Chapter 51: The Final Stand of the Strongest
Gojo floated effortlessly in the cold vacuum of space, his eyes scanning the wreckage of the two Lucrehulk battleships he had just obliterated with Limitless Blue. The shattered remains drifted silently, a testament to the overwhelming force he wielded with casual precision. "Only two Lucrehulks down," he murmured to himself, considering his next move. "Should I activate Malevolent Shrine now and draw out the rest?"
Just as he pondered his options, the familiar chime of his quest system rang in his mind, reminiscent of the game-like notifications from Solo Leveling. The interface appeared before him, listing the quests he had set before starting this chaotic mission.
[Quest Completed: Don't let Qui-Gon die]
Reward: Hōgyoku 2/2
Penalty: Error, Error, Error...
Gojo chuckled, the system's glitching penalty message only serving to amuse him further. He had hacked the system using the Dharma Wheel of Mahoraga, bending the rules as he always did. The system's penalties couldn't quite keep up with his reality-bending antics.
[Quest Completed: Let Qui-Gon die]
Reward: Bankai: Zanka no Tachi (Yamamoto's Bankai)
Penalty: error,error,error
Gojo laughed louder this time, the absurdity of completing two contradictory quests not lost on him. "Only I could pull off something like this," he mused, recalling the precise sequence of events. Qui-Gon had fallen, struck down by Maul, only for Reika to revive him moments later using the Locacaca 6251. Two quests, both fulfilled in the most unconventional way possible.
The rewards manifested almost immediately. He felt the Hōgyoku's presence solidify within him, its limitless potential coursing through his veins. At the same time, the immense power of Zanka no Tachi surged to life, its unimaginable heat simmering just beneath the surface, waiting for his command.
"Not a bad day at all," Gojo remarked, a satisfied smirk crossing his face as he felt the new powers coalesce. He glanced at the distant formations of the Trade Federation fleet, the remaining Lucrehulks still posing a threat. With the Hōgyoku's enhancement and Yamamoto's Bankai now in his arsenal, Gojo knew he could annihilate them with ease.
Suddenly, an ethereal screen appeared before him, interrupting his thoughts. A message flashed across it, unlike any other quest notification he had received before.
[System Message: Do you want the truth about the system?]
Final Quest Available. Requirement: Deactivate your Almighty.
Yes or No?
Gojo's eyes sparkled with intrigue as he read the message. Without a moment's hesitation, he answered aloud, "Yes."
The screen glowed brightly, then displayed the new quest:
[Final Quest: The Honored One and Soul King Must Awaken]
Objective: Come back as the Honored One through death.
Reward: ?????
Penalty: Death
Gojo's grin stretched wide, a rare glimmer of true excitement flickering in his eyes. For once, something worthy of his time—worthy of his power—had appeared. His heart raced, not from fear but from the sheer thrill of it all. "Finally," he muttered, almost to himself, his voice soft but laced with anticipation. "This… this is what I've been waiting for."
He let the words hang in the silence of space, his gaze fixed on the vastness ahead. The challenge wasn't just about strength or technique—it was about his very existence. The thought of becoming not just the Honored One, but the true Soul King as well, was a tantalizing prospect. He could feel it in his bones. This wasn't just another battle. This was destiny.
His aura flared, the heat of Zanka no Tachi licking at the edges of his being, casting a faint glow around him. The power surged, almost overwhelming in its intensity. Yet, Gojo stood calm, focused, and ready. He exhaled slowly, the weight of the moment settling on his shoulders, though his usual cocky grin never faltered.
"Let's see if I'm worthy of this awakening," he murmured, his voice carrying a quiet confidence that rippled through the void. "The Honored One… the real one… is about to rise."
The flames danced around him as he braced himself for what was to come, the promise of ultimate power, of transcending even the concept of life and death, too sweet to resist.
As he deactivated his Almighty, the vast cosmos seemed to hold its breath, awaiting the rebirth of a legend.
