Not everyone seeks good. Not everyone desires happiness or peace. Among the vast humanity, there are those who, almost like extinct beings, live only to unleash chaos. They are those who, with blackened hearts, crave death, war and destruction, not out of necessity, but for pure personal satisfaction.

In front of a god, a woman was on her knees. Her eyes shone with pure, savage hatred, an unfathomable fury towards the world that had shaped her. Her bloodlust was insatiable, an impulse that only dictated to destroy, to kill without remorse. That god watched her with interest. Bored of his eternal existence, he had killed her in her past life, not for a just or profound reason, but for mere entertainment. But now, on a whim, he had decided to transfer her to another universe. He was not looking for anything serious, he just wanted to have a little more fun.

That god was the embodiment of death and destruction, a being who enjoyed watching the suffering of others. He loved war in all its forms; he not only admired it, he embraced it with fervor. And in that woman, he had found the perfect candidate to carry out his desires.

"You are perfect," he told her with a wicked smile. "Perfect to receive my power."

His voice was a whisper full of evil, promising chaos and devastation. The woman, still kneeling, felt her body tremble, not from fear, but from eagerness for what was to come.

The woman remained on her knees, her posture reflecting reverence and absolute submission. Her hands were together, as if praying, while she bowed her head in devotion. With a trembling voice, filled with a mixture of respect and anxiety, she answered:

"Yes, my god. What must I do to receive your power? What is my mission? I will do whatever you wish."

The god let out a terrifying laugh that echoed in the void, a dark echo that seemed to envelop all of the space around him.

"Ha, ha, ha!" his laughter stopped abruptly. "You do not need a mission, my daughter," he said in a deep, mocking voice. "I just want you to have fun… destroying the lives of others."

The woman's eyes shone with an intense glow. She swallowed, nervous but intoxicated by emotion. She wanted to cry with happiness, but she couldn't; she was excited, ecstatic at the promise of chaos before her.

"Yes… I will oblige you in any way you wish," she whispered, almost panting.

The god closed his eyes and calmly raised his right hand, slowly bringing it closer to her. As the tip of his index finger gently touched the woman's forehead, a torrent of dark energy began to flow. She felt the power begin to flood through her being, burning and transforming every fiber of her body. At the same time, blurry but vivid images appeared in her mind.

"Yes..." the god murmured. "A system, a crumbling faction... and millions of troops under your command. Everything you could ever desire... you will rule the galaxy." With each word, the power he granted her grew denser, more tangible.

The visions became clearer: interstellar battles, worlds destroyed at his command, and the darkness expanding endlessly. The power intoxicated her, and as the energy flowed from the god, she knew that soon nothing would be out of her reach.

The power was lethal, dark, and overflowing. The woman's eyes turned completely white, as if her soul had been ripped from her body. Her once normal skin turned pale and cadaverous, while her veins swelled and reddened, twisting beneath her flesh, to the point of seeming as if they would burst. Inside her, her bones began to break, to compress under the pressure of that devastating energy. Her entire being was being destroyed and reformed, but she could do nothing but endure the pain in suffocated silence, feeling how a life was extinguished within her, only to give way to another, more powerful one.

The seconds stretched out like centuries. Each moment seemed like an eternity of suffering. Meanwhile, the god rejoiced, watching with delight the torment of his creation. His laughter echoed throughout the void, a cruel cackle that seemed to feed the woman's suffering. Suddenly, a brilliant light enveloped her, a blinding glow that began to take the form of a red sphere around her, pulsating with uncontrollable power.

"Ha, ha, ha!" the god laughed even louder. "My creation is ready. You are ready, my daughter."

His words hung in the air, as the sphere surrounding the woman began to slowly fade away, dissipating like fog on a cold winter morning. When the light finally died out, what stood before him was not the same woman.

Her appearance had radically changed. Her hair, once ordinary, was now a deep red, as if dyed with fresh blood. Her eyes, completely black and bloodshot, removed any trace of humanity. Her skin, as pale as freshly fallen snow, accentuated her transformation. Her height had grown, making her look imposing, and her once normal body had been enhanced in every way: her hips had widened, and her muscles were now defined and strong, a body sculpted to support and channel the immense power she had received.

"My daughter," the god said, his voice deep and filled with satisfaction, "you are ready. Go and make your dream come true."

With an evil smile on his face, the god looked at her one last time before everything plunged into darkness.

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Year 21 BBY

Location: Outer Rim, Planet Terminus

The Clone Wars had been going on for a year now. A year of suffering, where hundreds of thousands had perished and numerous Jedi had fallen, trying in vain to keep the peace. The galaxy was plunged into a terrible darkness, a relentless chaos of injustice, war, and death.

