3 Years
It had taken me 3 years of being a padawan to finally let go. Ironically it was the one thing Skywalker couldn't do that finally let me relax.
At first it was "I need a a few days to clear my head."
Then it was a week there, one day here.
Then it was a month there, 2 days here.
Then it was a few months there. 4 days here.
Then it was over a year there, one week here.
I wasn't keeping track of the time, I just… left until the bile drained out. Until the disgust quieted. Until I could look a Bith in the face and not want to blast it.
I finally admitted it to myself somewhere along the back and forth between universes I realized I'm the villain here. Not a tragic anti‑hero. Not a misunderstood Child. And certainly not a Jedi.
I AM AN ANTAGONIST. destined to always be a problem, to become THE PROBLEM.
Weirdly? Saying it out loud in my head made it easier to breathe.
And it suddenly dawned on me what had happened. When my path had taken a wrong turn.
When I had just started this second life I was offered a few random draws to choose from.
I had thought The Force was an infallible choice. I now realized the one drawback the force had was being the ultimate distraction.
I was a necromancer first, not a force wielder. I made my choice and it was to be evil...
The force had distracted me from that goal. Don't get me wrong I absolutely loved having the force at my side, but i got caught up in its good vs evil dogma and let it blind me.
~LATER~
Anakin caught me in the hall after a forms training.
He looked at me the way people look at someone they knew slowly become strangers. Same blue eyes, new gravity. "You've been… busy," he tried.
He doesn't know time doesn't move when I'm gone. At least that's what I told myself
Afterall from Anakin's perspective I never disappeared.
But there was something in his eyes...
A type of look like he knew something was up.
"Just working on footwork," I lied, because the truth is "I baked for a year and came back to swing a stick around"
I pretended nothing had changed. He pretended to believe me.
Back in my universe gossip said the Admiral came out of my room limp, every time, carried by his PAK like a fancy corpse.
Gossip was correct.
He'd arrive with a shy grin, shed his jacket, and the ritual would begin.
Thumb to scapula. Forearm sweep. Spinal realignment.
He'd whisper "stop," but his body would betray him with a shiver. It wasn't even about control anymore; it was almost… mutual. He paid absurdly for exclusivity.
Annoyingly it slowed the leveling of my masseuse skill, but it gave me time to focus on other things.
He'd leave on PAK‑legs, boneless, and the corridor outside would already be thrumming with stories. I didn't feed the rumor. I just didn't starve it either. And with my main job being a cook, it was inevitable that my first max level skill would be cooking.
DING! [TRAIT GAINED!] — THE CHEF
- You can cook dirt and serve something irresistible.
The skill had disappeared from my stat sheet entirely and became a trait. unfortunately cooking no longer benefited me, but I was one step short of being the god of cooking.
While I had never explored the nuances of the skill, I imagined that if I had rarer ingredients and pushed myself toward quality instead of quantity I may be able to produce foods with permanent beneficial effects. For now all the food I made only had temporary bonuses from increases to stats to health restoration, that was something to be explored much later for now I was just happy all my effort paid off.
And gaining a trait was all the motivation I needed to try to max out my other skills.
Unfortunately it seemed like someone held an exclusive license on my masseuse skills at the moment and my merchant skill was limited by my consumer base. Something I was trying to avoid thanks to my new trait.
I stopped ordering the ingredients for dough and instead received shipments of actual dirt, mixing it with sugar before baking it into whatever I wanted.
It still sold extremely well, but if I used real dough, the crew would get addicted too easily leaving me with no breathing room for any of the things I want to do.
During my free time I had managed to level several of my skills, still constantly repairing B1s, making potions, studying plants, practicing whatever force abilities I could.
I had stumbled across a curious discovery, by imbuing the force into some blaster parts, its material gained better properties. Making its parts both studier and even slightly impossibly lighter. Up until this point only using the ability to temporarily enhance my physique, suddenly a treasure trove of possibilities opened up to me.
And with my Mechanics skill currently being the easiest to level because all I had to do was destroy the B1s I repaired then repair them again, I had considered the possibility that maybe upgrading the droid through the Force would give me the chance to level two skills at the same time.