As Gojo floated in the vast expanse of space, his aura flaring with the anticipation of his next move, he suddenly found himself surrounded by six massive Lucrehulk battleships. The Neimoidian commanders aboard each vessel stared at the displays, their eyes wide with a mix of fear and confusion. They knew the destruction that one man had already wrought on their fleet, and the sight of him calmly hovering amid their strongest ships was nothing short of terrifying.
On the bridge of one of the Lucrehulks, a panicked commander turned to his superior, his voice trembling. "What do we do? He destroyed two of our ships with ease! We can't fight him directly!"
Another Neimoidian, his uniform slightly more ornate, gritted his teeth, trying to maintain composure. "We need to buy time," he said, his voice tight with desperation. "Hold him off until the Exegol forces arrive—"
Before he could finish, his words were cut off by a sudden jolt that shook the entire ship. The view outside shifted abruptly as Gojo raised his hand, his eyes glowing with cold determination. The familiar surge of Limitless Blue rippled through the space around him, creating a powerful gravitational pull that began dragging the Lucrehulks toward one another.
"What's happening?!" another Neimoidian shouted, clutching onto a console for balance as the ship lurched violently.
Gojo's expression remained calm, almost bored, as he manipulated the space around him. The six Lucrehulks, massive and imposing in their own right, were nothing more than pawns in his hands. They hurtled toward each other, pulled by the unstoppable force of Limitless Blue. The commanders aboard could only watch in horror as their vessels collided with one another in a series of deafening crashes, the metal hulls crumpling like paper under the relentless pressure.
One of the Neimoidian officers frantically hammered at his control panel, attempting to reroute power, to do anything to break free of Gojo's grip. "Engage thrusters! Divert all power to shields! We must—"
But it was too late. Gojo's mastery of the Limitless left no room for escape. The ships collided in a cascade of explosions, fire and debris spiraling out into the void. The once-formidable fleet was reduced to wreckage, the twisted remains of the Lucrehulks drifting aimlessly, torn apart by the sheer force of Gojo's power.
Gojo watched the scene unfold with a detached satisfaction, the shimmering blue aura around him dissipating as he lowered his hand. "It doesn't matter how many ships you bring," he said, his voice low and resonant, carrying across the vacuum of space through his ethereal connection to the Neimoidians' comm systems. "Against me, numbers mean nothing."
The Neimoidian commanders, or those who survived the immediate chaos, were left in stunned silence. The hope they had placed in delaying for the Exegol forces was now crushed under the weight of their own ships.
As Gojo surveyed the wreckage of the destroyed Lucrehulks, a sudden blip on his senses caught his attention—a presence, cold and sinister, approaching from a vast distance of nearly 100 kilometers. His eyes narrowed as he focused, pinpointing the signature of a Sith ship. This wasn't just any warship; it was armed with planetary destruction capabilities and equipped with the greatest camouflage and stealth technology in the galaxy. Even the Rikugan—the Six Eyes—would struggle to detect it. And with his Almighty currently deactivated, this vessel had slipped through undetected until now.
The design became clear as Gojo focused, the long, angular hull bristling with turbolaser batteries, missile launchers, and a massive superlaser mounted at its center, designed to obliterate entire worlds in a single strike.
"Now I see," Gojo muttered, piecing together the Sith's strategy. "They're trying to push me to my limits." He could sense the intent behind the approaching threat—an attempt to provoke him into overextending his abilities. "If this keeps up, I can only use Malevolent Shrine three times," he calculated, knowing the strain it would place on him. Even with the power of a binding vow, his Malevolent Shrine could only extend its reach up to 60 kilometers—a considerable range, but not nearly enough to cover the distance to the incoming threat.