The Jedi, once known as the guardians of peace, could barely sustain that ideal. They were no longer seen as knights of peace, but as pawns of war, pieces manipulated by the Republic and the Senate, who sent them to the front lines to lead the clone army of the Grand Galactic Republic. However, some Jedi, still faithful to the old Jedi Code, almost completely disassociated themselves from the Republic. They now roamed the galaxy, helping where they could, resolving conflicts that the Republic itself could no longer reach or chose to ignore.

One of those places was Terminus. Located in the Kallea Sector in the Outer Rim, Terminus was a planet known for its constant wars and chaotic criminality. It was a perfect haven for smugglers, mercenaries, and all manner of criminals seeking to hide from the law and, above all, from the Republic. But something had changed in the last few weeks.

A distress signal had been sent out from Terminus, addressed to any faction capable of hearing and responding. The message was clear and desperate:

"Send an army. Unknown race... They are killing us."

The request did not specify any further details, but its urgent tone indicated that the situation was much more serious than words could convey. Something terrifying was happening on Terminus, something powerful enough to make even the criminals of that world desperately seek help.

Jedi Master Dervill-Vrak, a human in his thirties, was one of the few Jedi who had stayed out of the war. He did not fight on the battlefronts, and his duties focused on peace and the protection of those forgotten by the Republic. It was he who received the distress message from Terminus. But as his ship raced toward the Kallea system, a disturbance in the Force enveloped him. He closed his eyes, and visions formed in his mind: war, death, and the utter destruction of the galaxy. A dark shadow seemed to consume everything in its path.

Aware of the magnitude of what he might be facing, Dervill-Vrak decided not to face this alone. As the cold emptiness of space surrounded him, sitting in the cockpit of his ship, he made contact with one of his old training partners at the Jedi Temple.

The hologram projected into his cockpit, showing the figure of another Jedi. It was a man of similar age, with short hair and a large beard, wearing traditional Jedi clothing, albeit with a few pieces of combat armor over it. The image was unmistakable: Obi-Wan Kenobi.

"I'm glad to have your help, old friend," Dervill-Vrak said, leaning slightly toward the hologram, "though I can't say I'm thrilled with the idea of ​​you bringing in the Republic military."

Obi-Wan nodded, his expression showing weariness and concern. The war had left its mark on him, both physically and emotionally.

"It's orders from the Council, old friend," Obi-Wan replied in a serious voice. "The war has worsened, we've suffered many losses, and we cannot ignore a distress signal in the Outer Rim."

Dervill-Vrak sighed, understanding the reality of the situation, although he still regretted it. In a calm and collected voice, he replied:

"It's a pity, Obi-Wan, but if the Force requires it, then so be it."

Obi-Wan lowered his head for a moment, exhaling a sigh of resignation.

"Yes," he finally said, his tone heavy, knowing that the conflict would only continue to worsen.

"What is it, Obi-Wan? You look exhausted," Dervill-Vrak said, with a mix of concern and curiosity.

"I just haven't slept well," Obi-Wan replied, with a slight wry smile. "You know, planetary invasions and seeing so many people die..."

Vrak shook his head, understanding the weight his friend carried. Then he changed the subject, seeking to ease the tension.

"And your Padawan? I've heard rumors around the galaxy. They say he's made quite a name for himself as a commander, that on the battlefield he's a legend."

"Anakin?" Obi-Wan repeated, smiling. "He's not my Padawan anymore."

Vrak was a little surprised to hear this. It was rare for an apprentice to reach the rank of Jedi Knight at such a young age.

"In fact, he has a Padawan of his own now," Obi-Wan continued. "At first, they didn't get along, but over time, Anakin has proven to be a good teacher." He paused, the smile on his face slowly fading. "But still, I fear for him. The battlefield is his territory, he leads his troops into every fight, he doesn't abandon them. Every clone wants to be in the 501st because of him… He's a legend among them. But this isn't what a Jedi should be. We're not soldiers, we're peacekeepers. Our last resort is weapons." I fear Anakin is forgetting that... And leading his Padawan down the same path."

Dervill-Vrak nodded silently, sharing his friend's concern. He, too, understood the danger that war posed to the Jedi. They were not warriors, but the galaxy had turned them into something they should never have been. The Order, once whole and dedicated to peace, was fracturing, swept up in politics and war. Many young Padawans only knew battle, and that worried him deeply.

It had been that very reason that had led him to distance himself from the Republic. He only returned to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant when strictly necessary, which was very infrequently. The last time he had been there, Anakin had only been 14 years old.

