. It contains a metallic cylindrical object of unknown purpose. The movement of the figure is one of silent grace, its intentions unknown.

With a speed that seemed to be almost supernatural, the enigmatic figure moved through the corridors of the house until she finally arrived at the room where the twin siblings were staying. What could possibly be the purpose of such a visit from such a mysterious being? Only time would help to answer that question.

Finally, the shadowy figure, shrouded in a cloak of mystery, reached the door of the twins' room. With an air of intrigue, the mysterious visitor gazed upon the siblings. Their presence seemed to hold her spellbound.

"The potency of your Force presence is of such a magnitude," she articulated as she analyzed the older of the identical twin brothers. "that using mere words would fail to adequately describe it."

Then she started to focus on the younger one, Izuku Midoriya.

"Without a doubt, your prowess with the Force is quite impressive," she said. "However, your capabilities are not at the same level as those of your older twin brother. So, at least for now, your future does not align with ours."

Then her attention returned to Izuru, whose aura within the Force shone even more brilliantly than that of his younger twin.

"It is young Izuru whose destiny is forever inseparable from the Sith."

With a great deal of caution, she lifted Izuru Midoriya out of his cradle. But before her departure, she placed an enigmatic paper with alien symbols on top of Izuru's crib.

As the first rays of sunlight began to illuminate the sky, Inko Midoriya rose from her bed and went about her morning routine as usual. She made her way to the room of her twin babies to check on their well-being, but to her dismay, she discovered that one of the babies was missing. Her heart pounded with fear as she realized that Izuru was nowhere to be found. The only evidence of his disappearance was a mysterious piece of paper with enigmatic symbols on it. She began to panic and fear as she faced the possibility that she would never see Izuru again.

Overwhelmed with fear and despair, Inko clutched the piece of paper in her trembling hands, hoping that it would shed some light on the situation. However, she felt helpless and vulnerable as the symbols and inscriptions on the paper were completely incomprehensible to her. In spite of this, she struggled to remember one small detail that her husband had left for her before his cryptic disappearance.

Her heart pounding with anticipation, she hurried to her bedroom and arrived at her destination. There, her beloved husband had left behind a technological device capable of deciphering the cryptic dialects of extraterrestrial beings. With bated breath, she began to use the extraordinary device. In a matter of moments, the alien characters were transformed into the familiar characters of the Japanese language. Without a moment's delay, she began to voraciously consume the translated text, longing to unravel the mystery that lay before her.

Inko Midoriya was overwhelmed by a plethora of emotions as she finished reading the translated letter. A tumultuous mix of anger, sadness, confusion and fear was brewing inside her. The mere thought that her first-born son, Izuru, was destined to become something as menacing as the Sith'ari left her feeling disbelieved and desperate. The thought of never seeing him again, of losing him forever, weighed heavily on her heart and soul. It left her feeling sad and burdened with regret. The thought of what horrors and suffering her dear child would have to endure at the hands of the Sith filled her with a sense of trepidation and anxiety. It added to her already growing anxiety.

Inko Midoriya was well aware of the gravity of the situation. She understood that no amount of resistance could change what had happened. Even the mightiest of heroes would be powerless against the Sith. She was forced to come to terms with the reality that her son would be lost to her forever.

In spite of the heartbreak and the pain, there was a sense of acceptance that Inko felt. She knew she had to let go of her firstborn son and find a way to move on with her life. She had heard stories of the Sith from her husband. She knew all too well of their power. Thinking of fighting them was foolish and could only lead to more loss and destruction.

It was a bitter pill to swallow, but Inko had no choice but to acknowledge the futility of her situation. She had to find a way to live with the reality that she would never be able to get her eldest son back.

In her moment of despair, Inko's eyes fell on her remaining child, Izuku, who lay sleeping in his crib, blissfully unaware of the tragedy that had befallen their family. As she looked at her precious son, a mother's love and protectiveness welled up inside her. He was the only thing that was left in her world, the only source of light in all the darkness.

With a deep sense of purpose, Inko lifted Izuku into her arms. She held him close to her chest and felt the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart. She pressed a soft kiss to his tiny forehead and whispered words of love and comfort. She swore to protect him from all harm and to give him the life he deserved.

Izuku was her hope, her happiness. Inko knew that he had an extraordinary future ahead, full of happiness, peace and success. She vowed to support his dreams and aspirations, to give him the tools and opportunities he needed to succeed. For Inko, there was nothing better to live for than to be the mother Izuku deserved.

A stern expression was etched on the face of the master as he chastised his young apprentice. "Malorir," he said, his voice ringing with authority, "I sense that you are not making the necessary effort."