.Meanwhile, aboard the Sith fleet emerging from Exegol, the scale of their forces was breathtaking. Rows of dagger-shaped Star Destroyers loomed, each ship armed to the teeth with turbolasers, ion cannons, and fighter hangars. These warships were built for domination, painted in ominous blacks and grays, and they bristled with the cruel efficiency of the Sith—reminiscent of the Final Order fleet from the Battle of Exegol in the Rise of Skywalker. Their defining feature was the planet-killer cannons mounted beneath their bellies, each capable of unleashing a destructive beam powerful enough to annihilate a city, if not an entire world.( Xyston Class Star Destroyer )
On the command bridge of the lead Star Destroyer, Sith officers and commanders debated their course of action. "We have a clear shot at Gojo," one officer suggested, his voice laced with both eagerness and fear.
But the lead commander, an older, more calculating Sith, shook his head. "No. Targeting Gojo directly would be futile. His abilities make him nearly untouchable in direct combat." He stared at the planet below, Naboo, its serene blue-green surface almost tauntingly peaceful. "We target the planet itself. Destroying Gojo is nearly impossible, but breaking what he protects? That's within our--
Before the Sith commander could finish his sentence, a blinding flash of light erupted, followed by an ear-splitting silence. The lead Star Destroyer's bridge was torn apart by a violent, unseen force. Metal, glass, and bodies were ripped through as if sliced by a colossal, invisible blade. The command deck, once filled with the calculated confidence of the Sith, was reduced to a chaotic mess of drifting debris.
Gojo hovered in the void, his figure framed against the endless stars. His eyes glowed with an otherworldly intensity as he surveyed the devastation he had wrought. "Breaking what I protect?" he echoed the Sith commander's last words, his voice carrying a cold, mocking edge. "Not if I break you first."
Gojo's Malevolent Shrine, though incomplete, flickered into existence around him—a distorted, otherworldly landscape marked by an oppressive, crimson glow. Unlike its usual form, this domain was smaller, barely extending beyond the range of the destroyed Star Destroyer. The familiar shrine pillars were twisted and cracked, surrounded by a swirling maelstrom of cursed energy. This was the Malevolent Shrine pushed to its limits through a binding vow, allowing it to manifest in a severely constrained form.
"I had to disable Dismantle," Gojo muttered to himself, his voice betraying the strain of maintaining the domain. "And I'm only allowed 99 seconds…" He could feel the tremendous toll it took on his body, the price of stretching his abilities beyond their natural constraints. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his breath came in heavy, ragged bursts. The binding vow, in exchange for this extension, drained his stamina at an alarming rate.
In the royal chamber of Theed,
Padmé watched the ethereal screen intently, her eyes narrowing as she observed the flickering image of Gojo's Malevolent Shrine in space. The once-imposing crimson domain, usually flawless and overwhelming, now showed visible cracks, its structure strained and unstable. Her concern deepened, and she turned to Wonder of U, who had manifested beside her, exuding an aura of calm detachment.
"Why is his Malevolent Shrine like that? It's suffering... it looks like it's about to fall apart," Padmé asked, her voice edged with worry.
Wonder of U, with a knowing expression, calmly explained, "That's because his enemy is beyond his reach, but still within the influence of his range. Gojo's domain can't fully encompass the threat, and the enemy has chosen a target other than Gojo himself. It's a battle of distance and precision, and it seems his opponents are trying to force his hand."
Suzunami and Yukinami, standing nearby, exchanged alarmed glances. The realization hit them hard—Sensei was in trouble. The cracks in Gojo's domain were more than just a sign of strain; they were a reflection of the intense pressure Gojo was under, forced to bend the rules of his power in a desperate attempt to protect those he had sworn to keep safe.
"Sensei's pushing himself too far," Suzunami said, his voice filled with a mix of frustration and fear. "He's fighting against an enemy that's playing dirty, targeting what he protects instead of him directly."
Yukinami nodded, her eyes fixed on the screen, her expression mirroring her brother's concern. "They're using the threat against Naboo to force his hand. If Gojo's shrine is cracking, it means he's being stretched to his limits. He's trying to hold it all together, but…"
Padmé clenched her fists, feeling a surge of helplessness. She had seen Gojo's overwhelming power firsthand, but this was different. The sheer scale of the battle in space, combined with the cunning tactics of the Sith, made her realize just how precarious their situation was.
"We have to help him," Padmé said, her voice resolute. "He can't do this alone. There must be something we can do to support him."
Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon entered the royal chamber, the latter still visibly weakened and needing support from Obi-Wan to walk. They approached the group, their eyes immediately drawn to the flickering screen showing Gojo's Malevolent Shrine, the cracks running through it like jagged scars. Gojo's usually composed and invincible presence now seemed strained and exhausted.
Obi-Wan, his brow furrowed, asked, "What's happening to Gojo? He looks like he's at his limit."
Padmé turned to them, her voice tight with concern. "The Sith are targeting Naboo directly, forcing Gojo to stretch his abilities to their breaking point. His Malevolent Shrine can't fully reach the enemy because they're beyond his range, so it's cracking under the pressure. He's trying to protect Naboo, but the strain is pushing him to his absolute limits."
Obi-Wan's eyes widened, and he exchanged a glance with Qui-Gon, who remained calm but concerned. "So, they're not even trying to fight him directly… they're exploiting his need to protect," Qui-Gon said softly, understanding the cunning of the Sith's tactics.
Just then, Nute Gunray, emboldened by Gojo's apparent vulnerability, let out a sneering laugh. "This is the day Gojo will finally—"
Before Gunray could finish, Reika, who had just entered, crossed the room in a flash and delivered a swift punch that sent him sprawling across the floor, his voice cutting off abruptly as he fell unconscious. She glared down at the fallen Neimoidian with disdain. "Shut up and fuck off," she spat, her eyes blazing with anger. The force of her words matched the force of her punch, and no one dared to argue.
Wonder of U, still hovering with an eerie calm, turned to the group and spoke bluntly. "The cruel reality is that we can't do anything from here. Gojo's fate is his own to navigate; none of us can do what he does. This battle is beyond our reach."
Padmé clenched her fists tighter, a mix of anger and helplessness washing over her. She had grown to rely on Gojo's strength, and seeing him struggle was a harsh reminder of their own limitations.
Shmi stepped forward, gently placing a comforting hand on Padmé's shoulder. Anakin joined her, his youthful face full of determination and hope. "Gojo is strong," Shmi said softly, her voice filled with quiet reassurance. "He always prevails, no matter the odds."
Anakin nodded, his eyes fixed on the screen. "Yeah, he's never given up before. He'll find a way."
Padmé took a deep breath, nodding as she tried to steady her emotions. The faith and comfort from Shmi and Anakin were a small but powerful reminder that Gojo had faced insurmountable odds before—and had always come out on top. She turned back to the screen, her resolve strengthening. "You're right. He's never alone, even when he's up there. He'll do what he always does—find a way to win."
In the cold void of space, Gojo hovered, his breath coming in heavy, ragged bursts. Sweat dripped from his brow, floating away in tiny droplets as he strained to maintain his composure. His body was pushed to the brink, but his mind remained focused, unwavering in its resolve.
As he scanned the surroundings, his senses picked up a new threat: another planet-destroying Star Destroyer ( same capability of the first one ) , this time positioned on the opposite side of Naboo. Its dark, imposing figure loomed ominously, ready to unleash its devastating power on the planet he had sworn to protect.
"Another one," Gojo muttered under his breath, frustration and determination flickering in his eyes. "They're really trying to stretch me thin."
He knew he was already pushing the limits of what he could do. His incomplete Malevolent Shrine was barely holding together, its reach limited by the binding vow he had made to extend its range. But he had no choice; he couldn't allow the Sith to threaten Naboo without resistance.
Gojo quickly formed the Enma hand seal, his fingers moving with practiced precision despite the mounting exhaustion that weighed on him. He summoned the second incomplete Malevolent Shrine, pushing the energy through his already overtaxed body. The air around him shimmered and distorted as the new domain flickered into existence—a second shrine, mirroring the first, but equally marred with cracks and instability.
