Chapter 1: The Forbidden Jedi Art

We know there is one universe, but are there more? I wonder about these universes, but maybe there is something even greater. I was only four years old when I stumbled upon a magic circle—an ancient marking etched into the ground, glowing with energy beyond my understanding. Before I could even react, it activated, pulling me through a rift in space and time.

He arrived in a world not meant for normal humans—a place where the sky stretched into an endless void, where the air itself vibrated with power. It was not just a world of humans, but a world of creatures, spirits, and forces far beyond my comprehension. This is the story of my journey.

A boy floated in a praying stance, floating rocks swirling around him in a slow, controlled orbit. His breathing was steady, his mind focused on the energy that surrounded him. The Force bent to his will, yet it remained a storm that he could not fully tame.

Next to him stood a small green figure, his ancient eyes watching with quiet wisdom. He leaned against a wooden staff, the gnarled surface dripping with golden sap. The figure hummed in satisfaction.

"Did well, you have."

The boy—young, bare-chested, his pants stained with mud and sweat—lifted his head, his brown and green eyes gleaming in the dim light.

"Master Yoda, can I ask you something?" he said, his voice low yet firm.

Yoda's ears twitched slightly. "The war rages, but time for you, I have."

The boy clenched his fists. "My heart… it can only go for so long. Becoming an Elite Jedi goes against the prophecy, doesn't it? If that's true, why am I still being hidden? And what do you mean when you say my heart could explode?"

There was silence, the weight of unspoken truths hanging between them.

"Elite, you are not. The path of the Elite Jedi is for those who do not belong in this galaxy… and you are one of them." Yoda's voice remained steady, but there was an unmistakable heaviness behind his words.

The boy's breathing hitched slightly. "Then… I don't belong here."

"True, this is." Yoda reached into his robes and pulled out a small, metallic case. He extended it toward the boy.

"Modified, these are. Safe, now."

The boy took the case carefully, flipping it open to reveal a pack of cigarettes—his only possession from his original world. But something was different. The original drug had been removed, replaced with something new. Something that would help him survive.

"You changed them," the boy murmured.

Yoda nodded. "Needed, it was. The power in you… unstable. Death sticks, they balance it."

The boy exhaled slowly. He had always assumed that these were just a memory of his past, a relic of who he used to be. But now, they were something more—a key to controlling his power.

"You must choose a name for yourself." Yoda's tone was firmer now.

The boy looked down at the cigarettes, then back up. "If I must... but what about Gisele?"

"She will Decide. hers as well."

The boy nodded, pocketing the case.

"Use it now. Train, you must."

He stood, rolling his shoulders as he reached for the lightsaber hilt strapped to his side. His fingers curled around it as he focused on the Force. A loop of energy formed, spinning his saber in a controlled arc. His body moved instinctively, falling into a defensive stance.

Master Yoda ignited his own lightsaber, the emerald blade humming to life.

The boy, without hesitation, reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette.

With a flick of his fingers, he placed it between his lips. Then, as if on instinct, he touched the tip to the beam of his ignited lightsaber—the heat instantly setting it alight.

He took a deep breath.

Immediately, his heart slowed, his mind cleared, and the storm of the Force settled within him.

Yoda charged forward, full throttle.

The boy closed his eyes, trusting the power within him. He had seen this battle already—not in the present, but in the echoes of the future. It wasn't just prediction—it was something deeper.

His body moved fluidly, adjusting his stance as he shifted into Form VI: Niman—a balanced style that relied on versatility. He deflected Yoda's strikes, each movement precise, his saber spinning through the air in perfect harmony with his body.

With a final push, he extended his hand, using the Force to send Yoda skidding back across the training ground.

The Jedi Master landed gracefully, deactivating his saber with a flick of his wrist. He gave a slow nod.

"Mastered Form VI, you have. Young, you are… but powerful, you will become."

The boy exhaled, flicking away the last embers of his cigarette.

"The power I gave you…" Yoda's gaze darkened slightly. "Do not forget what it means. Luck, you will need."

"Thank you, Master Yoda. How goes the war? And what of General Skywalker?" the boy asked.

Yoda exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable. "Reckless, he is… but a hero, he remains."

The boy hesitated, lowering his gaze. "Does the Chancellor know of me?"

Yoda's ears twitched slightly. "He does not. And you must never go near the Jedi Temple. Once we complete the ceremony, you will meet Skywalker. The three of you will go."

The weight of Yoda's words pressed down on him. The ceremony—the event that would officially brand them Elite Jedi, yet also cast them out of the Order forever. The boy walked toward his small quarters, a modest structure built on the outskirts of the Jedi training grounds. It was a place meant only for those who did not belong—a sanctuary for those whose paths lay outside the Order's teachings.

