READ THE Note:I usually write around 2,000 words per chapter, but now I release them in batches. So don't be surprised if a single release includes the content of 2 standard webnovel chapters. No complaints—you're just getting more at once.
Chapter 9 Stark Hyperspace War 7 : Big Event
Jin-Woo drifted into a dream, but it was not a peaceful one.
He was no longer Jin-Woo. He was something else. The battlefield of the Ashavan and Dregvant War stretched before him—a war between light and dark that had waged for eternity. It was a cycle, an endless slaughter where both sides sought to claim dominance. And Jin-Woo… he had steeled himself against it.
If the cycle would never end, then he would end it himself.
And so he did.
He slaughtered them all. Light, dark—it didn't matter. He erased the very concept of the war itself, cutting down Normal gods and mortals alike. Planets fell. Stars withered. Until there was nothing left.
Nothing except her.
A woman behind The curtain of a throne . The First Hadou God. The one who had watched from beyond the curtain of existence, pulling the strings, letting the cycle continue. Jin-Woo reached her. And in that moment, she realized—too late—that he had surpassed her.
That she was nothing compared to him.
He cut her down.
And in her place, he became something greater. The Remorseless itself.
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Twelve hours before the war.
Jin-Woo's eyes snapped open.
He was no longer in the war. No longer in the abyss of his memories. He was back in the Defender-class Light Corvette, seated in the same chair he had fallen asleep in.
Beside him, Rey was already awake, kneeling on the floor with a piece of bread in her hands.
"Sir Joever, you slept for a whole day—twenty-four hours," she said, her voice slightly amused. "You need to eat something." She held the bread out toward him.
Jin-Woo, still partially concealed by his cloak, his face half-hidden except for his sharp blue eyes, shook his head. "No need," he said calmly, his voice as unreadable as ever. "A big day is coming."
Rey blinked, sensing the weight in his words.
"Stay here," he ordered. "And don't wander out."
She hesitated, then nodded. "Okay."
Jin-Woo stood up, his gaze shifting toward the ship's exit. The war was about to begin
Jin-Woo strode through the asteroid base, his cloak billowing slightly as he made his way toward Iaco Stark's office. The corridors were more crowded than before—pirates, mercenaries, and smugglers gathering in front of a large holoscreen that projected the latest news.
A Twi'lek reporter stood at the center of the screen, her voice clear but urgent.
"The Trade Federation is officially entering the war. The reason? A recently uncovered document linking a Republic senator to Stark. This document promises exclusive trade routes and weapons contracts for the pirates in exchange for betraying the Trade Federation. Meanwhile, the Jedi Order has dispatched an additional twenty Jedi Knights under the leadership of Master Yvhoka, the Wookiee Jedi Master. The Jedi Council also suspects the Trade Federation of harboring a Sith artifact, further complicating negotiations."
The screen flickered, switching to a shot of a Republic fleet preparing for the Qotile meeting.
"The Republic and Trade Federation are walking into this summit with deep distrust toward one another," the reporter continued. "However, Viceroy Nute Gunray has reassured his allies that the Trade Federation is committed to peace and cooperation. To prove this, he has personally agreed to stay aboard a Republic ship during the meeting, accompanied by 10 Lucrehulk-class battleships."
Jin-Woo smirked slightly, his eyes narrowing as he processed the situation. Offensive Bias, you did well. This is about to be the biggest war the Outer Rim has seen in this generation.
Jin-Woo entered Stark's office, which was now packed with pirates, mercenaries, and warlords from across the Outer Rim. The air was tense, thick with cigarette smoke and the scent of cheap alcohol, but the moment he stepped inside, the entire room quieted.
Iaco Stark, standing at the center, let out a long, exaggerated sigh before shaking his head. "What the fuck," he muttered. "This psychopath Joever Bideney just pulled off the biggest fraud in the galaxy and dragged a third force into this war." He turned toward the gathered warlords and gestured toward Jin-Woo. "Gentlemen, I present to you—Joever Bideney. A man who loves war."
There were grumbles from the gathered pirates. One of the warlords, a scarred Weequay with a cybernetic arm, scoffed. "Joever, you made things worse," he growled. "Nute Gunray is staying aboard a Republic ship. That means the Trade Federation won't be able to launch a full-scale attack without putting their own leader at risk. You just turned this whole thing into a mess."
Jin-Woo leaned against the wall, unimpressed. "There's another ace in the hole," he said simply. "Just be patient. Trust me, it's all falling into place."
Another warlord, a Nikto with a thick accent, grumbled. "We ain't got time to be patient. If our fleets jump in too early, both the Republic and the Trade Federation will target us first."
Jin-Woo's smirk widened slightly. And that's exactly what I want.
Greedy bastards. I know you won't be patient. You're pirates—you want loot. And when you make your move, you'll be walking straight into the worst plague both sides have ever seen.
Iaco Stark raised his hands, calling for order. "Gentlemen, please stand down. Money favors the bold. I banded you all together because we take what we want, not because we sit around whining about the odds. Now, I ask you again—why do we fight this war?"
The pirate warlords all roared in unison, "For our prosperity! For the unfairness of this galaxy!"
Stark grinned. "Good. Then I'll see you all in ten hours for final preparations."
As the warlords began to disperse, Stark turned to Jin-Woo. "You'll be commanding from your own ship, or mine?"
Jin-Woo casually adjusted his cloak. "I'll stay aboard your battleship. Have a starfighter prepared as well. War without personally being there is… unsatisfying."
Stark chuckled, shaking his head. "You're a crazy bastard."
After twelve hours, the Republic fleet emerged from hyperspace, their warships tearing through the void with precision. At the center of the formation was the Invincible, a Republic heavy cruiser under the command of Senator Ranulph Tarkin, its armored hull a symbol of the Republic's military strength. Flanking it were twenty Republic light cruisers and a series of Consular-class cruisers, their red hulls gleaming against the backdrop of space.
On the bridge of the Invincible, three figures stood at the forefront of the unfolding war.
Senator Ranulph Tarkin, his uniform pristine, his hands folded behind his back, radiated the discipline and confidence of a Republic military man.
Beside him stood Viceroy Nute Gunray, the Neimoidian's posture stiff, his red eyes calculating as his long fingers tapped anxiously against the console.
The last figure was unlike the others—a towering Wookiee Jedi Master, Tyvokka, his fur slightly bristled as his deep-set eyes scanned the holotable before them.
Tarkin narrowed his gaze, stepping forward. "Where are your armies, Viceroy?"
Nute Gunray didn't flinch, his tone measured, rehearsed. "They will arrive shortly."
Right on cue, four massive Lucrehulk-class battleships emerged from hyperspace, dwarfing even the Republic's Invincible. Their rounded hulls, marked with the insignia of the Trade Federation, reflected the light of distant stars.
Gunray let a slow smirk cross his face as he folded his arms. "Like I said, Senator, peace and cooperation from the Trade Federation are unquestionable."
Tarkin scoffed, unimpressed. "You're lying. You told us you would bring ten Lucrehulks."
Gunray's smirk didn't falter, but his eyes glinted with greed. "Bringing warships of that size… is not cheap, Senator."
Tarkin's jaw tightened. He didn't trust the Neimoidian, but before he could retort, a deep growl rumbled through the bridge.
"Calm yourself, Senator Tarkin," Master Yvokka said, his voice a deep, commanding presence that forced the tension down. "The battle is not yet upon us. But I have a bad feeling about this…"
His fur bristled slightly as he turned his attention toward the void, his instincts sharpening.
Something wasn't right. Something else was coming.
A sudden, deafening explosion rocked the Republic Consular-class cruiser, its sleek hull erupting into flames as one of the Lucrehulks opened fire without warning. The blast sent debris scattering across the battlefield, while alarms blared violently through the Invincible's bridge.
Senator Ranulph Tarkin reacted in an instant.
With cold precision, he ripped his blaster from its holster and pointed it directly at Nute Gunray's head.
"Any last words, traitor?" Tarkin's voice was filled with venom, his finger tightening on the trigger.
Gunray's red eyes widened in panic. "I assure you, Senator, I had no intention of committing suicide!"
His voice wavered, but beneath it, there was something else—genuine confusion.
Before Tarkin could pull the trigger, Gunray frantically activated his holofeed communicator.
"Who fired without permission?!" he screeched, his voice rising in disbelief.
The holofeed flickered to life.
A Neimoidian captain appeared on-screen, his face twisted in agony. His hands clutched at his throat, his skin turning sickly pale as he struggled to speak. "V-Viceroy… the droids… they've gone rogue—"
Gunray watched in horror as something unseen tore through the captain's body, cutting off his last words.
Then—the screen turned black. Every single control panel, holofeed, and display monitor aboard the Invincible's bridge flickered off, replaced by a single ominous message, written in deep red Forerunner script.
YOU'RE ALL GOING TO DIE DOWN HERE.
The bridge fell into utter silence. Then, the first scream rang out.
Thick, unnatural gas hissed through the ventilation systems, flooding the entire Lucrehulk battleship fleet and seeping into the Republic cruisers.
Crew members clawed at their throats, their eyes turning bloodshot as violent coughing fits wracked their bodies. Some collapsed to the floor, convulsing as the sickness took hold. Others stumbled through the corridors, gagging on their own blood, their flesh beginning to blacken with plague-like symptoms.
But not everyone was affected.
Master Tyvokka remained standing, untouched.
So did Senator Tarkin. So did Nute Gunray.
The Jedi, the high-ranking officers, the key political figures—all of them were completely unharmed.
Because this wasn't an accident. This was planned.
Someone had deliberately engineered this plague to target only the expendable—only the fodder.
"Get me a tactical readout on those Lucrehulks!" Tarkin barked, but the comm systems remained unresponsive. The virus had spread beyond the crew—it had infected the ships themselves.
A technological plague. A complete hostile AI override.
Tarkin wasted no time. With a snarl, he slammed his fist onto a control panel, triggering a priority distress signal.
Seconds later, a Venator-class Star Destroyer emerged from hyperspace, its hull gleaming with the might of the Republic.
Tarkin's voice was filled with unrelenting fury as he pointed toward the rogue Lucrehulks.
"OPEN FIRE! DESTROY THEM ALL!"
The space erupted into total war.
The Venator-class Star Destroyer unleashed a relentless barrage of turbolaser fire, its Blue energy beams tearing through the hull of a rogue Lucrehulk. Explosions rippled across the Trade Federation fleet, sending shattered debris spinning into the darkness.
The Lucrehulks fired back. Massive ion cannons discharged with earth-shattering force, slamming into the Republic light cruisers and disabling their shields. The battle descended into chaos, with blaster fire, missile salvos, and turbolaser barrages crisscrossing through space in an uncontrollable inferno of destruction.
Then, without warning—
A massive holographic projection flickered into existence above the battlefield, spanning the width of an entire Republic cruiser.
A man. An elderly human, smiling vacantly, a scoop of ice cream in his hand. His voice echoed across the entire system. "My name is Joever Bideney , and I love ice cream."
The video continued, showing Joever Bideney , the President of the Nations , happily eating ice cream while a woman—Kamahahaha —stood beside him, nodding with a forced smile.
It was nonsensical. It was absurd. It was completely, utterly deranged. For a moment, the entire battlefield froze.
Even the Jedi, the Republic forces, and the Trade Federation officers simply stared at the projection.
Senator Ranulph Tarkin, a man of iron discipline, a war strategist of the Republic's military elite, a man who had faced intergalactic warfare—completely lost his composure.
His face twisted with unbridled rage. "JOEVER BIDENEY—!" he roared, his voice shaking the entire bridge. "I'M GOING TO KILL YOUUUUUU!"
But before Tarkin could completely lose his mind, a terrifying sound filled the bridge. A guttural, inhuman screech.
Master Tyvokka spun on his heel. "Senator, look around you!"
Tarkin did. And what he saw made his blood run cold.
Half of the Republic officers on the bridge—the same ones who had coughed, collapsed, and screamed—were no longer human.
Their bodies twisted grotesquely, their eyes burning with feral hunger. Flesh ripped apart, revealing jagged claws. Their mouths split open, filled with rows of needle-like teeth.
They weren't men anymore. They were Rakghouls.
Tarkin stumbled backward. "What… What in the Galaxy's name—?!"
The Rakghouls lunged. Screams filled the bridge as soldiers, pilots, and officers were torn apart. Blaster fire erupted in every direction, red and blue streaks lighting up the enclosed space as the infection spread rapidly.
Nute Gunray's voice was hysterical. "We're fucked—WE'RE COMPLETELY FUCKED!"
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The Stark Fleet drifted just beyond the Battle , watching as the Republic, Trade Federation, and Rakghoul-infested ships annihilated one another in a catastrophic warzone.
Stark's flagship, the Raptor, held its position at the center of the fleet—flanked by five Kaloth-style battle cruisers and five Vainglorious-class battle cruisers. The pirate warlords, some of the most cutthroat figures in the galaxy, stood on the bridge, observing the battle unfold.
Iaco Stark leaned back in his chair, hands folded together, grinning like a man who had just won the lottery.
"I never expected you to be an old man, Joever," he mused, his gaze flicking toward Jin-Woo. "And yet, here we are. You did it. Like you said—they're killing each other."
The pirate warlords murmured among themselves, eyes gleaming with greed as they watched Republic and Trade Federation ships tear into one another.
One of the warlords, a scarred Weequay, took a step forward. "If I need to ask," he said cautiously, his voice laced with both respect and fear, "can you share the technology that let you hijack those ships?"
Jin-Woo didn't answer. He just stood there, silent, watching the battle unfold.
The Weequay swallowed. The silence was unnerving.
After a few moments, Jin-Woo finally spoke. "Prepare my starship."
Iaco Stark smirked. "Already prepared for a man crazy as you."
Jin-Woo turned and walked toward the hangar, Iaco Stark following behind. They arrived at the lower decks, where a sleek, compact starfighter sat waiting.
Jin-Woo stared at it for a moment before turning to Stark. "A single-seat passenger?"
Stark shrugged. "What did you expect, a gunship?"
Jin-Woo didn't answer.
Stark held out a hand. "Just good business."
For a moment, Jin-Woo considered leaving him hanging—but he took the offered hand, shaking it once before pulling away. He didn't say anything, didn't react, just turned and boarded the ship.
Iaco Stark watched him go, a slow smirk creeping onto his face.
As Jin-Woo's starfighter launched into space, he watched the battlefield stretch out before him. Wreckage floated like corpses in a vast ocean, blaster fire and explosions illuminating the void.
Then—something caught his eye.
The cockpit screen suddenly flashed red, and a message appeared in bold white letters:
"IT'S JUST GOOD BUSINESS."
Jin-Woo's eyes narrowed. Immediately, another warning blared.
WARNING: SHIP SELF-DESTRUCT SEQUENCE INITIATED. DETONATION IN 10 SECONDS.
Jin-Woo scoffed, already expecting something like this. Stark was a backstabber. A slippery bastard who'd sell out his own mother if it meant making a profit.
But this? This was better than he expected.
Joever Bideney, the Plague Giver, the Ghost Slaver, the man who started the largest war the Outer Rim had seen in generations—was about to die.
At least, that's what the galaxy would believe.
Jin-Woo smirked, his voice calm as he whispered, "Offensive Bias, slipspace me out—just me. Leave the ship. And prepare my Proto-Didact Exo-Frame."
"Affirmative," Offensive Bias responded.
For a split second, reality folded inward, a silent ripple distorting the space around him—then Jin-Woo vanished.
The next instant— The starfighter erupted into a massive fireball, the explosion ripping through space in a brilliant flash of flames and debris. The shockwave sent wreckage spiraling, consuming any smaller fighters that strayed too close.
From a distance, Iaco Stark grinned as he watched the explosion from his bridge. "What did I tell you, gentlemen?" he said, leaning back with a smug expression. "Joever Bideney dies today."
One of the pirate warlords raised an eyebrow. "Technically, you didn't tell us anything."
Another pirate warlord scoffed, crossing his arms. "How are we supposed to loot the Republic and Trade Federation fleets? There are mutants tearing each other apart, Jedi swinging their lightsabers, and we're stuck watching."
Stark, still grinning, waved them off. "Relax. I have leverage. We've got Gunray, and once we play our cards right, we'll be filthy rich."
Confident, Stark turned on his holocommunicator. "Prepare that Defender-class light corvette. The one Joever Bideney was using—it's mine now. I want it converted into my personal luxury ship."
There was a long silence.
Then, one of his guards hesitantly spoke up. "...Sir, the ship is gone."
Stark's grin vanished. "What?"
One of the bridge officers, looking pale, stammered. "T-The ship vanished, sir. One of the dockworkers saw it. There was—there was some kind of blue portal. It opened up out of nowhere, right inside the base, and—"
the officer swallowed hard, "—it led to some kind of giant ring in the sky."
For a moment, silence filled the room.
Then, realization hit Stark. "Oh shit."
The lights in Stark's control room flickered, then dimmed entirely. A deep hum resonated through the walls, sending chills down the spines of every pirate in the room. Then, the main control panel shut down, leaving only a single black screen in the center.
A crimson Forerunner sigil appeared, glowing ominously.
And then came the words.
"IT'S JUST A GOOD BUSINESS. WRONG. IT IS A HORRIFYING WAR."
Stark's blood ran cold.
"Hey—Joe. Come on, I was just kidding," Stark said, forcing a nervous laugh as he wiped sweat from his brow. "Come out, alright? You have your ghost form, right? You're not dead. Hell, I know you. You always have some kind of bullshit backup plan. Joever, remember this—I can just dump all the credits from this chaos into my own pockets, not yours. You want infamy? We can negotiate here, or you'll be nothing."
The screen flickered. Then another message appeared in bold red text.
"ANSWER: THIS IS NOT JOEVER. THIS IS THE AI ITSELF. JOEVER BIDENEY WILL BE REMEMBERED. WHAT YOU KILLED WAS A DUMMY."
A sharp alarm blared throughout the ship.
Stark's heart slammed against his ribs. "You crazy bastard—"
Another klaxon wailed. The Raptor, his prized flagship, was suddenly bathed in flashing red lights. Stark's officers scrambled at their stations, desperately checking the ship's systems.
"Sir—!" one of the technicians yelled. "We've got multiple alarms across the entire ship! The reactor—"
"Forget the reactor!" Stark snarled. "Tell me why my ship is locked down! And prepare to take hostages—civilians!" He gritted his teeth. " Joever Bideney has a soft spot for innocents!"
The screen responded.
"PROBLEM DETECTED. SOLUTION INITIATED."
Then, through the massive viewport, reality twisted.
A gaping blue slipspace rupture tore open above the Raptor's hull.
And from its depths—twenty Forerunner Sentinels emerged.
They opened fire immediately.
Golden beams of precision energy lanced through the corridors, targeting one thing and one thing only—the sections marked as civilian zones.
Screams filled the comms.
A blinding explosion erupted from the lower decks. The ship's hull buckled, splitting apart, fire and debris venting into space. Every emergency alarm across the ship shrieked, but there was no saving the ones caught in the devastation.
Stark's face drained of all color. He slammed his hands on the console. "YOU'RE FUCKING CRAZY! I saw what you did before! You saved a kid—some orphan girl, Rey! There are innocents here! We can negotiate!"
The screen's red text blinked once.
Then it changed. "PROBLEMS ERASED. PROCEEDING WITH FLOOD INFESTATION."
And then—the real nightmare began.
Chapter 10 : Stark Hyperspace War 8 : Rakghouls
Zeta Halo
Jin-Woo walked across the vast stretch of lush green grass, the wind gently rustling through the open plains of Zeta Halo. His boots crunched against the earth as he reached up, peeling away the half-mask that had obscured his face. His sharp gaze landed on Rey and Despondent Pyre near the Defender-class Light Corvette.
Rey was laughing—playing of all things—with the Forerunner Monitor, who seemed to indulge her curiosity rather than reject it outright. The sight was almost surreal.
Jin-Woo exhaled. "You've done well, Offensive Bias," he murmured, his voice carrying through the neural link. "Using slipspace to deliver the Rakghoul plague I produced straight into the Republic fleet's ventilation system? That was a nice touch."
"Compliment acknowledged. You are welcome, Supreme Executor," Offensive Bias responded, its mechanical voice ever calm. There was a pause before it added, "But that girl—she resembles a Reclaimer, yet she possesses something else. Something… that could threaten you."
Jin-Woo's eyes didn't waver. "Rey?" He let out a quiet chuckle. "She has half my midichlorian count, that much is true. But should you be more worried about the fact that you just unleashed the Flood without my permission?"
There was a brief silence before Offensive Bias responded. "Suggestion added. The most optimal defense against the Flood is live combat. Therefore, the best location for such a simulation… is enemy territory."
Jin-Woo smirked. "So, your justification is that testing their defenses by unleashing a galaxy-ending parasite is 'necessary'?"
"Affirmative." Offensive bias responded
Before Jin-Woo could say anything else, Rey approached him, her small frame barely reaching his waist as she looked up at him with curiosity.
"Sir Joever, do you own this place?" she asked, tilting her head.
Before Jin-Woo could respond,
Despondent Pyre floated forward, answering for him.
"Supreme Executor is now the ruler of Zeta Halo and all of its constructs."
Jin-Woo let out a quiet chuckle before glancing down at Rey. "Rey, the name Joever Bideney is a fake. It's just something I used to scare people."
Rey's brows furrowed slightly. "So… what's your real name?"
"Jin-Woo." He folded his arms. "Just call me Jin-Woo from now on."
Rey was still for a moment before nodding. "Okay, Sir Jin-Woo!"
Jin-Woo exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly at the 'Sir' part, but let it slide. He turned his gaze back toward Offensive Bias.
"Is the Proto-Didact Exo-Frame ready for me to wear?"
The AI's response was immediate. "Affirmative. The Proto-Didact Exo-Frame has been fully calibrated and is awaiting integration, Supreme Executor."
Jin-Woo nodded. "Proceed."
Without hesitation, Offensive Bias activated a slipspace portal leading to the armory. From its depths, the components of the Proto-Didact Exo-Frame surged forward, floating with precise coordination.
Each piece latched onto Jin-Woo's body in perfect synchronization. First, the armored gauntlets—then the segmented chest plate, the reinforced leg guards, and the shoulder pauldrons. The armor's weight was nonexistent, as if tailored for perfect movement.
Finally, the helmet—a Forerunner design with a sleek, ominous structure—locked into place, fully concealing his identity.
Jin-Woo clenched his fists, testing the armor's mobility. It moved as if it was an extension of himself.
"Does this armor suppress detection from Jedi? And can it suppress the user's strength?"
Offensive Bias's core pulsed as it processed the query. "Affirmative. The Proto-Didact Exo-Frame is equipped with advanced cloaking mechanisms to mask Force sensitivity and energy signatures from detection. Additionally, strength suppression systems can be manually adjusted to prevent unintended destruction."
Jin-Woo smirked slightly. "Good. Because if I punch someone at full force, I think it's going to create some kind of dangerous momentum. I know my own strength—it's immense. If I'm careless, I might crack or even destroy Zeta Halo itself."
A brief pause.
"Acknowledged." Offensive Bias confirmed. "Strength suppression engaged. Dark energy signatures neutralized."
Jin-Woo felt it immediately. His power was being restrained—but that was exactly what he needed.
The Jedi were highly sensitive to power fluctuations—especially Kuso Baba herself, Celeste Morne. From the moment they met, she sensed that he was a hundred times worse than a Sith. That was something he had to avoid—for now.
Jin-Woo picked up a Sentinel Beam and a Cindershot, testing their weight in his hands. Efficient weapons. Perfect for his next act.
If he wanted to manipulate the galaxy, he needed more than just fear. A reputation that played both sides. A Black Knight—one who eliminated the Rakghoul plague and saved the helpless. A hero in the eyes of the Republic, a shadow of terror to those who truly understood.
Despondent Pyre hovered nearby. "Shall I open a slipspace portal to the Invincible—the Republic flagship?"
Jin-Woo nodded. "Proceed."
A shimmering vortex of slipspace energy spiraled open before him, distorting the air around it.
Rey, standing just behind him, fidgeted slightly before calling out. "Safe trip, Sir Jin-Woo."
Before he could respond, Offensive Bias's voice echoed. "The girl, who resembles a Reclaimer in my galaxy, does not yet understand. He is not the kind of person who requires farewells. He is the strongest being in existence, commanding an immortal army."
Jin-Woo turned his head slightly, glancing back at Rey.
His voice was calm. "Be a good girl, yeah?"
Rey nodded, watching him disappear into the portal.
As the rift collapsed behind him, Despondent Pyre floated beside her. "Shall we continue our game?"
Rey's lips twitched into a small smile. "Yeah."
And with that, Jin-Woo was gone—war awaited.
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Meanwhile Republic flagship Invincible : Hangar Section
Jin-Woo walked through the broken corridors of the Invincible's hangar section, the metal creaking under his armored boots. Fires flickered along the walls, sparks raining down from exposed wiring. The entire ship was in chaos.
Then he saw it—one of his own Rakghouls.
But something was off. The creature hesitated.
Jin-Woo narrowed his eyes. He had already given them a direct order—to go completely feral, attacking anything that moved. That included him. Yet here it was, frozen, as if uncertain.
He clicked his tongue. "The fuck? They hesitate against me? This is bad acting." He sighed, already regretting how obvious this looked. If any survivors saw this, they'd start asking questions. And if the Jedi caught wind of it? Even worse.
Then, in his mind, he heard the cold, detached voice of Offensive Bias.
"Suggestion: Deploy secondary biological warfare unit—designated 'Flood Infestation'—aboard this vessel. The presence of another pathogen will ensure maximum efficiency in eliminating all organic resistance."
Jin-Woo immediately shut that idea down. "Absolutely not. We only need one Gravemind. Two, and I'll abandon this galaxy immediately."
There was a brief pause before Offensive Bias responded, his voice as calculating as ever.
"Acknowledged. Contingency measures remain in effect should the Supreme Executor reconsider."
Jin-Woo exhaled, shaking his head. "Yeah, not happening."
He turned his attention back to the Rakghoul, watching it twitch slightly, as if it was struggling against its instincts. That meant the feral override he placed on them wasn't absolute.
Jin-Woo exhaled through his nose, irritated. He reached for his Sentinel Beam, leveling it at the hesitant Rakghoul.
A searing golden beam cut through the creature instantly, its body convulsing before collapsing into a smoldering heap.
But then—the remaining Rakghouls turned and ran.
Jin-Woo sighed and facepalmed. "The hell is this? They're running away now?"
He lowered his hand, shaking his head. "Offensive Bias, I connected you to a part of my body for a reason. That should give you direct control over them, right?"
"Acknowledged," Offensive Bias responded. "Establishing command authority over designated biological units. Executing override."
There was a brief silence before the Rakghouls, now under Offensive Bias's direct influence, froze in place. Then, one by one, they turned back toward Jin-Woo, snarling.
But still… something was off.
Even under Offensive Bias's control, they hesitated for a fraction of a second before fully attacking.
Jin-Woo narrowed his eyes. "They're still hesitating," he muttered. "Tch. Even when overridden, they know I'm their master."
He lifted the Sentinel Beam again and let another beam of energy slice through them, the Rakghouls convulsing and burning under the golden light. The ship's dark corridors flickered with the glow of their destruction.
Jin-Woo lowered the weapon, inspecting the aftermath. "At least this time, they put up more of a fight."
"Acknowledged," Offensive Bias responded. "Continued recalibration of control parameters may improve subject compliance."
Jin-Woo rolled his shoulders. "Whatever. Just keep them from hesitating next time."
Jin-Woo kept moving forward, his Sentinel Beam carving through anything in his way. The golden light of the weapon illuminated the dark corridors, casting eerie shadows as the lingering Rakghouls scrambled back in fear.
He smirked. "Heh. Shit, I'm like Batman now. The enemy hesitates before fighting me."
"Affirmative," Offensive Bias responded without hesitation. "Batman is a fictional character from the DC Universe. A human with no superpowers who relies on intellect, combat prowess, and technological resources."
Jin-Woo shook his head, muttering, "Yeah, I know."
Then, his eyes caught movement ahead. Two Republic soldiers stood stationed in front of a medbay, their postures tense, rifles held close to their bodies.
Jin-Woo's smirk faded. That means Master Tyvokka got shot.
"Gunray's reckless actions have rendered the Jedi Master temporarily incapacitated," Jin-Woo mused.
"Analysis suggests that rescuing the Wookiee Jedi Master will significantly increase Supreme Executor's approval among the Jedi Order," Offensive Bias calculated.
Jin-Woo glanced at the medbay doors. "I already planned to do that," he said. "Just need to make a few adjustments first."
Without another word, his body shimmered as he activated his Phase Shift Adaptation, seamlessly merging into the walls, his form flickering like a ghost. Silent as assassin , he maneuvered toward the unsuspecting guards, ready to strike.
Tyvokka lay on the medbay bed, his breathing heavy, a scorched blaster wound searing through his chest. By his side, his apprentice Plo Koon gripped his arm tightly, eyes filled with worry. The elder Wookiee Jedi let out a weak but firm breath.
"You make me proud, Plo Koon…" His voice was low but steady. "Thank you… for keeping my temper in check. You make me—"
Suddenly, his fur bristled. Danger.
His instincts screamed at him, adrenaline surging through his battered body. His hand shot toward his lightsaber, but before he could even grip it—CLANK—both his and Plo Koon's lightsabers were pinned to the wall by an unseen force.
A figure loomed in the doorway.
Jin-Woo. Clad in his Proto-Didact Exo-Frame, his imposing form was backlit by the emergency red lights of the medbay. His Sentinel Beam hummed ominously, aimed directly at Plo Koon.
"You try anything stupid," Jin-Woo said coldly, his voice reverberating through the helmet, "and I'll burn this monkey to dust."
Plo Koon swallowed hard, his throat dry. He didn't dare move. The energy of that weapon—it wasn't something he had encountered before.
Tyvokka's eyes, filled with pain but unwavering, met Jin-Woo's visor. "What do you want from us?" he asked, his voice steady despite the agony. "If you seek death, take mine. Plo Koon's life is worth more than mine."
Jin-Woo ignored the sentiment, stepping closer. His armored boots clicked against the durasteel floor. "Where did you get shot?" His tone was clinical, detached, like a field medic assessing a dying soldier. "And how deep is the wound?"
Plo Koon hesitated, his mind racing. Is… this armored man a medic? He's trying to save my master?
Tyvokka let out a slow breath. "Fatal. My chest. I can feel it. My life is fading."
Jin-Woo remained silent for a moment before lowering his weapon slightly. His voice lacked any emotion as he spoke. "Tough luck. You Jedi survive worse."
Without another word, he moved toward the Wookiee Jedi Master and activated his armor's Self-Regenerating Systems—a nanite-based reconstruction ability. However, instead of using it on himself, he redirected its function onto Tyvokka.
The Jedi Master grunted as he felt something shifting within his body. "Did you just… regenerate part of me?"
Plo Koon, still tense, suddenly realized he was no longer pinned down. His muscles twitched, but he didn't move. He watched as Jin-Woo worked, his armored fingers pressing against Tyvokka's chest with mechanical precision.
Jin-Woo turned his head slightly, addressing him. "Hey, Jedi—Plo Koon, right? Hold the monkey's arm down. This is going to hurt."
Plo Koon narrowed his eyes. "He's a Wookiee. Not a monkey, armored man."
Jin-Woo ignored the correction as he continued his work.
Tyvokka gritted his teeth, his instincts screaming at him to fight back, but he endured.
The damage was deeper than just a wound—Gunray's droids had burned through critical arteries near the Wookiee's heart. Jin-Woo adjusted his stance, forming a new artery with the nanites, forcing them to reconstruct what had been lost. The Wookiee's entire body trembled from the unnatural healing process.
Jin-Woo muttered, "And now the finishing touch."
From his armor, a small burner-like device extended from his wrist. With a sharp burst of heat, he cauterized the wound, sealing it completely. The scent of burning flesh filled the room as Tyvokka groaned through clenched teeth.
Jin-Woo stepped back, assessing his work. "There. One healthy monkey, still breathing."
Plo Koon let out a breath of relief, but his frustration remained. "Thank you, but… was it really necessary to be that aggressive? You pinned me down the entire time."
Jin-Woo scoffed. "You want your master to join the Force now? If I had been 40 seconds later, he'd be in your archives."
Plo Koon fell silent. He couldn't argue with that.
Tyvokka, despite the pain, let out a deep rumble that might've been a chuckle. "Crude, but effective."
Jin-Woo merely smirked. "I get that a lot."
Plo Koon, still keeping an eye on him, finally spoke. "So, who are you, armored man? And why are you here?"
Jin-Woo shrugged. "You can call me 'armored man' if it suits you. As for why I'm here…" He gestured vaguely to the broken corridors outside. "I'm just hunting beasts for fortune. Like these Rakghouls. If there's an occupation, you can call me a beast hunter."
Plo Koon's eyes narrowed slightly. "Rakghouls? Oh… you mean the plague that has infected every last soldier in multiple sections of this ship."
Jin-Woo chuckled. "Any beast, as long as it gives me a thrill, some fun, and most importantly—" He flashed a hand in the air. "Moneyyyyyyy."
Tyvokka scoffed, shaking his head. "Tch. Money grubbers."
Jin-Woo placed a hand on his chest in mock offense. "Heyyyy, I saved your life, alright?"
Tyvokka exhaled. "Doesn't mean I have to like your reason."
Jin-Woo smirked but quickly got to the point. "Now, I want you guys to return a favor. Do you have a ship that can get me out? My ride got blown up by pirates."
Plo Koon, still wary, nodded. "There are some escape pods and functional ships… however, your armor—" His gaze swept over Jin-Woo's exo-frame, the intricate metallic design far beyond anything even Mandalorians had access to. "It's too advanced for a simple beast hunter. Even Mandalorian armor isn't as advanced as yours."
Plo Koon ignited his blue lightsaber, his stance shifting. "Who are you, exactly?"
Jin-Woo's eyes flashed. Without hesitation, he raised his arm, his armor's wrist plate colliding with Plo Koon's blade in a sharp, resonating CLANG. Sparks flew as the two forces clashed, but Jin-Woo didn't even flinch.
"How about we focus on getting out alive?" Jin-Woo said, his voice casual despite the locked stance. "That seems more reasonable, don't you think?"
Tyvokka, still seated on the medbay bed, sighed. "Stand down, my apprentice."
Plo Koon hesitated for a moment, then retracted his lightsaber, stepping back. His gaze, however, remained locked onto Jin-Woo, studying him even more intently now.
Tyvokka let out a slow breath. "I won't ask your reasons. But we need to rescue the survivors. Can you help us, armored man? Then we get out. That's my deal."
Jin-Woo tilted his head, considering it. Then he grinned. "Thrill and fun are part of the job."
Tyvokka nodded. "Then let's move."
As the group stepped out of the medbay, the momentary silence was broken by a voice.
"Master Tyvokka, you're alive! That's good news."
The Republic guards had their weapons lowered at first, relief clear in their voices. But their eyes quickly flicked to Jin-Woo, their expressions shifting.
"Who's the person behind you?" one of the guards asked, his eyes narrowing at Jin-Woo's exo-frame.
Before Jin-Woo could speak, Plo Koon stepped forward. "A mercenary I hired," he said smoothly. "Didn't expect him to arrive so soon, but he's been… helpful."
Jin-Woo smirked behind his helmet. Good liar, indeed.
The guards seemed unsure, but they didn't press further.
Then, without warning— CLANG!
Jin-Woo raised his Sentinel Beam and fired a shot at the ceiling.
A searing golden beam sliced through metal, and with a sickening crunch, a dozen Rakghoul corpses tumbled down, their twisted forms still twitching as they landed in heaps at the guards' feet.
The soldiers stumbled back, swearing as they raised their weapons.
Jin-Woo's voice was calm, almost lazy. "Careful. Ambushes are everywhere."
Plo Koon's gaze flicked from the corpses back to Jin-Woo's armor. His mind raced.
Armor far too advanced… weapons that cut through flesh and metal like a lightsaber… and yet, he claims to be a mercenary?
The Kel Dor Jedi remained silent, but his suspicions only deepened.