The strain was immediate. Gojo's breathing grew even more labored, his chest heaving as he struggled to maintain the simultaneous domains. He could feel the intense pressure on his body and mind, like trying to hold back an unstoppable tidal wave with sheer willpower alone. His vision blurred slightly, and a sharp pain shot through his temples, but he gritted his teeth and held on, refusing to let go.
"This is nothing," Gojo whispered to himself, a fierce determination burning in his eyes. "I've come too far to let a few cracks stop me."
Both shrines, incomplete but fiercely defiant, extended their reach towards the enemy ships, their crimson light flickering like wounded beasts still ready to fight. The combined force of the domains strained against Gojo's limits, his breath growing heavier with each passing second. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat a reminder of the toll this battle was taking on him.
But Gojo didn't back down. He focused his energy, forcing the shrines to stabilize just enough to launch their assault. His body trembled with the effort, sweat soaking his clothes, but he kept going. The weight of protecting Naboo and fulfilling his vow pushed him forward, even as every breath felt like a battle on its own.
Suddenly, Gojo detected another Star Destroyer( same capability of the first one ) , this one 200 kilometers away. His eyes widened in exasperation. "Oh, fuck… why the fuck is it so far away? How am I supposed to reach that?" He could feel the frustration bubbling up, knowing his current shrines couldn't extend that far without a new binding vow.
Meanwhile, aboard the Sith Star Destroyer, the commanders watched Gojo's struggle with a mix of eagerness and anticipation. "He looks exhausted. Let's finish this," one officer urged. This time, Plagueis himself appeared through a holo-communicator, addressing the bridge with a voice that cut through the tension.
"This is Gojo Satoru we're talking about," Plagueis cautioned, his tone calm but commanding. "We cannot—"
Before Plagueis could finish the Planet Destroyer Ship is Cleaved , Gojo made his move. With a grimace, he formed another Enma hand seal, pushing his abilities to their absolute limit. He summoned a third shrine, its horrifying form materializing in the void of space. This shrine was a twisted, nightmarish version of the previous ones, with grotesque, jagged structures resembling demonic jaws and eyes that glowed with a malevolent red light. Its energy pulsed erratically, barely contained within its incomplete form, but it reached out like the grasping claws of a beast, extending to the distant Star Destroyer.
Gojo felt his body screaming in protest, the sheer strain of maintaining three shrines simultaneously threatening to tear him apart. To stabilize this third shrine, he made another binding vow: he deactivated his Arm of Darkness temporarily, redirecting all of its power into the new domain, extending its reach to the necessary 200 kilometers. The pain in his temples intensified, but he forced himself to stay conscious.
As the third shrine locked onto the distant Star Destroyer, Gojo let out a breathless, strained laugh. The words of his final quest echoed in his mind: "Come back through death and become the Honored One."
"Looks like I'm about to become fucking death," he muttered, his vision dimming as the overwhelming exertion pushed him closer to the edge of consciousness. But even as the darkness crept in, Gojo's resolve remained unbroken. He knew that if this was his final stand, it would be one that defied fate itself.
Just as Gojo felt his energy waning, he sensed another impending threat—a far more ominous and devastating presence. His senses flared as he detected a massive energy build-up, the unmistakable charge of a planet-destroying weapon. This time, it wasn't just another Star Destroyer; it was something far more destructive, something originating from a planet he instantly recognized—Exegol, and at its core, a weapon akin to Starkiller Base.
Gojo's eyes widened as he realized the sheer magnitude of the attack. "Exegol… Starkiller Base," he muttered, watching the colossal beam of energy tear through space, aimed directly at him and the planet below. The beam moved with terrifying speed, a manifestation of the Sith's most desperate bid to annihilate him and Naboo in one fell swoop.
The reality of the situation hit him like a tidal wave. There was no time to extend his Malevolent Shrine any further; there was no room for error. With his current condition, he knew he had to make a desperate choice. "Fuck… this is beyond even me," he thought, teeth gritting as the blinding light of the weapon filled his vision, threatening to engulf everything in its path.
In a split-second decision, Gojo enacted a drastic measure. He focused his cursed energy and, with a swift motion, severed his right hand, the pain barely registering against the adrenaline and the stakes of the moment. His severed hand floated briefly in the zero-gravity environment before Gojo activated Mimihagi's ability—Stillness.
With Mimihagi's powers, Gojo enforced a state of absolute stillness on his detached limb, freezing the incoming beam of energy in place. The beam, mere meters from colliding with him and Naboo, halted in an eerie suspension, the chaotic energy frozen by the cursed ability that defied the natural flow of all things. The blast shimmered, locked in time and space, unable to advance, trapped by the relentless power of Stillness.
Gojo, now missing a hand and his energy drained to near depletion, quickly adjusted his focus. He imbued his severed hand with an autopilot directive, ensuring it would continue to maintain the frozen state of the blast without his direct input. It was a fragile solution, a desperate act to hold the line as long as possible.
He let out a strained, ragged breath, his body screaming for rest. The exertion of summoning three incomplete shrines, the intense concentration of severing his own limb, and the strain of maintaining the Stillness all at once pushed him to the very edge. Gojo's vision blurred, and his limbs felt heavy as lead, but he forced a bitter smile.
Absolutely! Here's the updated version with all your changes incorporated:
"I've done my part," he muttered, feeling his consciousness waver. "If this is it… then I'm going out on my terms." He glanced at his severed hand, now an unsung guardian against the overwhelming Sith attack. The thought of the final quest echoed again: "Come back through death and become the Honored O—"
Suddenly, Gojo sensed another presence, yet again interrupting him. "Fuck… even when I'm about to die, I can't get a moment of peace," he groaned, gritting his teeth. His body was ravaged, barely holding together, even though his brain had adapted to the strain of burnout. Despite infinite cursed energy, the lack of Reverse Curse Technique meant he couldn't heal the damage his body had endured. His skin was charred, his muscles shredded. And with his Ten Shadows temporarily passed to Yukinami, he had no additional defenses to call upon.
Summoning three Malevolent Shrines in such quick succession had pushed him to the edge. The strain had left his body burned out, his right arm severed and used to hold Exegol's Starkiller Base beam in suspended Stillness. His brain could handle the overwhelming pressure, but his body… not so much. Each breath felt like fire, his body rebelling against him, but Gojo forced cursed energy to slow the bleeding from his severed arm, refusing to give in.
As his senses sharpened, they locked onto a new threat—a massive Eclipse-class Star Destroyer, accompanied by fourteen Lucrehulks, advancing with menacing intent. They were terrifyingly close, only 2 kilometers away, and his body screamed for rest. But Gojo, relentless as ever, wasn't about to back down.
Inside the Eclipse-class Star Destroyer, Darth Plagueis stood on the bridge, exuding a commanding presence that filled the room with chilling dread. His golden eyes gleamed with ambition as he looked upon Gojo, who hung on the precipice of exhaustion and defiance. Plagueis turned to his crew, his voice calm but laced with an undercurrent of triumph.
"It is time," Plagueis declared, his voice resonating through the Star Destroyer's bridge and across the galaxy. "The Sith shall reclaim its rightful place as the true heir to this galaxy. Today, we eliminate the anomaly that dared to challenge our rule." He gestured, activating a broadcast that transmitted his image across countless screens on every planet under Sith control. The citizens of the galaxy watched as Plagueis, cloaked in the mantle of darkness, addressed them with chilling authority.
"Citizens of the galaxy," Plagueis began, his voice reverberating through the stars. "The Sith have returned. Not as shadows, not as myths, but as the true rulers of this galaxy. Our power is unmatched, our resolve unwavering. Before us stands Satoru Gojo—a defiant warrior, a force of chaos. But even he cannot stand against the might of the Sith forever."
He turned his gaze directly to Gojo, his tone shifting from grandiosity to a seemingly genuine offer. "Gojo Satoru, you have proven your strength, your potential. Join the Sith, and I will spare you. Together, we can forge a new galaxy—one where your power is not wasted in defiance, but celebrated as a tool of our order. Resist, and you will be nothing more than a forgotten relic, swept aside by the inevitable march of our empire."
