An unknown world was in the throes of war. The landscape stretched endlessly in all directions. It was broken only by massive fortifications and bases of durasteel and quadranium that stretched for miles. Inside these vast complexes, hundreds of thousands of soldiers and battle droids were frantically preparing for the imminent onslaught. Row upon row of artillery cannons peeked out from armored bunkers, their barrels pointed menacingly at the empty horizon. Next to smaller anti-personnel blasters, anti-armor laser cannons sat primed and ready, capable of penetrating the thickest of ferrocrete armor. Entire batteries of anti-aircraft rocket launchers stood pointed skyward. Each loaded with a dozen missiles, ready to intercept the endless swarms of airborne enemies that blackened the skies.

A low rumbling sound echoed across the barren plains as the first wave of biological horrors began to rise over the distant horizon. Monstrous creatures lumbered forward. They seemed to be made of flesh, chitin, and yorik coral. They were followed by thousands of Yuuzhan Vong warriors. Each wielded a deadly amphistaff. The tattooed faces of the warriors advanced relentlessly on the entrenched fortifications, showing no hesitation, only pure bloodlust and zealotry.

Defensive turrets activated all over the complex, spewing streams of light-speed plasma in the direction of the approaching horde. Soldiers and droids alike opened fire with blasters, laser cannons, and even turbolaser cannons, lighting up the battlefield with searing bolts. Shells whistled overhead from the defoliators. They blossomed into waves of expanding fire that vaporized nothing but organic beings. The sky screamed with sound as several squadrons of dagger-shaped starfighters screamed overhead, unleashing salvo after salvo of plasma, torpedoes, and missiles into the Yuuzhan Vong army.

Thousands of Yuuzhan Vong warriors with armies of Vong biot creatures charged recklessly through the withering fire, the ground choked with their charred, dismembered corpses. They clambered over growing mounds of the dead. They were indifferent to their horrific losses. When the first wave finally reached the fortified trenches, it was met by a disciplined line of soldiers clad in plastoid armor. As the two sides clashed at close quarters, blaster bolts flew back and forth. Amphistaffs sliced through armor and flesh. The battle devolved into a chaotic melee within the trench networks.

Massive wave after wave of Yuuzhan Vong smashed against the massive fortifications. Corridors and compartments filled with soldiers and automated defenses, each willing to sell their lives dearly to defend the massive complexes. For miles in every direction, the battlefield descended into a vision from the deepest hells. The flashes of weapons lit up the darkness as blood ran in rivers across the scarred earth. From the incessant explosions and crashes of the warring titanic armies, the ground itself shook.

High above the sprawling fortifications and the endlessly advancing biological legions, the skies erupted in a dance of exploding metal and living flesh. Wave after wave of Yuuzhan Vong starfighters, armed with plasma weapons and Dovin Basal gravity projectors, swarmed from space. They dove and spun in elaborate formations, exchanging fire with the enemy starfighters. Fanatical Vong pilots guided the living ships through a complex series of evasive maneuvers.

Dozens of diverse bio-engineered creations scurried alongside the speedy starfighters. Squid-like creatures with writhing tentacles spat jets of acid in the direction of enemy engines and view ports. Floating jellyfish-like creatures enveloped and electrified entire squadrons of enemies. Swarms of razor-chitin flying ant-like insects swooped down in screeching swarms. They sliced through metal and flesh with equal ease. The alien creatures coordinated their attacks seamlessly, keeping the defenders at a standstill.

As more and more engines died under the relentless barrage of the living creatures, a number of pilots chose to fly their crippled ships on suicide dives into the ground while they fire their entire payload. Massive detonations lit up the ground battlefield as the disabled starfighters plowed into the dense formations of the Vong creatures. But in spite of the extreme losses suffered by the Vong in numbers, more and more bizarre biots continued to spew forth from the abyss of space.

As the battle in the skies raged above them, a lone Sith stepped out of the gates of the main fortress. He was clad entirely in black robes which were coated with armor weave, a peaked hood concealing his helmet. In his right hand he held the hilt of a lightsaber. The Force swirled and crackled around him like a living storm. He marched purposefully toward the advancing hordes.

With a snap of his fingers, the Sith ignited his lightsaber. Crimson plasma roared out of the hilt, casting deep shadows across the darkened battlefield. The biological horde continued to advance. With a guttural scream, the Sith ran and leaped a distance of forty meters to meet the oncoming horde. He became a whirlwind of destruction, his lightsaber flashing in unison as he cut down his enemies by the hundreds with such maddening speed. Yuuzhan Vong warriors and creatures alike collapsed before his might. The Yammosk who commanded the horde of warriors and creatures reeled in shock. They could not comprehend such fury and power.

The lone Sith stood surrounded by the vast mass of Yuuzhan Vong warriors. Their endless ranks closed in, threatening to overwhelm him with sheer force of numbers. But the Sith would have none of that. He reached deep within himself. He summoned every ounce of rage and hatred that fueled his connection to the dark side of the Force.

The power of the dark side swelled within him like a gathering storm, fueled by his rage and thirst for vengeance against the endless tide of enemies bent on his destruction. Then, as the hordes converged to crush him beneath their sheer mass, the Sith unleashed his pent-up dark side energy in a concussive burst. It vaporized everything around him for over a dozen meters in every direction.

Dark side lightning danced and arced from the Sith's crimson lightsaber blades as he struck with waves of hate. The Force twisted and distorted around him. Waves of destructive energy tore through the Yuuzhan Vong ranks, smashing into their bodies and exploding into atoms.

They came at him in droves, in the belief that their superior numbers would be enough to overwhelm this lone embodiment of the dark side. But through the dark side, the Sith's power and fury knew no bounds. He was the calm, murderous eye of a storm of darkness that consumed everything in its path.

The Yuuzhan Vong horde was vast. But it was not infinite. And the lone Sith's power knew no bounds, fed as it was by the boundless well of anger, fear and hate that flowed through the dark side of the Force.

As the lone Sith continued to unleash his fury upon the massed Yuuzhan Vong warriors, destroying countless of the fanatical alien invaders with the raw power of the dark side, a towering figure finally emerged from the seemingly endless ranks of the enemy. Clad in imposing vonduun crab armor that covered him from head to toe, the alien warrior presented a truly intimidating visage. He strode purposefully through the sea of his own decimated forces toward the lone Sith.

The alien's massive armor seemed almost impenetrable. It was forged from the nearly indestructible carapace of the vonduun crab. Ritual scars and intricate tattoos adorned the armor in places. There was no doubt that this was a warrior of immense stature and importance. Beneath the alien helm, the warrior's misshapen head bore its own elaborate pattern of ritual scars and tattoos. These marked his high rank and position.

Through the Force he could sense that this was the Warmaster, the equivalent of a general in the army of the Yuuzhan Vong. Letting out a challenging roar that echoed across the wasteland, the Warmaster smashed his amphistaff against his Voduun crab armor.

The Sith Warrior stood resolute as the towering Yuuzhan Vong Warmaster approached. His lightsaber was at the ready. Answering the Warmaster's challenge, the Sith turned his crimson blade toward his approaching foe. The crimson light reflected ominously in the pitiless eyes of the alien warrior. There was a moment of silence on the battlefield. The two warriors sized each other up as they prepared for the fight to the death.

All around them, the sounds of distant battles echoed as their forces continued to wage war. But for the moment, the Sith and the Warmaster were only each other. On the impending clash between these two formidable warriors, each the champion of their respective forces, hung the fate of the entire battle. As they faced each other, steely focus and ruthless intent to destroy the other was evident in their postures.

In a sudden blur of movement, the Warmaster charged. He moved at a terrifying speed that would have been impossible for an ordinary being to react to. But through his connection to the Force, the Sith anticipated the attacking surge. He was ready. The Warmaster's amphistaff hissed menacingly as it sliced through the air at blistering speed. It was wielded with such skill that it seemed to come at the Sith from all sides at once.

Had the Sith been any other being in the galaxy, he would have been shredded in an instant by the blows coming at him. But the Sith was powered by the Force. His crimson blade moved with preternatural speed and precision, parrying each blow. Sparks flew as energized plasma met amphistaff again and again. The pair danced across the battlefield at relativistic speeds, each seeking an opening through the other's defenses.

To anyone who could even perceive their duel, it would have appeared as a blur of motion, plasma and amphistaff seemingly striking in dozens of places at once as each combatant unleashed the full fury of their skills in an attempt to overwhelm the other. But in power and precision, the Sith and the Warmaster were evenly matched.

The Sith had been ducking and weaving with preternatural reflexes as he dodged the relentless barrage of blows from the Warmaster's amphistaff. Guided by the Force, his crimson lightsaber blade intercepted and deflected the alien weapon's attacks again and again. The unique bioelectric properties of the amphistaff made it impervious to actual damage from the plasma blade.

For the time being, the Sith was content to give in to the Warmaster's frenzied but technical onslaught. He waited for the right moment to unleash a counterattack of his own. The Warmaster was merciless in his pursuit, raining down blows from all directions at a blistering pace. He sought to overwhelm his elusive foe with sheer ferocity.

The Sith sensed his opening. He reached out through the Force. The ground was littered with countless tons of debris from the downed starships that had been destroyed in the battle that raged all around them. Now the Sith gathered his strength. He used the Force to grasp thousands of pieces of this debris. With a single gesture, he hurled the cloud of debris at the Warmaster with a deadly speed.

The improvised barrage engulfed the Yuuzhan Vong leader. It slammed into his vonduun crab armor from all sides with crushing force. Undaunted, the Warmaster continued his relentless advance, his crackling amphistaff shattering metal fragments with contemptuous ease. Shrapnel rained down around him, but none harmed him. He pressed forward, his strength unbroken.

Seeing his opening, the Warmaster renewed his offensive with even greater fury. He rained crushing blows on the Sith from every direction. Keeping the tip of the serpentine amphistaff from finding his flesh was now a struggle for the dark side warrior. But he did not yield. He parried with his blade and dodged with such relativistic speed.

Recognizing the futility of attempting to overcome the Warmaster's defenses with physical attacks alone, the Sith abruptly changed tactics. He was guided by the ebb and flow of the Force. Spying an opening as the Warmaster's amphistaff thrust forward to deliver what was meant to be a killing blow, the Sith's plasma blade moved with serpentine speed to intercept the crackling alien weapon and trap it against the energized plasma.

But the Warmaster's amphistaff struck with such overwhelming force that the Sith's lightsaber was torn from his grasp and sent spinning across the devastated battlefield. Now weaponless, the Sith wasted no time in lamenting the loss of his lightsaber.

In the split nanosecond before the Warmaster could take advantage of his advantage, the Sith unleashed a punishing barrage of Dark Side energy from the fingertips of his outstretched left hand. Chaotic arcs of malevolent force slammed into the armored alien, hurling him back several meters and sending him crashing heavily to the broken ground.

The impenetrable shell of the Warmaster's vonduun crab burst into sparks as he struggled to his feet, momentarily stunned by the hammer blow of Force energy. But the Sith had no doubt that this respite would be brief. Soon the relentless alien warrior would be back on his feet and ready to continue his attack. He would have to act quickly and decisively.

With that, the Sith lifted his right hand and doubled down on the overwhelming stream of Force lightning that streamed from the tips of his fingers. The chaotic energies crackled and arced wildly, increasing in intensity at an exponential rate as the Sith threw more and more of his power into the attack.

The wildly spreading lightning bolts began to decimate the smaller masses of the Yuuzhan Vong and their war beasts all over the battlefield. Wherever the unbridled power touched, entire ranks of the alien invaders were reduced to dust within microseconds. The very air itself caught fire as the intensity of the storm of the dark side grew. It was a display of power on a scale that could only be unleashed by a true Sith.

Though the Warmaster withstood even his greatest fury, the Sith would not yield. Reaching deeper into the boundless well of darkness within him, he redoubled his attack. The barrage of Force lightning from his outstretched hands grew more intense, becoming a swirling maelstrom of unleashed power beyond comprehension. Blinding forks of energy slashed wildly as the Sith gave himself over to destruction.

The raging storm consumed all before it. The earth itself was torn asunder by its passage, vaporized into swirling, atomized dust. He became the focal point of a bottomless well of dark side energy, projected with the sole intention of destroying his enemy at any cost. An observer in high orbit would have seen the battlefield burn with stellar brightness beneath the unearthly tempest unleashed by the Sith's wrath. All matter was crushed and disintegrated in a fury that penetrated to the subatomic level.

At the epicenter of the apocalyptic maelstrom stood the unyielding Warmaster. Even in the face of this ultimate assault, which should have instantly liquefied any normal target down to the molecular level in a matter of microseconds, he remained highly resilient. The Warmaster reeled under the relentless assault. Flesh and armor smoked, cracked, and slowly disintegrated under the raw expression of focused dark side power.

Yet the alien juggernaut continued its relentless advance through a combination of amazing innate resilience and rapid regeneration. The lightning held him upright against its immense power, so that he was able to advance only by the tiniest of degrees against the furious energies that were unleashed upon him. But he advanced. Centimeter by agonizing centimeter, no matter how he burned.

Before the Sith's eyes, flesh sloughed off and armor shattered under the intense barrage. Raw, oozing muscle and even glimpses of white bone were revealed beneath. But before the damage had a chance to fully penetrate, new layers of tissue had already begun to close over the wounds at an astonishing rate. Almost as fast as the lightning could rip it apart, the Warmaster's body was rebuilding itself.

Whole sections of his body became little more than charred flesh and vaporizing bone, only to regenerate again in the space between lightning strikes. He was on the verge of collapse, only able to withstand the onslaught that had devastated everything else within a kilometer's radius due to his prodigious stamina.

Fueled by desperation at his enemy's refusal to fall, the Sith reached deeper than ever into the raging torrent of darkness within him. With an agonized scream of rage, he redoubled his attack, heedless of the damage he unleashed on the world around him. The very fabric of reality protested against the unintended side effects of the duel.

The world faded into a blur of actinic light around the Sith as the Force energies swirling through the atmosphere reached critical density and began to collapse at the subatomic level. Tectonic forces built and then erupted as the tortured ground cracked open, magma rising to the surface as the tortured earth melted and flowed in fiery rivers around them.

Yet despite the utter devastation, the Warmaster continued his advance, seemingly impervious to anything the Sith could bring to bear. One ponderous step followed another as the ravaged alien warrior pushed through the thunderous currents by sheer force of will, flesh burned away, bones charred black, yet regenerating again and again as he advanced.

As the epic duel between the Sith and the Warmaster raged on, the former finally conceded that his opponent would not fall easily, even to the full fury of the dark side's power. The Sith activated his comlink. He called for reinforcements while continuing his own relentless assault on the relentless Warmaster.

Moments later, the arrival of not one, but an entire squadron of Phase III Darktroopers was announced by the thunderous roar of multiple ion engines. The advanced Phase III models combined ion-boosted jetpacks with internal anti-gravity generators. This gave them unparalleled speed and maneuverability as they swarmed into battle.

Built for devastating firepower, each Darktrooper carried massive rotating assault cannons. These were capable of firing blistering streams of plasma from multiple integrated barrels. Each of their shoulders ended in a rocket launcher, each loaded with six high-explosive warheads. The squadron unleashed the full fury of their combined arsenal on the Warmaster at the Sith's command.

In a punishing torrent, plasma pulses pummeled the Warmaster from a dozen different directions. Rockets flew in dozens at a time. They shredded armor and tore through regenerating flesh. Even the Warmaster's prodigious stamina struggled to recover from the damage faster than it was inflicted under the coordinated, multi-pronged assault.

The squadron of Darktroopers used flawless tactical coordination. They surrounded the Warmaster and unleashed a relentless barrage from all sides, denying it any respite. Their plasma cannons and rockets worked in concert with the Sith's own devastating lightning. They ravaged the Warmaster almost faster than he could heal.

The Warmaster refused to surrender, even as the overwhelming onslaught of the Darktrooper squadron and Sith lightning tore at his ravaged body. The grievously wounded alien summoned the last dregs of his strength for one last gambit, driven by an indomitable will. He grabbed hold of his lifeless amphistaff and hurled it directly at the Sith.

It was too late. The Dark Lord realized his mistake in thinking his enemy was defeated. Before he had time for a reaction, the organic spear was deep in his chest. The impact threw the Sith backward, and he looked shocked as the amphistaff burrowed its way through his torso. Immediately there was a feeling of deathly numbness in the area of the wound.

But even as darkness engulfed his vision, the Sith managed to survive as a shimmering emerald portal appeared in the fabric of space behind him. With the last flicker of consciousness leaving his stricken body, the Dark Lord fell backward into the glowing rift. In an instant, it snapped shut, leaving no trace of where he'd gone.


Louise Françoise le Blanc de la Vallière stood nervously. Her wand was clenched tightly in her small hands. This ritual was her last chance to prove herself as someone who was worthy of being a noble, worthy of being a mage. In light of her perceived utter lack of magical ability, no one had much hope for her.

The students who were gathered around the courtyard looked at Louise with a mixture of pity and cruel amusement. Her frequent magical mishaps had led her to become known as "Louise the Zero"

Professor Jean Colbert, a man with a bald head, kept his face carefully neutral. "Whenever you're ready, Miss Vallière," he said in an encouraging tone.

Louise took a deep, calming breath before she broke into a chant of her own, one that deviated from the standard words of the ritual. "My servant that exists somewhere in this vast existence, my divine, beautiful, wise, and powerful servant, heed my call!"

Realizing that these were not the ritual words taught in class, the students exchanged confused glances. Before the murmuring could escalate, Professor Colbert raised his hand for silence.

"Let her finish the ritual her own way," he said with a straight face. Although his eyebrows knitted together, he made no move for intervention or correction of Louise's wording.

Emboldened, Louise continued passionately, "I wish from the bottom of my heart! Appear and answer my guidance!"

After she had finished the ritual, there was an explosion in the area. Those who were closest to the explosion were thrown the farthest, namely Louise and the Professor, while their classmates were less affected. In addition, all of them found themselves unable to see anything through the thick cloud of dust. What's more, the soot coming from the explosion had also caused everyone nearby to start coughing. After several seconds, the explosion subsided.


Professor Jean Colbert watched the summoning ritual with bated breath. He hoped that Louise would succeed. While the young Vallière had so far proven to be completely devoid of any magical ability, perhaps she would be able to manifest some in this crucial test.

As a former soldier, Colbert was the first to notice the pungent, metallic scent of blood in the air. It was the smell of blood as the smoke from Louise's spell dissipated. The scent of severe injury and imminent death was recognized by his experienced senses. Cursing to himself, he hurried over to Louise with his staff raised in defense. This was not at all what he had been expecting to see.

As he approached the summoning circle, the stench grew stronger and stronger until Colbert could almost taste the blood. An overwhelming sense of power emanated from the slowly dissipating smoke. It was unlike anything the professor had ever felt, even after countless battles. As his heart began to beat at a terrifying pace, gooseflesh crawled across his skin. Every primal instinct was screaming for danger.

Only Louise, coughing and waving the acrid smoke from her face, stood closer to the circle than he. As the scent of blood hit her, the color drained from the young mage's cheeks. Having encountered such visceral violence for the first time, she instinctively flinched. Louise covered her mouth with both hands. She was suddenly dizzy and nauseous. Her mind urged her to flee. To return to the comforting familiarity of the academy. But a nameless fear paralyzed her limbs. She could only stare, eyes wide, as the haze dissipated.

Still unable to smell or see the aftermath of the ritual, the other students gathered at a cautious distance. Their excited speculations and cruel bets about Louise's latest failure were grating on Colbert's frayed nerves. He had to fight the urge to bark at them to keep their mouths shut. Something had gone terribly wrong, a terrible foreboding that clawed icy fingers down his spine.

At last, the smoke thinned out enough to reveal the figure that Louise had summoned. A wave of shock and horror swept through the crowd at the nightmarish sight. A man lay sprawled out and motionless in the center of the circle, dark, wet blood pooling rapidly beneath him. Some sort of bizarre organic spear was protruding obscenely from his chest, apparently inflicting a mortal wound on him.

As the gruesome scene unfolded, chaos erupted among the students. Screams and panicked chatter struggled with morbid curiosity and fascination. Several of the nobles immediately fainted or lost the contents of their stomachs.

Colbert's main focus remained on the victim in front of him. He quickly knelt down. Despite the fatal injury, he searched for any faint signs of life. The summoned man wore a strange black robe with an intimidating helmet covered only by the hood. His belt carried devices that were completely alien to Halkeginia.

Beside him, Louise seemed to collapse, shaking violently as the reality of what she had wrought began to sink in. She had been successful in her summoning, and what she had summoned was a man on the verge of death.

Colbert called out to the chaotic crowd, "Everybody be calm! Give the poor man some space."

Though his voice was calm, inside Colbert was reeling from the unprecedented violence on display.

All the students reluctantly took several steps back. Their chatter became somber and hushed, their faces pale with shock.

With that, Colbert decided to search the body, pulling down the hood and removing the helmet from the severely injured man. The helmet revealed a person with pale skin and black hair with red tips. After a few seconds, he was able to feel the faintest of pulses still fluttering beneath the tips of his fingers as he checked the neck. The stranger was probably only moments from death. Yet somehow he clung to life.

Colbert stood up urgently. He raised his voice to the students surrounding him and Louise, who was still in a state of utter horror. "Call the headmaster! We need medical attention now!"

What in the world was it that she had summoned?


The mysterious young man Louise had inexplicably summoned would survive despite his serious injuries, according to the head healer. Siesta had therefore been assigned the task of watching over him until he woke up. Now she stood vigil at his bedside. Her curiosity piqued by the strange foreigner.

It had proven to be quite a challenge to remove the strange newcomer's robes to tend to his grave wound. The strange black robes seemed to be fused to his form. They resisted all efforts to cut or tear the fabric. It was only after much struggle that they finally gave way. It was almost as if the robes were alive and did not want to be separated from their master.

But once the robes were removed, they were an uncanny sight to behold. Not a single drop of the blood that had saturated the robes was actually a stain on the fabric, nor was there any absorption. The crimson liquid, almost repelled from sticking to the robes, had simply slipped off without leaving the slightest trace. Strangest of all, before their very eyes, the ragged opening left by the organic spear's impalement somehow closed over the next few hours. It regenerated until no trace of damage remained.

The stranger's grievous impalement had healed. But his naked form bore disturbing testimony to a violent past. Countless scars crisscrossed his pale flesh. They told of untold torment and trauma suffered over the years. They told of burns, lacerations, punctures, and horrors without names. They were etched deep into his skin.

The multitude of scars wove an intricate web across his powerful muscles. They were still bright and clear, despite the passage of time. Here was the jagged mark of a blade that had sliced deep into living flesh. There was the smooth sheen of a burn that had once blistered and charred. Round puncture scars revealed old impalements, uneven cracks where some nameless instrument had torn.

While attending to her mysterious patient, the maid Siesta noticed subtle markings on his strange robes that evoked an eerie sense of familiarity. She remembered her great-great-grandfather's tales of the Sith Imperium, a civilization of astounding advancement and power far beyond anything known to the modern age. According to the stories, her great-great-grandfather had come from that fabled society, one whose technology and magic made even the nobility or royalty seem like hopeless paupers.

Before she could think any further, the door to the infirmary creaked open. An irritated Louise Vallière stepped inside.

"You there, servant," Louise demanded imperiously. "Why are you watching over my familiar?"

"I was told to watch for any change in his condition," Siesta replied respectfully. Long years of experience had taught her to tiptoe around irritable nobles.

Louise's gaze lingered on the face of the stranger, almost in despair. "Well? Has he shown any sign of waking up yet?"

"I'm afraid not. We've tried everything, but he remains unresponsive."

"Unacceptable!" Louise shouted, stamping her foot in frustration. "I want to talk to him right now!"

"My apologies, but there is nothing more I can do."

Louise was on the verge of resuming her tirade, but suddenly her spirits dropped. "Oh, very well," she grumbled. "Leave us. I wish to be alone with my familiar."

Relieved, Siesta gave a quick curtsy before making a quick exit. In the infirmary, Louise was in a state of conflict over the unconscious form of the man she had summoned. She was in desperate need to confirm their connection as master and familiar.

Frustration and anxiety swirled inside of Louise as she stared down at his face, which was annoyingly peaceful. The waiting was threatening to drive her out of her mind. When those eyes finally opened, there would be an end to this unbearable silence.


The Sith felt an intimacy with the Force beyond anything he had ever known, floating in the void between life and death. It was no longer an external energy he drew upon. The Force now permeated his very being, sustaining and anchoring his flickering mind against the pull of oblivion.

The sheer depth and volume of the Force power that flowed through him was exponentially greater than it had ever been before. He was no longer bound by physical limitations. In this state, his connection to the Force transcended boundaries and expanded without end. He could feel the Force evolving him. It was perfecting his connection to it, even as it protected his essence from dissolution.

The Force cleansing him felt endless. It washed away the last stain of death and burned away all divisions between the Force and the Sith. There was no longer any separation. Deathless and eternal, regardless of the fate of mere matter, he was the Force and the Force was him.

Suddenly, he felt a strange movement through his body. It was as if someone had put their hand on his shoulders and shook him. Despite this unexpected, unfamiliar sensation, the Force continued to keep him from getting killed or dying.

In fact, it was Louise who had carefully placed her left hand on her familiar's shoulder in an attempt to gently rouse him from his deep slumber. There was a slight twitch in her face, a hint of irritation at the fact that her familiar was not yet fully awake.

Slowly, a pair of crimson eyes flickered open. Sitting upright, those blood-red orbs focused on the girl. Louise was frozen nearby. A chill ran through her as those sinister eyes pierced her, burning with an almost palpable intensity. They were filled with a primordial fire that was scorching her very soul with fears that had no name. It was the gaze of a predator, piercing in its predatory knowledge.

Just as quickly, his gaze shifted to survey the archaic surroundings. The flickering torchlight revealed rough stone walls. There was no sign of technology. There were no medical devices or droids to be seen in this primitive chamber. Unease stirred in the Sith as he realized this was not a medical facility of the Sith Imperium.

When Louise finally found her voice, a stream of unfamiliar sounds emerged, a language completely foreign to the Sith. But he had to have some answers. He reached out with the Force. He tapped directly into her mind, translating the strange words through the conduit. Her mind was an open book. Surface thoughts and emotions were revealed by his Force.

"Where am I?" His question was a neutral one, without any emotion behind it.

The young girl with the pink hair was taken by surprise for a moment and spoke up in response.

"You are at the Tristain Academy of Magic." she explained. A note of pride could be heard in her tone. Unfortunately, this answer provided little useful information. It only raised more questions.

"And where might that be?" He asked patiently, clinging to the fragile hope of being able to elicit an actual, informative answer out of the strange girl.

"Well, in Tristain, of course," she replied in a manner that betrayed the traces of impatience and mild irritation that had crept into her voice.

Outwardly, the Sith's face remained impassive as the girl's answer provided little tangible information about where or when he was now. Inwardly, however, his mind raced as he reached out through the Force to better understand the nature of this strange new world.

He expanded his perceptions to include his surroundings. He probed with all his senses, both physical and metaphysical. The Sith expanded his consciousness outward. He sampled and analyzed.

Immediately he could feel the Force saturating this area, permeating all things with a vibrant energy unlike most worlds he had encountered. In the vast expanse of his travels through the galaxy, it reminded him of only a few uniquely Force resonant planets. This place was teeming with so much power in the Force.

After a moment of contemplative silence, the Sith spoke again. His voice was calm and even. "Then perhaps you would be so kind as to enlighten me a little further. Who are you? And why am I here?"

Louise cleared her throat and began to explain, "I am Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière. And I have summoned you here as my familiar."

The Sith arched his eyebrows slightly. "Summoned? I'm afraid I don't understand."

Louise shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, well, through the ritual of summoning, I have bound you as my familiar."

"I see," the Sith murmured, though in truth he did not fully understand the purpose of this so-called ritual. "And what does it mean to be your familiar?"

"As my familiar, you will serve and protect me." Louise explained, the pride returning to her voice.

The Sith considered this in silence. Serve this young girl he knew nothing about? Normally the thought would be absurd, but he could feel the thread of destiny connecting them through the Force. Maybe there was something to this arrangement after all.

"Very well," he said finally. "I accept the role of being your familiar."

As Louise looked at him with such joy, she realized with a start that there was still one last step to complete the summoning ritual. Her cheeks turned a deep shade of scarlet.

He looked at her with a feigned ignorance, knowing that the girl wanted to kiss her to complete the contract. "Is something wrong?"

"Oh! I just remembered. The contract isn't quite finished yet," Louise stammered, her blush deepening. "There's one last part I have to do."

"And what would that be?" He asked with curiosity.

"I, um, I have to..." Louise trailed off. She was ashamed at the thought of explaining. She quickly rose to her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his in a quick, chaste kiss before she could lose her nerve.

Louise quickly backed away, her face glowing a bright crimson with embarrassment. After a moment's reflection, an ancient rune began to glow brightly on the back of his left hand, the mark of Gandálfr. Truth be told, he could feel the Force flowing through him with an intensity he had never experienced before. It was as if he had been endowed with almost omniscient knowledge and abilities that had previously been locked deep within him, only to be unlocked by unique circumstances.

Louise let out a soft gasp, her eyes widening as she took in the glowing rune. "It worked! The contract is complete. You are now fully bound as my familiar!"

Thoughtfully, he looked down at the softly shimmering mark on the palm of his hand. Through the Force he could feel the strengthened connection between himself and the young girl. This new bond had unlocked something within him. It had given him access to previously untapped sources of insight and power. What other abilities might he have at his disposal now? Feeling the energy humming just below the surface, he flexed his hand experimentally.

"It would appear that our contract has been sealed," he said at last, his voice tinged with a quiet sense of awe beneath the stoic exterior.

Louise nodded, wondering and excited, breaking through her lingering embarrassment. She could hardly believe that the familiar ritual had worked out so spectacularly for her. After all, she was aware that she lacked any magical powers.

"So... who exactly are you?" Louise finally asked, since she had no idea who he was.

It was at that moment that the Sith had decided to introduce himself to them. "Well, I am Darth Bellicosus, Lord of the Sith."

Louise's mind was in a whirl as she struggled to process the unexpected introduction of her familiar. Darth Bellicosus? Lord of the Sith? His words implied nobility. Yet no noble house in all of Halkeginia bore that name, let alone the title of Darth. Could it really be that she had summoned an aristocrat from some faraway land?

"Lord...Bellicosus, was it?" Louise asked hesitantly, praying that her pronunciation of the foreign name had been correct.

"That would be Darth, but the title of Lord is also appropriate." Darth Bellicosus made a minor correction.

Louise's mind reeled as the realization finally sunk in. She believed she had summoned a lord from a distant land and inflicted a grievous injury upon him. Her hands trembled as she recalled the horrible wound and pool of blood when he first appeared. Then there was the fact that she'd bound a noble to be her familiar.

"Oh, Founder," she whispered. She was horrified. "What have I done?"

Darth Bellicosus looked at the young girl with a curious expression. Through the Force, he had a sense of the fear that was in her.

"You seem troubled." He remarked. "Why is that?"

Louise twisted her hands in anxiety. "I'm so sorry, Lord Bellicosus. I didn't mean to summon you here against your will, especially in such an injured state. Please forgive me for what I've done!"

Contrary to Louise's expectations, Darth Bellicosus did not look at her with an expression of anger.

"There's no need to be concerned, girl. By summoning me, you have saved me from certain death."

Louise had a confused look at Darth Bellicosus. "Saved you? How?"

The Sith thought about how much he should reveal to her. "Before my arrival here, I was in the midst of a deadly battle against a formidable enemy. At the moment when defeat seemed inevitable, your summoning pulled me to safety."

He paused, wondering if the girl had any idea of the magnitude of what had been happening.

"Had I been there a moment longer, I would surely have been the victim of death. The enemy I dueled with is incredibly resilient. No matter what I throw at it. It can't die."

Louise's eyes widened as she had trouble comprehending the meaning of his words. Through her summoning, she had saved the life of a noble lord?

Louise shifted awkwardly. She wasn't sure how to broach the next delicate subject.

She began to speak nervously. "But... What about the fact that I made you my familiar?"

To her surprise, Darth Bellicosus did not seem to be bothered by this.

"The Force works in mysterious ways," he replied in a thoughtful tone. "If this is the will of the Force... If I become your familiar, perhaps I can gain some insight into why I was brought to this world."

Questions about this strange man she had summoned swirled in Louise's mind. There was still so much she did not understand about him.

Louise began to speak tentatively. "You mentioned something called the Force. Is this what you call Magic?"

Darth Bellicosus looked at her with a new level of interest. She was perceptive enough to pick up on that.

"It is far more than magic," he continued. "The Force is an all-powerful energy that runs through everything and at the same time transcends everything. Life, death, space, time and everything that exists is but a manifestation of the Force. And the Force is something that I can draw upon."

"What can you do with the Force?" Louise asked with curiosity. She had never heard of such a thing. Of all the lessons and knowledge she had learned about magic, the way he described it was unlike any other she had known about magic.

Darth Bellicosus thought about it for a moment. "The Force grants countless abilities to those who are trained in its ways. For instance..."

He raised his hand to the furniture in the room. In front of Louise's astonished eyes, the chairs and tables began to shake. Then they slowly lifted into the air. The various objects floated gracefully around the room. It was as if they were held up by invisible strings.

Louise's mouth dropped open with shock. "You are making things float without using a wand!"

After letting the display continue for a few more seconds, Darth Bellicosus gently lowered the furniture back into place with a wave of his hand.

"The Force allows one to control all things," he explained to the awestruck girl. "Anything is possible with the Force."

"This is amazing!" Louise exclaimed. Her voice echoed. She looked at her familiar with newfound wonder. Her mind was racing with possibilities. The magic he had at his command was beyond anything she had seen from the mages of Halkeginia, and he did it without the use of a magic wand.

With Darth Bellicosus as her familiar, he could use a mystical energy he called the Force. Louise felt a glimmer of hope take root in her heart. Perhaps she had not been such a failure after all. Her future, which had once been bleak, was now beginning to shine.