3 days later
The information regarding Thrace's fabrication of the war against the Imperium and his coup in the Senate chambers was released to the public on every major news network simultaneously.
The evidence was damning: communications logs showing Thrace's coordination with military contractors who stood to profit from prolonged conflict, recordings of meetings where he explicitly stated his intention to fabricate incidents that would justify war, and most damaging of all, footage from inside the Senate chamber showing armed guards threatening senators at his command.
Riots erupted across Coruscant within hours. Citizens who had lost family members to the war, who had suffered under rationing and conscription, poured into the streets demanding justice. Thrace's residence was surrounded by protesters, forcing him to remain barricaded in his office with what remained of his loyal security forces.
In the Chancellor's office, Thrace watched the chaos unfold through his office windows. The city below was burning, not from Imperial bombardment, but from the rage of his own people. He'd always believed that if he could just hold out long enough, victory would vindicate his decisions. But now he understood that victory had never been possible.
While he was lost in thought, his communications officer burst through the door. "Sir, Imperial fleet detected at the edge of the system. Estimate 2.4 million ships. They'll be in firing range within two hours."
"Sound the alarm," Thrace ordered. "Activate all planetary defenses. Deploy the Home Fleet."
"Sir, half the Home Fleet has... they've refused deployment orders. Their commanders are saying they won't fight to protect your regime."
Thrace felt something inside him break. Even his own military was abandoning him. He walked to his desk and pulled out a blaster pistol, checking its charge. If this was truly the end, he wouldn't be taken alive.
"Leave me," he told the officer.
"Sir?"
"I said leave! All of you, get out!" The officer hesitated, then saluted and departed, leaving Thrace alone in his office.
Above Coruscant, the Imperial Armada emerged from hyperspace in a formation so vast it covered the stars. At its center was the Luminary, Daimon's flagship, which dwarfed even the largest Republic battleships.
The remaining Republic Home Fleet, numbering approximately 1 million ships, moved to intercept. But their formation was disorganized after so many of them had refused to defend the planet. Many captains were questioning whether they should even be fighting this battle.
Daimon stood on the Luminary's bridge, observing the Republic fleet's positioning. He could sense the doubt and fear radiating from tens of thousands of Republic officers and crew. They knew this was a losing battle, knew their Chancellor had betrayed them, yet duty compelled them forward.
"Open a channel to the Republic fleet," Daimon commanded.
Cortana activated the transmission, broadcasting Daimon's voice across every Republic ship in the system.
"Republic forces, this is Emperor Daimon. You are not my enemies. Your sailors and soldiers have fought bravely in a war that should never have happened. Chancellor Thrace manufactured this conflict to consolidate his political power. The evidence has been made public. You have seen the truth. I ask you now: will you die defending a lie, or will you stand down and help build a better future?"
Silence followed his words. On the bridges of Republic ships throughout the fleet, officers looked at one another, uncertain. Some had families on Coruscant below. Others had served the Republic for decades and couldn't imagine surrendering. But all of them had seen the broadcasts, had watched the footage of Thrace's betrayal.
Admiral Karath, commanding the Republic Home Fleet from the dreadnought Valor's End, stared at the tactical display showing the overwhelming Imperial forces. He was seventy-three years old, had commanded fleets in a dozen campaigns, and had never retreated from a fight. But this wasn't a fight, it was suicide.
"Admiral," his executive officer said quietly, "the crew is looking to you for orders. What do we do?"
Karath thought of his granddaughter, eight years old, living in the lower levels of Coruscant. He thought of the thousands of young sailors under his command who deserved to live their lives. He thought of what the Republic was supposed to stand for versus what it had become under Thrace's leadership. That's when he made his decision.
"Open a channel to the Imperial flagship," he said finally.
"Sir?"
"Do it."
Moments later, Daimon's image appeared on the holographic display. The Emperor looked exactly as the intelligence reports had described: massive, imposing, yet his expression showed no malice, only patience.
"Admiral Karath," Daimon said, "I'm glad you chose to speak with me."
"I'm not surrendering out of cowardice, Emperor," Karath stated firmly. "I'm doing it because I've seen what Thrace has done. Because I won't sacrifice my people for a man who doesn't deserve their loyalty."
"That's all I ask," Daimon replied. "Order your fleet to stand down. Move to designated coordinates that my officers will transmit. You and your sailors will be treated with respect."
Karath took a deep breath. "Fleet-wide transmission. All ships, this is Admiral Karath. Cease all offensive operations. Power down weapons and move to coordinates being transmitted by Imperial command. We are standing down."
Throughout the Republic Home Fleet, ships began powering down their weapons systems. Some captains protested, refusing the order, but they were the minority. Within thirty minutes, over 800,000 Republic vessels had withdrawn from their defensive positions.
The remaining ships, those whose commanders refused to surrender, numbered approximately 200,000. They maintained their formation, weapons charged, prepared to fight to the end.
"Stubborn fools," Lord Maxim muttered.
"No," Daimon corrected. "Loyal soldiers who believe they're doing their duty. I respect that, even if it's misguided." He turned to his tactical officer. "Disable their ships. Target engines and weapon systems only. I want minimal casualties."
The Imperial fleet opened fire, targeting only their propulsion systems and gun emplacements. Within minutes, dozens of Republic ships found themselves dead in space, their crews alive but helpless.
Some Republic captains, seeing the futility, powered down their weapons and joined the surrender. Others continued fighting until their ships were completely disabled. Not a single vessel was destroyed outright unless its reactor suffered critical failure from battle damage.
Within two hours, the Battle of Coruscant was effectively over. The Imperial fleet achieved total space superiority without the massive casualties that typically accompanied such engagements. Daimon had proven his point: this wasn't about conquest through annihilation, but about removing a corrupt leadership.
"Begin orbital deployment," Daimon ordered. "Primary objective is the Senate building and Chancellor's office. Secondary objectives are military command centers. Civilian areas are off-limits unless fired upon."
Thousands of dropships descended through Coruscant's atmosphere, carrying Imperial forces toward their designated targets. The planet's surface-to-space weapons remained silent; their crews either refused to fire or already abandoned their posts.
On the ground, Republic military installations received the same offer that had been given to the fleet: surrender and be treated fairly or resist and be destroyed. Most chose the former. The few that chose to fight found themselves overwhelmed within hours.
Daimon himself descended to Coruscant in a personal transport, accompanied by a full company of Empyrean Guards and a dozen Balance Keepers. His destination was the Senate building where Thrace had barricaded himself.
The transport landed on the Senate's main platform, and Daimon emerged to find the area surrounded by both Imperial forces and Republic soldiers who had switched sides. The sight of Republic troops standing alongside Imperial forces would have been unthinkable weeks ago, yet here it was happening as if they weren't even at war.
A Republic colonel approached and saluted. "Emperor Daimon, Colonel Vex of the Coruscant Home Guard. My men have secured the perimeter. Chancellor Thrace is inside with approximately fifty loyalists. They've fortified the main entrance and are threatening to execute any senators still inside."
"There are no senators inside," Daimon replied. "They were extracted three days ago. Thrace is bluffing." The colonel's eyes widened. "Then he's got nothing to bargain with."
"Precisely." Daimon motioned for Lord Maxim to come forward.
"Have some men breach through the windows and secure the upper floors. I'll enter through the main entrance." Lord Maxim started shouting orders to the Empyrean Guards.
Daimon turned to the Balance keepers waving them forward. "You will accompany me. Everyone else, secure the building's exits. No one gets out."
With the orders given, the Imperial forces moved into position while Daimon approached the main entrance. The doors were sealed shut, reinforced with emergency blast shields. He could sense the people inside which numbered 53 individuals, all radiating fear and desperation. Thrace was among them; his presence filled with hatred and self-loathing.
Daimon placed his hand on the blast doors and started pushing them open. The doors didn't immediately explode or shatter. They moved, until the blast shield was destroyed from the pressure, and the doors fell from their hinges.
"Ooops," said Daimon turning to the Republic soldiers behind him. "You can add that to the bill." He jokingly said.
Inside, Thrace's loyalists opened fire immediately. Blaster bolts flew toward Daimon, but they never reached him. Each shot sopped mid-air, frozen by the Force, until dozens of bolts hung suspended in the air.
Then Daimon raised his hand and sent them flying back. But most of the guards in the corridor managed to take cover and didn't get hit by their own shots.
The Balance Keepers rushed forward in front of Daimon and towards, the guards prompting them to open fire again. But all of their shots were deflected by the Balance Keepers who managed to secure the corridor in just a minute.
From there, they fought their way all the way to the door of the Chancellor's office where a group of 8 Jedi Knights and 2 Masters stood before them.
"I'm guessing you guys aren't going to get out of our way?" Daimon asked.
One of the Masters stepped forward and raised his lightsaber. "We are tasked to defend the Republic and the Chancellor, and we will keep doing so. Those fabrications that you managed to release were just more Imperial lies which managed to manipulate billions. You truly are a monster that needs to be put down."
Daimon shook his head. The fact that hatred could motivate somebody to ignore the obvious truth was such a powerful force that he hoped nobody would use again in the future.
"Well, I won't be your opponent." He said, gesturing to the Balance Keepers. "These Guardians are more than enough for you."
The Jedi Masters exchanged glances, seemingly insulted that Daimon wouldn't face them personally. The lead Master, a human with gray hair, ignited his green blade.
"You underestimate us, Emperor. We are Masters of the Force, trained in combat for decades. Your so-called Guardians are nothing but…."
He didn't get a chance to finish. Three Balance Keepers moved as one towards the Jedi, forcing them into the defensive immediately. The corridor erupted with the sounds of clashing lightsaber blades and the occasional force attack.
The second Master, a Twi'lek woman, attempted to push back with a Force wave, but one of the Balance Keepers absorbed the attack and redirected it, sending her stumbling backward into two of the Knights behind her.
"Impossible," she gasped. "Your technique... it's similar to ours but refined. How?"
The Balance Keeper didn't answer, he simply pressed the attack. Within moments, it became clear that these weren't ordinary Force users. Each Balance Keeper was a product of Daimon's teachings, just on a lower level, yet it was still more refined than that of the Jedi Order.
One of the Jedi Knights attempted to use Force lightning, a dark side technique that marked him as one of the Absolutist faction's more radical members. The attack was caught mid-stream by a Balance Keeper who absorbed the energy into her palm, then released it in a controlled burst that disabled the Knight's lightsaber.
The lead Master grunted at the scene, "Heretics!" he yelled.
"Your ignorance is showing Jedi," one of the Balance Keepers finally spoke. "You Jedi limit yourselves with dogma, just as the Sith destroy themselves with passion. We are what you could never even hope to be."
The battle lasted less than five minutes. All ten Jedi were disarmed and subdued, none killed but all thoroughly defeated. They lay on the ground, some unconscious, others staring up in disbelief at opponents who had bested them so overwhelmingly.
Daimon stepped over them without a second glance and approached the Chancellor's door. He could sense Thrace, inside alone.
"Chancellor Thrace," Daimon called through the door. "It's over. Your guards are gone, your Jedi defeated, your fleet surrendered. Open the door and face justice with whatever dignity you have left."
However, he didn't hear a reply. Then suddenly a blaster shot rang out from the inside.
Daimon immediately tore the door from its frame with the Force. Inside, Thrace stood there stunned at the fact that he was still alive.
That's when Daimon burst out laughing seeing the expression on his face. "Ha ha ha, you thought you could take the easy way out? No no no, I already expected somebody like you to want to kill themselves after all they did. So, I had your blaster rounds replaced with blanks after our little meeting."
"Noooooooo!" Screamed Thrace as his plans kept getting interrupted time and time again by Daimon. And just to add icing onto the cake, Empyrean Guards burst through the window behind him, one of them landing directly behind Thrace and planting his face into his desk.
Daimon gave them a thumbs up, "Good job guys, right on time." Thrace wanted to say something, but the words wouldn't come out. He was carried away in silence, while Daimon walked over to his desk and sat in his chair.
"If I wanted to I could do it." he said to himself. But he shook his head, just thinking about all of the problems it would cause.
"Have all the Senators that we saved assemble within the Senate Chambers. Let's finally put an end to this war." He ordered. Lord Maxim sent the order out while Daimon remained in the Chancellor's seat, going over his plans for the Republic and Jedi Order now that the war was basically over.