The building had four rooms, each adorned with a unique symbol representing the Elite Jedi who resided there. As he stepped inside, he was stopped by a figure leaning against the wall, a sharp smirk cutting across his face.

A boy with a piercing above his eyebrow, a single silver ring glinting under the dim light.

"So, you're ready for tomorrow?" the boy asked, his voice laced with amusement.

"Not exactly… but the dimensional process is unpredictable. Only a few can withstand it. Only children can truly survive it." The shirtless boy sighed, his pants still stained from the day's training.

The pierced boy chuckled. "You know what happens tomorrow, right? We'll be declared heretics—Forbidden Jedi. Unlike the Sith, who seek power through passion, we exist outside their reach. No order. No structure. Only the path we choose."

The shirtless boy folded his arms. "And you—Needle Jedi—you strive for dominance, don't you?"

Needle Jedi grinned. "And you? You cling to your attachments—to the home you lost."

"You crave strength, but you don't seek to kill," the boy countered.

The smirk on Needle Jedi's face faded slightly, his piercing glinting as he tilted his head. "That girl, Gisele… I want her to be mine."

The boy's expression darkened. "She will choose her own destiny. Her attachment is to creation, not conquest."

Needle Jedi shrugged. "We will all become Elite Jedi, but in doing so, we will be forever forbidden. The Council will erase our names. Our records will vanish. We will not exist."

Without another word, Needle Jedi turned and closed his door, leaving the boy standing alone in the dimly lit hall. He sighed, running a hand through his hair before stepping into his own room. Inside, a familiar objects rested on his bed.

A large pack of cigarettes—his father's, now transformed into something far greater. A tool to help him survive. He laid down, staring at the ceiling, letting the weight of everything settle in. Tomorrow, everything would change.

That night, he dreamt of his arrival in this dimension.

He had once been just a child, no older than six, walking through the streets like any other boy. He had a fresh cut on his knee, small and insignificant, yet it burned as he made his way home, tears stinging his eyes.

Then it happened. A black hole—a void of absolute nothingness—ripped through reality before him. There was no sound. No warning. It simply swallowed him whole. He had no time to scream, no time to react.

Only darkness. Only nothing. Then, suddenly… the Force spoke to him. It did not call for him. It had taken him. The Force had a plan, though he did not understand it. When he finally emerged, he was surrounded by Jedi Masters, their eyes filled with both curiosity and uncertainty.

They tested him. And what they found was… nothing.

"The Force is not strong with him," one Jedi whispered.

"Then why did it bring him here?" another asked.

Master Yoda had simply stared at him, contemplating something none of the others could see.

"Not strong in the Force, he is… but the Force itself, outsidehim, it wishes to reside."

The boy, still disoriented, looked up. "Where am I?"

Yoda met his gaze. "Tell us, child… from where do you come?"

"America."

Silence.

No one in the room recognized the name. Not one Jedi had ever heard of such a place. They tried to trace his origins, but there was nothing—no record of his existence anywhere in the known galaxy.

And so, Yoda made a decision. "Train him, I will."

The Council protested. "He is too attached to his home. His mind will not let go of what he lost."

Yoda only smiled. "Elite Jedi, he will be. A different path, he must walk."

Thus, his training began.

Two years passed in the blink of an eye.

His training was accelerated, forced forward by the raging war. The greatest Jedi warriors trained him—not in the ways of the Sith, nor fully in the way of the Jedi, but something between them.

He was sent on a trial to claim his kyber crystal, guided by Master Windu and Yoda themselves. Unlike others, he did Run for days. Unlike others, he did not struggle. He simply reached out—and the Force answered.

Within ten minutes, the crystal came to him, rising from the depths of the cave, pulling itself into his waiting hands. Even Master Windu seemed impressed.

Then came the construction of his lightsaber. The droid responsible for assembling the weapon paused, its sensors analyzing the crystal.

"Curious," it remarked. "This kyber crystal is extremely rare. It is… alive."

The boy placed the crystal onto the workstation, and before the droid could even begin, the Force intervened. The parts lifted into the air, assembling themselves. The hilt took shape—a sleek, lightweight design, though the guard was unexpectedly heavy. A loop formed at the base, allowing for unconventional handling.

Then, at last, he ignited the blade . Unlike Yoda's brilliant green, his saber glowed a deep, dark green, like a forest beneath moonlight.