And one of my first tests was taking out a fully repaired and reprogrammed B1 from my inventory. The droid stood before me waiting for my PAK to ping it an order. I put my hand on its chest and attempted to imbue the force into it when–
DING!
[SKILL GAINED!] — MECHU‑DERU (Lv 1/10)
-Your will can lace droid logic. bound to the will of the user.
I stumbled backwards a step while the B1 suddenly jolted. The droid suddenly raised its arms and stared into its hands before staring into my eyes.
"What is my purpose?"
The question startled me as well but my most immediate reaction was embarrassment. I reached out and placed my hand on the B1 to store into my inventory when–
Warning: cannot store living material!
Living?! had really created some sort of soul? When my thoughts almost started racing with what to do with this new found ability–
"What is my purpose?"
I was still slightly embarrassed at getting startled by my own creation but the answer was pretty simple "You fight wars"
"Oh my god…" they droid stared down at itself "...that's so cool"
Fidgeting a bit in slight amusement I just stared at the droid while it began admiring itself, seemingly 'flexing' its body. This B1 was from the Naboo, it wasn't designed to be an independent thinker, yet here it was having independent thought. It tested its range of flexibility and began doing strange bodily motions, probably testing its capabilities.
I watched this process go one for a few minutes before the B1 suddenly turned to me
"What are your orders master?" it asked in that serious Phantom Menace voice the B1s had.
I was a bit stumped on that question. While I loved the idea of carrying fully sentient, competent, army sized numbers of battle droids in my pocket my own inventory wouldn't let me. So currently this guy was stuck here and I mean really stuck.
The Irken Empire didn't have any galactic conflicts going on right now, I couldn't send this guy out somewhere to live out his glorious purpose...
Looking around the room, it suddenly dawned on me that I was a one man band. I was an all in one chef, cashier, and waiter here.
"stand by to serve customers?"
"OOHHHhhh...uuugggghhhhhhhh" His voice raised with excitement before slowly turning into a disappointed groan, his held tilting down to make it more clear how sad he was. The B1 looked around as if grasping what kind of environment he was in as well...
He really did seem so...alive...
~LATER~
Bolts—my reassembled B1—carried a tray past, head tilted like he was puzzling out how to complete a Rubik's cube.
"Table three wants two… two… two—uh—what did they call it?"
"Caff," I said, testing my new thing. My PAK sending a data package with the drinks basic info into the mesh of his cheap brain.
Bolts straightened. "Caff! Right. I knew that." He waddled off, tray steady. A minute later he navigated a tight corner, then he jogged. B1s don't jog...
I don't think I've ever seen a B1 do anything more than a speed walk when I thought about it.
The crew grew slightly fond of Bolts, finding the droid to be the equivalent of a clown show. Perhaps he had some strange urge to do his duty but Bolts always moved with urgency, that would look like stressed performance for organic beings. Quick movements and rushed service like he was short on time.
They'd make jokes at his expense and unexpectedly Bolts would pause with them and laugh with them as if understanding the context and social cues.
What a strange droid...
I was already fed up with being in the temple again when an announcement got passed. The Masters called it a coming‑of‑age test.
Masters Luminara, Shaak Ti, and Obi Wan wasted no time happily explaining to an excited group of curious young teens what was to come. I'll admit the twinkle in their eyes also got me interested enough to stay one extra day to hear them out.
They had a group of us, including Anakin, pack our things and board a shuttle. Soaring into the stars. We had spent the next few days aboard the shuttle. A few days of the padawans constantly asking the masters where we were going, meditating, using training droids, and playing games to pass the time.
Surprise, surprise, we landed on a frozen tundra.
"Hoth, should've called it Colthed" I muttered to myself.
"Good one" Anakin chuckled beside me as we stared out a viewport.
Soon as we stepped off the ship, the cold winds nearly blew us off the steps of our ramp. I was more than grateful to finally be free from the shuttle, and the noise of snow crunching under my steps brought me a strange satisfaction.
The masters led the way once everyone was off the ship, and in the distance, I could see old Jedi architecture on the side of a mountain. Any Padawan who'd studied anything about the Jedi would instantly recognize the location as the planet Ilum. This planet easily being one of the few padawans went out of their way to learn about. After all were else would a Jedi get their precious lightsaber crystal from.
I had mixed feelings on the experience. Both excitement and a bit of slight fear. What sort of plans did the Force cook up for me...
Master Ti had led us to the side of a mountain, where multiple entrances spanned its wide surface. She explained the dangers, and even though she spoke with grave threat even setting up a time limit, the Padawans, Anakin and myself, were extremely excited. Eventually, after being given a speech on the dangers, she finally relented and let us all run into the mountain's entrances, many Padawans excitedly treading deep into the mountain without a second thought, but others more cautious.
Myself, having been aware of the planet Ilum, and having seen it in the Clone Wars, I slowly but steadily stepped into its dangerous caves, knowing full well that regardless of where I went, the Force itself would lead me to where it wanted.
About half an hour passed as I stepped deeper into the caves, the darkness enclosed around me. The sound shifted from a cold stillness to utter silence. I swear I heard the cave clicking and I felt the force hum around me as if trying to dull my senses. It felt like something was smiling at me.
And as I continued, the walls slowly shifted from its dark blue icy nature to a dark purplish metallic sheen and suddenly I wasn't in a cave anymore. I was in a hallway. Walls made of cable, dark purple metallic, irken design and irken aesthetic slowly morphed into my vision as I continued walking forward. And in the distance I saw a silhouette of something, something tall...
I got closer, 8 feet tall at least, getting even closer and closer. I swear his height got bigger and bigger and before me stood an apex of irken nature. Tall, crowned antennae that stood up proudly wearing a royal tunic that only the tallest of planet irk wore and he held the shape of life any irken would dream of being.
I couldn't help but mutter tallest as I stared and he stared right back at me. The tallest stepped towards me, his vision narrowing on my position and then suddenly he spoke with a confidence and contempt I haven't heard before.
"kneel,"
Every instinct in me begged, the force itself pushed on my will and I fell to one knee in shock. I couldn't believe it.
One knee down. The sound echoed — not in the cave but inside my skull. Kneel. The word lingered, vibrating the Force like a plucked string.
Every instinct screamed obedience. Irken instinct. Soldier instinct. Even the Force here felt complicit, like it was pushing me down, whispering that tall meant right, tall meant truth.
"Kneel," he said again, and I couldn't stop my body from listening. This time not just my physical instincts, but even my PAK itself registering the command.
Fully kneeling, laying before this tallest. For a moment it felt like returning home. Like being part of the empire. Being part of something bigger.
And the force curled around me, as if agreeing with my instincts. Telling me this was the right decision. This is the right thing to do.
But I looked up, and saw the contempt, saw the disgust, saw the shame and disappointment, as this tallest stared down at me.
And I pushed back. Not only trying to rise, but pushing back against the force itself. Against its tug on my mind, and against my PAKs own forced obedience on my body.
The Tallest tilted his crowned head. "You are a servant," it hissed — his voice layered like two frequencies at once. Ones I finally recognized. Red and Purple. "You will always serve."
I stood. Shaky. My joints felt carved from glass. But I stood.
Something cracked. Not the ice. Not the metal. The corridor itself fractured like a mirror. Purple shards of Irken‑hallway fell away to reveal cold blue ice behind them.
I smiled back, a sharp toothy grin, "no."
"The empire thrives when the smaller knows its place," the tallest said.
"I won't be smaller than you, for long."
The tallest face morphed into one of absolute anger, before morphing into one of levity and amusement. The pressure dissipated, and I walked forward.
The tallest disappeared as I walked through Them. The walls morphed back into ice. My body lost the sensation to kneel, and everything returned to normal. The whole ordeal only took a handful of minutes.
Finally the force had let me go, and ahead of me I saw a pool of water, in a wide cavern. In the center of this large pool of water I saw a crystal embedded into a large pillar of icy stone. And I knew, that was my crystal.
I almost laughed out loud as I stared into the pool of water, wondering if the test was truly over, as the pool of water before me was far more terrifying than the vision I had just defeated.
I had unconsciously gone out of way to avoid water, having an umbrella always in my inventory on the off chance that I was unlucky enough to get rained on.
The crystal just sat in the stone pillar, almost as if taunting me. The force had stopped whispering to me, but it felt like it stared and silently judged.
Fine, I thought. I considered my options, rummaging through my gear, everything through my inventory, as well as my skills. I had no force powers, I had no hover gear, and I had no emergency equipment that could help me across.
What I did have was determination, pure will, and petty anger.
DING. Skill Gained: Acid resistance (Lv 1/10).
-Congratulations, you are now slightly less flammable in water.
I dipped my fingers in and hissed between my teeth. My flesh sizzled and slowly dissolved into the water, and just when it about reached the bones of my hand, I pulled it out.
DING. Passive Progression: Acid resistance (Lv 1 → 2).
I stared at my hand, where I could nearly see the bone, and I winced in pain, willing the force to heal my dissolved flesh. My hand had only been in the water for a few seconds...
Suddenly, my PAK whirred with motion, as I felt it also trying to repair the damage.
After an hour, my hand had healed, and I stared grimly into the pool of water. The sizzling stopped. The skin re-formed. My nails came back glossy.
My hand throbbed, but that didn't stop me, and I shoved my arm into the water.
DING. Passive Progression: Acid resistance (Lv 2 → 3).
I screamed in terrible pain, as once again the flesh on my arm was slowly dissolving into the water. I forced myself to keep my arm in place to level my skill.
My PAK whirred louder than a computer trying to run Minecraft with a hundred mods with top of the line shaders.
DING. Passive Progression: Acid resistance (Lv 3 → 4).
When my arm was getting near the point of no return, I pulled it out.
The arm was a ruin of bone and exposed tendon, slick with sizzling remnants of muscle that clung in melted clumps. Patches of skin floated on the waters surface bubbling into nonexistence.
revealing glossy pink tissue underneath, raw and twitching. The air stank of scorched meat and chemical burn, and where fingers had once been, only stubs of cartilage jutted from charred knuckles.
DING. Passive Progression: Force Heal (Lv 3 → 4).
The Force tried to whisper something soothing. I ignored it.
This wasn't soothing. This was training. HELLISH TRAINING!
I imagined this was close to what it felt like to burning alive. I sat, breathing slowly while my PAK and the Force repaired my arm. Meditating when close to exhaustion. After about roughly two hours I repeated the process.
DING. Passive Progression: Acid resistance (Lv 4 → 5).
DING. Skill Gained: Pain resistance (Lv 1/10).
-Reduces the intensity of physical pain. Still hurts — just hurts quieter.
A bitter, cracked laugh sounded. "Are you serious?" muttering through clenched teeth, even as my arm smoked like overcooked meat.
The distraction was welcome, as it had shifted my mind to what conditions I needed to gain the skill. Afterall I had experienced plenty of the pain in the past. Maybe I needed to intentionally put myself through pain??
DING. Passive Progression: Acid resistance (Lv 5 → 6).
With the notification I pulled my arm out, the damage actually not as bad as before....I repeated the continued Healing, Meditation, and Dipping for the next few hours.
DING. Passive Progression: Force Heal (Lv 4 → 5).
DING. Passive Progression: Meditation (Lv 6 → 7).
DING. Passive Progression: Acid resistance (Lv 6 → 7).
DING. Passive Progression: Pain resistance (Lv 1 → 2).
~
DING. Passive Progression: Acid resistance (Lv 8 → 9).
DING. Passive Progression: Pain resistance (Lv 3 → 4).
My skin barely held together now, the water feeling like small bugs nipping at my exposed flesh instead of being burned alive. After I finished healing I decided now was the moment.
The crystal still sat there in the pillar, smug. Oh, you want to be special, huh? You want to come and grab me, don't you? So I stared back into the pool, and this time, took a step into the water, and my skin screamed.
I stood. The skin of my legs still tingling...
I pushed forward, teeth bared. The Force wrapped around me, but this time not to soothe—almost like it was watching, curious to see if I'd actually do it.
Another step. Another scream swallowed by the cavern. Another flash of purple from the crystal ahead.
I fell to one knee in the pool. Steam and smoke poured off me like dry ice in boiling water.
DING. Passive Progression: Force Heal (Lv 5 → 6).
My skin knit together even as it burned. The pain almost plateaued entirely. Not gone. Just… manageable.
I looked up at the pillar. The crystal's glow sharpened, reflecting off the water like a beacon.
"Fine," I hissed, voice cracking. "You win. I'm coming."
I rose—slowly, like every fiber of my body was made of lead—and trudged forward, each step a war between pain and will.
I stared at my crystal, using it as a focus. Another step, and I swear it flashed brighter. One more step, and another twinkle from the crystal.
When I reached the pillar, I raised my arm—still smoking—and scratched at the crystal before gripping.
Cold. Smooth. Alive.
DING.[Kyber Crystal Acquired — PURPLE]
-"Power through rejection. Clarity through defiance."
The glow of the crystal pulsed in my hand, and I felt the force thumb like a heartbeat. And then I turned around and walked. Walked back to where I came, step by step. The water's painful hiss nearly faded away. And I climbed onto the icy stone, dripping with water, crystal, burning amethyst in my palm. Now all that was left was to get out of here and build a weapon.
I stared at the glowing crystal.
Victory.
DING. Passive Progression: Acid resistance (Lv 9 → MAX).
My legs wobbled.
…I collapsed on the floor.
"Great," I muttered. "Now water is my bitch." Then I passed out.
DING.Trait gained: Acid Punk
-Immune to corrosion. +10 intimidation in toxic environments
Class: Necromancer (Level 4 / 100)
HP: 75 / 75
MP: 50 / 50
SP: 50 / 50
Unallocated Stat Points: 15
Stats
STR: 10
END: 10
DEX: 10
INT: 10 (+50)
WIS: 10
CHA: 10
LCK: 10
Active Skills
Raise Undead (Lv 1/10)
Force Sight (Lv 6/10)
Force Telekinesis (Lv 7/10)
Force Imbue (Lv 5/10)
Force Heal (Lv 6/10)
Enhanced Movement (Lv 3/10)
Precognition (Lv 4/10)
Passive Skills Force‑Based
Force Sensitive (Lv 5/10)
Force Meditation (Lv 7/10)
Force Veil (Lv 3/10)
Mechu‑deru (Lv 1/10)
Magic / Necromantic
Anatomy (Lv 2/10)
Alchemy (Lv 4/10)
Herbalism (Lv 4/10)
Pain Resistance (Lv 4/10)
Physical / Combat
Sprinting (Lv 3/10)
Acrobatics (Lv 3/10)
Parkour (Lv 3/10)
Brawling (Lv 3/10)
Melee Weapons (Lv 1/10) → Knives (Lv 2/10)
Lightsaber (Lv 3/10)
Stun Resistance (Lv 1/10)
Sneaking (Lv 3/10)
Weapons / Engineering
Marksmanship (Lv 2/10)
Ranged Weapons (Lv 2/10) → Small Arms (Lv 3/10)
Mechanics (Lv 8/10)
Computers (Lv 4/10)
Advanced Weaponsmith (Lv 7/10)
Driving (Lv 2/10)
Piloting (Lv 3/10)
Survival / Tactical
Chemistry (Lv 2/10)
Traps (Lv 2/10)
Utility / Social / Misc.
Merchant (Lv 9/10)
Masseuse (Lv 8/10)
Muscle Memory (Lv 1/10)
Knot‑Tying (Lv 3/10)
Dancing (Lv 4/10)
Woodworking (Lv 3/10)
Singing (Lv 2/10)
Painting (Lv 1/10)
Traits
Mana Gifted
One with THE FORCE
2nd Mind
Robotic Stamina
Dimensional Traveler
THE CHEF
Acid Punk