The young apprentice Malorir looked up at his mentor, Lord Urmas. He was struck by the enormity of the task before him. Four small metal crates lay before him, each one exceedingly heavy. To think of trying to lift even one seemed impossible, let alone trying to lift all four.

"Lord Urmas," Malorir exclaimed. "How could I ever hope to lift these crates? Each one must weigh several hundred tonnes!" His voice was full of disbelief and uncertainty. His mind was racing with doubt.

"Watch, Malorir," Lord Urmas commanded. His voice was deep and threatening. Without a moment's hesitation, Malorir fixed his gaze on the Sith Lord and braced himself for what was to come.

Lord Urmas lifted the crates with effortless ease, defying their weight and size with a sudden burst of movement. The four crates were propelled through the air at breakneck speed, their movements erratic and unpredictable, and Malorir watched in amazement.

Malorir felt the wind rush against his body, his heart pounding with excitement and fear as the crates whizzed past him. He could barely keep up with the Sith Lord's movements, his eyes darting back and forth as he struggled to anticipate where the crates were going to move next.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Lord Urmas brought the crates to a sudden halt. He returned them to their original positions. Malorir stood there. His eyes were wide with wonder and astonishment.

"My dear apprentice," spoke the dark lord, his voice laced with a sense of ominous authority. "This is but one of the many lessons you must learn if you are to truly grasp the power of the Force."

"Understand that all things in existence are inferior when compared to the Force. It is the very foundation upon which all things are built, the very fabric that courses through everything."

The master's eyes gleamed with a fierce intensity as he continued to speak. "Even the most massive of objects, with their immense weight and power, pale in comparison to the eternal, sublime nature of the Force."

The Sith Lord continued his discourse with his young apprentice. His voice was filled with an authoritative tone that demanded respect and obedience.

"As users of the Force," he explained, his eyes piercing Malorir's with an intense gaze, "we have the ability to lift any mass, no matter how large or cumbersome. There is no tolerance for weakness in the Sith Order, Malorir. You have a potential that knows no bounds, but it is up to you to tap into it and to unleash the true extent of your power."

Malorir, his face contorted with deep-seated rage and hatred, stared back at his master. Failure was not an option for him. The very thought of it was anathema to his being. And yet, in the depths of his soul, he felt a sense of clarity and understanding that he could not deny.

"More than anything," he hissed through clenched teeth. His voice was filled with a burning desire to prove himself worthy.

With renewed determination, Malorir re-positioned himself, his eyes fixed on the four crates lying before him. There was no doubt in his mind that he would succeed. Failure was not an option. With every fiber of his being focused on the task at hand, he reached out with his mind. He called upon the power of the Force to lift the cumbersome objects.

The wise Sith Lord continued to teach his young apprentice, his voice carrying the weight of years of experience and wisdom.

"Remember, my dear apprentice. The Force is the power itself. Those closest to the Force are the most powerful of all," he intoned, his eyes glowing with fierce intensity. "To learn to master the Force, you must learn to let it flow through you. Your emotions, be they anger, hatred, or any other deeply felt emotion, must be focused and tempered. They must not control you and lead you down the path of destruction."

As Lord Urmas spoke, Malorir let his imagination run wild. His mind conjured up images of his fellow Sith apprentices mocking and belittling him. Despite the raging hatred that threatened to consume him, he remained in control. He redirected his emotions to a new target - the four crates that lay before him.

With a sudden burst of energy, the crates shot into the air. They floated effortlessly at a height of five meters. A roar of triumph and exultation escaped Malorir's lips as he reveled in the power he had unleashed.

Lord Urmas smiled in approval. He motioned for his young apprentice to lower the crates back to the ground. "Well done, my young apprentice," he said in a proud voice. "You have taken your first steps into the reality of the Sith."

Four more crates appeared out of nowhere, their weight and bulk daunting, as Malorir watched. "You must lift these eight crates in a repetitive motion, performing approximately 100 repetitions at incredible speed," Lord Urmas commanded. "If you can successfully complete this task, you may earn a brief respite."

It had been many years since the birth of the twins. While the younger male twin grew up in peace alongside their mother, it was the older twin, known as Malorir, who was chosen for Sith training.

From the very beginning, Malorir had been aware of his close family ties, but he had little regard for them, as he had never grown up in the presence of them. Though he harbored a curiosity about them and wanted to meet them, he focused solely on his destiny as the prophesied Sith'ari, the perfect being who would lead his people.

Unlike the other children of the Sith, Malorir's training had been carefully tailored to prepare him for his role as a Sith'ari. He had amassed a legion of followers from all corners of Sith society, including senior members of the ruling Dark Council.

