Bab 38: LEVEL UP ARC IS FINISHED
The Blind Beggar exited the arena, his steps echoing in the quiet waiting area where a servant stood ready.
"Master Jabba would like to invite you for lunch in the cantina," the servant announced.
"Lead the way," the Blind Beggar replied, following the servant through the winding corridors of the arena until they emerged into the bustling chaos of Chalmun's Cantina. The atmosphere was thick with the scent of strong drinks and the murmur of shady conversations.
Before the Blind Beggar could reach Jabba's table, Ziro the Hutt slithered into his path, his enormous, gleaming eyes filled with a sinister glint. He leaned closer, his voice oozing with oily charm.
"How about you work for me instead?" Ziro offered, his grin widening. "I'll give you more money than those winnings. All you have to do is kill Gojo Satoru."
Chuckles erupted from behind the Blind Beggar. Jabba and Tyber Zann, both seated comfortably at their table, exchanged amused glances. They were fully aware of the irony—Ziro was trying to bribe the very person he wanted dead, Gojo Satoru, who was disguised as the Blind Beggar.
Keeping his expression neutral, the Blind Beggar looked directly at Ziro. "I've come here for the Twi'lek. Nothing more than that."
As the Blind Beggar moved past Ziro, his attention was drawn to the Twi'lek standing at the edge of the room. She was a vision of exotic beauty, her skin a striking shade of red, adorned with black tiger-like stripes. Her outfit was barely more than a few strips of white fabric, revealing an ample chest and a curvaceous figure. Her vibrant appearance contrasted sharply with the drab surroundings, making her stand out even more.
A protocol droid nearby spoke up as the Blind Beggar approached her. "She doesn't have a name since she has no right to have one."
The Blind Beggar simply nodded, his expression unreadable. "Huh, okay," he murmured, taking in the situation. His gaze lingered on the Twi'lek, thoughts swirling in his mind as he prepared for the next steps in his plan.
The protocol droid then added, "She is still a virgin and ready to be a s—" Before it could finish, Jabba made a warning gesture, silencing the droid instantly.
The Twi'lek, sensing the attention on her, lowered her head in a submissive gesture, her hands clasped together in a silent prayer. Her heart pounded in her chest, a mixture of fear and hope swirling within her. She prayed that her new master would be different from Ziro, who had treated her as nothing more than a valuable possession. She wished desperately for a future where she wouldn't be abused, where she wouldn't have to live in fear.
Suddenly, the Blind Beggar stepped closer. Once in front of her, he gently placed his thumb on top of her chin and his index finger under her chin, lifting her head up.
He looked into her beautiful purple eyes, and she stared at his blindfold. In her gaze, he could see the fear of what would become of her, but also, deep down, there was a flicker of anger and sadness. He could sense her resentment toward the world for making her a slave and the deep sadness that came with the belief that she would never be free again.
His voice was calm but filled with quiet strength as he spoke. "Do you want to change your fate?" he asked, his gaze unwavering. "Do you want to break free from the chains of slavery?"
The Twi'lek hesitated, her eyes widening as she looked up at him, unsure of what to say.
"Do you want the power to choose your own path?" the Blind Beggar continued, his tone now more resolute. "The power to ensure no one ever enslaves you again. The power to protect yourself and those you care about. To change and shattered your current destiny and life forever."
As she listened to his words, a flashback played in her mind. She remembered how the Blind Beggar had ruthlessly cut down his enemies in the arena, his movements precise and deadly, his power undeniable. There was something about him—something powerful, something that gave weight to his words.
She suddenly found herself shouting, "I want to be powerful! I don't want to be a slave again!"
The Blind Beggar smiled, clearly pleased with her response. "That's very good. Yes, I like that. However, there are some conditions."
The Twi'lek's thoughts raced. Conditions? What could they be? Her mind immediately jumped to the worst possibilities. Would she become a sex slave? A guinea pig for some cruel experiment?
But before she could spiral further into her fears, the Blind Beggar interrupted her thoughts. "I want you to be my disciple and my future wife."