Gojo, still hovering and barely holding on, let out a raspy, defiant laugh. The absurdity of the offer, coming from the very enemy that sought to destroy him, was almost too much. With every ounce of spite and irreverence he could muster, Gojo raised his remaining hand, extending his middle finger towards the Sith fleet. His message was clear and unyielding.
"Fuck off," Gojo spat, his voice echoing through the emptiness of space, carried across the void to reach Plagueis and his crew. It was a gesture that needed no further explanation—a declaration that Gojo Satoru would never bow, never submit, and never be controlled.
Meanwhile, in Theed Castle, Padmé watched the events unfold on the ethereal screen, tears welling up in her eyes. She knew the stakes, the sacrifices being made for Naboo, and the weight of leadership that bore down on her shoulders. "As the true ruler of Naboo, I surre—" she began, but her words were cut short by a sudden prompt on the screen before her. A message from Gojo appeared, flickering with an ethereal glow, asking if she wanted to read it—Yes or No.
Padmé pressed 'Yes', and the screen displayed Gojo's auto-generated message, its content flowing with a chilling recount of power and domination.
Message:
"Yhwach, the progenitor of the Quincy and the son of the Soul King, wielded powers that extended far beyond ordinary comprehension. One of his most terrifying abilities was Auswählen, a technique that allowed him to take back the fragments of his own soul that he had distributed among others. These fragments, given initially as a means of healing and empowerment, were bonds that tied the recipients to Yhwach's will.
Through Soul Distribution, Yhwach could give parts of his soul to his followers, granting them power and vitality. But these gifts came with an unspoken cost—their lives were no longer solely their own. At any moment, Yhwach could recall these pieces of his soul using Auswählen, draining the life force and powers from his subjects to enhance himself. This act was indiscriminate; friend, foe, loyal servant—it did not matter. To Yhwach, all were expendable if it meant increasing his strength.
Auswählen manifested as beams of light that would strike down those he had previously blessed, ripping their essence away and leaving behind lifeless husks. It was a cruel demonstration of control, a reminder that Yhwach's favor was not a gift but a loan, reclaimable at any moment. His power was not just in his might but in the fear and absolute dominance he held over those tied to him. Yhwach's reign was marked by the fear of Auswählen—a power that could end lives without warning, solely at his whim."
Padmé's face paled as she read the detailed description of Yhwach's abilities, the horror of such power sinking in. "Why are you telling me this?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
Message:
"There is a part of my soul inside your body, right?"
Captain Panaka, ever vigilant, immediately snapped into alarm, his voice shaking with panic. "He's going to use Auswählen on us! He plans to drain our life force to power himself!" His words came out frantic, the fear unmistakable.
Reika stepped forward, her eyes brimming with tears, her voice trembling but filled with a fierce determination. "No! That's not it!" she cried, her fists clenched at her sides. "Sensei… Sensei would never do that! He's told us about the darkest possibilities, yes, but he's always—always—gone against them. He's never once harmed us."
Yukinami, her face streaked with tears, nodded as she stepped beside Reika. Her voice wavered but held an unshakable certainty. "He's our Sensei... he would die before hurting us. That's the truth we know." Her tears fell freely, but her faith in him never faltered.
Padmé, wiping away her tears, continued reading, her hands trembling as the message addressed each one of them.
Message:
"Padmé, Yukinami, Reika, Suzunami, Anakin, Shmi, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, Jar Jar, Sabé, Panaka—you all made this wild ride more than worth it. You showed me what it means to care, to protect, to stand for something that's bigger than just power. Every crazy moment, every battle… it was all because of you. No matter what happens next, remember this—I fought for you because you were worth every second. Thanks for the memories, everyone. It's been real. And hey, let's be honest—this was fun."
As the message concluded, Gojo steadied himself, a fierce resolve lighting up his eyes. He knew there was only one way to protect Naboo now, and it would require every last fragment of his strength. With a determined breath, he lifted his remaining hand and spread his fingers wide, channeling his cursed energy to its utmost limit. Above Naboo, the sky began to darken, swirling as if the very fabric of reality was bending to his will.
Gojo raised his voice, his words echoing across the void, carrying the full force of his will. "AUSWÄHLEN!" he roared, the sound resonating like thunder in the emptiness of space. A massive, ethereal circle of light formed high above Naboo, its intricate design glowing with an intense, otherworldly blue. The circle expanded rapidly, enveloping the entire planet, each line of the sigil pulsing with raw energy, crackling like the charged air before a storm.
The circle glowed brighter, its light piercing through the vastness of space, marking the boundary of Gojo's final act of defiance. Instead of siphoning the life force from those around him, Gojo reversed the flow, drawing it from himself. His body became the conduit, the epicenter of the Auswählen, absorbing the energy of the very stars and the lingering remnants of his boundless cursed power.
Blinding light poured from Gojo, so bright it outshone the stars. His figure, now a silhouette against the radiance, stood as a beacon of defiance against the encroaching darkness. The Auswählen surged into him, amplifying his power one last time, not to destroy but to protect. The glowing circle intensified, and with a final, defiant thrust of his will, Gojo directed all the gathered energy outward.
A colossal, impenetrable shield erupted from the Auswählen circle, cascading down like a curtain of shimmering light to envelop Naboo. The barrier was immense, radiant, and unwavering, glowing with the very essence of Gojo's life force. It was a brilliant dome that wrapped around the planet, reflecting the incoming beams of destruction back into the void. The Sith's attacks crashed against the shield, their might scattered harmlessly into space as Gojo's protection held strong.
Gojo's body didn't disintegrate as he had expected. Instead, an unnerving emptiness washed over him. He blinked, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The Auswählen had struck him too, and the realization dawned—his infinite cursed energy was leaving him, drained from his body. Without it, the very energy that had allowed him to survive and breathe in the vacuum of space was fading fast.
Gojo had used his cursed energy not just for battle but to defy the very laws of nature. In space, where there was no air and temperatures dropped to extremes, cursed energy had acted as a buffer, keeping his body insulated, his blood warm, and even providing the illusion of oxygen. It allowed him to breathe in an environment that should have killed him instantly. The cursed energy essentially became a life-support system, adapting to the hostile environment and keeping his body functional despite the absence of air and warmth. But now, with his energy draining, the freezing grip of space was closing in, and every breath became a struggle.
Now powerless, Gojo hovered in space, vulnerable. His connection to the infinite was severed, leaving only his raw will to cling to.
In that moment, his eyes narrowed as he saw the Eclipse-class Star Destroyer charging its main weapon. The massive beam fired straight at him, a streak of death cutting through the void. Gojo clenched his teeth, his heart pounding, but there was one last card he could play—his final, desperate move.
A bloodied, defiant smile crept onto his face. "With this treasure, I summon…" His voice trailed off as he felt Mahoraga stir within him, bound by a vow and a deep grudge. The cursed spirit had been waiting for this exact moment, lurking, ready.
Before Gojo could finish the chant, the beam struck him, engulfing his form in a blinding flash of light, overwhelming everything around him in that final, decisive blow.
As Gojo's consciousness began to fade, he could feel the connection to Naboo, to those he had fought to protect. The shield, his final gift, shimmered with the resilience of his spirit, an unbreakable testament to his vow. The Auswählen circle dimmed but remained, a celestial guardian watching over the planet.
Gojo Satoru's final moments were not of defeat but of triumph. He had defied the odds, the galaxy, and even death itself to stand by those he cared for. His legacy, the Honored One who stood against the encroaching darkness, would be remembered. The last essence of Gojo Satoru lingered, a radiant beacon of hope and defiance that would never be forgotten.
In the quiet aftermath, Naboo stood safe, its skies clear, the Sith's weapons neutralized by the shield that shone with the brilliance of the will be Honored One's final stand.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone