章 52: The Rebirth of the Honored One: Gojo Satoru's Ascension

In the royal chamber of Theed Castle, the atmosphere was heavy with silence, broken only by the soft hum of the ethereal screen displaying Gojo's final stand. The shimmering shield around Naboo glowed faintly, a testament to Gojo's sacrifice. Yet, the triumph was bittersweet, marred by the irreplaceable loss of a powerful ally and friend.

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon stood together, their faces etched with grief and disbelief. Obi-Wan, struggling to keep his emotions in check, finally spoke, his voice strained. "He did it. He protected Naboo... but at what cost?" His eyes were damp, though he tried to remain stoic. The loss of Gojo was a weight he hadn't expected to feel so deeply.

Qui-Gon nodded slowly, his expression one of quiet sorrow. "Gojo... he chose to stand against impossible odds. His strength went beyond what we've ever known. He may have been unconventional, but his resolve was... unwavering." There was no talk of titles or legacies—only the raw acknowledgment of a comrade's final, selfless act.

Across the room, Yukinami couldn't contain her grief. Tears streamed down her face as she clutched Suzunami's arm, her voice quivering. "He promised he'd always come back... that he'd be okay. How can he be gone just like that?" Her words were a painful echo of the despair felt by everyone who had come to trust Gojo's invincibility.

Reika, who usually held herself with a tough exterior, was now on her knees, fists clenched as tears fell freely. "Sensei, you idiot," she muttered, voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. "You always said nothing could stop you. And now... now we have to carry on without you."

Suzunami, usually so composed, wiped his face with his sleeve, trying and failing to hold back his tears. "He wasn't supposed to leave us," he said, voice shaking. "He was supposed to be unbeatable, unstoppable... but he still went and sacrificed everything." The reality of Gojo's absence hit him like a tidal wave, and he struggled to maintain his composure.

Anakin, standing with Shmi, wept silently, his small frame shaking as he tried to process the loss of someone he had come to admire deeply. "Mom... he was like a hero, like the brightest star in the sky," Anakin whispered, his voice choked with tears. "How could he just... be gone?"

Shmi gently held her son close, her eyes also brimming with unshed tears. "I know, Anakin," she said softly, her voice steady despite the sorrow. "But Gojo did what he believed was right. He protected us all, even when it meant giving up everything."

Padmé stood slightly apart, her gaze fixed on the screen showing the glowing shield that still surrounded Naboo. Tears silently rolled down her cheeks, her expression a mix of gratitude and unspoken sorrow. Sabé, noticing her friend's distress, moved closer, placing a comforting hand on Padmé's shoulder.

"Padmé," Sabé whispered, her voice gentle, "it's okay to feel this. You don't have to be strong all the time."

Padmé let out a shaky breath, finally allowing herself to crumble as she leaned into Sabé's embrace. "He did all of this... and I didn't even get to say goodbye," she murmured, her voice breaking. "He gave everything, and I couldn't do anything for him."

Sabé hugged her tightly, tears welling in her own eyes. "He knew, Padmé," she said softly. "He knew how much he meant to us all. He didn't need words to understand that. He acted because that's who he was."

In that shared moment of grief, the royal chamber of Theed Castle became a silent witness to the profound impact Gojo Satoru had left on everyone present. There were no titles or grand proclamations—just the raw, honest emotions of those who had stood beside him.

Captain Panaka interrupted, his voice urgent and filled with concern. "Your Majesty, we need to evacuate. We have to get help from the Republic."

Padmé turned to him, her expression weary yet resolute. "Panaka, the Republic doesn't have an army capable of defending us against this. They were on the verge of losing control, barely holding onto their own power. How can we fight against something like—"

Suddenly, the sky above Theed, and across the universe , began to darken unnaturally. The stars seemed to fade, and a foreboding shadow spread across the heavens. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan exchanged wary glances, sensing a profound shift in the Force.

"What's happening?" Qui-Gon asked, his voice edged with concern.

Obi-Wan's eyes darted around, trying to make sense of the unnatural phenomenon. "This... this isn't something we've seen before."

Padmé, still with tears in her eyes, began to laugh—a quiet, almost hysterical sound that caught everyone off guard. "Ahahahaha... haaaahhhh. Gojo... you're really going to be the (it got muted due to binding vow ,( Soul King)), aren't you?" she murmured, her voice a mix of sadness and strange acceptance.

In her mind, a flash of memory replayed—a moment when Gojo had told her about his dark right hand, connected to his three-pupil eye, and his intention to transcend beyond his current limits. She understood, in that moment, that this was not just a loss, but the beginning of something far greater than any of them could have foreseen. The darkness that enveloped the skies was not just a sign of despair, but perhaps the birth of a new legend—a legacy that Gojo Satoru was in the process of claiming, even in the depths of his apparent defeat.

In the cold expanse of space, Gojo Satoru hung battered and broken, a once unyielding force now reduced to a lifeless shell. His body was a grim testament to the battle he had fought; half of his face was gone, his limbs severed, and his legs nothing but charred stumps. His heart, the center of his immense power, had been obliterated as he took on the brunt of the Auswählen and the Eclipse Star Destroyer's planet-destroying weapon at point-blank range.

Amidst the wreckage, the Sith fleet loomed ominously, with the Eclipse-class Star Destroyer at its forefront. Inside the command bridge, Darth Plagueis stood tall, gazing at the floating remnants of what was once his most formidable opponent. A sinister smile curled on his lips as he addressed his crew and the galaxy beyond, his voice resonating with triumph.

"Behold the fate of those who dare to defy the Sith!" Plagueis declared, his voice dripping with arrogance and self-satisfaction. "Satoru Gojo, once thought to be an invincible anomaly, now lies broken and defeated. Let this be a lesson to the galaxy—the Sith are the true rulers, the rightful heirs of all that exists. We have reclaimed our power, and no force, no matter how defiant, can stand in our way."

Plagueis's eyes then turned to the floating remains of Gojo, particularly fixating on the severed right hand, still imbued with the eerie presence of Mimihagi, the godly entity that had halted the Starkiller beam in its tracks. "I shall take this dark right hand," Plagueis mused, his voice filled with greedy anticipation. "The very hand that stopped my planet-destroying weapon. Imagine the power it must contain, a relic worthy of the Sith!"

He moved closer, extending his arm as if to claim the severed limb for himself. Plagueis, however, had no understanding of what Mimihagi truly was or the consequences of attempting to seize such a power. He saw only an opportunity to exploit the unknown, his ambition blinding him to the inherent danger.

Just as Plagueis was about to reach the severed hand, the massive doors to the bridge groaned and began to slide open. Plagueis's eyes widened in confusion, and a flicker of irritation crossed his face. "Who dares—" he began, but his words were abruptly cut off as a colossal figure burst through the entrance.

With a sudden, bone-shattering impact, Darth Plagueis was sent flying across the bridge, crashing into the far wall. His triumphant demeanor shattered, replaced by shock and pain. The Sith Lord looked up, struggling to comprehend what had just happened. Before him stood Mahoraga, the Eight-Handled Sword Divergent Sila Divine General, a towering figure of ancient power and indomitable strength, summoned by Gojo as his final act before succumbing to his injuries.

Flashback:

Moments before his body was ravaged, Gojo had foreseen the need for a final line of defense. Bloodied and drained, with his vision fading and the very fabric of his body unraveling under the relentless assault, he whispered a command into the void, his voice barely more than a rasp.

"With this treasure... I summon... Eight-Handled Sword Divergent Sila Divine General Mahoraga."

The immense, otherworldly presence of Mahoraga materialized, its serpentine form and myriad blades a living testament to unstoppable might. Gojo, at the brink of death, had called forth the only force capable of continuing the fight in his stead.

Present:

Mahoraga's form was imposing, a haunting silhouette against the backdrop of the shattered bridge. Its body, draped in dark, flowing robes that seemed to sway as if caught in an unseen wind, was a mass of twisting, sinuous energy and armor. The Dharma Wheel above its head rotated slowly, emitting the familiar CLANK with each turn—a sign that it was adapting, preparing for whatever challenge lay ahead. Mahoraga lacked eyes but was no less aware; its sightless face bore an expression of unyielding menace, a creature of pure instinct and ancient might, ready to crush anything in its path. In Its both arms, each wielding a sword forged from the essence of curses and shadows, moved with precision, embodying the unstoppable force that Gojo had unleashed in his final moments.