She was taken aback, her emotions overwhelming her. Tears welled up in her eyes as she cried out, "Why would you want me? I'm just a slave, worthless…"
The Blind Beggar chuckled softly. "Because I like you. And to me, those under my wing or my multiple wives, actually are more valuable than any pile of credits or even the Lucky Despot's vault itself," he said with a grin, recalling how he had already robbed the vault. Then, with a slight shrug, he added, "Though, I'm still trying to figure out if I even want multiple wives or not. It's a bit of a dilemma, really.". "And secondly, you have the potential to kill me."
"Kill you?" she repeated, bewildered.
The Blind Beggar nodded. "I'll explain that later. So, are you accepting the offer or not?"
Without hesitation, with the most happiness she had ever felt, the Twi'lek declared, "Even if I become a concubine or a slave again, as long as it's under you, I will accept the offer!"
Her shout echoed in the room, filled with gratitude and determination. The Blind Beggar smiled, knowing he had just secured not just a disciple, but someone who might one day become much more.
As the Twi'lek's joyful acceptance echoed in the room, the Blind Beggar felt a familiar sensation as an ethereal screen appeared before his eyes, its translucent letters glowing softly in the dim light.
[QUEST COMPLETED]
Title: Another Chosen One
Objective: Recruit the Twi'lek as your disciple using any method possible.
Penalty for Failure: None
Reward: Midichlorian Manipulation
(Grants the ability to raise or lower someone's midichlorian count. Warning: Removing all midichlorians will result in death.)
[Optional Quest: COMPLETED]
You convinced her with the words of shattered chains of destiny.
As a result, you will be rewarded with 100,000 midichlorian counts and an unknown power (1/3 fragment).
The screen shimmered for a moment before fading away, leaving the Blind Beggar standing there with a satisfied grin. The power of midichlorian manipulation coursed through him, a new tool in his ever-growing arsenal. But what intrigued him most was the mention of an unknown power—a fragment of something greater yet to be fully realized.
"Well, that's a nice bonus," the Blind Beggar thought, feeling the energy from the midichlorian increase surging within him. The possibilities of what he could do with this newfound ability were endless, and the fragment of unknown power only added to the mystery.
He turned his attention back to the Twi'lek, who had been silently watching him, her emotions a mixture of relief and newfound hope.
The Blind Beggar smiled gently. "Do you have an original name or something like—"
Before he could finish, the Twi'lek interrupted, her voice pleading. "Please, I don't want to remember my old name. Please, give me a new one."
He thought for a moment, considering a name that would suit her newfound strength and the fierce potential he saw in her. After a brief pause, he spoke.
"How about... Reika? It means 'power of the soul' in Japanese. It's a name for someone fierce, someone who's destined to fight on the frontlines."
The Twi'lek, now Reika, looked up at him with wide eyes, her expression a mixture of surprise and gratitude. "Reika..." she repeated softly, testing the name on her tongue. A small smile appeared on her face, and she nodded. "Thank you, master. I will cherish this name."
The Blind Beggar nodded in approval. "Good. Reika it is, then. Now, let's get you out—"
Suddenly, the cantina doors burst open as a group of armed men stormed in, led by none other than Ziro the Hutt himself. His large form slithered forward, eyes gleaming with malice as he glared at the Blind Beggar.
"I don't want to give up that slave! That slave is mine and still valuable to me!" Ziro hissed, his voice dripping with greed and entitlement.
Reika, fear flashing in her eyes, instinctively stepped closer to her new master. "Master... if it means protecting you, I'm willing to sacrifice myself—"
Before she could finish, a deep, rumbling voice echoed through the cantina, cutting through the tension like a knife. It was Jabba the Hutt, his gaze fixed on Ziro with an icy glare. "<Ziro, jicho! Uba vot tee konchee mah,>" Jabba commanded in Huttese.
("Ziro, stand down! You have no idea what you're doing.")