The instant it came to life, something changed. A single strand of his hair, just at the tip, turned the same dark green as his saber—a mark left by the Force itself. A mark of the Elite Jedi.

"Hellooo." The sound seemed to stretch unnaturally, echoing slightly in the room.

A girl in cargo pants, her goggles smeared with oil, leaned over the boy, shaking him lightly. She looked to be about seven—close to his age. Her cropped top barely covered her midriff, and though she was human, there was something about her that felt connected to him.

"Wake up! Don't close your eyes again!" she scolded.

"I'm awake, I'm awake," the boy said, grinning sleepily. He inhaled deeply—the scent of eggs filled the air.

"Today is the ceremony for all the Elites… but will you stay, or will you go?" she asked.

"I'm coming." His smile widened slightly as he thought about his friend.

She had become something like him—not because she followed the same beliefs, but because she refused to accept the ones forced upon her.

She wanted to create—to build droids, to push the limits of what was possible. But the people in the Jedi Temple had told her she was wrong. Her work was unnatural. Against the will of the Force.

Then she had found him—found them. A hidden sanctuary where three boys trained in a way unlike any Jedi she had ever seen. She remembered watching them for the first time:

A boy drinking a strange liquid, using the Force to push back the shirtless boy with sheer power. A boy with needles, flicking them through the air—small metal shards that were deflected by a wall of water created by the drinking boy. Then the shirtless boy, who did something that had no color, no sound… and simply erased everything in its path.

She had no idea how or why, but she needed to understand. It wasn't until Master Obi-Wan Kenobi found her watching that she felt fear.

"Gisele, what are you doing here?" Obi-Wan asked, his voice calm but firm.

"Master… I found these boys. They're using the Force in ways I've never seen before."

Obi-Wan frowned, stepping forward. "Gisele, I want to tell you something important. This is not your path."

"Master, I want to learn! I want to understand… not just the Force, but life itself. Maybe even technology."

Obi-Wan's expression darkened. "That is the way of the Sith. To control or create life unnaturally is dangerous."

"No! I don't want to control anything! I want to build and protect—just like them."

Obi-Wan exhaled slowly. "That is dangerous. These boys… they have no home. They are something in between—neither Jedi nor Sith. They walk a path no one else dares to tread."

"And they won't be here anymore, will they?" she whispered.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "No. They won't."

His gaze was heavy with something close to sorrow.

"When they become Forbidden, they will not survive their travels."

Obi-Wan turned, stepping toward the three boys. His voice was strong, unwavering. "Elites, stand before me. We begin your Forbidden Training today."

The three boys dropped to their knees, their focus sharpening.

Gisele watched in awe as the boy in the center—the shirtless one—lifted the rocks around him, their movements unnaturally smooth. This was not simple telekinesis. This was something… primal.

The second boy manipulated water, moving it through the air as if he were part of it.

The third boy shaped metal, twisting it into needles and blades, forming weapons from raw material.

They weren't just using the Force. They were merging with it. They were becoming something else entirely.

After the training, she followed them to the Council Chambers, slipping in after the doors had closed. The Jedi Masters had already stopped speaking when she entered.

All eyes turned to her. "Ah… young Gisele." Master Windu leaned forward, his piercing gaze locking onto her. "What brings you here?"

"Master, please listen to me." She stood firm, refusing to waver.

Yoda nodded once, motioning to the guards. "Leave, they shall."

As the room emptied, Yoda's expression grew serious. "Reason, you must give, for this disruption."

Obi-Wan sighed. "If I may speak first… I believe this is about the Elite Jedi transition."

Gisele took a deep breath. "It is. I wish to become one of them. I do not believe in this path anymore."

The silence that followed was heavy.

Master Windu narrowed his eyes. "Child, you must understand… the path you choose now will lead to your ultimate death."

Gisele clenched her fists. "I want to build things! I want to travel to places beyond the galaxy!"

Plo Koon finally spoke, his voice deep and calm. "Then the Force must decide. Stand in the center."

Gisele stepped forward, moving to the center of the chamber. The Masters stood as one, forming a circle around her.

"We must focus," Yoda said.

The Force began to stir, shifting in the air around her. Then it descended into her heart. The feeling was indescribable. It burned—not in a way that caused pain, but in a way that felt like her entire soul was being rewritten.

It hurt. She refused to show it. For a five-year-old to endure this was unheard of, but she never flinched. She had passed. She had become the final Elite Jedi.

Unlike the others, her strength would not come from the Force alone, but from machines, technology, and creation.

She would be the architect of something greater. A builder. A protector. A forbidden Jedi.

She left the Council Chamber that day, She had a procedure done. Joining the sanctuary of the Elites—never to return to the Jedi Order again.

The morning air was thick with the scent of sizzling eggs, the crackling of oil filling the quiet space. The temple, once full of voices and movement, now felt eerily still—a sanctuary abandoned before its time.

Gisele sat cross-legged, absently poking at her food while the boy ate beside her. The warmth of the meal barely touched the cold weight settling in their chests.

She broke the silence.

"Hey, I want to know—have you chosen your name?" Her voice was casual, but her fingers gripped the fork a little too tightly.

The boy exhaled, setting his plate aside.

"I have. I wanted a name that represents who I have become. What about you?" he asked.

She bit into her egg, chewing slowly. "I have chosen my name."

The boy raised an eyebrow. "Well, that's not a title."

She smirked, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Maybe we don't need a title. I will choose my name—why not yours?"

He shook his head. "No, I can't. The Force guided me last night to this name, just as it guided you."

Her smirk faded. "I understand." Her voice was quieter now. She looked away, her expression unreadable.

The Force had spoken to him. Yet for her, it had remained silent, withholding the answer she sought. Would it ever tell her? Was she meant to walk forward without its guidance?

She swallowed down the lump in her throat, pushing the thought away.

Once they finished eating, the two stepped outside, the air crisp against their skin. The sun was rising slowly, casting long shadows across the courtyard. Two figures emerged from the shadows, their bags slung over their shoulders.

The boy and Gisele had nothing with them—only what they carried in their hearts. They did not belong here anymore.

The four walked in silence toward the main temple, their footsteps barely making a sound against the polished stone floor. It was empty, abandoned as if the Jedi themselves had erased their presence, as if they had been exiled before they had even left.

The air itself was heavy, thick with an energy that lingered between Light and Dark. When they stepped into the courtyard, they stopped.

A man in robes stood before them, his presence radiating power beyond comprehension. A massive sword rested on his back, its presence feeling as much a part of him as his own limbs.

The boy's breath hitched. This man was unlike any Jedi—or Sith—they had encountered before. A smirk crossed the robed man's lips. His voice was deep, laced with something unspoken. "Well, Yoda, if I may ask… these children. They are the last of their kind for a long time, aren't they?"

Yoda, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. "Yes."

That single word carried the weight of finality, a truth neither Light nor Dark could change. Yoda walked toward them, his expression unreadable—yet something unspoken lingered in his ancient eyes. "Know this, you must… good luck, I wish. Return, only when more of your substance you need. Have it, these people will."

His voice remained steady, but the way he stepped back—the way his hands trembled just slightly—betrayed what he tried to suppress. Behind him, the other Council members stood in solemn silence.

Some turned their heads, unable to look at the four. Even Anakin Skywalker was there, standing apart from the others. His presence was powerful, but something felt wrong—as if the Force itself was warning them away from him.

The boy felt it—the whispering pressure in his mind. "Do not interfere."

The Force never explained why. It never commanded him to obey. But still, he did as he was told. Perhaps it had its reasons.

The robed man took a step forward, addressing them once more. "You should know—we are the Istanadra. The only magic users who control all aspects of reality. We exist in the true dimension."

He lifted a hand. Two figures emerged from the shadows, their presence overwhelming, their power twisting the very air.

Then—portals tore open across the courtyard. Swirling, shimmering gateways formed, each pulsating with an energy unique to the one it called to.

"These will take you to different worlds," the robed man continued, "separating you based on your abilities. The Forbidden Art—Black Holes—traverses dimensions. The Water guides you to other worlds. The Metal Needles tear through space. And finally, you, girl—you will be able to create spaces within them."

The portals glowed, their power humming in the air.

The robed man's gaze hardened. "You all will succeed. Now—announce your names."

A boy stepped forward first. A flask dangled from his fingers, the scent of strong liquids clinging to him even from a distance. "Drunk Jedi." Without hesitation, he leaped into a blue portal, vanishing from sight.

The next stepped forward, silver piercings gleaming. "Needle Jedi." A silver portal swallowed him whole.

The last boy approached the red portal, hesitating for the briefest moment before turning to Gisele. "You're coming, right?"

Her hand tightened at her side before she stepped forward, grabbing his wrist. "Yes, I am." Her voice was calm, but her grip was firm—as if she refused to let him go, as if she refused to be left behind.

She lifted her chin. "My name is Gisele, and I will be going with him."

The boy smiled. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be.

He turned to the portal, inhaling deeply. "My name is Smoking Jedi."

And with that, the two of them jumped—into the unknown, into a destiny neither of them could predict. Into the adventure of a lifetime.