Vrak shook his head, trying to push those thoughts away.

"I understand you, Obi-Wan," he said finally. "It is something only the Force can decide."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes for a moment. moment and let out a deep sigh, full of resignation.

"I suppose the Force will do its thing, and we will do ours to get where we need to be," he said, with a slight, melancholic smile. "I must go. See you at Terminus."

Obi-Wan's image slowly faded from the hologram, and Dervill-Vrak was silent for a moment, knowing that the shadow of war not only loomed over the galaxy, but also over the hearts of his fellow Jedi.

Dervill-Vrak gently landed his small ship outside the capital of Terminus. The silence around him was eerie, as if the planet itself was holding its breath at the threat that loomed. As he stepped out of his ship, he looked up at the sky, where he could make out the imposing silhouettes of two Venator-class destroyers orbiting in the upper atmosphere.

The presence of those ships confirmed what he suspected: his old friend, Obi-Wan, had already arrived with the Republic military. Soon they would descend to the surface to rendezvous and begin the exploration of where the distress signal had come from. But something in the air didn't feel right, as if an invisible shadow was lurking among the ruins and echoes of war that marked this world.

The wind was cold, and a light mist covered the horizon, giving the landscape a gray and desolate tone. Dervill-Vrak felt a disturbance in the Force, a latent evil that he couldn't yet identify, but that he was sure awaited him up ahead.

As he descended, Dervill-Vrak had noticed plumes of smoke rising from the heart of the city. Something wasn't right. The spaceport, normally bustling with ships and travelers, was completely deserted. Only ships remained parked, but not a single living being in sight. The silence in the area was disturbing, as if life itself had left the place.

The Jedi waited a few minutes, attentive to his surroundings, until he made out in the distance a LAAT transport ship, known for its use in Republic military operations, rapidly descending towards his location. A feeling of unease washed over him. It wasn't that he despised the Republic military or the clones. He had fought alongside them before. But the mere presence of a military contingent almost always meant trouble, and this mission, at its core, should have been unique to the Jedi, an operation in which the Force, not blasters, led the way.

As the ship drew closer, his thoughts wandered to the responsibility that now fell upon the Jedi in this war. The war had diverted them from their true purpose, and although he trusted Obi-Wan, he couldn't help but feel that the involvement of the troops would further complicate the situation on Terminus.

Two minutes later, the LAAT landed softly in front of their ship, kicking up a cloud of dust around it. The hatches opened with a mechanical sound, and from within descended Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, followed by Commander Cody and five more clones from the 212th Attack Battalion. Their white armor, marked with the distinctive orange hues, gleamed in the dim light of the planet.

Obi-Wan, with a tired but sincere smile, approached Dervill-Vrak.

"It's been a while, old friend," he said, clasping his hands under the wide sleeves of his Jedi robe.

"I see the years don't seem to affect you," Vrak replied with a smile. "On the other hand, I think my hair is already starting to turn white." He let out a laugh, trying to ease the tension of the moment.

Obi-Wan gave a light laugh, but his face quickly turned serious. Worry was reflected in his eyes.

"Ever since my destroyer entered orbit, I sensed something was not right," he said, observing the surroundings carefully. "And from what I see, I'm right. Something is very wrong here."

"I know, that's why I was waiting for you," Vrak replied, his gaze also scanning the silent and desolate landscape.

"So what are we waiting for? We're going to find out what caused the distress call," Obi-Wan replied, with the determination that always characterized him.

Without another word, both Jedi began walking towards the city. As they walked, the atmosphere became more oppressive, as if darkness itself loomed over them. Behind them, the clones of the 212th battalion followed in formation, although there was palpable confusion in their movements. They did not fully understand the situation, but the presence of the Jedi was enough to keep them on their toes.

"Aren't Jedi supposed to answer to the Senate?" muttered one of the clones who was further back in the formation, his voice barely audible behind his helmet.

"The general only gave the order to leave and left General Skywalker in charge of the invasion," he continued, with some confusion.

His companion, marching beside him, let out a sigh of resignation.

"They're Jedi, didn't you know that?" he replied, in a more relaxed tone. "Not all Jedi Knights are loyal to the Republic or democracy. Many roam the galaxy seeking knowledge, helping in places we can't reach. They do their thing: bringing peace and justice... those things that don't always fit with what we do."

The first clone nodded, though his gaze remained fixed on the two Jedi walking in front.

"I suppose they have a different path than us," he added thoughtfully. "We were born for war, but they... they're supposed to be the guardians of peace. It seems ironic that we're all caught up in this war now."

"Yes, ironic," his companion replied, a slight bitterness in his voice. "Though it seems even the Jedi have no escape from this one."

They both fell silent, letting the echo of their footsteps mix with the cold wind that swept through the ruins of the city, as they followed their leaders into the unknown.

The clone looked around, scanning the empty streets with his eyes. Unease was palpable in his voice as he spoke,

"Aren't there supposed to be at least one person in this seedy city?"

His companions looked at each other, sharing the same concern. He was right. In a place like Terminus, known for its crime and chaos, it was almost impossible not to run into some smuggler, criminal, or troublemaker. However, everything was unusually quiet, as if life itself had abandoned the planet.

As they moved forward, the feeling of unease grew. The deserted streets only increased the unease among the clones. The only thing breaking the silence were the squeaks of a few broken droids wandering aimlessly, but there were no signs of human life. There were no screams, no whispers, not even the sound of distant footsteps.

The most disturbing thing was what was beginning to appear before them: blaster marks etched into the walls and floor, burns everywhere, melted speeders with a strange green tint, and weapons abandoned on the ground, as if the fighting had suddenly broken out and ceased just as quickly. But the most disconcerting thing was the complete absence of corpses. Not a single victim, not a trace of blood. Only a trace of destruction.

"This looks like a ghost battlefield," one of the clones murmured, his voice low, almost as if he didn't want to disturb the eerie silence.

The atmosphere grew denser and more oppressive with each step. Something had happened here, something none of them could explain. But what was certain was that it wasn't over yet.

Commander Cody looked closely at his wristband, where a hologram projected the map of the area. The distress signal remained fixed on their screen, marking the source within the city. As they walked, their footsteps echoed through the deserted streets, creating an echo that seemed louder in the deathly silence surrounding them. For twenty more minutes, they made their way through the city, surrounded by an increasingly disturbing landscape: burned and ruined houses, abandoned weapons on the ground, blood stains scattered everywhere, but still, not a single body, not a sign of life.

The droids, wandering through the city, were just as useless. They all seemed to have their memories wiped, disoriented and devoid of any useful information. It seemed as if someone had made sure that no traces of what had really happened in that place remained. The atmosphere was heavy, laden with an unease that both Obi-Wan and Vrak could sense through the Force. A tangible darkness manifested itself in the air, making the skin of the two Jedi masters prickle.

Finally, they reached their destination: an imposing structure that may have once been a government house, but now only ruins remained of its former glory. The architecture, already worn by time, was further deteriorated by recent events. Sandbags arranged in barricades surrounded the building, and several defensive turrets lay melted, as if they had been struck down by some kind of unknown weapon. Blood covered the walls and floor, and the building's main door was shattered, hanging from its hinges, witness to a violent assault.

"The signal is coming from within, General," Cody reported, turning off the map hologram and adjusting his DC-15A blaster carbine, ready for any eventuality.

Obi-Wan nodded calmly, but with the same tension that everyone felt in the air. Both he and Vrak advanced into the structure, their hands still far from their lightsabers, though prepared for any danger that might arise. The clones, following the Jedi's lead, entered behind them, blasters raised, watching for every dark corner and shadow that moved within the building.

What they found upon crossing the threshold of the building was something that not even the horrors of war had prepared the Jedi or the clones to witness. A macabre landscape that not even the Confederacy of Independent Systems, with all their brutal tactics, could have imagined.

"Oh, by the Force..." Obi-Wan muttered, looking away for a moment at the rawness of what he saw.

"Holy crap..." Cody muttered, his voice heavy with disbelief as he slowly lowered his blaster, unable to look away from the horror unfolding before them.

The first floor of the structure was a pool of blood. Corpses piled upon one another littered the floor, bodies torn into unimaginable shapes. There were dismembered remains, some completely charred, and others so mutilated that it was impossible to recognize whether they had ever been soldiers, civilians, or even children. The massacre had left no trace of humanity. Women, men, soldiers, and children, all lay in an endless nightmare.

These were not typical blaster wounds. The shots that killed them had a different origin, crueler, more violent. Plasma bullets. The holes in the bodies and the charred remains indicated that the weapons used were not the ones common in the wars of the galaxy. This was something worse, something that spoke of a dark and devastating power.

Body parts were scattered throughout the main hall as if they had been mercilessly torn away, and the stench of death permeated every corner. Blood not only covered the floor, but also dripped from the walls and ceilings, as if the entire building had witnessed an indescribable carnage.

"What the hell happened here?" Cody asked, regaining some composure, though his voice still shook. "They're all... dead. General, we're too late."

Obi-Wan sighed, his face grave as he surveyed the chaos around him.

"I'm afraid so," he said quietly. "Search the entire building. Look for anything that will help us understand what the hell happened here."

Vrak, still shocked by the brutal scene, looked around the room filled with corpses.

"I expected anything but this," he commented, his voice filled with disbelief. "Have you seen anything like this before?" he asked Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan slowly shook his head, his eyes still scanning the remains.

"Not even in the worst moments of the war have I seen anything this brutal..." he replied, his tone serious. "The Separatists commit atrocities, yes, but compared to this... they are completely dwarfed."

As he spoke, Obi-Wan felt his heart race. There was something else here, something the Force was warning him about. Darkness permeated the place palpably, as if an evil shadow still lingered. Although he tried to remain calm, for the first time in a long time he felt a deep fear, a fear that shook him from within. It was a feeling he could not control, a silent warning that something terrible was about to happen.

Vrak, sensing the fear Obi-Wan tried to hide, placed his right hand on his old friend's shoulder.

"Calm down, Kenobi," he said in a low but firm tone, trying to convey calm.

Obi-Wan inhaled deeply and nodded, slowly managing to regain his composure. Despite the connection with the Force that they both shared, the uneasiness was still there, latent, like a persistent echo.

Both Jedi masters decided to join the clones in the search for clues or any survivors. They searched every corner of the building, cautiously advancing through the dark corridors and deserted rooms. But all they found was more bodies, more death. It seemed like the whole damn city had been slaughtered and piled into that building.

Every new room they opened was a new scene of horror, and every time they discovered another group of corpses, the feeling that something wasn't right grew stronger.

The next fifteen minutes passed in eerie silence, until Cody's voice broke through the communicator.

"General, we found a survivor on the second floor."

The two Jedi exchanged a glance before Obi-Wan quickly answered over the communicator.

"We're going there."

They quickened their pace, careful not to trip over the bodies scattered across the floor. The tension was palpable, as if the very air was thick with imminent danger.

"I'll have to report this to the Council," Obi-Wan said, his voice tense with the growing sense of urgency.

"Oh, believe me, I agree with you this time," Vrak replied, his face grim. "I don't know what the hell is going on here, but it's something we can't ignore."

The journey back was quick, but each step seemed to lengthen the uneasiness that enveloped them. Upon reaching the second floor, they entered a room where the clones and Commander Cody were standing near a man lying on a couch in desperate condition.

"Where is he?" Obi-Wan asked, his gaze darting around the room.

Cody gestured toward the couch. There lay a man, barely conscious, his left arm and leg mangled, a thread of life holding him up.

"It's bad, General," Cody said, his voice neutral but heavy with realism. "I don't think he'll survive much longer. We did what we could, but he's lost too much blood. He could die at any moment."

Obi-Wan nodded, thanking Cody, and carefully approached the dying man. The man's skin was pale, his breathing erratic and shallow. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, but his lips trembled, trying to say something.

Both Jedi approached the sole survivor, who was barely conscious. With each labored breath, the man raised his pain-filled gaze to them.

"H... h... h... h-help has come..." he stammered with difficulty. "Wh-why did it take so long?"

Vrak was the first to speak, his voice filled with regret.

"I'm so sorry," he said, bowing his head sadly. "We failed. We didn't get there in time, and this whole massacre happened under our noses. It's our fault for not being able to get there quicker."

As Vrak wallowed in his grief, Obi-Wan, barely keeping his cool, leaned toward the man.

"What happened here?" he asked in a steady voice. "Was it the Separatists? Jabba the Hutt?"

The survivor shook his head slowly, his lips trembling.

"N-no... n-no one of them... w-was it," he stammered with effort. "Sal...they came out of n-nowhere... a g-gigantic ship... A-invisible aliens... S-sky swords... Brutal... merciless... W-worse than the separatists..."

His breathing became erratic, his gaze snapped open in terror. He seemed to be reliving the horror.

"No... no... no..." he whispered, each word laden with mounting desperation.

"What?" Obi-Wan asked, alarmed. "What's going on?"

The survivor raised a shaking hand, pointing desperately behind Vrak.

"They're still here!" he shouted with sudden force, his voice cracking with fear.

But it was too late.

Before anyone could react, a bright, deadly blade emerged from nowhere. A lightsaber pierced Jedi Master Vrak's chest. It all happened in the blink of an eye, without warning, and without Obi-Wan being able to do anything.

Vrak's eyes flew open, his body frozen in shock and pain. Time seemed to stop as he fell to his knees, the life force draining from him. Obi-Wan stood still, paralyzed by the brutality of the attack, unable to process what had just happened.

The threat they had been feeling in the Force, that palpable darkness… it was already there.

End of Chapter 1