The will to survive overwhelmed the agonizing pain of near-death.
His consciousness, like an anchor sunk deep in the ocean, slowly but resolutely ascended. Thoughts gradually coalesced from the chaos, dragging up a string of viscous fragments of memory.
Before Solo could grasp the final thread of his past, he was completely submerged by a kaleidoscope of visions.
Stars, planets, constellations... flashed across his field of vision, surrounded by a hazy substance that felt like mist yet looked like smoke. All this unfolded in absolute silence.
He knew with certainty that he was in some impossibly distant place.
Solo flexed his fingers, feeling the rough texture of sand grinding between them.
Warm sunlight beat down on his head, radiating scorching heat.
He tried to open his eyes, but found his eyelashes encrusted with sand, stinging his eyeballs painfully.
"Hiss..."
He pushed himself up to a sitting position, took a deep breath, and was immediately stabbed by a sharp pain in his chest, forcing a muffled groan.
The next moment, a cacophony of noise flooded his ears like a tidal wave.
Shouts, blaster fire, the clang of metal, and explosions mingled into an ear-splitting din that made his scalp tingle.
The blaster fire sounded particularly familiar, as if he'd heard it somewhere before, though he couldn't quite place the source.
Solo's eyes snapped open!
*Fuck!*
He wanted to curse, but the words caught in his throat as a sudden, searing pain erupted in his head.
What met his eyes was an utterly absurd scene.
He instantly realized he was in deep trouble, just like the plots in those "transmigration" novels.
After all, having experienced that fantastical journey through stars, constellations, and nebulae, the reality before him felt overwhelmingly real.
Geonosis!
The Petranaki Arena!
Jedi Knights!
Robots!
This was... the Star Wars universe!
The memories gradually sharpened. His current name was Solo Victor, accompanied by fragmented images of life in the Jedi Temple.
Jedi Knight, twenty-three years old, human, member of the Balance Order, mentored by an elderly Zabrak named Nong Alto.
The original owner of this body was unremarkable, proficient only in Form I lightsaber combat, Shi-Cho. He had no ambition for battle, preferring meditation.
This was why, after becoming a Jedi Knight, he chose to remain in the Balance Order.
He had no interest in serving as a diplomat in the remote corners of the galaxy or constantly traveling.
Of course, like all Jedi, he was penniless—a typical, ordinary Jedi.
His Midi-chlorian count was 2,839. He had accompanied his mentor on diplomatic missions across the galaxy but had never participated in any major conflicts. Four years ago, he was promoted to Jedi Knight.
***
In his previous life, Solo had been a history student with a passion for reading. The Star Wars Universe offered endless material for historical analysis and strategic evaluation.
But... his past life no longer mattered.
*This fucking hurts!*
Focusing his mind, Solo drew upon the memories of the body's original owner to sever the pain, creating a mental distance from the agony.
The pain subsided slightly, though healing the wound was out of the question.
Fortunately, the original owner's meditation techniques proved useful. Solo could move with some difficulty, avoiding movements that would trigger unbearable pain.
He groped at his chest, finding a blaster-inflicted hole. His Jedi robes were completely soaked in blood.
*Damn it! Why am I lying here like a corpse? There's a war going on! No one's waiting for me to daydream! I need to do something, or some scrap-heap droid will come finish me off. I don't want to die twice.*
Solo cursed inwardly, forcing himself to remain calm.
Meanwhile, the situation in the arena was rapidly deteriorating.
The droids had driven the Jedi from the stands, and the battle had fully shifted to the arena's center.
Jango Fett had just attacked Master Windu with his flamethrower, forcing the Jedi Master to leap off the stands.
Hundreds, even thousands, of B1 and B2-series battle droids were being destroyed, but these ironclad machines showed no fear. Fresh waves of combat units continued to pour into the arena.
Moreover, their movement speed far exceeded what was depicted in the films. The Jedi's individual martial skills proved utterly inadequate against the robots' coordinated assault.
Regardless of what anyone said about the B1's inferior processors, these droids were clearly equipped with something far more advanced than a "Pentium 4."
As for the B2-series super battle droids, their performance was even more impressive.
They deliberately avoided close-quarters combat with the Jedi, relying instead on their wrist-mounted dual blaster cannons for long-range fire—a tactic that made their shots nearly impossible to deflect with lightsabers.
The Jedi were being completely overwhelmed by sheer numbers.
Everywhere, Jedi Knights could be seen blocking ten blaster bolts only to fall when they failed to parry the eleventh.
And then there were those loathsome Geonosians—those insectoid creatures buzzing through the air, their sonic cannons adding to the carnage.
These weapons, though limited in range, proved remarkably disruptive to the Jedi.
Now, Solo finally understood why Yoda's expression had been so twisted at the end of *Revenge of the Sith*.
He could clearly sense the deaths of other Jedi, a sensation like goosebumps rising on his skin or a faint, indescribable itch.
The Force itself felt both like an integral part of his being and like the air surrounding him, a miraculous connection that defied description.
*Damn it, damn it!*
No time for such thoughts now. He had to survive first.
With only about a hundred Jedi remaining, he needed to hold out a little longer. Reinforcements would arrive soon.
As for saving others, that was out of the question.
He wasn't a hero. In this situation, even self-preservation was a struggle. What could he possibly do?
Almost nothing.
Even masters like Mace Windu and Ki-Adi-Mundi were retreating. If he charged forward, he'd be crushed underfoot by the robots without even making a splash.
Such was the brutal reality. Survival was the only option left.
His new body was becoming increasingly responsive to his control, and the dire circumstances forced him to act decisively.
Solo scanned his surroundings and noticed a deactivated lightsaber lying on the ground nearby.
There was nothing particularly special about it: powered by a dual-Kyber crystal drive, with a blue blade. He also found an E-5 blaster carbine belonging to a B1-series battle droid.
Without hesitation, he grabbed the carbine before picking up the lightsaber and clipping it back to his waist.
With his injuries, he couldn't perform any lightsaber acrobatics, not that he was a Jedi Master anyway.
Nearby, Plo Koon was a true powerhouse, cutting down eleven B1-series battle droids in just two seconds. Solo couldn't even see how his lightsaber moved.
Shaak Ti was also driving the droids back in waves.
Weighing the E-5 blaster carbine in his hand, Solo found it surprisingly light, probably around two kilograms.
Leaning against the "corpse" of a B2-series super battle droid, he aimed the barrel at the approaching droids.
The trigger design was a bit awkward, but this weapon was meant to accommodate the three-fingered pincers of B1-series battle droids, human hands, and Wookiee claws. As long as he could pull it, that was all that mattered.
"Force, give me some help!"
*Pew! Pew! Pew!*
The shots hit their targets!
Solo felt a surge of satisfaction.
The carbine had absolutely no recoil!
In truth, Solo had only fired a real gun a few times in his life, during university military training.
His most frequent experience with firearms came from playing *Delta Force* and *PlayerUnknown's Battlegrounds*.
*Pew!*
*Pew-pew-pew!*
*Pew—click!*
*What's going on?*
Solo noticed the indicator light on the blaster's body and instantly realized:
*The ammunition and gas canister are empty.*
But that wasn't a problem. Weapons were the one thing this place had no shortage of, so there was no need to bother reloading.
He tossed the empty blaster aside, took a few steps to the left, and picked up another fresh carbine.
"Alright, let's continue?"
*Pew-pew!*
After a few rounds, Solo had gained some experience. The carbine wasn't particularly effective against the robots. A single well-aimed shot could take down a B1-series battle droid, but it took five or six shots to destroy a B2-series super battle droid.
No wonder the clone troopers carried DS-15a blasters—a hybrid of the Type 38 rifle and a light machine gun.
That kind of firepower was more than sufficient against the robots.
A sudden, deafening crash behind Solo made him turn around. A massive object had collapsed behind him.
He turned to look and saw Skywalker for the first time in person.
The young man was nimbly wielding his lightsaber, constantly deflecting blaster bolts, while Amidala hid behind the wreckage of a Geonosian Beastmaster's anti-gravity hovercraft, confidently returning fire at the robots with an E-5 blaster carbine identical to Solo's.