Deep in meditation within the confines of his personal sanctuary, Malorir would immerse himself in the knowledge contained within the holocrons that surrounded him. He would remain in this state of focused concentration until he felt the approach of a droid, a sign that his meditation was about to be interrupted.

"What is it?" Malorir inquired of the droid that had interrupted him in his meditation.

"The Dark Council has requested your presence," the droid said, dutifully.

Long ago, the Sith led by Darth Toroshar had been on the run from the known galaxy in search of a new home. After Toroshar's death, the Dark Council was formed. It consisted of five spheres, each led by a councilor. Malorir's own master, Lord Urmas, presided over the sphere of Sith Doctrine. Sub-councilors oversaw the sub-spheres of Ancient Knowledge, Mysteries and Sith Philosophy. This hierarchical structure was extended to the other four spheres as well.

Taking a break from his meditation, Malorir left his private chamber and made his way down one of the many corridors that led to the very heart of the Sith structure - the chamber of the Dark Council. After a short walk, he entered the vast chamber. He was greeted by the three primary council members and two holographic representations.

The massive chamber was dimly lit, yet Malorir sensed the presence of the darklords. Their powers flowed through the Force. It was so incredibly potent. Malorir approached the center of the room, his footsteps echoing off the walls, and knelt down in front of the Dark Council.

He could feel their judging eyes, scrutinizing every move he made. The authoritative voice of Darth Urmas, Malorir's master, filled the room after a long silence.

"My apprentice, your abilities in the Force have grown beyond anything I have seen before. It is for this reason that the Dark Council has decided to test you to see if you are ready to become a Dark Lord of the Sith and assume the title of Darth."

Darth Urmas pressed several buttons on the arm of his seat. A hologram flickered to life in the center of the chamber. It showed an ominous floating tomb. It was the final resting place of Darth Toroshar.

Malorir felt a mixture of emotions. Pride at his master's praise, anxiety at the trial to come, and determination to prove himself worthy to stand among these Lords of the Sith. His training had been long and hard, and the Force within him, flowing through his veins, told him that he was ready for any challenge the Council might throw at him.

"You are going to enter the Tomb where Darth Toroshar lies. If you succeed, the tomb and its contents will be yours alone." Malorir's master declared. "But I will need proof of your achievement. The best way to do that would be to find a powerful and ancient holocron. You know where to find it. If you bring it to us, we will declare you a Darth and a Dark Lord of the Sith."

Malorir's grin widened. He was determined to prove himself worthy of becoming Darth and Dark Lord of the Sith.

But his master had given him a warning. "Countless Sith have tried to enter the tomb by various means. Only to fail and perish," he warned.

"Then I will be the success where none have been," Malorir declared with arrogance.

There was an exchange of glances between the Dark Councillors, but no expression of emotion on their faces. It was clear that Malorir's confidence was not the opinion of the rest of the Sith council. Nevertheless, they had given him his task, and it was up to him to see it through to the end.

Urmas, the de facto leader of the Dark Council, glanced at Vudus, a Givin Sith who was the leading Dark Councilor of the Scientific Progress Sphere. "Darth Vudus, if you please, give my apprentice one of those teleporting orbs."

With a wave of his hand, Vudus produced a small, spherical object no larger than a human palm. With the power of the Force, he maneuvered the orb towards Malorir. Malorir eagerly snatched the orb from the air. Malorir, with a focused and intense look, examined the ball thoroughly with the Force. He realized that it was a rare combination of technology and the Force.

Suddenly Malorir paused and asked curiously: "Wait, I thought the tomb had countermeasures to prevent such effects. How can this device circumvent those?"

Vudus replied in a deep, calm voice, "Indeed, the Tomb is heavily fortified with countless countermeasures, even against bending space using both the Force and technology. However, the tomb is located in the immediate vicinity of a supermassive black hole. It is much safer to use this device instead of a spaceship.

"I see." Malorir gave a thoughtful nod. "This will only lead me to the entrance of the tomb, then?"

"Yes," Vudus replied in confirmation. "It has been precisely tuned to that location."

His eyes remained fixed on the small, mysterious ball in the palm of his hand. There seemed to be no visible input mechanism on the device, suggesting that it was designed to be activated only by a Force-sensitive individual. Without further ado, Malorir reached out to the Force and activated the device.

In a matter of seconds, Malorir was transported away from the Dark Council chamber and found himself standing at the entrance to the legendary tomb of Darth Toroshar. His heart pounded with excitement at the prospect of uncovering the secrets that lay within.

Malorir found himself standing at the enormous entrance to the colossal mausoleum of Darth Toroshar. Turning his gaze, he saw a gigantic black hole that was so close to the mausoleum that it was exerting an enormous gravitational force on everything in its vicinity. With his heightened senses, he could feel the pull of the black hole on the mausoleum. A force so great that it could destroy entire star systems in an instant. And yet the mausoleum stood firm, undamaged by a celestial body of this size. It was a clear sign of the immense power of Darth Toroshar. The legendary Sith Lord who had built it.

As he approached the mausoleum, a Dark Side Nexus dwarfing all others he had encountered, Malorir felt a surge of dark energy. He had encountered many Dark Side Nexuses during his apprenticeship. But this one was unlike any other. The inexhaustible power of the mausoleum was palpable. As he ventured deeper into the dark side nexus through the Force, he could feel the power emanating from the heart of the mausoleum.

After a few seconds' contemplation of the tomb's power. Malorir made his way to the entrance of the tomb. As he stepped into the tomb, he felt a sudden loss of all sensation in his body. He saw nothing, heard nothing, smelled nothing, tasted nothing, touched nothing. He realized that the tomb was trying to take away his five senses as well as his connection to the Force. As his connection to the source of his power began to weaken, he felt a wave of panic. He was aware that most Sith would have been at the mercy of this attack, but he was not like most Sith. He was connected to the Force in a way that was unique and unparalleled.

He tapped into that bond. He drew on its immense energy to resist the influence of the tomb. He felt his senses gradually return to him, his connection to the Force restored. He opened his eyes. He saw that he was in a rectangular chamber, about 5 meters by 5 meters by 10 meters. He wondered what other challenges might be waiting for him in this tomb.

He had a glance at the entrance to the tomb, which was to his right. Then he turned to his left. He saw a narrow passage leading to another chamber. He decided to move forward. But before he did, he tried to use the Force to sense what lay ahead. He encountered a blank wall of nothingness. The tomb was shielding its secrets from him, preventing him from sensing the dangers that lay ahead. It was clear to him that Darth Toroshar, the creator of the tomb, had set high standards for all those who wished to enter it. Only the best and the strongest would survive to see what lay within. He had been warned of this by his master, but he was not afraid of it. He was determined to prove that he was worthy of the challenge and to surpass all those who had failed before him.

Unable to use the Force to scout ahead, he decided to walk through the narrow, high corridor. Before he could take a single step, however, he became aware of a strange phenomenon. The Force was coalescing into a single point, forming a powerful entity behind him. He turned around to see a dark purple, fiery and ghostly shadow in the armour of the Sith. At the sight of this figure, whose power far exceeded his own, he felt a surge of fear and awe.

"Ah, the Fool's spawn had finally passed the first test of my grave."

This is not the first time he has met him. As such, Malorir was familiar with both the appearance and the voice. He knew that this was the last of the Sith to rule alone, Darth Toroshar.

"Why are you here?" asked Malorir in a voice of annoyance, his teeth clenched against each other. "This is my trial for the title of Darth and Dark Lord of the Sith. I don't need your presence here."

"I am only here to observe the fulfillment of my prophecy," the dead Sith replied.

"Fine. You can do whatever you want, except to pose a threat to me." Malorir looked at him and seemed to be annoyed.

"Such words for one who stands before true power. I applaud such boldness," The apparition of Darth Toroshar said. "Yet this very tomb that I have constructed was built as a test for those who have sought to lay claim to the title of Sith'ari. I have seen countless Sith who have tried to earn such a title. They all perish."

"I would see to it that I would not be destroyed here. All the Sith who died here, I would prove that I'm not their equal, that I'm their superior," Malorir continued. "The strong are worthy of life and the weak are worthy of destruction."

"Yes, such is the nature of existence. But such words are nothing if there is no action to back them up. There is somewhere else I need to be now. May the Force serve you well."

It was then that the ghostly form of the Ancient Sith had vanished from his field of vision. Malorir had been wondering where he had gone. It didn't matter. He had to concentrate on the task he had been given. He had made his way into the corridor.

As Malorir ventured into the next room, he was struck by the sheer size of it. The vast chamber was an impressive 50 meters in height, 200 meters in length and 20 meters in width. But it was the eerie emptiness of the room that sent shivers down his spine. There was not a single object or living creature to be seen, only the metallic substance that made up the tomb.

Not wanting to take any chances, Malorir cautiously activated his twin lightsabers. The weapon was a marvel of engineering. It was simple yet elegant in its design. Its blade glowed with a distinctive purple hue. Unlike most lightsabers, which had a white core. In fact, what made this weapon truly unique was its black core. A rare and powerful feature that set it apart from all others.

He crept through the vast chamber. He was wary of any danger that might lurk in the shadows. The corridor he had left was only a few dozen meters away from him, but he felt a sudden surge of hostile presences closing in on him. He was not able to see them with his eyes, but his connection to the Force allowed him to see their shapes and movements. They were war droids, moving with amazing agility and speed, designed for close combat. Faster than any ordinary being could react, they could cover five meters of space in a matter of microseconds. But he was not an ordinary being. He was a master of the Force, and it was an enhancement to his physical abilities and reflexes. Knowing that he would have to fight his way out, he prepared for the inevitable confrontation.

With a quick movement, he sprang to his feet and dodged the deadly attacks that were aimed at his vital organs. The eight droids came to an abrupt halt as they realized that they had failed to hit their target. They looked up, only to see that he had gathered a mass of Force energy, which he then unleashed in a powerful blast of Force lightning. He was suspended in mid-air as he unleashed his red bolts of Force energy. Each of the eight droids was the target of a bolt of lightning. The intensity of his Force lightning was so great that it reduced his intended targets to a molten mass of metal.

As the eight war droids were being defeated, there was a sudden detection of several incoming projectiles that materialized out of thin air. The shots consisted of proton torpedoes, concussion missiles, and blaster bolts, all of which seemed to be closing in on Malorir. In a flash, he dropped out of the air. He glided effortlessly across the solid metal floor. The blaster bolts missed him, instead being absorbed into the walls. The proton torpedoes and concussion missiles, however, quickly changed their course toward him. Malorir, however, was not one to be taken by surprise. Before the projectiles could reach him, he turned them on the war droids, who were now reduced to liquefied remains. The resulting explosion was nothing short of a massive one.

As he quickly turned his head toward the source of the projectiles, he realized that the remaining droids had been annihilated. He could no longer feel their presence. A small cluster of stationary turrets caught his attention. They housed laser cannons, concussion missile launchers, and proton torpedo launchers. In an instinctive reaction, he reached out with one of his hands before quickly closing it. Responding to this brief gesture, the stationary turrets exploded violently, leaving nothing but smoldering ruins.

In the blink of an eye, an unexpected event took place as an immense number of upright, lifeless bodies materialized out of the blue. The overwhelming energy of the tomb was evident. It was twisting reality to facilitate the arrival of the deceased into this realm. It was obvious to the Malorir, who was known for his keen powers of observation, that each of the corpses that appeared possessed an innate ability to harness the Force. The degree of this ability varied greatly from one dead body to another, ranging from the meek to the mighty. In addition, each corpse carried an assortment of weapons. These included lightsabers and colossal Sith battle axes wielded with both hands. There was also a wide variety of clothing, ranging from simple robes to full-blown battle armor.

Malorir's intuition led him to believe that the multitude of assailants closing in on him might be the same group that had previously failed to gain the recognition of Darth Toroshar. The undead, who possessed an innate ability to harness the Force, launched a coordinated attack on Malorir using a variety of techniques. These techniques ranged from malevolent mind manipulation to unleashing deadly Force lightning. Fortunately, Malorir was well-equipped to defend himself against any manifestation of the Force, having undergone rigorous training under the tutelage of his mentor.

His movements were so swift and sudden that they were in defiance of the laws of physics. He slashed his twin lightsabers against a variety of enemies and weapons, traversing the vast battlefield with ease. Some of the reanimated Sith warriors tried to engage him in hand-to-hand combat. But they were no match for his Force-induced enhanced strength and speed. He dispatched them with ruthless efficiency.

Malorir found himself alone against an army of undead Sith, a challenge that proved to be the most formidable he had ever faced. While he had faced and defeated a group of Sith before, taking on an entire army of undead Sith was another matter entirely. The sheer number of undead Sith bearing down on them was palpable, as he could feel hundreds upon hundreds of them with the full intention of destroying them.

Despite the odds against him, Malorir leaped, flipped, and ran across the room, landing simultaneous attacks as best he could. He was forced to adopt a hit-and-run strategy, as he soon discovered that the only way to kill the undead was to atomize them. This realization forced him to increase the power of his attacks, which in turn gave the Undead Sith a better chance of killing their opponent. As a result, Malorir was successfully struck by the Undead Sith on several occasions, but he treated his injuries with the Force. Any painful sensation was immediately removed, and any injuries that would have been fatal were reduced to superficial damage.

The conflict between Malorir and the army of the undead Sith went on for several hours, a grueling and relentless battle that tested the limits of both sides. The sheer magnitude of the clash could have left any individual completely exhausted and in desperate need of a good night's sleep. However, through the skillful use of the Force, these limitations could be avoided altogether. For Malorir, the closest he came to resting was to go deep into meditation, where he could immerse himself in the Force.

As the last of the undead Sith collapsed. Malorir scanned his surroundings for any sign of danger that might lurk with his Force-honed senses. Despite his triumph over the undead Sith, Malorir could not shake the feeling that this was not the last battle he would face. There was an ominous sense of foreboding in the air. It suggested that another conflict was on the horizon.

With great alacrity, Malorir's intuition proved to be impeccable, for he had indeed glimpsed what appeared to be a flowing metallic substance. The metal was not merely inert; it was alive and moving with a purpose of its own. It was taking on a precise configuration that pointed to its intended purpose. In the blink of an eye, the metallic fluidity was transformed into a gigantic machine. It was then that Malorir realized the need for a more thorough examination of the droid. Normally, the movement of a droid would be a function of the hardware that was part of its body. This particular droid, however, had transcended any such limitations.

The colossal war droid was made of animated metallic matter. It rose to a staggering height of about six meters. It had been observed that the war droid was bipedal, with a pair of formidable legs for support. It was also notable for the asymmetry of its arms, as the right arm was distinguished by the presence of five fingers fashioned into sharply curved daggers. On the other hand, the left arm was covered by a powerful turbo laser cannon.

Without warning, the mechanical fighter thrust out its left arm and prepared to unleash a devastating assault on the enemy. Malorir was aware of the impending discharge of the high-energy weapon. The weapon unleashed its destructive payload in a fraction of a nanosecond. Instead of performing an evasive maneuver, he quickly conjured a protective shield out of the Force itself. He then applied the technique of energy manipulation to the shield of the Force. As a result, the high-energy projectile did not detonate. Instead, it was absorbed by the Force shield. As he did so, he could feel the immense power of the high-energy projectile coursing through his being. A colossal storm of red electrical discharges emanating from his right hand was directed at the mechanical fighter. The electrical discharges were so intense that they would have been able to annihilate any living being with their sheer force and power. However, the Mechanical Fighter possessed an extraordinary ability to withstand and endure. This endowed the deadly machine with the ability to withstand the many waves of electrical discharge that emanated from Malorir. Then, in spite of the raging storm, it began to make a gradual advance toward its target.

Having realized the futility of using Force Lightning against his mechanical adversary, he immediately ceased using it. He then turned to a more subtle and comprehensive use of his Force sensitivity. His goal was to determine the true nature and essence of the metallic creature. In the process, he discovered a critical weakness. It was this weakness that made the droid vulnerable to his attacks. He realized that the droid posed a grave threat to him and his allies because it was completely dependent on the Force as its only source of life and power. He also remembered the proper method for defeating such a being. It was to use the Force in a way that would drain and exhaust the Force energies of the opponent.

Quickly closing the distance between itself and its opponent, the colossal automaton of animated metal prepared to strike. It prepared to strike with its right arm, ready to devastate. Fortunately for Malorir, he was a skilled practitioner of the Force. He quickly dodged the impending attack. With agility and grace, he leaped backward. This maneuver did not deter the automaton. It extended its left arm in the direction of Malorir's approximate location and unleashed a powerful burst of energy known as a turbolaser bolt. Still in the air, Malorir sensed the danger and used his mastery of the Force to propel himself away from the deadly projectile. With this feat of acrobatics, he was able to increase the distance between himself and the vending machine to about thirty meters. He then used another technique of the Force. This time, he was able to drain the energy source that powered the automaton. He felt a surge of relief as he realized he had successfully identified and exploited the weakness of his formidable opponent. He watched as the vending machine gradually lost its vitality and mobility. Its metallic body returned to its inert state, devoid of any animating force.

The Sith apprentice Malorir quickly realized that the Ancient Temple had once again manipulated the fabric of reality around him after defeating the formidable mechanical adversary. Trying to determine where the distortion came from, he turned his gaze to where the anomaly originated. He surmised that this was yet another test designed to gauge his ability to use the energy of the Force and the deadly weapon of the lightsaber in a combat situation, just as the previous challenges had been. What he saw was a monstrous abomination, the product of alchemical experimentation by the Sith, which combined the characteristics of a variety of savage creatures. He saw a grotesque amalgamation of Terentatek, Tuk'ata, and other unrecognizable beasts. He realized that before he could proceed to the next chamber, he would have to face a formidable array of enemies. It was clear to him why none of his Sith predecessors had been able to penetrate the tomb of Darth Toroshar, the legendary Dark Lord of the Sith.

An enormous pile of lifeless bodies occupied the entire space of the chamber. The sole survivor and perpetrator of this carnage was Malorir. He had single-handedly slain every enemy that had come before him. He had endured an endless ordeal of unrelenting combat, never pausing to rest or relax, until he had emerged victorious. He had no longer perceived any imminent threat. This meant that the crypt had recognized his prowess and granted him access to the next chamber.

He had made his way through another narrow but high corridor to the third chamber. He was greeted by a droid, and there was a wall behind the said droid. The wall, however, was not what it appeared to be. It was clear to him that this particular wall was the hiding place of a secret passage. Malorir wondered what challenge he would have to face to prove his worthiness as the rightful heir to the title of Sith'ari.

"Single lifeform detected. Establishing greeting protocols," the droid declared as it slowly moved toward Malorir. "Greetings! I was brought here by Lord Toroshar to test everyone to see if they were worthy of becoming a Sith according to his philosophy. Five questions will be asked. If you do not give a correct answer. You are not a worthy Sith and will be subject to destruction. If your answers are correct, your path is clear and you may be on your way."

"Very well, I am obligated to answer." Malorir quickly realized that this would be a test of his knowledge and understanding of the Sith.

The first question posed to Malorir was, "First question. You have discovered a priceless ancient artifact containing colossal power. What do you think your course of action should be?" It was a question that was remarkably easy to have an answer to.

"My course of action would be to claim the artifact for myself, for a true Sith does not share his power with others," replied Malorir, who seemed to find the question rather unchallenging.

"Correct. Now for the second question. You are apprenticed to a remarkably powerful Sith Lord. In his chambers, your master slumbers peacefully. What would you do in his place?" A basic understanding and appreciation of Sith philosophy was required for the second question. Nevertheless, it did not seem to be a challenging question, similar to the first one.

"I would not take any action at all. A Sith is not allowed to accumulate triumphs at any price. They would only do so if they had rightfully won power. If I were to eliminate my master while he slept, the Sith would be weakened rather than strengthened," Malorir replied, presenting his answer with ease.

The droid simply nodded his head in acknowledgement of Malorir's answer.

"Your interpretation is deemed to be acceptable. Now the third question. You are in a state of extreme weakness, on the verge of death. You have been discovered by a family who found you in this vulnerable state. What would you do in that situation?

The answer to the third question was very easy to give.

"I would kill them, and their death would be a source of strength to me. If they die, they are weak. They deserve to be destroyed. The strong take what they want, and the weak have to suffer for it."

"An adequate answer. Fourth question. You have found yourselves captured and are currently tortured by your capturer for vengeance. What would you do?"

The request in question was the fourth in a series of questions to Malorir. A simplistic interpretation of the question posed would lead one to believe that answering it was equally simple. However, Malorir was well versed in the complexities of Sith philosophy. He recognized the need for a more nuanced response.

Responding, Malorir offered a thoughtful and perceptive analysis of the given situation.

"If I had been taken prisoner and tortured. I should have been stronger. Strong enough not to be a prisoner and to inflict my punishment on those who would dare my imprisonment. If I was captured and tortured, I would escape. I would prove my superiority. If I can't escape, and I allow myself to be captured and tortured, and end up dying. Then I'm weak. They are strong.

"This is a permissible interpretation. One last question. You are now the Sith'ari, the supreme and undisputed master of all the Sith. What would your choice be?"

Malorir was at a loss for words. He had always wanted to be a Sith'ari. But he never knew what to think after he had become one. His answer might as well be that he has no idea at all. But he quickly realizes that such an answer would be the end of him.

In ancient times, before they entered this universe, the Sith nearly conquered the galaxy. But their efforts were thwarted by instability and power struggles. Since then, many Sith leaders have risen and fallen. Each new generation inherits the same problems of treachery and betrayal.

One of the most well-documented examples of this vicious cycle is the story of Darth Nox. She managed to rise to the point where he actually conquered the galaxy and wiped the Galactic Republic from the face of the galaxy, only to later be betrayed by the Council of Dark Lords. Another similar tale of duplicity and turmoil within the Sith hierarchy was the infamous betrayal of Darth Revan by his apprentice Darth Malak. Even the once-great conquests of Naga Sadow eventually fell victim to the internal machinations of the Sith, with both Ludo Kressh and Gav Daragon acting to undermine and ultimately defeat his efforts.

The historical records of the Sith were filled with stories like this, with leaders rising and falling like the pendulum of a clock, caught in an endless cycle of betrayal. It seemed to be an unalterable truth, as constant as the Sith themselves existed.

He had also studied the three defining characteristics of the Sith'ari that had been prophesied. The Sith'ari would be free of any and all limitations. The Sith'ari would lead the Sith into their own destruction. And the Sith'ari would raise the Sith from the ashes, making them stronger than ever.

It was at this moment that an epiphany had come to Malorir.

"I would abandon the essence of what it means to be Sith and remake it in my own image, making sure that it would not repeat the mistakes of the Sith before it."

"You have answered... correctly. I would like to offer you my most sincere congratulations. For you are the only one who has had a successful answer to the final question. All of the Sith before you have failed." The droid simply walked to the side of the room. The front wall opened to a hidden passageway. "The way is now open for you to enter. As per my programming, I will remain here."

Malorir grinned, his teeth on display. He had proven himself to be not only worthy of wearing the mantle of Darth and Dark Lord of the Sith, but also worthy of inheriting the title of Sith'ari.

Upon entering the fourth chamber, he was greeted by a familiar figure, that of Darth Toroshar.

"I must say, I'm extremely impressed. You have been successful in all three of the tests I had in place in my tomb. You have succeeded where all others have failed so far. Now it is time to try and pass the last one."

"And what would that be?" Malorir looked at him questioningly.

"Me." Darth Toroshar quickly unleashed his power on Malorir and forced him to fall to his knees.

Malorir had come very close to dropping to his knees, and his hands had almost come to rest on the ground. But he was not going to allow himself to be persuaded to bow down to another individual. Not even Darth Toroshar, the most powerful of the Sith. Malorir began to fight back against the endless streams of power emanating from the ancient Sith, using every bit of his connection to the Force. He struggled to withstand the powerful onslaught of the ancient Dark Lord, refusing to give in to the immense pressure that came upon him. Calling upon the full extent of his abilities within the Force, Malorir fought back against the overwhelming waves of power that emanated from Darth Toroshar, the master of the Dark Side. Utilizing every fiber of his Force connection, Malorir pushed back against the relentless tide of power emanating from the dead Sith. He fought not to succumb as he battled Darth Toroshar's relentless offensive.

"I would not kneel!" Malorir loudly declares his defiance.

Regrettably, Malorir's power was not enough. With the palms of his hands and the knees of his limbs, he could feel the ground. He was forced to bend down in submission. The tremendous energies that coursed through his physique from decades of study and practice, harnessed and focused by will power and expertise, had proven to be insufficient against the forces that were arrayed against him. His formidable abilities, having been meticulously cultivated, became useless. His efforts, once so full of promise, had come to nothing. His flesh bowed involuntarily, bending unwillingly to forces he could neither comprehend nor withstand, despite his long journey to master himself. His limbs, which for so long had been instruments of his will alone, took on a posture of begging against his desires. Thus his arrogance, born of skill, was thoroughly rebuked. All his power turned back on itself, revealing instead its own ineffectiveness in the face of an opponent whose strength exceeded his own.

"Your death is the result of your own failure." Toroshar looked down. His tone was disappointing. "Now, you must die."

However, just before Darth Toroshar would have finished off the kneeling young Sith, a glow began to radiate from Malorir's body. The glow had grown so intense that it illuminated the entire room.

Darth Toroshar had recognized this power, it is Oneness. It was a special quality that resided in an extremely limited number of those who used the Force. The Force has been unleashed in its most perfect, pure and ultimate form, one that transcends all boundaries. A power that transcends everything. With each passing moment, he could feel his grip on Malorir weakening.

Malorir began to rise to his feet, feeling the infinity of the Force that was flowing through him. As if there were no end to the Force, the sheer amount of Force energy within him had increased exponentially. All limits had been surpassed, and he seemed to have reached an unprecedented level of mastering the Force. The realization of his newfound freedom from the shackles of Darth Toroshar filled him with joy as he marveled at the power he had unconsciously unleashed.

The metaphysical essence of the Force was now one with Malorir. He could feel its energy pulsing through his body. His connection to the Force had become so strong that he was now able to control it with the utmost precision and accuracy. His power was no longer something to be feared. It was something to be revered and respected.

Standing there, his mind was filled with wonder and awe as he contemplated the vastness of the Force and its infinite possibilities. He felt truly free and unencumbered, as if reborn in a new and more powerful form, for the first time in his life.

In that moment, Malorir realized that he was no longer under the control of Darth Toroshar. He had broken free from the chains of the dead Sith Lord. With his newfound power and freedom, he knew that he could accomplish anything he set his mind to, and that the Force would serve him well.

"It seems I have underestimated you," Darth Toroshar exclaimed, startled. "You have achieved Oneness with the Force."

Darth Toroshar had ceased to use his Force powers on Malorir. "Your father is the most powerful and knowledgeable of this generation of Sith, the one who should take over the sphere of Sith Doctrine. In the end, even he was not able to fight against my power. It took less than a moment for him to kneel before my power. You, on the other hand, struggled for several seconds. It was only when you became one with the essence of the Force that you began to successfully counter my power," the ghostly Sith continued. "You have passed your last trial, Malorir. This tomb of mine is now all yours and yours alone. Finally, you have become worthy to claim the title of Sith'ari."

With that, the ghostly apparition of the long-dead Sith had vanished. Only Malorir was left with the completion of his quest for the holocron.