[A massive apology for the delay in chapter release, had a few things happen and my extremely dated computer finally crashed, finally managed to recover my story and chapters completed. Let's get back into it and I've added on another 2 chapters for today's release. I hope you enjoy.]
The Forge had fallen quiet.
It was late—by conventional timekeeping—but Victor Aiden didn't sleep. Not truly. He stood alone on a balcony overlooking the central Aegis complex, distant lights from labs and bio-domes blinking like artificial stars across the landscape.
The wind was gentle. Warm. Clean.
He could feel it: the world shifting. Not in earthquakes or revolutions—but in subtle realignments. People were speaking his name with reverence and fear. Cities were adapting to his tech. Villages were building on his vision.
He had changed the world.
So why did he feel so… hollow?
Victor turned away from the view and stepped into the chamber beyond, locking the balcony doors behind him.
He activated a console.
Accessing: Archive Segment – Cultural Media Repository – Category: Film & TelevisionSubset: "Star Wars" Franchise
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The footage flickered to life.
He watched himself—not as Victor, but as a myth. As a character. A villain. A symbol.
There was Darth Vader boarding the Tantive IV, lightsaber blazing red. There was the confrontation with Obi-Wan. The battle on Hoth. The duel on Bespin.
"I am your father."
He winced. The line carried more weight now than it ever had before.
Then came the scenes of Anakin—the man he had once been.
Smiling beside Padmé. Arguing with Obi-Wan. Falling. Burning. Screaming.
The moment on Mustafar played out again.
"You were the Chosen One!"
Victor closed his eyes—and this time, he let the memories rise. Real ones. Not the edited fiction of this world's interpretation.
He remembered the Temple. The screams of the younglings. The scent of smoke and betrayal. Padmé's eyes as she realized what he'd become.
He remembered her funeral.
He remembered Luke's voice from the Death Star's hangar bay:
"I know there is still good in you. I've felt it."
He sat down slowly, still watching. The mask. The man. The myth.
Who was he now?
Not the monster. Not the Jedi. Not even the father.
Something else.
Something broken—but still building.
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He entered his meditation chamber and kneeled in silence.
No questions. No commands.
Only breath.
The Force responded—not with visions or warnings—but with stillness. With presence.
He didn't seek more power. He wasn't trying to ascend.
He was simply listening.
And for the first time since awakening in this world, he felt it fully—not the burden of power, but the alignment of purpose.
He was not here to dominate.
He was here to uplift.
He was here to prepare.
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Later, as dawn approached, Victor stood once more before the Forge's central terminal.
Images floated before him—hydroline installations, BloomPod growth metrics, civilian energy grid expansion forecasts.
He activated a long-range model of the orbital lattice structure under design.
Not for weapons. Not for walls.
For opportunity.
He would guide humanity upward. Not through conquest, but through clarity.
He would give them the tools.
And when the darkness returned—because it always returned—he would be ready.
"This time," he whispered, "I will not fail them."