But Ziro, ever defiant, puffed out his chest and responded in Huttese, "<Wai Jee Hutt Clan! Uba vot tee bow chee ya ma uba!>"
("We are Hutt Clan! We shouldn't bow to anyone!")
Jabba's eyes narrowed dangerously, but he took a deep breath, clearly restraining his temper. He knew what was at stake. Turning to the Blind Beggar, Jabba spoke again, his tone now more measured. "<Jee hat kah uba gee, Gojo Satoru,>"
("Do as you wish, Gojo Satoru.")
Jabba paused for a moment, then added, "<Bat, wa chee don pon'saa, nobata tee Jee uncle. Jee vot coochoon. Tee uba spare woy uba hat eba un'gai, Jee ya uba three favors.>"
("But if possible, spare my uncle. He is still my flesh and blood. If you spare that stupid slug, I will grant you three favors.")
The translation droid quickly relayed the message in English, the cantina falling into a tense silence as all eyes turned to the Blind Beggar, waiting for his response.
Gojo let out a dramatic sigh, his voice dripping with mock disappointment. "Ahhh, the costume party is over. What a shame." With a casual snap of his fingers, the rags and blindfold that had disguised him vanished, replaced by his sleek and imposing Shinjuku Showdown outfit. The sudden transformation was striking—his white hair flowed freely, and his eyes, now visible, gleamed with an icy blue intensity that could pierce through anyone's soul.
Reika, standing beside him, felt her breath catch in her throat. My master is Gojo Satoru, she thought, her heart pounding with a mix of awe and disbelief. I prayed for someone like him to save me, but I never thought it would actually happen...
As her eyes roamed over Gojo, she couldn't help but take in every detail of his appearance. His Shinjuku Showdown outfit clung perfectly to his well-defined physique, accentuating the powerful muscles that rippled beneath his skin. The contrast of his sharp, tailored clothing against the raw strength of his body was mesmerizing. Reika's gaze lingered on his broad shoulders and chiseled chest, her mind struggling to process just how incredibly attractive he was.
And then there were his eyes—those piercing blue eyes that seemed to hold the secrets of the universe. They were both terrifying and beautiful, a perfect reflection of the man himself. The combination of his handsome features, the aura of confidence and power he exuded, and the way he had effortlessly taken control of the situation made him the most beautiful person Reika had ever seen. Her heart swelled with admiration, and she felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude that someone as extraordinary as Gojo Satoru had chosen to protect her.
He's not just strong... he's... perfect, Reika thought, her cheeks flushing slightly as she realized just how deeply she was beginning to admire him. I've never seen anyone like him before...
Suddenly, Gojo leaned in and, without warning, kissed her gently on the cheek. The unexpected gesture sent a jolt of surprise and warmth through Reika, leaving her momentarily stunned and embarrassed.
"Hey, don't lose sight of my exhibition," Gojo teased, his playful tone making Reika's heart race even faster. "Also, can you call me 'sensei'? I've already got two disciples."
The mention of other disciples made Reika's heart sink slightly. Does one of them happen to be a woman? she wondered, her thoughts tinged with anxiety.
"Yup," Gojo replied casually, reading the question in her expression. "After all, they're twins—a man and a woman."
Reika's resolve hardened at his words. I must not lose my place in Gojo's heart, she vowed silently, determined to prove herself worthy of the man who had not only saved her but had also become someone she deeply admired and cared for.
Ziro, his eyes wide with disbelief, stammered, "Impossible! Gojo Satoru? Someone like him wouldn't dress like that! He didn't look so rip—"
Before Ziro could finish his sentence, Gojo moved with blinding speed. In an instant, one of Ziro's hands was severed cleanly from his body, and the next moment, Gojo had already decapitated all of men that ziro brought . The deadly precision and sheer speed of the attack left Ziro stunned and speechless.
"Impressed?" Gojo asked, his voice laced with dark amusement. He leaned in closer to Ziro, his tone turning cold and menacing. "Now, can you please fuck off?"
The words hung in the air, heavy with the threat of further violence. Ziro, now trembling and clutching his severed arm, realized the gravity of his mistake.
Ziro, now trembling and clutching his severed arm, desperately shouted , "Jabba! Help !" His voice was filled with panic and pain, his eyes darting around the room for any sign of rescue.
But when Ziro glanced over, he saw Jabba and Tyber Zann seemingly unfazed by the situation, casually playing dice as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. The stark contrast between the intense situation he was in and their nonchalance made Ziro's heart sink even further.
Gojo, noticing Ziro's frantic plea, smirked. "You know," he began, his tone almost conversational, "wait a minute." He checked the time, realizing there were still 6 hours left before the Royal Naboo Starship was due to arrive on Coruscant.
"I haven't slept in a while," Gojo continued, stretching slightly as if preparing for a workout. His eyes gleamed with a mixture of exhaustion and anticipation. "So, how about you be my punching bag for a bit? Sound good?"
Without waiting for an answer, Gojo started his merciless assault. He delivered a series of brutal kicks and punches, each one calculated to inflict maximum pain without killing Ziro. The Hutt writhed and screamed in agony, completely at the mercy of Gojo's sadistic game.
The room, once filled with tension, now echoed with the sounds of Ziro's pained cries. Gojo continued to torture him, taking out his frustration and exhaustion on the Hutt, all the while maintaining that same, chilling smile. For Gojo, this was not just punishment—it was a way to pass the time, to let out his pent-up energy before the next phase of his plan unfolded.
Ziro, barely conscious from the pain, whimpered, "Have mercy... savior..."
Gojo paused for a moment, tilting his head as if considering the plea. Then, with a dark chuckle, he replied, "Mercy? There are no saviors, no gods... And even if there were gods, I'd skin them alive and take their goddesses for my harem." He laughed, clearly enjoying the joke at Ziro's expense.
He then leaned closer, his voice dripping with mock curiosity. "You know, a slug like you... I wonder what would happen if I gave you a drum of salt. After all, you and worms are practically family, right?" Gojo laughed again, the sound cold and menacing.
Ziro's eyes widened in terror at the thought, and with one last scream of pain and fear, he passed out, his body slumping lifelessly to the floor
As Ziro's unconscious body slumped to the floor, Gojo stood over him with a satisfied smile, savoring the moment. But before he could turn away, Jabba the Hutt's deep voice rumbled through the room, this time speaking in perfect, unaccented English—a surprise to everyone present.
"As per our deal, you spare my uncle, and I will grant you three favors," Jabba said, his voice calm and measured.
The sudden shift in language caught Gojo off guard. "Shit, you can talk our language?" he blurted out, a mix of amusement and disbelief in his tone.
Jabba let out a low chuckle, his large eyes gleaming with a hint of amusement. "I may be lazy, but I'm not dumb," he replied, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. The translation droid, now redundant, whirred in confusion, its role momentarily usurped by the crime lord himself.
Gojo couldn't help but grin at the unexpected twist. "Well, that makes things a lot more interesting," he said, his mind already spinning with the possibilities those three favors could bring. The day was turning out to be far more entertaining than he had anticipated.
From Reika's POV:
As Reika watched the brutal scene unfold before her, her mind raced with a torrent of thoughts and emotions, each one more intense than the last.
He's ruthless... she thought, a shiver running down her spine as she witnessed Gojo's casual cruelty. But that's exactly what makes him so powerful, so... captivating. The idea of him being her master, of him guiding her and protecting her, filled her with a strange sense of security. If someone like him wants me by his side, then I must be worth something—more than I ever imagined.
To think that I was praying for someone to save me, and here he is... Her heart swelled with gratitude and something more—a deep admiration that bordered on adoration. Being with him, learning from him, even... even giving myself to him, it would be an honor.
As she saw Ziro being reduced to a whimpering mess, a twisted satisfaction bloomed within her. He deserves this. After everything he's done to me, to others... watching him suffer like this is justice.
Her gaze shifted back to Gojo, taking in every detail of his imposing figure, his powerful presence. He's terrifying, but in the best way possible. To be with someone like him, to be wanted by him... I would do anything to prove my loyalty.
Reika's thoughts solidified into a single, unshakable resolve. I will follow him, no matter where he leads. I'll become stronger, worthy of standing by his side. And whatever role he chooses for me in his life, I'll cherish it. Because being with Gojo Satoru... it's more than I ever dared to dream.
He mentioned wanting to make a harem, to have multiple wives, she mused, a hint of excitement stirring within her. That means I have a chance to be inside his heart, to be part of his life—even if I'm second or third. It doesn't matter. Being close to him, being wanted by him in any way... it's more than I could have ever hoped for.
Reika felt a surge of determination. I'll prove myself to him. I'll make sure that I'm not just another wife, but someone special to him. I'll earn my place in his heart, no matter what it t---s.
Suddenly, the sound of hooves echoed from outside, cutting through her thoughts. Startled, Reika turned her attention to the noise, only to see Gojo standing outside, casually mounted on the majestic Sleipnir.
"Yo, you coming or not?" Gojo called out, his tone as casual as ever.
Reika, a bit dumbfounded at the sight, realized that she was no longer just a forgotten slave. She mattered now, and Gojo had made her feel valuable. A warm feeling spread through her chest as she responded, "Yes, sensei!"
Without hesitation, she climbed onto the back of Sleipnir, holding on tightly as the horse took off, soaring into the stars. The sensation of flying through space was surreal, and Reika couldn't help but feel a mixture of awe and excitement.
Back in Chalmun's Cantina, Tyber Zann and Jabba watched the spectacle unfold. Tyber Zann, shaking his head in disbelief, muttered, "Well, I'm more surprised you speak our language rather than a horse flying to space."
Jabba, unphased by the strange events, rumbled in agreement in english , "Now, where were we? Our game of dice was halted, but the situation is much calmer now."
The two crime lords returned to their dice game, their focus shifting back to their familiar world of bets and wagers, as if the extraordinary events that had just transpired were nothing more than a brief distraction.
As Gojo and Reika rode Sleipnir through the vastness of space, the stars twinkling around them, Reika couldn't help but reflect on everything that had just happened. She hesitated for a moment before speaking up, her voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of lingering uncertainty.
"Sensei, what did you mean when you said I have the potential to kill you?" Reika asked, her tone more serious than before.
Without warning, Gojo suddenly jumped off Sleipnir, leaving Reika gasping in shock. "Sensei!" she shouted, panic rising as she realized they were in the middle of space.
Gojo, as usual, floated effortlessly beside her, a mischievous grin on his face. "Relax, I can fly, you know," he replied, clearly amused by her reaction.
Reika pouted, her earlier worry turning into mild irritation. "Don't scare me like that, sensei."
Gojo chuckled, his expression softening as he returned to the subject at hand. "Now, about your potential... You might not realize it, but you have a very high midichlorian count—maybe second only to the Chosen One himself, or at least close. That means you have a deep connection with the Force, something that can make you incredibly powerful if trained properly."
Reika's eyes widened at the revelation, the weight of Gojo's words sinking in. "So, I have... a connection with the Force? Like the Jedi?" she asked, trying to wrap her mind around the concept.
Gojo nodded. "Exactly. With the right training and guidance, you could become one of the most powerful beings in the galaxy. That's why I said you have the potential to kill me—because if you unlock that power, you could be a force to be reckoned with."
Reika's admiration for Gojo had grown to such an extent that she felt a deep sense of loyalty and devotion toward him. She looked at him with unwavering determination and said, "Sensei, even if you ordered me to kill myself because I have the potential to kill you, I would—"
Before she could finish, Gojo's expression darkened slightly, and his usual playful demeanor gave way to something more serious. "Heyyyy!!!," he interrupted, his voice carrying a stern edge. "Don't ever say something like that. Even if someone wearing my face were to give you that order, you should kill them instead. Understand?"
Reika blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in his tone. "But... why?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Gojo sighed, his gaze softening as he floated closer to her. "The reason I want to take you under my wing, Reika, is because I don't want to be alone when I reach the top. Power can be a very lonely place, and I've seen what it can do to people. I'm not interested in being on the top if it means being isolated."
Reika looked at him with wide eyes, trying to comprehend the weight of his words. "What do you mean, Sensei? What peak are you talking about?"
Gojo smiled, though there was a hint of melancholy in his expression. "You know what I'm talking about my famous title."
Reika thought for a moment, searching her memory for what he could mean. And then it hit her. The title that people rarely spoke of, but that was whispered with a mix of awe and respect: The Strongest.
"The Strongest..." she murmured, the realization settling in. Gojo wasn't just aiming to be powerful—he was already seen as the pinnacle of strength, the one who stood above all others. The weight of that title suddenly made sense, and so did his desire to not be alone at the top.
Gojo nodded, sensing her understanding. "Exactly. It's a title that comes with a lot of expectations and a lot of burdens. But it's also why I need people like you with me. Not to follow blindly, but to stand beside me. To remind me of what's important."
Reika's resolve deepened. "I understand, Sensei. I won't let you be alone. I'll become stronger, not just to protect you, but to stand by your side, no matter what."
He then leaned back slightly, his playful grin returning. "Hey, you want to train? Maybe I can help unlock some of your Force abilities. But remember, both parties must agree to exert a non-lethal domain."
Reika's eyes sparkled with excitement and pride. "It would be an honor, Sensei," she said confidently.
In an instant, the space around them transformed as they were enveloped by a non-lethal domain. The atmosphere shifted, and the stars around them blurred, replaced by a familiar yet surreal landscape. Gojo glanced around, a look of nostalgia crossing his face.
"Huh, looks like Tokyo," he commented, laughing lightly. "Must be because I always loved mochi."
Reika glanced around, taking in the details of the strange yet familiar cityscape that had materialized around them on the back of Sleipnir. It was a curious mixture of old and new, blending the urban sprawl of Tokyo with the surreal atmosphere of a domain. She felt a strange connection to this place, perhaps a reflection of her own growing potential.
As Gojo handed Reika the new outfit, he smiled, his voice carrying both authority and warmth. "From now on, you are Reika. Wear this with pride."
Reika, feeling the weight of her new name and the significance of the moment, took the outfit with trembling hands. Without hesitation, she stripped off her old, tattered clothing, letting it fall to the ground. As she stood there, naked and vulnerable, she felt a strange sense of empowerment, knowing that she was shedding her old life and stepping into something new.
The outfit Gojo had given her was unlike anything she had ever worn before. The primary color was a deep, crimson red, with black accents that added an air of mystery and power. The bodice was tight and form-fitting, accentuating her curves while still allowing for freedom of movement. It plunged daringly at the neckline, drawing attention to her ample chest, yet maintaining an air of elegance.
The outfit's skirt was long and flowing, made of a sheer material that revealed glimpses of her legs as she moved, the fabric swirling around her with every step. The high boots that completed the ensemble reached just above her knees, made of sleek black leather that hugged her legs like a second skin. They were both practical and stylish, with a slight heel that added to her height and gave her an imposing presence.
Her arms were partially covered by long, black gloves that extended past her elbows, adding a touch of sophistication to the fierce ensemble. The final piece was a belt around her waist, adorned with various clips and pouches that suggested utility and readiness for battle.
As she put on the outfit, Reika felt a surge of confidence. This wasn't just clothing; it was armor—an outward expression of her newfound identity and purpose. She looked down at herself, taking in the transformation, and felt a deep sense of pride and power.
When she finally looked up at Gojo, her eyes were filled with determination. She was no longer the frightened slave she had been moments ago. Now, she was Reika—a name that held power, strength, and a future filled with endless possibilities.
Gojo observed her with an approving nod. "Perfect. You wear it well, Reika."
Gojo watched as Reika adjusted to her new outfit, her confidence visibly growing. He then looked at her with a smirk, as if considering how much to reveal. "Reika, I'm not a Force user. I'm something more... or at least that's what a crazy bitch once hinted to me." He chuckled, remembering the twisted encounter with Abeloth, who had suggested that his cursed energy might be an evolution of the dark side itself.
Reika's eyes widened in astonishment. "You're this powerful... and you're not even a Jedi? Oh yeah, now that I think about it..." Her voice trailed off as the realization hit her, her mind racing with questions. "How did you become something stronger than a Jedi?"
Gojo's smirk deepened, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and something more profound. "It's a long story, but let's just say that what I possess—cursed energy—isn't something you can learn through training with the Force. It's a different kind of power, one that's born from the negative emotions of people and the very essence of life itself. Where the Force is about balance, cursed energy thrives on imbalance."
Reika stared at him, awestruck by the idea. The concept of a power that existed outside the Force, something that could rival or even surpass the might of the Jedi, was almost too much to comprehend. And yet, here was Gojo, living proof of that power, standing right in front of her.
"But how did you get this power?" she pressed, her curiosity insatiable. "How did you become something stronger than a Jedi?"
Gojo shrugged, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "It's just how I was born, I suppose. My family has a long history with cursed energy, and I was lucky—or unlucky, depending on how you see it—to inherit the strongest of it. It's not something I sought out; it's just who I am."
He paused, his gaze turning slightly more serious. "But being strong isn't just about having power, Reika. It's about what you do with it. That's why I'm taking you under my wing—not to just make you powerful, but to help you understand the responsibility that comes with it. The galaxy is a dangerous place, and the more power you have, the more dangerous it becomes—for you and for those around you."
Reika nodded, absorbing his words, but Gojo's thoughts drifted back to the moment that had changed everything for him—the moment he drank that strange, goo-filled cup. It was only after that drink that he started to remember things, to understand the true nature of his existence in this galaxy. The rush of memories, the sudden understanding of the galaxy's complex power structures, and the knowledge that had eluded him before... it all made sense now. He realized the implications of his cursed energy in the context of the Force and why Abeloth had been so intrigued by him.
He laughed bitterly to himself, recalling the chaos that had followed—how the Jedi and Sith had sensed a disturbance, how Abeloth had marked him, and how the galaxy seemed to cry out in response to his trouble . "Man, I was an idiot before I drank that cup of goo..." he muttered under his breath, the memory of his own ignorance making him shake his head.
Reika, noticing the shift in his demeanor, asked, "Sensei, what do you mean?"
Gojo snapped out of his thoughts, flashing her a grin. "It's nothing. Just remember, Reika, the more powerful you become, the more careful you need to be. Power can be a curse as much as it's a blessing. And trust me, you don't want to be dealing with the kind of shit that comes after you when you're as strong as I am—or stronger."
He then looked at her with a teasing glint in his eye. "But if you do reach my level—or surpass it—you can pretty much do whatever you want. Just be ready for the trouble that comes with it."
Reika, inspired by his words, nodded with determination. "I'll be ready, Sensei. Whatever comes, I'll be by your side."
BONUSSS
As they soared through the vastness of space on Sleipnir's back, Reika couldn't help but notice something odd. "Sensei," she began, curiosity lacing her voice, "why can I breathe in space? We're on the back of a horse, without any equipment, and yet... I'm fine."
Gojo glanced over his shoulder at her, a playful grin spreading across his face. "Hmm, maybe Sleipnir suddenly decided to produce air and oxygen," he said with a laugh, clearly amused by the absurdity of his own explanation.
Reika stared at him for a moment, processing his words. She couldn't help but chuckle softly to herself, realizing something important about her master. Gojo was powerful, strong, and undeniably heroic... but sometimes, he could be a bit of an idiot.
She smiled, a warmth filling her heart. Even with all his power and strength, there was something endearing about his occasional moments of silliness. And it was in those moments that she felt even closer to him, knowing that beneath the overwhelming power, there was someone who could still make her laugh.
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone