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Reincarnated as Kylo Ren

Eclipse of Fate

"Sir, we've arrived at Jakku. Our troops are deploying as we speak. Your shuttle stands ready." The Lieutenant's voice was crisp, his posture ramrod straight as he delivered his report.

Silence stretched between them, heavy and expectant. The Lieutenant shifted, unease creeping into his voice. "My lord?"

"Prepare my personal fighter," Kylo Ren commanded, his words cold yet thrumming with an undercurrent of anticipation. "I'll be descending alone."

"At once, my Lord." The Lieutenant saluted sharply before turning on his heel, already reaching for his comlink as he exited.

Left alone, Kylo Ren surveyed the room, his gaze settling on a nearby mirror. He approached it slowly, taking in the intimidating figure he carved in his black attire. With a sudden, decisive movement, he removed his helmet.

The face that stared back at him was not one of his own. A face that was young, intense, marked by a prominent nose and eyes that held a storm of emotions. For a moment, he studied his reflection, feeling the weight of his identity and the path that lay before him.

'Shit... I became Adam Driver.' I thought.

-Flashback-

[Kylo Ren is a horrible character. His lightsaber sucks, he's a whining baby, and he's a poorly-written character.]

I typed across my computer as I vented on the internet. I mean, how can these people even think that a sequel character is good?! That disappointment of a trilogy is just a Disney cash-in. No redeeming qualities whatsoever.

[Kylo Ren is the most compelling character of the trilogy. His story is so good.] A netizen defended.

[Where did you find that? The books nobody cares to read?] I shot back.

[You clearly don't know what you are talking about.] Another taunted.]

[🤓] Was all I gave.

[F*cking Troll] A new one cursed.

[You're the troll for actually liking the move.] I trolled

[It's movie, not move.] One took advantage of my spelling error.

[🖕Sorry, I must have been blinded by all the tears shed over Kylo Ren's 'compelling' story'.] I retorted.

[Only someone who doesn't understand character development would say that.] Another chimed in.

[Character development? More like the scriptwriter's desperate attempt at a redemption arc.] I fired back.

[The only desperate thing here is your trolling.] Another user sneered through the screen.

[And the only compelling thing about Kylo Ren is his helmet- at least it hides his ugly nose.]" I concluded with a flourish.

Leaning back in my gamer chair, I smiled at my victory in this digital debate. I'm Hunson, a pure Star Wars fan. There are only six movies in the saga, I'll die on that hill. Anyway, after wrapping up a session on Battlefront 2, I headed to Reddit and stumbled upon a post praising Kylo Ren that I couldn't ignore.

I dove into the fray of internet warfare without hesitation. I knew my fellow Star Wars purists would rally to bury the opposition. As I refreshed the page, a new reply appeared.

[Could you at least watch this before you give your opinions? -Link] A new reply showed up as I refreshed.

"Pfft, what is this? A virus? Like there's some video out there that can change my mind," I scoffed before clicking the link. "My antivirus is pretty strong. There shouldn't be a" I fainted, cut off mid-thought.

-End of Flashback-

I stare at my trembling hands, still reeling from the flood of memories, of Ben Solo's memories. In an instant, I'd lived his entire life: the warmth of his childhood, the sting of familial separation, the weight of Luke's teachings, and the creeping mistrust that poisoned their relationship. I felt the searing pain of his fall, the destruction of the Jedi Academy etched into my mind like a brand. The screams, the fire, the lives lost- all of it haunts me now as it haunts him.

Snoke's seduction plays out before me- the allure of the Dark Side, the intoxicating promise of power and control. But it's all an illusion. Ben has no real power, no true control. He's no Sith, and I know now he never will be.

Because the Light never truly left him. Each step on his dark path is laden with anguish and regret. He's lost, blind, yearning for a home he can't return to, a family he believes he's forsaken.

Standing in this cold, sterile room, I find myself reassessing Kylo Ren's character, seeing depths I'd never imagined. As I don the grey helmet, my comlink blinks. I answer, and a small hologram of the Lieutenant appears. "My lord, your ship is ready."

"I'll be there shortly. Prepare for my arrival," I respond, my voice devoid of emotion. Ending the call, I stride purposefully through corridors that feel both foreign and intimately familiar. My mind races, but I force those thoughts aside. There will be time for reflection later.

The halls blur past as I march onward, acutely aware of the officers and soldiers saluting, their faces a mix of fear and awe. I acknowledge none of them. Entering the hangar bay, I'm greeted by more salutes from the repair crew. Without hesitation, I board my TIE Silencer.

My hands move with uncanny familiarity over the controls I've never touched before. The ship hums to life, hovering as I run through preflight checks. Then, with a surge of power, I guide the Silencer out of the hangar and into the vast expanse of space, leaving behind a wake of questions and an future uncertain.

Speeding towards Jakku, I think about what I was going to do down there. In the movie, he captured Poe, killed the locals, and murdered Lor San Tekka, an old friend of his mother. A man who knew his past.

Three voices warred within my mind, each pulling me in opposite directions. The part of me that was truly Kylo Ren - born of pain, betrayal, and the seductive whispers of the Dark Side - screamed for vengeance. It urged me to strike, to prove my loyalty to the darkness I've chosen.

The part of me that was the true Ben Solo - born with love, family, and a heart of gold - strong in the ever-present Light. The child within me, who urges me to drop my blade and return home.

Then there was another voice, newer and more familiar. The part of me that had lived another life, that had seen the story from the outside, knew the weight of this moment. It whispered of potential, of paths not yet taken, of a future that could be shaped by this very decision.

My hand trembled on the handle of the ship, caught between these warring impulses. The darkness craved blood, the light beckoned for contentment but a spark of ambition overcame both ripples in my chest. What if I chose differently? What if I rewrote the story? My story?

The choice before me wasn't just about life or death - it was about who I would become. My fingers tightened on the handles as I powered forward. Just what will become of my destiny?