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 11 :Stark Hyperspace War 9 : DEATH TO THE XENOS

The group moved cautiously through the corridors, the echoes of distant screams and blaster fire filling the air. But something was different—something was wrong.

A sudden volley of blaster bolts shot toward them.

Plo Koon and Tyvokka immediately reacted, their lightsabers igniting with a snap-hiss as they deflected the incoming fire. But what they saw made them hesitate.

Rakghouls. Not just mindless, feral beasts. Rakghouls wielding blasters.

"What the fuck?" one of the Republic guards blurted out, barely dodging a shot. "Since when do these things use weapons?!"

Plo Koon's tone was grim. "According to the Jedi Archives, A variant mutants are capable of retaining fragments of their former lives. Some can still remember how to fight."

Jin-Woo, blasting apart several mutants with his Sentinel Beam, scoffed. "Yet, for some reason, they can't use lightsabers. Probably a skill issue."

Plo Koon turned his head slightly. "Please, Armored Man… I hope that was a joke."

He cut down a Rakghoul with a precise strike, its dying screech fading as it collapsed.

"An army of mutants wielding lightsabers would be a nightmare for Jedi Knights like us," he added, blocking another barrage of blaster fire. "And my master is not at full strength yet."

Tyvokka, still moving slower than usual due to his recent injury, let out a low growl but remained focused.

Jin-Woo smirked under his helmet, firing another shot. "Don't worry," he said, watching the Rakghouls drop. "I'd rather keep that particular horror story to myself."

Tyvokka's ears twitched as he placed a hand in front of the group. "Wait. The Force warns me—beyond this door, at least a hundred of those mutants wielding blasters are waiting for us."

The Republic guards exchanged uneasy glances. "We're screwed," one of them muttered. "We're not equipped for this."

Before Tyvokka could respond, a distress signal crackled through Plo Koon's communicator. The projection flickered, revealing a desperate-looking Republic officer surrounded by panicked soldiers.

"Master Tyvokka!" the officer's voice came through the static. "The enemy is trying to breach the final door! We have ten Jedi and thirty Republic guards trapped in here! Please… get out of here! These things are too strong—!"

The signal cut off with a burst of static.

Tyvokka's jaw clenched. His grip on his lightsaber tightened. "We're not abandoning them. However, Armored Man, I need you to—"

He turned—only to realize Jin-Woo was gone.

The moment the distress call came in, Jin-Woo had already vanished from the group, charging ahead at full speed.

Then they heard it. A roar.

"DEATH TO THE XENOSSSSS!" Jin-Woo bellowed, his Sentinel Beam cutting through the door as he dove into the enemy horde.

Blaster fire erupted from the Rakghouls, red bolts filling the air.

Jin-Woo didn't slow down.

His armor absorbed several shots, the energy dispersing across his shields. His Sentinel Beam burned through mutated flesh as he weaved between attacks, his movements impossibly fast. The moment a Rakghoul attempted to pounce on him, he smashed its skull with a backhanded strike before slicing through three more in a single motion.

Plo Koon and the guards stood frozen for a moment, watching the chaos unfold.

Plo Koon turned to his master, voice dry. "Master, do the Jedi have ever members wearing very heavy armor within our ranks? Because if not… he might be the first."

Tyvokka exhaled, shaking his head. "If he ever joins the Jedi Order, we might need to regulate our clothing. One blaster shot to the chest is all it takes to kill us, after all."

Plo Koon hummed in thought as he watched Jin-Woo bulldoze his way through the enemy lines. "Perhaps heavier armor wouldn't be such a bad idea…"

Tyvokka simply groaned, raising his lightsaber as the rest of them charged forward.

Jin-Woo, overwhelmed by bloodlust, shoved his Sentinel Beam into the magnetic holster on the back of his armor. Without missing a beat, he lunged forward, fists crashing into the Rakghouls with brutal efficiency. Bones shattered, flesh caved in, and even after they were long dead, he kept swinging.

"Give me the credits…" he muttered darkly, his knuckles dripping with blood as he slammed another corpse into the floor.

Tyvokka stepped forward, raising a hand. "Alright, stop—stop!" His deep voice carried over the carnage. "They're already dead. Calm down."

Jin-Woo exhaled, shaking his head as if snapping out of it. "Oh. Sorry," he muttered, rolling his shoulders. "Been solo too long."

Plo Koon ignored the comment and turned toward the now unsealed door, pressing the controls. With a hiss, it slid open.

Inside, ten Jedi and thirty Republic guards stood in tense formations, their weapons raised. The moment they saw the group, relief washed over them.

"They survived," Plo Koon confirmed. "Though… you beat those mutants to death. That was a bit much."

Jin-Woo scoffed, rolling his neck. "On the battlefield, you're either the hunter or the prey," he said flatly. "No rules will protect you."

The Jedi exchanged wary glances, the brutal efficiency of the armored man unsettling even them.

Suddenly, one of the Jedi knights spoke up. "We were separated from Knight Qui-Gon and Padawan Obi-Wan when Gunray panicked and ordered his droids to fire at everyone. They must be in the same place."

Tyvokka's eyes narrowed. "The communication room—where the Viceroy recklessly ordered his droids to shoot everyone, including me."

Jin-Woo tilted his head slightly. "Why not just kill this Viceroy and be done with it?"

The Republic guards immediately tensed, some shifting uneasily.

Plo Koon, however, remained calm. "It's just the way mercenaries think," he said. "Act first, think later."

Another Jedi stepped forward. "The communication room is 50 meters from here. If they're alive, we need to move quickly."

Tyvokka nodded. "Then let's move for—"

"Wait." Jin-Woo's voice cut through the air, sharp and unyielding.

The entire group turned to him as he slowly scanned the survivors, his blue eyes cold behind his helmet.

"Did any of you get bitten?" he asked, his tone dead serious.

The survivors, mainly Republic guards, hesitated, exchanging nervous glances.

Plo Koon sighed. "Armored man, I think it's just a bite. It will be—"

Jin-Woo stepped forward, towering over them. "Open your clothes and pants before I force you," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "If not, I move on my own."

The tension in the room skyrocketed. Some guards reflexively reached for their blasters, but a single glance from Jin-Woo froze them in place.

Tyvokka's fur bristled slightly. "This is unnecessary," he said, his voice low.

Jin-Woo's helmet tilted slightly. "You get bitten, you turn. You turn, you spread. I don't have time to explain what happens when a Rakghoul infection goes unchecked." His fingers flexed slightly, as if considering something. "You wanna risk it? Go ahead. But I'm not dragging infected people with me."

One of the guards swallowed hard. "I—I don't feel anything wrong…"

Jin-Woo didn't even blink. "That's how it starts."

.

Then, slowly, some of the survivors started unbuttoning their shirts, rolling up their sleeves, and lifting their pants to reveal their legs. A few even hesitated before exposing their torsos. Most were clean.

But one… wasn't. A young Republic trooper at the back, barely more than a recruit, hesitated too long. His hand instinctively moved to cover his forearm, but Jin-Woo's eyes caught it immediately.

In a blur of movement, Jin-Woo raised his Sentinel Beam and fired.

A clean, searing shot burned through the trooper's arm before anyone could react.

The man screamed, dropping to his knees, clutching the smoldering stump where his forearm had been.

"You—!" one of the other guards started to shout.

Jin-Woo's voice was ice. "Check his wound."

Plo Koon immediately stepped forward, his gaze sharp as he crouched beside the injured man. Carefully, he peeled back the damaged flesh around the wound.

There, just under the skin, twisted black veins pulsed unnaturally. The infection had already spread.

If Jin-Woo hadn't acted, the trooper would've turned in a matter of minutes.

The room fell deathly silent.

Plo Koon's shoulders tensed. "...He was infected."

Jin-Woo holstered his weapon. "uh-huh."

Tyvokka exhaled heavily. "That… was brutal."

Jin-Woo didn't look at him. "Necessary."

The trooper, now barely conscious from the shock, trembled as a medic rushed forward to stabilize him. The remaining survivors backed away from Jin-Woo, the unspoken fear in their eyes clear.

Plo Koon stood up and faced Jin-Woo directly. "You… knew immediately."

Jin-Woo simply turned toward the hallway. "I've dealt with worse."

Tyvokka narrowed his eyes. "You're no ordinary Beast Hunter."

Jin-Woo didn't deny it. Instead, he adjusted his weapons and walked forward. "Enough talking. Let's get moving."

Meanwhile, inside the communication room, chaos reigned.

Nute Gunray and the other Neimoidians were frantically pressing buttons, desperately trying to contact Cato Neimoidia. The stress was visible in their trembling hands as they attempted to send out distress signals.

A Neimoidian officer leaned forward, speaking into the malfunctioning comms. "This is the Invincible! We have the Viceroy on board! Do you read?! Send us the rest of the Lucrehulks and rescue us!"

Silence.

The officer turned to Gunray, his face pale. "Viceroy… no one is responding."

Gunray, now visibly impatient, slammed his hands against the control panel. "Rune Haako! Do you read me?! If you don't respond, you're FIRED!"

A voice, calm and unwavering, cut through the tension.

"Like I said before, Viceroy," Obi-Wan Kenobi spoke, standing to the side with his arms restrained, "most of the ship's technology is dead. No one is coming."

Gunray whirled on him, his face twisting in frustration. "Quiet, you Jedi! If it weren't for your interference, none of this would have happened!"

Qui-Gon Jinn, standing beside his Padawan, regarded Gunray with his usual composed expression. "Viceroy, you know that isn't true."

Gunray sneered. "Oh? And what wisdom do you claim to have, Jedi?"

Qui-Gon held up a small holocommunicator. "You left this behind when you panicked. And inside it, I found all your dirty secrets."

Gunray's face lost all color. "How did you get that?! This is treason!"

Qui-Gon's gaze hardened. "If you hadn't made a deal with Stark's Combine in the first place—before the rogue senator escalated this war—this catastrophe wouldn't have happened. And lastly…" He took a slow step forward. "You made a deal with a Sith. You pretended to use droids for defense while nearly slaughtering us all. You even struck down Master Tyvokka."

Gunray's lips curled in fury, but he didn't dare move.

"If not for the Republic's laws," Qui-Gon continued, his voice cold, "I would have struck you down where you stand."

Gunray, desperate to regain control, straightened. "You mean the Sith artifact that I possess? Tell me, Jedi, why do you think I have it? Even if I do possess it, can I really use it?"

Suddenly, the door's control panel flickered and beeped. A red override warning flashed on the screen.

Security clearance—bypassed. The door was about to open.

Gunray panicked instantly, retreating behind the Jedi. "You Jedi—protect me! It's your duty as peacekeepers!"

Obi-Wan, already sensing the danger, ignited his lightsaber, his blue blade humming to life as he fixed his gaze on the door.

"Master Qui-Gon," he asked, voice even, "do Jedi laws allow me to kill this Neimoidian?"

Qui-Gon let out a slow breath. "As much as I want to, they are still part of the Republic. And Republic law demands we bring them in for their crimes."

Gunray, relieved, nodded. "Yes, yes! Listen to him, young Jedi!"

The door hissed as it slid open.

Standing at the entrance was none other than Master Tyvokka.

His tall, furred frame filled the doorway, his presence commanding the room immediately. His eyes were locked onto Gunray, and there was no mistaking the fact that he had overheard everything.

"If there was a law that allowed me to punch this injustice into the ground," Tyvokka rumbled, stepping inside, "I would have done it myself."

Gunray visibly shrank back.

Qui-Gon blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Master Tyvokka… you're alive."

Obi-Wan let out a breath, lowering his stance slightly. "I see you're back in full health, Master Tyvokka."

Tyvokka nodded, his voice steady. "Thanks to our… mysterious mercenary." His eyes briefly flicked to the armored figure behind him.

Jin-Woo's gaze swept the room, his eyes narrowing as he noticed something unusual—the Neimoidian officer standing at the console. There was a wound on his lower body, just above his leg.

A bite mark.

Jin-Woo's thoughts stalled for a moment. Did he just get bitten… at his dick?

He exhaled, shaking off the absurdity of it. "You," he said, his voice cutting through the tension. "Both Jedi—bring that crazy viceroy behind me. Now."

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan exchanged confused glances.

Tyvokka, however, followed Jin-Woo's gaze and immediately understood. His eyes hardened. "Do as he says. Hurry."

Obi-Wan grabbed Gunray by the collar, yanking him backward. "Unhand me, you Jedi!" Gunray shrieked, struggling against the grip.

The Neimoidian officer suddenly staggered forward, his breathing uneven, his fingers twitching unnaturally.

Jin-Woo moved in an instant, raising his Sentinel Beam and pointing it directly at him. "Stay where you are." His voice was like cold steel. "You're done. And fucked. Yeah, that's the term."

The officer convulsed, choking as his veins darkened, spreading black corruption across his pale skin. His mouth trembled before he let out a low, guttural snarl.

Plo Koon exhaled sharply, his grip tightening around his saber. "I am grateful for your warning before, mercenary. It seems we've been too careless."

Jin-Woo didn't look away from the infected officer. "So…" he said, tilting his head. "Anyone want to kill him before the biohazard starts?"

Gunray's voice cut through the air, filled with desperate indignation. "He is still a Neimoidian! And we are still part of the Republi—"

Jin-Woo lost patience. In a single, fluid motion, he grabbed Gunray by the collar and yanked him forward—right beside the half-transformed Neimoidian officer.

"There. A wonderful reunion," he said, his tone mocking.

Qui-Gon tensed. "Master… should we interfere? This is a bit brutal."

Tyvokka remained still, his expression unreadable. "Just watch."

Gunray trembled violently as he found himself shoulder-to-shoulder with the infected officer, whose veins had fully blackened, his pupils dilating into soulless pits of hunger. The transformation was nearly complete.

Jin-Woo tilted his head. "Go ahead, Viceroy. You still want to be part of the mutants, right?"

Gunray's breath came in frantic gasps, his eyes darting around for help. The infected Neimoidian snarled, its mouth stretching unnaturally wide as it lunged—

"HELP ME! KILL THIS ABOMINATION!" Gunray shrieked.

Jin-Woo didn't hesitate. A single blast from his Sentinel Beam burned a hole through the infected officer's head, the force of the shot sending its corpse crumpling to the ground, smoke still rising from the wound.

Jin-Woo turned to Gunray, shaking his head. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

The Republic guards and Jedi Knights exchanged nervous glances, swallowing hard. This wasn't a man. This was a beast. A force of nature with little regard for morals or hesitation.

Chapter 12 : Stark Hyperspace War 10 : Bideney Blast

Tyvokka exhaled and turned to Gunray. "Where is your shuttle, Vice—"

"No," Jin-Woo cut in sharply. "The C-9979 transport ship—the one that carries battle droids. That'll be more acceptable. Our group numbers thirty now, and a Neimoidian escort shuttle only carries eight. No one needs to play martyr."

Plo Koon tilted his head slightly. "Didn't expect you to be so… heroic, armored man. I'm impressed."

Gunray scoffed, brushing the dust off his robes. "I refuse to be cramped inside a ship with the likes of you all—including these Republic esco—"

Jin-Woo calmly raised his Sentinel Beam and aimed directly at Gunray's knee.

"Arm or leg. Your choice."

Gunray turned pale instantly, his breath hitching. "I-It's in the hangar."

Jin-Woo's gaze didn't waver. "Bullshit. When I came through, there was no such transport ship."

Gunray swallowed thickly, eyes darting around for an escape before finally caving. "I-I meant… another hangar! It's still part of the Invincible. A hidden bay. I kept it for emergencies."

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes. "Or maybe for killing us, Viceroy."

Gunray had no response, his silence confirming the accusation.

Jin-Woo sighed and motioned forward. "Then lead the way before I make you."

After twenty-five minutes of navigating through dimly lit corridors and bypassing debris, Gunray finally reached a section of the ship that looked no different from the others. He hesitated for a moment, then reluctantly pressed a sequence of codes into a hidden panel.

With a mechanical hiss, the wall sank inward, revealing a concealed hangar. And inside—

A C-9979 transport ship, fully intact and prepped for launch.

The group hurried forward, but before they could even board, an ear-splitting alarm blared through the hangar.

Everyone tensed, weapons drawn, scanning for threats—

Then all eyes turned to the source.

Viceroy Gunray, frozen in place, foot still hovering over the alarm trigger he had just tripped.

Obi-Wan exhaled slowly through his nose. "Master Qui-Gon," he said, voice dangerously calm, "please… please let me punch the Viceroy."

Tyvokka wasted no time. His massive Wookiee fist shot out, slamming squarely into Gunray's face with a sickening crack.

"OOH MY EYE!" Gunray howled, clutching his bruised face as he stumbled back.

Jin-Woo shook his head in mock sympathy. "Tough luck, Viceroy. Wookiees hit hard."

Tyvokka flexed his fingers and grunted. "Felt good."

Obi-Wan sighed dramatically. "Master, you're lucky I respect you. That was my punch."

Jin-Woo turned to the Republic guards. "Get the damn droids off this ship. Lighten the weight while I hold off these Rakghouls."

One of the guards hesitated. "You sure you can—"

Jin-Woo raised his Sentinel Beam and fired a shot straight into the nearest Rakghoul, disintegrating it instantly.

The guard swallowed hard. "Yeah, uh… Got it. On it. Immediately."

Blaster fire filled the hangar as Rakghouls poured in from every direction, snarling and screeching as they lunged toward the desperate defenders.

The Jedi fought with precision, their lightsabers flashing in wide, controlled arcs, severing limbs and heads in fluid, efficient strikes. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan fought side by side, their blades moving in perfect synchronicity, cutting down anything that got too close.

Tyvokka, still recovering but too stubborn to back down, fought with sheer brute strength. He crushed a Rakghoul's skull with one swing of his massive paw, then hurled another against a bulkhead, cracking the durasteel wall.

The Republic guards, despite their fear, held their ground. They fired their blasters in disciplined bursts, focusing on headshots, knowing that body wounds wouldn't stop these things. One guard was tackled, screaming, but another shot the creature off him before it could bite down.

Jin-Woo, however, was different.

While the Jedi defended with discipline and the soldiers with desperation, Jin-Woo fought with ruthless, unrestrained brutality. He holstered his Sentinel Beam and opted for pure, raw violence.

He caught a Rakghoul mid-air and slammed it into the floor so hard its body burst into pulp. Another leaped at him—he grabbed its throat and crushed it with one hand, then threw its corpse into the incoming swarm, knocking them down like ragdolls.

One Rakghoul lunged with a jagged vibroblade from a fallen Republic officer. Jin-Woo sidestepped, ripped the arm from its socket, and stabbed it through the head with its own blade.

The pile of corpses around him grew. But the Rakghouls kept coming.

"Master Qui-Gon! We've got a problem!" Obi-Wan shouted between slashes.

Qui-Gon turned just in time to see Obi-Wan desperately jamming controls at a terminal.

"What is it?" Qui-Gon called back, slicing through another Rakghoul.

"The hangar doors won't open! It requires a manual override!"

Jin-Woo shot another Rakghoul through the skull and growled. "Then get inside the damn ship! I'll handle it!"

The Jedi hesitated for a moment—then nodded.

"Everyone, on board!" Tyvokka roared, covering the retreat with heavy swings of his saber.

One by one, they scrambled onto the transport. The moment the final Republic guard was inside, the C-9979 lifted off, hovering just below the locked hangar doors.

Jin-Woo moved quickly, striding toward a manual override console near the wall. He ripped it open with his armored hands, exposing the wires beneath. Sparks flew as he reached in and yanked a thick, reinforced lever.

With a heavy metallic groan, the hangar doors began to open.

Jin-Woo didn't hesitate. He aimed his Sentinel Beam upward— And fired.

A searing golden beam shot directly into the control panel above, scorching the circuits into slag. Sparks erupted as the emergency lockdown engaged, causing the hangar doors to slam shut again just as the transport ascended.

The Rakghouls screeched in fury, their deformed bodies writhing in frustration as they were trapped inside.

Jin-Woo exhaled. "Containment secured . these rakghouls can survive in space i'll hold them off ," he muttered.

In the transport, Tyvokka stepped toward the ramp, eyes locked onto the armored figure below.

"We cannot leave him behind!"

Plo Koon grabbed his shoulder. "Master Tyvokka, wait." He turned his gaze to Jin-Woo, something unreadable in his expression.

"Armored man… I was wrong about you. If I one day become a Jedi Master, and if you survive, I will vouch for you to become a Jedi."

Jin-Woo, standing amidst piles of corpses, covered in blood and soot, just smirked and raised a thumbs-up.

Then, he watched them leave.

As the C-9979 transport disappeared into the void of space,

Jin-Woo turned his gaze back toward the hangar. He was alone now.

And every Rakghoul in the room had turned their attention to him.

They surrounded him in eerie silence, dozens of them—some still clutching blasters, others twitching in place.

Jin-Woo narrowed his eyes. Something's off. "Offensive Bias," he muttered. "Have all cameras and holofeeds on this ship been terminated?"

The AI's response was instant. "Affirmative. No visual or data records remain. No external surveillance is operational. No entity beyond this vessel will know what transpires here."

Jin-Woo's helmet slid open with a sleek mechanical hiss, revealing his face beneath.

He exhaled sharply. "Alright, everyone. Show's over."

The effect was immediate. The Rakghouls dropped their weapons.

Some of them even trembled, their grotesque, deformed bodies shaking as they stared at him. And then— One of them started crying.

Jin-Woo's smirk faltered. His eye twitched. "...Don't tell me zombies have feelings now. ."

Offensive Bias responded in its usual cold, calculating tone.
"As Rakghouls originate from your flesh and blood, they recognize you as their progenitor. Much like a son hesitates to strike his father, they will not raise a hand against you, Supreme Executor."

Jin-Woo stared at the trembling creatures. Some of them were outright whimpering.

Offensive Bias continued. "I must admit, I have been manually overriding their neural functions to ensure they remain antagonistic toward you. Without my interference, their natural inclination is to submit."

Jin-Woo dragged a hand down his face. "I am the Lord of Shadows. The Shadow Monarch. Not the fucking Lord of Zombies."

One of the Rakghouls, seemingly emboldened, took a step forward.

It raised its twisted, clawed hands—

And then, in a rasping voice, it bowed.

Jin-Woo's expression deadpanned. "...Oh, for fuck's sake."

Jin-Woo walked through the ruined corridors of the Invincible, stepping over wreckage and corpses alike. His helmet slid back into place as he muttered, "Offensive Bias… does your universe have Joever Bideney ? That's why you didn't ask what he looked like? That's why it was the perfect persona?"

Offensive Bias responded immediately. "Affirmative. Historical records indicate that Joever Bideney was the 46th President of Nations in the year 2010. Analysis of his administration reveals severe inefficiencies, economic instability, and widespread dissatisfaction among his constituents. Key failures include, but are not limited to:

— Mishandling of economic policies leading to inflation and increased national debt.
— Failure to implement effective foreign policy, resulting in weakened global influence.
— Significant declines in approval ratings due to perceived incompetence.
— Overreliance on scripted responses, leading to public questioning of cognitive stability.
— Multiple recorded instances of verbal missteps, generating widespread mockery.
— Ineffectiveness in unifying political factions, further deepening societal divisions.

Based on these factors, the persona of 'Joever Bideney ' is categorized as highly ineffective yet notorious. Utilizing this name as a false identity ensured immediate infamy and disdain, increasing Supreme Executor's notoriety among hostile factions."

Jin-Woo exhaled through his nose. "So, in short, he was a disaster."

"Affirmative. Disaster classification: self-inflicted." Offensive bias answered .

Jin-Woo smirked under his helmet. "Perfect."

Jin-Woo made a subtle hand gesture—one Offensive Bias instantly understood. Without a word, the AI activated the holo-feed inside Jin-Woo's helmet, displaying a live news broadcast from Coruscant.

A female Togruta reporter appeared on-screen, her expression grim.

"We bring breaking news from the Qotile system, where peace negotiations have turned into a full-scale disaster. The Republic has suffered catastrophic losses, including the destruction of one of its prized Venator-class Star Destroyers. Meanwhile, the Trade Federation's fleet has also been severely crippled, with four Lucrehulks sustaining heavy damage from Republic counterfire."

"Additionally, Senator Ranulph Tarkin has been reported missing. His body has not been found, and his current condition—whether alive or dead—remains unknown."

The screen shifted to show wreckage drifting in space, Republic and Trade Federation ships burning in the void. The devastation was unimaginable.

"There are, however, survivors," the reporter continued. "A Trade Federation droid transport ship managed to escape the battlefield carrying key individuals. Among them—Jedi Master Tyvokka, a contingent of Republic guards, several Jedi Knights, and, most notably, Viceroy Nute Gunray himself. Brief communications and distress signals have confirmed their survival."

Jin-Woo's smirk faded slightly as the report continued.

"Master Tyvokka, now in safe communication, has identified the primary culprit behind this catastrophe—Viceroy Nute Gunray."

Jin-Woo almost relaxed—until the screen cut to a frantic Nute Gunray, his voice shrill with desperation.

"LIES! ALL LIES!" Gunray shouted, his eyes wild as he pointed at the camera. "This was not my doing! It was Joever Bideney! The man who eats ice cream! He is the one behind this disaster! The Republic must hunt him down at all costs!"

A brief clip played—the infamous holo-video of " Joever Bideney " floating in space, eating ice cream with Kamahaha.

Jin-Woo's eye twitched. The broadcast cut back to the news anchor.

"Despite conflicting statements, Supreme Chancellor Valorum has declared Joever Bideney a criminal of the highest order. A bounty of 5 million credits has been placed on his head for orchestrating this catastrophe."

Jin-Woo stood there, fists clenched. His teeth ground together audibly.

That damn Wookiee.

Tyvokka should have shut up and let Gunray dump the blame entirely on Joever Bideney .

Jin-Woo inhaled sharply, his patience wearing thin.

"Tyvokka..." he muttered through gritted teeth. "You should have just kept your mouth shut and let Gunray take the fall."

Offensive Bias's cold, calculated voice responded instantly.
"Suggestion added: Senator Tarkin is still alive. He remains aboard this vessel but is in hiding. Should I publicly broadcast his brutal execution to amplify the infamy of 'Joever Bideney '?"

Jin-Woo shook his head. "No. Use the second plan. The war isn't over yet. Therefore, we're going to use Zeta Halo to fire a very specific bullet at the nearby planet, Troiken. We'll destroy it to the core."

A brief silence, then Offensive Bias spoke again. "Acknowledged. However, strategic clarification is required. Purpose of planetary annihilation?"

Jin-Woo exhaled, watching the holofeed. "The war isn't over because Stark's fleet is still fighting the Flood you released. The droid transport ship carrying the Jedi and Gunray is still flying at minimum speed. However, if the key players—the Jedi and Gunray—arrive at Coruscant, the war will end, and I'll receive a heavy penalty from this galaxy itself. Therefore, we need to hasten the chaos."

"Understood," Offensive Bias responded without hesitation. "Proceeding with planetary targeting. Slipspace preparations are complete. Supreme Executor, I will now return you to Zeta Halo."

"Good," Jin-Woo muttered. "Then do it."

A silent distortion of space rippled around him. In the next instant, he was gone.

Jin-Woo now stood near the Pulse Induction Cannon of Zeta Halo , the colossal structure humming with untamed energy, its inner mechanisms shifting and adjusting as Offensive Bias calculated the launch sequence.

The AI's voice came through, as cold and pragmatic as ever. "Supreme Executor, clarification required. You intend to use yourself as the projectile?"

Jin-Woo crossed his arms. "Yes. I am the hardest material this galaxy has ever seen—harder than anything the Sith or Jedi could comprehend. And it's the quickest way."

There was a brief pause, then Offensive Bias responded. "Understood. Adjusting the Pulse Induction Cannon's parameters. The radiation output will be minimized, with energy conversion focused on acceleration to near-light speed. The objective remains planetary core penetration."

Jin-Woo cracked his neck. "Good. Make sure the cannon still carries residual radiation, but only at the lowest possible setting. I don't want to be vaporized before I hit my target. Convert everything else into raw speed—enough to send me straight through the planet's core."

A slight pause. Then, Offensive Bias continued. "Warning: Despite radiation reduction, the remaining output is still significant. Prolonged exposure to the launch sequence will disintegrate most biological lifeforms. Probability of survival—"

"Yeah, yeah," Jin-Woo cut him off. "I already told you—I'm not most lifeforms."

"Affirmative," Offensive Bias acknowledged without argument. "Launch sequence calibration in progress."

Jin-Woo took a deep breath, feeling the sheer, raw power coursing through his form. His transformation into the Shadow Monarch was complete, unrestricted outside the cursed Star Wars galaxy, where half his abilities remained sealed. Here, he was free to unleash destruction on a scale beyond mortal comprehension.

Standing atop the Pulse Induction Cannon, his black aura rippled outward like a living storm, the darkness around him swallowing even the glow of the massive weapon.

Offensive Bias spoke, utterly unfazed by the reality-warping sight. "Three. Two. One. Fire the array."

A deafening hum filled the entire installation. The Halo Array fired.

The blast's radiation was immense—something that would have instantly vaporized any ordinary being. But Jin-Woo barely felt it. He had already died Multiple times , transcended mortality itself. This was nothing.

At the center of the array, a slipspace rupture formed, precisely calculated by Offensive Bias. The spatial tear connected directly to the planet Troiken.

Jin-Woo shot forward, his body compressed into an unstoppable force. He felt the sheer speed folding reality around him, time itself distorting as he tore through slipspace.

And then— He was there.

For an instant, just a fraction of a second, he was inside the planet's core.

His Black Monarch dagger was already drawn.

One single cut—so fast, so absolute that the planet itself didn't even have time to react. His blade, bathed in pure black flames, sliced through the core like butter.

Before the world could even comprehend what had just happened— He was gone.

Slipspace reactivated. Jin-Woo was pulled back.

The next moment, he was once again standing at Zeta Halo, his feet landing smoothly on the ground as if he had never left.

Jin-Woo exhaled. "Offensive Bias. Did it work?"

In response, the AI displayed multiple holofeeds from across the Star Wars galaxy.

The reaction was immediate. Shockwaves of panic, disbelief, and sheer horror spread across planets as every screen, every news feed, every transmission in the Republic played the same chilling message.

A grainy video appeared—footage of Joever Bideney eating ice cream. And then— The screen glitched.

"You've done well so far," the voice of Joever Bideney echoed, .

"But I've only used 5% of my power."

Then, the screen cut to static for a moment—before flashing back with a single phrase in massive, bold letters:

"NOW LET'S SEE IF YOU CAN HANDLE—BIDENEY BLAST!"

And then— Troiken exploded. Not just a surface-level blast.

The planet shattered into billions of pieces, its very core reduced to nothing, the debris scattering across the void of space in a violent, cosmic eruption.

Jin-Woo grinned, watching the reactions of sheer terror and hysteria unfold across the holofeeds. Governments were panicking. Jedi were shaken. Military forces scrambled for explanations.

Marvelous

."Perfect score," he said, smirking.

Jin-Woo then glanced at one of the holofeeds provided by Offensive Bias.

The emergency holofeed broadcasted across every Republic-controlled system, cutting through all scheduled transmissions. Coruscant, Corellia, Chandrila, even the farthest Outer Rim colonies—everywhere, the same image played: the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, Finis Valorum, standing before the Senate chamber, his hands gripping the podium far too tightly.

His face was pale. His lips slightly quivered. The entire chamber was silent, deathly so, as the Chancellor tried to maintain composure.

But the fear was evident. Valorum took a breath, but it was shaky.

"This… this is an emergency meeting. Not a drill. Not a joke," he began, his voice unnaturally strained. "A few minutes ago, we all witnessed—something—something beyond anything we could have ever imagined."

He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing as the holoscreens behind him replayed it. The moment. The proof of their new reality. BIDENEY BLAST.

A phrase that would now haunt the galaxy.

"We have received confirmation," Valorum continued, gripping the podium tighter, as if afraid his knees would give out. "The planet Troiken… has been completely destroyed."

The Senate chamber erupted into gasps. Some shouted in disbelief, others broke into whispered panicked discussions. A few Senators collapsed into their seats, stunned into silence.

But Valorum wasn't finished.

"Billions—" His voice cracked. He coughed into his fist, trying to regain his breath. "Billions of lives… erased in an instant."

A brief pause. A deep, quivering breath.

"Let me be clear. This was not the work of the Trade Federation. This was not a military strike by any faction we have ever known. This was an act of one man. Joever Bideney ."

The name sent a shiver through the entire Senate.

"His methods are unknown. His abilities defy logic," Valorum admitted, shaking his head. "We don't know what he is. But what we do know is that he is not like anything we have ever faced. The Trade Federation—an organization with vast armies of battle droids—is completely vulnerable to his abilities. We now know that he can override entire fleets, that he can shut down technology at will."

Valorum wiped his brow. His hand was visibly trembling.

"And worst of all," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, "we don't even know where he is."

The room fell into utter stillness. The weight of those words crushed every Senator, every official, every Jedi listening in from the High Council.

"He could be anywhere," Valorum continued, his breath picking up again. "The last confirmed footage of him was at the Qotile system, but beyond that—" He shook his head. "—we have no intelligence, no tracking, no defenses against him."

He exhaled sharply, gripping the podium so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"Our Emergency Powers Act cannot be enacted. We cannot wage war against an enemy we cannot locate, nor can we defend ourselves against a power we cannot comprehend."

He took another breath. His legs were shaking now.

"And so…" He hesitated, as if afraid to say the next words. Then, finally, he forced them out.

"All we can do… is pray."

A long silence stretched across the chamber.

"And—and—we must act," Valorum continued, regaining some steadiness. "The Jedi… must be granted further resources. They are no longer just peacekeepers. They are the last true guardians of this galaxy. If we are to survive this new age of terror, they must be given every advantage possible."

The murmurs in the chamber returned, louder, more frantic. Valorum closed his eyes for a brief second before delivering his final statement.

"As of this moment," he declared, voice heavy with both dread and desperation, "the bounty on Joever Bideney has been raised to one billion credits."

Gasps filled the room.

"A sum never before placed on a single being in galactic history," Valorum admitted. "But given what we have just witnessed…" He swallowed again, gripping the podium. "It is necessary."

Then, finally, after everything, his mask cracked. He exhaled, staring at nothing. His shoulders slightly hunched, his face still ghostly pale.

"I… I am sorry," Valorum muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. "I think… I think I am trembling."

And across the galaxy, billions watched as their Supreme Chancellor—leader of the Republic—stood before them, hands shaking, barely holding himself together.

Because for the first time in recorded history of 400 hundred years — The Republic was truly afraid.