Plagueis, momentarily stunned by the force of the blow, staggered to his feet, his face twisted in fury and disbelief. "What is this?!" he roared, his composure slipping as he realized the extent of Gojo's final gambit. "Some conjured beast? You think this will stop me? I am the Dark Lord of the Sith—"

Before he could finish, Mahoraga moved with a speed and fluidity that belied its massive form. One of its immense, blade-tipped arms swung down with a force that cleaved through the very structure of the bridge, sending sparks and shards of metal flying. Plagueis narrowly avoided the strike, his robes singed and his expression turning from outrage to a rare flash of fear.

But just as Mahoraga prepared to strike again, the atmosphere on the bridge shifted drastically. A malicious aura filled the air, thick and suffocating, as if the very fabric of reality was being torn apart. The ship shook violently, and the sound of a deep, mocking laugh echoed through the corridors.

Suddenly, Plagueis heard it—an incantation that sent a chill down his spine. "Scale of the Dragon… Recoil… Twin Meteor… World Dismantle!"

The entire ship shuddered, and before anyone could react, an unseen force ripped through the Eclipse-class Star Destroyer, slicing it cleanly in half. Metal groaned and buckled under the immense pressure as the ship began to split, the two halves drifting apart with terrifying finality. The bridge was thrown into chaos, alarms blaring, and the crew scrambling as the ship's structural integrity was violently compromised.

In the center of the destruction stood Sukuna, freed from the remnants of Gojo's control. His towering form was menacing, wreathed in cursed energy that pulsed like a dark flame. Tattoos etched across his muscular body glowed with an ominous crimson, reflecting the boundless cursed energy that now flowed unrestrained. His four eyes, two slitted pupils and two additional above, glinted with a predatory gleam, capturing the sheer malevolence and arrogance that defined him. Clad in torn, regal Heian-era garments that fluttered like the remnants of an ancient curse, Sukuna grinned—a feral, wide grin that showcased his sharp, predatory teeth.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!" Sukuna's laugh echoed like thunder, reverberating off the shattered walls of the Star Destroyer. "I AM FREED FROM THE BRATTTTTT!"

Plagueis, recognizing the ancient and malevolent entity, quickly tried to regain control of the situation. His mind raced as he searched for a way to turn this chaotic turn of events to his advantage. "Sukuna!" Plagueis called out, his voice carrying a feigned respect as he stepped forward. "You and I share common enemies. The galaxy could be ours if we join forces—"

But Sukuna, ever disdainful of alliances, sneered at the Sith Lord's attempt at diplomacy. Without a word, Sukuna summoned a barrage of Dismantle, the cursed energy slicing through the air like a rain of razor-sharp blades. Plagueis barely had time to erect a Force barrier, deflecting some of the attack, but several slashes tore through his robes, drawing blood. The Sith Lord staggered back, his earlier confidence replaced by a growing sense of alarm.

Mahoraga, caught in the crossfire, roared in defiance as the Dismantle strikes slammed into its form. The Divine General's swords swung in a defensive arc, parrying the onslaught with immense skill, but even it was pushed back by the sheer force of Sukuna's assault. Sparks flew as blade met cursed energy, each impact resonating like the clash of titans.

The battle had evolved into a chaotic three-way fight, each force trying for dominance over the other. Plagueis, still trying to regain control, found himself outmatched by the relentless fury of both Mahoraga and Sukuna. His Sith lightning crackled through the air, clashing against Mahoraga's blades and Sukuna's curses in a spectacular display of power and destruction.

Sukuna reveled in the mayhem, his laughter cutting through the chaos like a knife. He unleashed another wave of attacks, his fingers slicing through the air as he summoned more Dismantle, tearing through the ship and its occupants with reckless abandon. To Sukuna, this was freedom—chaos and destruction unfettered by any chains, be they of flesh, duty, or allegiance.

Plagueis, realizing the precariousness of his situation, knew he had to retreat or risk being obliterated. But as he moved to fall back, Sukuna's curses intensified, a relentless barrage that gave no quarter. Mahoraga, equally undeterred, continued its onslaught, its many swords a whirl of divine retribution aimed at both enemies.

In the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, the mood in the Council Chamber was tense and urgent. The ethereal screens displayed the ongoing chaos over Naboo—a battle that had escalated into a three-way conflict involving an unknown Sith, the monstrous Sukuna, and Mahoraga. The spectacle was one of pure destruction, with each force unleashing devastating powers that threatened not just the combatants but the very fabric of the space surrounding them.

Mace Windu stood at the center of the chamber, his expression dark and determined. He had seen Sukuna's destructive potential firsthand, and now, watching the carnage unfold, the reality of the threat was undeniable. "Sukuna's presence is a disaster waiting to happen," Windu stated, his voice grim. "His Malevolent Shrine covered 30 kilometers the last time we faced him. Now, without Gojo, he could obliterate everything in his path."

Yoda, perched on his chair, his face etched with deep concern, nodded solemnly. "Dangerous, Sukuna is. Darker than the Sith, and far more unpredictable. The threat he poses, understand it fully, we do not."

Depa Billaba , standing nearby, added with a calm but worried tone, "The Sith's power is formidable, but Sukuna's is raw, chaotic, and unbound. This isn't a typical battle—it's a collision of cataclysmic forces. And with Gojo gone, Naboo stands vulnerable to forces beyond even our comprehension."

Ki-Adi-Mundi, the voice of reason, chimed in with a strategic concern. "Gojo's shield is holding, but for how long? We're dealing with powers that could easily break through if given the chance. The unknown Sith, the monster Sukuna, and now unknown white creature —it's an unpredictable and deadly mix."

Mace Windu's brow furrowed as he watched the battle. "We've never dealt with threats of this magnitude at once. Gojo's sacrifice has given us time, but it's up to us to ensure that time isn't wasted. If Sukuna decides to unleash his full power on Naboo, the consequences will be catastrophic."

Yoda, always the voice of ancient wisdom, spoke with a heavy heart. "Fight, we must. Protect Naboo, we will. But recognize, the enemy is unlike any we have faced. This battle, a test it is—not just of strength, but of our resolve."

Depa Billaba looked at the rest of the Council, her expression resolute. "We need every available fleet. The Republic must be rallied, and our allies called upon. The Sith's resurgence combined with Sukuna's chaotic nature threatens to destabilize the entire galaxy."

Mace Windu nodded, his resolve unshaken despite the immense challenges ahead. "The Jedi will not stand idle. We may not fully understand what we are up against, but Gojo's shield has given us a fighting chance. We must use it. Alert the Republic, prepare the fleets. We may be facing a storm, but we will not falter."

Yoda's eyes gleamed with a quiet but fierce determination. "Stand, the Jedi will. Against this darkness, fight we must. Naboo is but the beginning. The fate of the galaxy, in this battle, li----

Yoda's words hung in the air, a somber acknowledgment of the dire situation unfolding. Suddenly, the entire sky over Coruscant was swallowed by an unnatural darkness, an all-encompassing shadow that seemed to drain the very light from the bustling city-planet below. The sun was blotted out, and a cold, eerie stillness fell over the Jedi Temple, as if the universe itself had taken a breath and held it.

Mace Windu, always composed even in the face of the unknown, turned to Yoda with a deep frown. "What manner of darkness is this?" he asked, his voice laced with concern. He could feel the shift in the Force—something vast, ancient, and malevolent, but familiar in its raw, oppressive power.

Yoda's eyes narrowed, his gaze still fixed on the darkened sky. "Darkness, indeed," he murmured, his tone contemplative but touched with a hint of hope. "Even with my wisdom, understand this, I do not fully. But… a theory, I have." He paused, carefully weighing his words, aware of the binding vow that restrained what he could reveal. "Gojo's right hand—connected to something ancient and powerful, it is. A source of darkness, yet not evil. Protective, it can be."

Mace Windu's expression shifted slightly, a flicker of realization crossing his features. "You're saying this darkness could be linked to Gojo? To his right hand?" Windu recalled the formidable entity associated with Gojo's severed hand, the one that had halted the Starkiller's beam. "You think it's… him?"

Yoda nodded slowly. "Return, Gojo might. If a connection to the darkness, this is. Save Naboo, he could, in a way only he can." Yoda's words, though careful, carried a profound belief in Gojo's resilience and unyielding will. Even in death, there was a chance that Gojo Satoru's spirit, his defiance, would transcend the boundaries that bound ordinary beings.

The Council fell silent, each Jedi contemplating the weight of Yoda's words. If Gojo's power was still at play, if the darkness over Coruscant was a sign of his potential return, then perhaps the hope for Naboo's salvation wasn't lost after all.

Mace Windu, ever pragmatic, nodded in agreement. "We can't rely on hope alone, but if Gojo has a hand in this, we must be prepared for whatever comes next. Ready the fleets, contact our allies, and strengthen our defenses. If Gojo returns, we'll fight alongside him. If not, we'll honor his sacrifice with everything we have."

Yoda's gaze remained fixed on the darkened sky, a quiet resolve settling over his ancient features. "Prepare, we will. But trust in the Force, we must. And trust in Gojo, we should. His journey, not yet complete, it may be."

As the darkness loomed, a silent promise lingered—Gojo's story was far from over, and the fate of Naboo, and perhaps the entire galaxy or universe ,

Amidst the wreckage of the Eclipse Star Destroyer, the fierce three-way battle between Sukuna, the unknown Sith (Plagueis), and Mahoraga had reached a tense standoff. The air crackled with violent energy as the three combatants, each a monstrous force in their own right, prepared to unleash their next devastating attacks. Mahoraga stood with its menacing presence, the extermination sword it wielded gleaming ominously, ready to strike at any moment.

Sukuna, with his usual sadistic grin, mocked the Sith Lord who dared to challenge his might. "You think you can stand against me?" Sukuna sneered, his multiple eyes glinting with a dangerous light. "This is beyond your pathetic Sith tricks."

Plagueis, undeterred, maintained his cold composure, his mind calculating every possibility. "You are nothing but a beast that craves chaos," he retorted, his voice dripping with disdain. "The Sith have mastered the dark side for millennia. Your recklessness will be your downfall."

But before their taunts could escalate into another deadly exchange, a heavy and oppressive darkness swept across the space, enveloping everything in its path. Mahoraga's Dharmic Wheel emitted a resounding "CLANK" as it began to turn, adapting to the unknown force, the sound echoing like a grim harbinger of the shift in battle.

However, something was wrong. The darkness was not simply an absence of light—it was a force, a presence that none of them had anticipated. Sukuna, Mahoraga, and the Sith found themselves paralyzed, unable to move or speak. Their immense powers seemed to vanish under the overwhelming pressure, as if they were being held by an invisible hand that crushed their will to act.

Sukuna's eyes, usually filled with contempt, now showed a flicker of frustration as he struggled against the unseen restraints. Plagueis's confident demeanor cracked, replaced by confusion and a hint of fear as he realized that this darkness was something far beyond his understanding or control. Mahoraga, though adaptive and powerful, was rendered still, its myriad eyes scanning but unable to react. The Dharma Wheel continued to emit that haunting "CLANK," indicating it was adapting, but even its legendary adaptability seemed stalled.

In the bridge command of the Eclipse Star Destroyer, where Plagueis had once stood with the assurance of victory, there was now only silence and stillness. The battle had not simply paused—it had been forcibly suspended, every force frozen by a darkness that defied all logic and power they had encountered.

They were at the mercy of an unknown force, one that neither Sukuna's ferocity, Mahoraga's adaptation, nor the Sith's dark mastery could defy. As they hung in the oppressive stillness of the void, it became clear: whatever had intervened was not merely stopping their fight—it was asserting dominion over all.

Meanwhile, in an unknown location, Gojo suddenly found himself standing in Tokyo Airport. The bustling hub was filled with the familiar sights of travelers rushing between gates, the hum of announcements echoing through the vast atrium, and the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafting from nearby cafes. Sleek glass walls revealed the skyline of the city outside, with planes landing and taking off in a synchronized dance. The bright lights and modern architecture were in stark contrast to the cosmic battlefield he had just left behind.

Gojo glanced around, a bemused expression crossing his face. "Nice mental image," he muttered to himself, enjoying the unexpected tranquility. "I hope Suguru is here. Since the future me died and became the divided one." He chuckled at the absurdity of it all, reveling in the irony of his own situation.

As he walked further into the airport, lost in his own thoughts, he stopped short, eyes widening in surprise. Standing in front of him was another Gojo—his original self, unmistakably wearing the Shinjuku Showdown outfit. This Gojo had a scar on his stomach, a stark reminder of past battles, but his demeanor was as confident and carefree as ever.

The original Gojo tilted his head, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Well, this is awkward," he quipped, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Two of us in one place? I didn't think I'd see the day."

The reincarnated Gojo raised an eyebrow, smirking back. "Right? How the hell are there two of us?"

Original Gojo shrugged, seemingly unbothered. "Beats me, but I gotta say, you've got style. Though I gotta ask," he said, pointing at the reincarnated Gojo with a casual flick of his finger, "did you just hack the system using the Dharma Wheel? I'm impressed, very impressed."

Reincarnated Gojo snickered, folding his arms. "Yeah, figured I'd bend a few rules. It's not like I was gonna play by the book after all that."

Original Gojo laughed, the sound bright and unapologetically amused. "Typical me—always finding a loophole. I guess that makes you a chip off the old block, huh?"

Reincarnated Gojo chuckled, shaking his head. "More like rewriting the block entirely. But hey, at least we know we're both too stubborn to quit."

The two Gojo Satorus stood there, a perfect mirror of wit and defiance, each recognizing in the other the same unbreakable spirit that had carried them through countless battles.

The original Gojo, still grinning with that unmistakable mix of mischief and wisdom, stepped closer to his reincarnated counterpart. "Let's make this simple," he said, placing a hand firmly on the reincarnated Gojo's shoulder. Instantly, a surge of energy flowed between them, like a river reconnecting with its source. The reincarnated Gojo felt the core of cursed energy reignite within him, the familiar currents of Reversal Red and Hollow Purple rushing back, filling the void that had been left by his fragmented powers.

The original Gojo's smile widened as he felt the energy transfer complete. "There you go, all charged up. But listen up—there's a reason you couldn't use your domain. Limitless was being blocked by Sukuna's Malevolent Shrine, along with the Ten Shadows and surprisingly he ripped them both right out from under you. The crazy bastard stole your own shadows, just like the fraud he is." He shook his head, half-amused, half-exasperated. "Typical Sukuna, huh? Always playing dirty."

Reincarnated Gojo blinked, absorbing the information. "So, that's why everything felt off. He really went all out, didn't he?"

"Yup," Original Gojo confirmed, his tone light despite the gravity of the situation. "But here's the kicker—Sukuna's technically freed now. And while he's out there causing a three-way brawl that's probably tearing the fabric of reality apart, he's actually doing you a favor in his own twisted way. By creating all this chaos, he's messing with the bindings that held your potential back."

Reincarnated Gojo raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "I should be thanking the King of Curses for unleashing my powers? Now that's a first."

The original Gojo chuckled, giving a casual shrug. "Weird, right? But hey, that's the way it goes with guys like Sukuna. Even when he's not trying to help, he ends up throwing a wrench in the works just enough to tip things in our favor. So, go on, use that chaos. Bend it to your will. That's what makes us, well… us."

Reincarnated Gojo nodded, a determined glint in his eyes. "Guess I have a battle to get back to, and a fraud to put in his place."

Original Gojo grinned and gave a casual mock salute, his voice oozing with his trademark playful confidence. "Yeah, of course you can! Who else but us, right?" he quipped, delivering the line with that unmistakable Gojo style—cocky, carefree, yet undeniably reassuring.

As the reincarnated Gojo turned to leave, the original Gojo's gaze shifted to a figure encased in a crystalline barrier nearby. The figure was humanoid but disturbingly incomplete: the Soul King. Suspended by four wires within an elegant chamber, the Soul King's form was pitifully weakened, stripped of his limbs and reduced to a mere husk of his once-mighty presence. His slicked-back dark hair and thin eyebrows framed an unsettling face, with each of his oval eyes containing four black irises, giving him an eerie, alien look that defied comprehension.

Original Gojo stepped closer, studying the Soul King with a mix of curiosity and something that might have been sympathy—or perhaps just the recognition of another being caught in an unwelcome fate. "I've done my part, crazy being," he said, his voice softer but still carrying that distinct Gojo bravado. "Now it's time for you to do yours."

The Soul King remained motionless, bound within his crystalline prison, the faintest flicker of ancient power barely perceptible beneath the layers of confinement. Gojo's words hung in the air, a challenge, an acknowledgment, and perhaps even a call to action for the enigmatic being. With one final, lingering look, Gojo turned away, the moment a quiet yet powerful reminder of the immense forces at play.

Suddenly, the original Gojo was pulled into the reincarnated Gojo, merging them into a single being once more, and at that exact moment, the Soul King's barrier shattered with an explosive force. The Soul King emerged, no longer the frail entity once suspended by wires, but now fully restored to his prime form. His body was whole and imposing, radiating an overwhelming presence that filled the chamber.

The Soul King's appearance was now a striking contrast to his weakened state; he stood tall and muscular, with his dark hair flowing freely. His eyes, each containing four black irises, glowed intensely, conveying a deep and ancient wisdom mixed with a formidable power that seemed to resonate with the very fabric of existence. His arms, once non-existent, had returned in a striking form—veined and powerful, adorned with intricate markings that pulsed with energy, resembling the complex patterns of eyes. These arms mirrored the imagery Gojo had seen before, a symbol of the Soul King's full ascension.

The Soul King looked around, flexing his newly regained limbs, his expression shifting between disbelief and annoyance. His hands, marked with eye-like symbols, emanated a powerful aura that matched his regal yet fierce demeanor. He finally turned his gaze to the reincarnated Gojo, who stood there, trying to process the scene unfolding before him.

The Soul King scoffed, his voice dripping with a mix of exasperation and begrudging admiration. "The fuck? Did you seriously just Auswählen yourself? Huh?"

Reincarnated Gojo, still reeling from the power surge and the Soul King's sudden transformation, blinked in confusion. "Wait… so the Soul King is a homie now? I thought you were some mystical overlord or something."

The Soul King snorted, crossing his arms with a faint smirk, the eye-like symbols on his hands glowing faintly. "Homie, overlord, call it what you want. I'm here, aren't I? Guess it takes one crazy bastard to recognize another." He then glanced at Gojo with a sly expression. "So, you used Auswählen on yourself rather than your comrades. Different from that bastard Yhwach, but I gotta say, it's very entertaining."

Gojo raised an eyebrow, his mind catching up. "Speaking of Yhwach, I've got a similar question for you. Same thing I asked him before I killed him—or at least his Almighty will. How did you end up here? This verse feels like it's in a whole different universe, way beyond what we're used to."

The Soul King chuckled softly before his face grew serious, eyes narrowing. "When Yhwach killed me, he thought he'd finish the job, but instead, it freed me from the prison that had chained me for eons in the Royal Palace. My body was severed, parts scattered, but I wasn't bound anymore. The last of my Almighty allowed me to escape—to drift across random worlds. Yhwach used his Almighty to create a vessel for himself, but I? I've lived for so long… what, maybe a million years now? I just want a successor."

He paused, glancing around the surreal mental space they were in, before continuing. "Since you've got a taste of this mental world, let me offer you a choice. You can stay here, make any imagination you want a reality, and I take control outside. Or you can face the problems waiting for you out there. But be warned—it's not just Republic versus Empire out there. This universe has Legends elements too, which can be… problematic."

Gojo tilted his head, pondering the proposition. "What would you do if you were me?"

The Soul King's eyes gleamed, a proud smile forming on his face. "I knew I wasn't wrong choosing you as my successor. You surprised me, and as a reward, you'll gain all parts of the Soul King—the heart, left hand, right hand, and even my Almighty. The full package."

Gojo rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then grinned. "Jeez, that's horrifying. Honestly, I prefer 4 pupil eyes with Six Eyes from Jujutsu Kaisen. The blue is pretty cool, you know?"

The Soul King rolled his eyes but chuckled. "Yeah, yeah, aesthetic preferences. But hey, there's a bonus. I'll grant you the knowledge of Hado techniques from the Shinigami. After all, Jujutsu Kaisen's progenitor is practically Bleach, right?"

Gojo laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh man, we're totally breaking the fourth wall now."

The Soul King shrugged, a casual grin on his face. "When you're a god of multiple realities, what's one more wall to break?"

Gojo's playful grin faded for a moment, and he asked, "But seriously, why choose me? There are stronger characters in Star Wars, especially if you're adding Legends elements. Why me?"

The Soul King's expression became more contemplative. "When you were born into the world of sorcery, something shifted, didn't it? A change in the very fabric of that universe."

Gojo furrowed his brow, trying to piece together the Soul King's meaning. Then it hit him. His birth, the birth of a Rikugan user—the one who would inherit the Six Eyes—wasn't just a random event. It was a cosmic ripple that had disrupted the entire balance of the world.

"When I was born…" Gojo began, his voice low as the memory surfaced. "The world itself reacted. The birth of a Six Eyes user, a Rikugan, only happens once in a while, but when it does… it's like the universe bends around it."

The Soul King watched him closely. "That's the point. The world of Jujutsu Kaisen isn't just filled with cursed energy; it's governed by balance. Your birth caused a fundamental shift in that balance. Sorcerers with Six Eyes are rare because their very existence rewrites the rules of the world. Your mere presence shook the foundations of that universe. From that moment, things started to change—stronger curses, stronger sorcerers. Everyone had to adapt."

Gojo recalled it now, the feeling from Jujutsu Kaisen canon when he was born—the world reacted, as if a new, unstoppable force had arrived. The strongest beings sensed his presence, the flow of cursed energy twisted, and the world was never the same. "I was the first Six Eyes user in hundreds of years. My birth marked the start of something different. I made the world evolve."

The Soul King gave a satisfied nod. "That's why I chose you. Your existence creates ripples that go far beyond your universe. You weren't born to just fit into the world—you were meant to change it."

Gojo let out a slow exhale, letting the weight of the Soul King's words sink in. "So, it's not just about raw power—it's how I warp the entire game."

"Right," the Soul King replied. "You don't just play by the rules. You change them."

Before Gojo could speak again, the Soul King continued, crossing his arms and looking directly at Gojo with a smirk. "Now, I know what you're thinking. Why didn't I just hijack your body like Yhwach or Sukuna? Why go through all this?"

Gojo blinked, caught off guard, but stayed silent as the Soul King pressed on. "First off, the vessel is you. And you? There's nobody else like you. You weren't just born lucky—you were born with golden spoons. You're the only one compatible with my power because you're a Six Eyes user, and that makes you unique. No one else could handle it."

The Soul King paused, his gaze distant for a moment, before he sighed. "Secondly, I'm done with all this. I've lived for nearly a million years. You think that sounds impressive? It's boring as hell. Especially when you're chained up for most of it. I don't want to go through that again. If it's between that or dying, I'd rather die. And choosing you as my successor? That's my way out. My 'golden spoon' to you."

Gojo stood still, processing the weight of the words, but the Soul King wasn't finished.

"And one more thing," he added, his tone serious. "You don't know what the Almighty can do if it's let loose in the universe without a proper user. The effects would be catastrophic. Reality itself would collapse. The Almighty needs a wielder, someone who can control it without causing disastrous effects. If I left it unchecked, it would rip through worlds. That's why you're the one—it's not just about power, it's about control."

The Soul King smirked again, lighter this time. "So yeah, congratulations, gojo. You're not just lucky—you were born for this."

Gojo grinned, mischief flashing in his eyes. "More like I used it to troll a certain someone." He chuckled, recalling how he resurrected Pong Krell three times just to mess with him.

The Soul King gave him a bored look, unimpressed. "Yeah, sure you did. You terrified the entire galaxy with your little life-and-death show.

Gojo suddenly paused, a thought crossing his mind. "Wait, I need your brain—the Visionary—to spawn some things."

The Soul King raised an eyebrow, realizing what Gojo was asking. "Oh yeah, my brain. You'll have it. Plus, since you will have the left hand and the heart, you can spawn the Schutzstaffel if needed. For example, you can summon Gerard Valkyrie and still retain his ability, or any other Schutzstaffel member, just in case you need to spawn or summon them."

Reincarnated Gojo, still processing this overwhelming information, looked puzzled. "Wait, this feels like some kind of super luxury package. What the hell did I do to deserve all this?"

The Soul King chuckled, his expression a mix of amusement and approval. "You already had all this power the moment you cheated against the quest system and used the Dharma Wheel to hack it. I just held back the rewards until now. With my power added, you can either delete the quest system entirely or exploit it to your heart's content. It's up to you."

Gojo's eyes widened at the realization, the possibilities spiraling through his mind. "So, I can finally break free of all these limitations and play the game my way. That's perfect."

The Soul King's smile grew wider, his voice tinged with a hint of mischief. "And one last thing—if possible, make sure the screen on every planet in the galaxy see this: 'To avoid death, Gojo Satoru just ignored it and moved on.' It's my final request to mock this universe and the Force itself."

Gojo laughed, the sheer audacity of the statement resonating with his own irreverent nature. "You want to leave a parting shot at the universe? I like your style. Consider it done."

The Soul King glanced at Gojo thoughtfully and asked, "You have the Hōgyoku inside your body, don't you? It's similar to wish-granting, shouldn't it help?"

A knowing smile tugged at Gojo's lips as the Soul King suddenly realized the truth. "Oh, I see it now," the Soul King chuckled. "You wished for yourself to die, didn't you? And it did help you, but in a twisted way. You desired or wished for Auswählen on yourself, which is technically impossible since Auswählen is meant to be used on someone else or subordinates, killing them and adding their power to yourself. But you… you used it on yourself. You're the craziest bastard I've ever seen."

Gojo shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "What can I say? I've always been about bending the rules, not breaking them."

Suddenly, the Soul King tossed a small, glowing orb toward Gojo. Inside, there was a fruit and a small tree, encased within the ball like some kind of cosmic terrarium. Gojo caught it, inspecting the contents with a raised eyebrow.

"What is this?" Gojo asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

The Soul King's grin widened. "It's a chakra fruit and a Ten Tails (Juubi), at least in its premature form—not mobile yet, but still packed with power."

Gojo sighed, his expression caught between amusement and exasperation. "I think I have enough gifts, you know. You're spoiling me."

The Soul King chuckled, waving off Gojo's complaint. "Consider it insurance, or maybe just one more ace up your sleeve. After all, when you're going to mock the universe, why not do it in style?"

Gojo shook his head, pocketing the orb. "Fine, but no more surprises. I've got a universe to deal with, and I'd rather not be weighed down with extras."

The Soul King's expression darkened slightly. "I think you'll need those extras. Let me remind you of something—there's someone out there who can do damage even to beings like us. The Almighty won't save you from him."

Gojo's eyes narrowed, already knowing who the Soul King was referring to. "Sukuna," he muttered.

The Soul King gave a knowing nod. "He killed you in the future, didn't he? Turned you into a kit kat."

Gojo shrugged, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Don't worry, Soul Homie. I'll succeed where you failed. Your circumstances weren't too different from mine, right? You couldn't overcome it, but I will."

The Soul King didn't respond, only grinning in silent approval.

The Soul King's expression shifted as he began to chant with a resonant voice, "The foolish Quincy king regains his pulse after 900 years."

Gojo immediately recognized the chant, his eyes narrowing in realization. He continued with a sly smile, "His mind after 90 years."

The Soul King nodded, picking up the chant where Gojo left off, "His strength after 9 years."

Gojo snorted, dismissing the need for such a lengthy resurrection. "But do we really need those long times like that mustached fucker, Yhwach?"

The Soul King smirked, his gaze unwavering. "No, we don't. Because what's ours is ours, and no one can take it."

Their voices merged in unison, a powerful declaration echoing through the ethereal space. With both Gojo and the Soul King closing their eyes, they spoke as one, "Almighty is the privilege of the winner and belongs to us, the rulers."

Gojo's eyes snapped open, now filled with a dazzling array of four blue pupils—Rikugan, the Six Eyes. Simultaneously, the Soul King's eyes, each containing four black irises, opened, radiating with an ancient and unstoppable power.

A shared grin spread across their faces as they delivered their final decree: "Let's troll the universe and conquer it."

Suddenly, the mental world erupted into chaos, a colossal blue pillar of energy blasting through the void, tearing apart the very fabric of the dimension they stood in. The sheer force obliterated the mental plane, sending shockwaves that reverberated across all realities.

Gojo and the Soul King stood together amidst the destruction, their combined might reshaping the boundaries of existence, ready to impose their rule upon a universe that would never see them coming.

Amidst the wreckage of the Eclipse Star Destroyer, the once-mighty command bridge now lay in ruins, shattered by the chaotic forces of battle. The twisted metal groaned under the weight of the conflict, sparks flying intermittently as if the ship itself were protesting its fate.

Sukuna, standing amidst the wreckage, his form crackling with malevolent cursed energy, scanned the devastation with a scowl etched across his face. Frustration and defiance churned within him, an unsettling storm of emotions. "Am I really going to be sealed again?" he thought, a surge of irritation coursing through him. "No, that can't be right. I already possess the Ten Shadows and 19 fingers, ripped straight from the brat's grasp, but… there's still one finger missing. Where the hell did he hide it?" The uncertainty gnawed at him, a rare and unfamiliar sensation for the King of Curses.

His gaze shifted to Mahoraga, the towering Divine General, its imposing figure looming ominously amidst the darkness. Mahoraga stood ready to strike, its Dharma Wheel clanking ominously as it prepared to adapt and overcome. A flicker of unease crossed Sukuna's mind—something he rarely allowed himself to feel. "Damn it," he thought, his confusion sharpening into a fierce resolve. "I need to deal with this before Mahoraga adapts. I can't let that thing turn the tables on me now, not when I'm this close."

Sukuna's expression hardened as he stared down his opponent. There was no room for hesitation or error; Mahoraga was a relentless force of adaptation, and any delay could tip the scales. "I have to finish this, fast," Sukuna told himself, his grip tightening as he readied to unleash his full wrath. The stakes had never been higher, and for once, the King of Curses found himself in a race against time, his mind a whirlwind of strategies and desperate calculations.

Across the bridge, Darth Plagueis was seething in his own turmoil, his usual calculating mind overwhelmed by the suffocating darkness that now engulfed him. His expression twisted in frustration and disbelief, his cold eyes darting around, trying to make sense of the encroaching shadows. "I don't understand," Plagueis thought, his mind edged with an unusual note of unease, though still tinged with the arrogance typical of a Sith Lord. "I only killed Gojo. Why is all the darkness of the world turning against me? I am a Sith, the embodiment of the dark side itself! This makes no sense!" His thoughts raced, grappling with the illogicality of the situation, each spiraling into greater confusion. "I'm the dark side incarnate. How can the very darkness turn against me?"

But the darkness, thick and oppressive, ignored Plagueis's inner turmoil, enveloping him just as it had Mahoraga and Sukuna. It wasn't just a lack of light—it was an all-consuming force, one that paralyzed, muted, and rendered all resistance futile. Every attempt to channel the Force, every spark of Sith lightning, was absorbed into the void without so much as a flicker.

Mahoraga, the Eight-Handled Sword Divergent Sila Divine General, stood rigid in the suffocating darkness. Its small wings where eyes would normally be stared blankly, unable to adapt in the face of such overwhelming power. The usual CLANK, CLANK of its Dharma Wheel—a sound synonymous with change and unstoppable adaptation—rang out in vain. Each strike failed to bring any shift; the oppressive darkness allowed for no evolution, no growth, only a stifling stillness that bound all three in place.

Mahoraga's swords hung mid-swing, Sukuna's hand remained poised for a spell that wouldn't cast, and Plagueis's mouth was half-open in an unspoken command. The force had rendered them helpless, locked in an unending moment—a stark reminder that even the mightiest can be stilled by forces beyond comprehension.

Suddenly, the darkness began to writhe, sprouting a thousand eyes that glowed with an eerie intensity. But rather than attacking the trio, the eyes converged, all focusing on one point: Gojo's broken, lifeless form. The darkness swarmed over Gojo, enveloping his limbless and legless body. His torso, marred by a massive hole where his heart had been and half of his face missing, appeared even more tragic as the darkness shrouded him.

As the darkness fully enveloped Gojo, it released its grip on the others, freeing Mahoraga, Sukuna, and Plagueis from their paralysis. Each of them stumbled slightly, regaining their bearings, their thoughts a whirl of confusion and disbelief.

"What the hell is happening here?" they thought, each one trying to process the impossible sight before them. They had been rendered powerless, yet Gojo, even in death, seemed to be at the center of this unfathomable phenomenon, drawing the universe's gaze upon him in a way none of them could have predicted.

Plagueis's gaze snapped to Gojo, his eyes widening in horror as he noticed something impossible: the other half of Gojo's face, once lifeless, now bore an eye with four blue pupils. The Sith Lord's panic erupted into a primal, guttural curse in the vilest words of the Sith tongue, seething with hate and dread. "Duur ki bar'shiri'ath! I have scoured the galaxy for immortality, and this bastard gains it by dying?!"

Without a second thought, Plagueis lunged for the nearest holocommunicator, his movements frantic and desperate. His fingers flew across the controls as he barked orders, his voice laced with an uncharacteristic edge of fear. "Deploy all Xyston-class Star Destroyers from the nearby fleet! All five! I want every cannon trained on Gojo Satoru! Fire everything we have—NOW!"

Simultaneously, Sukuna felt a creeping sense of danger—a raw, primal instinct screaming at him that something was very wrong. His usual arrogance gave way to a rare moment of caution. He wasn't about to take any chances with whatever was happening.

""This... this shouldn't be happening," Sukuna muttered, his voice strained with an edge of disbelief. His fists clenched, cursed energy flaring chaotically. "Damn you, Gojo... Why won't you stay dead?!". He make enma handseal , as the canvas of the world get an additional layer again . "Domain Expansion: Malevolent Shrine!" The space around him distorted as he invoked his most potent technique. In his mind, he made a binding vow, narrowing the range to just five kilometers and limiting its duration to 100 seconds. The promise of greater power flooded his senses, an intoxicating surge that filled him with renewed vigor.

"Let's end this," Sukuna thought, a vicious grin spreading across his face as he directed his Domain Expansion toward Gojo. Within the Malevolent Shrine, the air thickened with the weight of his malice, and his eyes burned with anticipation. He summoned a barrage of World Dismantle, the cursed blades hurtling through the void with unrelenting force, each one aimed squarely at Gojo's shrouded form.

The combined might of Sukuna's curses and the impending onslaught from Plagueis's fleet created a tempest of destruction is unlike any other galaxy current generation ever seen.

Mahoraga, sensing the imminent danger, leaped forward with ferocious intent, wielding its Extermination Blade, aiming to end Gojo before Sukuna's and Plagueis's attacks could converge. The Divine General moved with deadly precision, its blade ready to cut through the enveloping darkness and strike down the seemingly lifeless sorcerer.

But just as Mahoraga's blade neared, a faint, knowing smile tugged at the remaining half of Gojo's face. In that split second, a blinding light erupted from his form, bursting forth like a supernova, washing over the entire universe. It was an illumination so intense, so all-encompassing, that it momentarily blinded every being in the galaxy. Stars dimmed, shadows vanished, and the sheer brilliance of the light obscured all sight and sense.

In Theed Castle, Padmé stood by the ethereal screen, her eyes glistening with tears. She wiped them away with a gentle smile, a silent acknowledgment of the impossible sight unfolding before her. Yukinami and Suzunami stood beside her, both smiling through their tears, their expressions filled with a mix of awe and relief.

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, watching from a distance, exchanged a solemn glance. "He truly is the strongest," Obi-Wan murmured, his voice tinged with respect and wonder. "The true strongest, Gojo."

Qui-Gon nodded, his gaze fixed on the sky, where the blinding light continued to shine. "Strength beyond measure," he agreed softly. "A testament to his will."

Reika, standing next to Anakin, wiped her eyes, a determined expression crossing her face. "He's gone and done it again. Pushed beyond every limit."

Anakin, tears still clinging to his cheeks, nodded resolutely. "I guess it's our job now," he said, his voice steadying as he remembered Gojo's teachings. "Sensei always said… it's the potential that's meant to surpass him. It's our turn to live up to that potential."

Reika placed a hand on Anakin's shoulder, her grip firm and reassuring. "And we will," she said, her voice filled with quiet determination. "For Sensei."

As the blinding light began to fade, its brilliance receding from every corner of the galaxy, the universe seemed to hold its collective breath, suspended in the delicate balance between chaos and order, destruction and renewal. In that lingering glow, Gojo's final act hung like an unspoken promise, reverberating across the cosmos.

Meanwhile, in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, the Council Chamber was bathed in the same searing light, illuminating every shadow and corner with an intensity that seemed to pierce through the walls of the ancient hall. The Jedi Masters shielded their eyes, momentarily blinded by the overwhelming radiance that washed over them.

Mace Windu, blinking against the residual brightness, turned to Master Yoda, his expression a mix of awe and contemplation. "Master Yoda," he said, his voice low and deliberate, "is he going to be the being—the one Gojo spoke about?" His question hung heavy in the air, hinting at the elusive figure of unimaginable power that Gojo had alluded to—the Soul King, though bound by a vow, he could not name it outright.

Master Yoda, ever the pillar of wisdom, gazed into the lingering light with a serene expression. A faint, knowing smile touched his lips, a glimmer of understanding in his wise old eyes. "Implanted, the concept will be," Yoda said softly, his voice carrying the weight of ages. "In time, one day, it shall come to be. As the king, he stands, and with his light, the darkness he reshapes."

The other Jedi Masters exchanged glances, sensing the profound truth in Yoda's words. They could feel the shift, the monumental change that Gojo's actions had set in motion—a change that would ripple through the fabric of the Force itself.

As the last remnants of the light faded from the chamber, leaving behind a quiet stillness, the Jedi Masters knew that the galaxy had just witnessed the birth of something extraordinary. Gojo's legacy, transcending beyond the physical, had begun to reshape the very concepts of power, balance, and destiny, leaving an indelible mark that would echo through time and space.

Amidst the wreckage of the Eclipse Star Destroyer, the once-imposing vessel now lay in ruins , As the last remnants of the light faded shattered by the overwhelming power that had just unfolded. Darth Plagueis, breathing heavily, staggered amidst the debris, his robes torn and singed from the violent clash. His eyes, still filled with the remnants of fear and confusion, locked onto Sukuna.

The Sith Lord straightened, forcing his composure back with a disdainful glare, masking his exhaustion and unease. He managed a smirk, though it was tinged with bitterness. "Sukuna," Plagueis rasped, his voice hoarse yet dripping with that familiar arrogance. "Despite everything, you've proven to be a valuable asset to the Sith cause. Your… contributions were not insignificant."

But even as he spoke, Plagueis's eyes betrayed his contempt, sizing Sukuna up with the same calculating disdain he reserved for all tools that had outlived their usefulness. In his mind, Sukuna was a weapon—a powerful, unpredictable weapon that could be discarded once its purpose was fulfilled.

Sukuna, however, remained silent, his expression unreadable. He didn't acknowledge Plagueis's half-hearted gratitude, nor did he respond to the thinly veiled dismissal in the Sith Lord's eyes. Instead, Sukuna's focus was singular, his senses honed in on scanning the area, searching for any trace of Gojo's presence.

The King of Curses narrowed his eyes, feeling the air thick with residual energy. His instincts, sharp as ever, were on high alert. "Is he still alive?" Sukuna thought, probing the void for any sign of Gojo. The light had been blinding, overwhelming, and in its wake, Sukuna could sense a shift—an unsettling stillness that defied explanation. He couldn't afford to underestimate Gojo, not now, not ever. Even in death, Gojo Satoru was not one to be dismissed lightly.

Plagueis, noticing Sukuna's preoccupation, let out a derisive scoff. "Still clinging to old rivalries, I see," he muttered, his disdain deepening. "You'd do well to remember your place, Sukuna. Power is fleeting; it's control that determines—"

Suddenly, their thoughts were interrupted by an unknown voice that resonated across the universe, echoing ominously through the wreckage, as if the very fabric of space was speaking to them.

"The foolish Quincy king regains his pulse after 900 years, his mind after 90 years, his strength after 9 years," the voice intoned, dripping with a dark, mocking familiarity. Plagueis stiffened, his eyes darting around, trying to locate the source, his mind racing as he realized this was not a voice he had ever encountered. What force was so bold to proclaim its presence in such a manner?

But the voice continued, taunting and defiant, "But do we really need those long times like that mustached fucker, Yhwach? No, we don't. Because what's ours is ours, and no one can take it."

Plagueis's thoughts turned frantic. "What is this? Who dares to mock the Sith in such a way? I, the master of the dark side, am being challenged by… what?" The arrogance in his heart fought against the creeping unease in his mind, but the uncertainty gnawed at him, threatening to unravel his carefully constructed confidence.

Sukuna, on the other hand, clenched his fists, anger boiling just beneath the surface. His teeth gritted, his eyes narrowing into slits as he glared at the enveloped form of Gojo. "Why won't that brat just stay dead?" Sukuna fumed internally. "I tore him apart, consumed everything that was his, and still he lingers. What kind of twisted fate keeps him coming back?"

As Sukuna's frustration peaked, the voice spoke one last time, its tone dripping with an almost smug certainty. "Almighty is the privilege of the winner and belongs to us, the rulers."

Then, cutting through the silence like a dagger, the voice continued in a more familiar tone. "Yo, long time no see."

Sukuna's eyes widened in shock, his body tensing as he turned around, instinctively stepping back. There, standing with a faint, knowing smile, was Gojo Satoru—whole and very much alive, his blue eyes glowing with four pupils, brimming with a power that defied all comprehension.

The sight left Sukuna speechless, his mind reeling from the impossible realization. The King of Curses, who had never known fear, found himself confronted with the one person who could truly challenge him.

The battle wasn't over. Not by a long shot

BONUSSSS

In Theed Castle, a serene yet powerful voice echoed through the grand hallways, carrying an ethereal message: "To avoid death, Gojo Satoru just ignored it and moved on." The words seemed to shimmer in the air, resonating with an almost divine presence.

Padmé stood before the message, her eyes widening before she broke into a bright, relieved laugh. Tears of joy welled up as she wiped them away, her heart lifting at the words. "That's Gojo for you," she said, her voice filled with warmth. "Always defying the odds. He's really back."

Suzunami, catching sight of the message, smirked, crossing his arms. "Sensei never fails to surprise, does he? It's like he's got nine lives… no, more like ninety-nine."

Yukinami, standing beside her brother, clutched her hands to her chest, her expression softening with relief. "Sensei... I knew you wouldn't leave us," she whispered, her voice trembling with happiness. "I just knew it."

Reika, who had been silently watching, nodded with a small smile, her eyes reflecting a mixture of admiration and pride. "He's not just a mentor; he's a miracle. I don't think anything could ever keep him down."

Anakin, who had been trying to maintain his stoic demeanor, finally let his excitement break through. He laughed and turned to his mother, Shmi, who smiled gently, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "He's back, Mom," Anakin said, his voice tinged with awe. "Sensei's really back. He's… he's the strongest."

Shmi nodded, her eyes soft but filled with a quiet strength. "I've seen many miracles in my life, Anakin, but this… this is something beyond all of them."

Sabe, standing next to Padmé, chuckled softly. "Of course, he'd make a grand entrance. I'd expect nothing less from Gojo Satoru."

Captain Panaka, ever the pragmatic one, couldn't hide his own smile. "He's unconventional, but you can't deny he knows how to get results. Naboo owes him much."

Jar Jar Binks, usually bumbling, seemed unusually focused, his wide eyes gleaming with an odd wisdom. "Mesa always thinkin' Gojo was special, but dis? Dis is somethin' else. Gojo... he'sa big bombad hero, for sure!"

Qui-Gon Jinn, standing alongside Obi-Wan Kenobi, watched the unfolding events with a thoughtful expression. He turned to his apprentice with a slight nod. "I told you, Obi-Wan, there are forces in this galaxy we've yet to fully understand. Gojo Satoru is one of them."

Obi-Wan, usually the skeptical one, gave a rare smile of acceptance. "It seems the Force truly does work in mysterious ways. Gojo Satoru… he is the strongest in this galaxy ."

As they watched the message flicker and fade, a renewed sense of hope and purpose filled the hearts of those gathered in Theed. Across the galaxy, Gojo's presence was felt, and his return was not just the revival of a hero but the dawn of a new era where the impossible seemed within reach.

In the depths of space, Gojo stood face to face with Sukuna, a confident grin spreading across his face. "Yo, long time no see," he greeted, his tone casual but laced with the undeniable power that now surged within him. Gojo's four-pupil blue eyes shone brightly, a stark contrast to the grim setting around them, hinting that the universe itself might become his playground once more.

In Theed Castle, Padmé stood before an ethereal screen that displayed Gojo's triumphant return. She smiled, her eyes reflecting a mix of amusement and relief. "He really hates this Yhwach person, huh?" she mused aloud, drawing the attention of those around her. "That three-pupil eye he had before must have belonged to Yhwach, but now… now he's got those four-pupil blue eyes. It's like seeing him for the first time all over again. I'm glad the blue color is back."

Suzunami nodded thoughtfully, his expression one of agreement. "Sensei never lets anything that isn't truly his define him. That whole '900 years, 90 years, and 9 years' thing? It's not just about power—he despises anything that tries to box him in."

Yukinami added softly, her voice filled with admiration, "It's like he's saying, 'I don't need your time, your rules, or your conditions.' He's not just fighting; he's proving that he doesn't play by anyone else's script but his own."

Reika, standing nearby, nodded with a smile. "Gojo's always been about defying limits. That's why he can't stand something like Yhwach's idea . To him, power should be immediate, real, and absolute. He's the definition of 'now'—not 900 years, not 90, not 9. Just now."

Anakin, listening intently, grinned as he spoke up. "He's always been about the here and now. No waiting around, no drawn-out schemes. Just pure, undeniable strength that's his alone. That's what makes him Sensei."

Shmi, with a gentle smile, nodded as she watched her son speak. "Gojo is teaching us all a lesson in how to face challenges—head-on, without delay, and without compromise. It's a testament to his will that he won't let anything, or anyone, hold him back."

Sabe chuckled, chiming in with a playful tone. "Only Gojo would turn something like Yhwach's power into his own game and make it clear that he's the one in control. That's the Gojo way—always rewriting the rules."

Captain Panaka, standing vigilant as ever, allowed a rare smile to break his usual stern demeanor. "He's maverick . The galaxy's different with him around, and maybe that's exactly what we need right now."

Jar Jar Binks, unusually contemplative, nodded vigorously. "Yousa always knowin' Gojo was special, but dis? Dis is bombad different. He's showin' everybody dat rules and limits? Dey just not for him."

Qui-Gon Jinn watched the screen with a sense of quiet understanding, turning to Obi-Wan. "Gojo Satoru embodies the essence of the Force in ways we've never fully grasped. He doesn't just wield power—he becomes it, bends it to his will, and in doing so, he redefines what's possible."

Obi-Wan nodded, his usual skepticism replaced by genuine respect. "He's the strongest because he chooses to be, every moment. And he's made it clear, prophecies, and powers be damned—Gojo Satoru will always carve his own path."

The ethereal message echoed in their minds: "900 years, 90 years, 9 years—but do we really need those long times like that mustached fucker, Yhwach? No, we don't. Because what's ours is ours, and no one can take it."

Padmé looked at the screen one last time, her heart full. "He's back, and this time, he's set his own terms. Nothing can stop him now."

And in the cold expanse of space, Gojo stood ready, his blue eyes gleaming with four pupils, his power limitless, his presence undeniable. The game was far from over, and Gojo Satoru was ready to prove once again why he was the strongest.

In the Jedi Council chamber, the usual tranquility was shattered by the sudden appearance of an ethereal message that floated before the Masters: "To avoid death, Gojo Satoru just ignored it and moved on." The words glowed faintly, carrying an almost otherworldly presence that seemed to defy the very laws of existence.

The Jedi Masters exchanged puzzled glances, each trying to comprehend the impossible notion presented before them. Even Yoda, usually unshakable in his wisdom, found himself momentarily speechless. The silence was broken by Jocasta Nu, the aged and venerable librarian of the Jedi Temple, her voice tinged with a rare mix of frustration and disbelief.

"Impossible!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide and her hands trembling slightly. "No one can ignore death! It defies the natural order and the very nature of the Force itself!" She stared at the message as if willing it to disappear, unable to accept what she was witnessing.

Mace Windu and Yoda, who had known Jocasta Nu to be steadfast in her beliefs, were surprised to see her so engaged in the unfolding event. Usually, Jocasta Nu's concerns revolved around the preservation of knowledge and order within the Temple, but this was different. She was watching with an intensity that suggested a deeper intrigue.

Mace Windu turned to her, his voice firm yet curious. "Jocasta, you've seen Gojo's power firsthand. He isn't bound by the same rules as we are. This could be something beyond our understanding of the Force."

Jocasta Nu shook her head, her expression resolute. "No, I watched him die. We all did! He sacrificed himself; he lost every limb, his legs, half of his face, and his heart was obliterated. That kind of death isn't something you just ignore." Her voice carried a conviction that was rarely seen outside the Jedi Archives.

Yoda, thoughtful as ever, gazed at the message with narrowed eyes. "Unusual, this is. Beyond knowledge of the Force, it may be. Stronger, Gojo has become. Seen many things, I have, but never this."

Mace Windu crossed his arms, contemplating the possibilities. "If Gojo has found a way to transcend death, then this changes everything we know. He's operating on a level that we've never encountered before. Perhaps it isn't about ignoring death, but redefining it entirely."

Jocasta Nu, still skeptical, glanced back at the shimmering message. "Redefine it or not, what we're witnessing shouldn't be possible. Not even the ancient Sith Lords could achieve this."

Yoda nodded slowly, still watching the message as it faded. "Much to learn, we still have. Gojo Satoru, a mystery he remains. But a powerful ally, he could be, or a dangerous unknown."

As the Jedi Council continued their debate, their attention was abruptly drawn to the ethereal screen that flickered to life in the center of the chamber. The faint glow coalesced into a familiar image: Gojo Satoru, alive and fully restored, appearing behind a stunned Sukuna. Gojo's casual voice cut through the room, laced with his usual irreverence. "Yo, long time no see."

Yoda's eyes sparkled with a knowing glint as he watched the scene unfold, a serene smile crossing his face. "Look, you must," he said softly, his tone filled with a mixture of amusement and wisdom. "No need for 900 years, just like that Yhwach person."

Mace Windu, ever the realist, maintained his stern demeanor, but even he couldn't hide the glimmer of respect for Gojo's audacity. "Leave the rest on Gojo to defy expectations," Windu said, his voice a blend of admiration and caution. "He's more than just powerful; he's rewriting the rules as he goes."

Ki-Adi-Mundi, usually the voice of logical reasoning, rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "This is unprecedented. Not even the most ancient of Force techniques can explain this. Gojo's defiance of death goes beyond any knowledge we possess."

Plo Koon, his voice a deep rumble of quiet approval, nodded. "It seems Gojo Satoru operates on principles beyond our comprehension. The Force, it appears, is merely a part of his broader understanding. We could learn much from his approach, if we are willing to see beyond our traditions."

Depa Billaba, watching with a mixture of awe and contemplation, added, "Gojo's actions challenge us to expand our understanding of the Force and the universe. He doesn't just bend the rules; he reshapes them entirely. This is not something we should fear, but rather, something we should study."

Jocasta Nu, still reeling from the shock of seeing Gojo alive, finally managed to gather her thoughts. "He's defied the very essence of mortality. If Gojo can return from that, then perhaps we have been too rigid in our views of life and death. He's not bound by our limits… and maybe, neither should we be."

The Jedi Council fell into a thoughtful silence, each member grappling with the implications of Gojo's return. In that moment, they recognized that Gojo Satoru was not just a powerful ally; he was a herald of a new understanding, one that transcended their ancient teachings and pointed toward a future where the impossible was not just a concept, but a reality shaped by will and imagination.

As the Jedi Council continued to watch Gojo on the screen, confronting Sukuna with his trademark grin, Master Yoda suddenly cleared his throat, breaking the captivated silence. "Now, we must focus on the matter at hand," Yoda stated, his voice steady and resolute. "Ignore that holo screen. Gojo, win he probably will."

Mace Windu, his gaze still lingering on the unfolding scene, nodded, though his thoughts were already shifting to the pressing issue at hand. "Is it time, then?" he asked, his voice carrying a note of anticipation.

Yoda's ears perked slightly, and his gaze moved away from the screen to meet the eyes of the council members seated around him. "Yes, it is the time. As some of you aware, the Jedi Temple sits atop a Sith shrine. A dark presence, hidden beneath our very feet," he revealed, his tone somber and filled with the gravity of the situation.

Mace Windu added, his expression serious and deliberate, "And since Gojo operates beyond the rules and boundaries that we are familiar with, we must consider the implications of beings beyond our understanding." He paused, his voice lowering slightly as if speaking of something unspeakable. "There are entities out there, ones whose names I do not even wish to utter, whose very existence is horrifying."

Windu's eyes met Yoda's, and a silent acknowledgment passed between them. They both knew exactly what he was referring to: Abeloth, the ancient and terrifying entity whose chaos and darkness were legendary, even among the most feared beings of the galaxy.

Yoda nodded, his expression growing even graver. "Gojo's cursed energy, a natural progression of dark side energy, it may be. But natural, it feels. Unlike the twisted force of the shrine below, releasing its aura, it is. A different threat, yet a threat nonetheless."

Plo Koon's mechanical breath filled the room for a moment as he processed the revelation. "We've always sensed a disturbance, but to know that our temple is compromised by such darkness—it's a direct affront to everything the Jedi stand for," he remarked, his deep voice echoing the shared concerns of the council.

Depa Billaba spoke up, her voice tinged with concern. "If the shrine is now releasing dark side energy, it's more than just a disturbance. It's a threat that we cannot ignore. Gojo's actions, while unorthodox, may have stirred something deep and ancient within it," she pointed out, her brows furrowed in thought.

Ki-Adi-Mundi nodded, his expression thoughtful. "The balance of the Force is at stake. If Gojo's power is indeed linked to this resurgence of the dark side, we must understand it. And we must decide how to act. The longer we delay, the more precarious our position becomes."

Mace Windu then spoke, attempting to calm the growing sense of urgency. "Calm down, everyone. Gojo only detected the dark side energy; he didn't make it stronger. The one who made the Sith shrine suddenly release its dark side energy is unknown, and no one knows who triggered it. Gojo has offered us options on how to deal with this situation, and we need to carefully consider them."

Yoda nodded, preparing to explain the options Gojo had presented. "Option one: ignore the shrine and leave it be. Risky, this is. Darkness, unchecked, it will grow. Influence the Jedi Temple, it will. A shadow upon our order, casting it may be."

The council members listened intently, the weight of the first option settling heavily upon them. The idea of leaving such a potent source of dark side energy beneath their very temple was deeply unsettling, and the implications were far-reaching.

Yoda continued, moving on to the second option, his tone more solemn. "Option two: destroy the entire Jedi Temple to the ground. The temple, built upon the shrine's foundation, it is. Destroy the temple, destroy the shrine, and rid ourselves of its influence. But costly, this option is. The heart of the Jedi Order, the temple has been for millennia. Sacrifice, we must be prepared to make, if this path we choose."

As Yoda laid out the second option, a palpable tension filled the Jedi Council chamber. The idea of destroying the Jedi Temple, the heart of their Order, was almost too extreme to contemplate, and the unease among the Masters was evident.

Ki-Adi-Mundi was the first to voice his disapproval, his tone sharp with disbelief. "Destroy the Temple? That's sheer madness! Our Temple is not just a building; it's the heart of our Order, a symbol of peace and knowledge across the galaxy. To destroy it would be to abandon everything we stand for. We cannot be so reckless."

Plo Koon's masked visage turned slightly, his voice resonating with concern. "This course of action would not only erase our history but would send a message of fear and defeat to the galaxy. The Temple is more than stone and mortar; it's a beacon of hope. Destroying it would taint our legacy, not cleanse it."

Depa Billaba, her expression a mix of disbelief and concern, added, "If we resort to destruction, we're no better than the forces we seek to combat. The Jedi are protectors, not destroyers. We can't allow fear to dictate our actions. There must be another way to neutralize the shrine's influence without resorting to such extremes."

Jocasta Nu, the Temple's venerable librarian, was visibly agitated. She stood, her face flushed with indignation as she addressed the Council. "This is an unthinkable proposal!" she exclaimed, her voice quivering with a mix of anger and disbelief. "The Jedi Temple is not merely a structure; it houses the accumulated wisdom and history of countless generations. To destroy it would be to sever our connection to our past, to obliterate the foundation upon which our Order is built. Such an act would stain our legacy and the very ideals we strive to uphold."

Mace Windu, sensing the unrest, spoke with a calm yet firm tone. "I understand your concerns, and they are valid. Destroying the Temple would indeed be a severe measure, one that goes against our principles. But we must also consider the magnitude of the threat we face. The dark side energy emanating from the shrine is a danger that could undermine our entire Order if left unchecked."

Jocasta Nu, still visibly shaken, shook her head vehemently. "Our duty is to preserve knowledge, to protect what has been entrusted to us by the generations that came before. We cannot allow fear of the unknown to drive us to destroy what we have sworn to safeguard. There must be another way."

Plo Koon nodded, echoing her sentiment. "Indeed, we must seek a solution that aligns with our values. Gojo has provided options, but we must also explore other avenues. Perhaps there is a way to neutralize the shrine without destroying our home. We cannot let the darkness define our actions."

Ki-Adi-Mundi added, "We are the guardians of peace and knowledge. To destroy the Temple would be to abandon our role as protectors. We must stand firm and find a way to confront this darkness without sacrificing our legacy."

Depa Billaba nodded in agreement, her voice filled with conviction. "Let us not forget who we are and what we represent. The Temple is a symbol of our resolve, our unity, and our commitment to the light. We must honor that and find a way to preserve it."

Mace Windu, sensing the unrest among the Council members, tried to bring the discussion back into focus with a steady resolve. "That's why we need to consider the third option. I anticipated reactions like these, knowing the gravity of what we're dealing with."

Yoda nodded thoughtfully, his expression shifting from contemplation to decision. "Third option, there is. Allow the youngling we refused to teach before—Anakin Skywalker. Clearer, my mind has become. A decision, I have made, to accept him as an apprentice here and to make him able to use both cursed energy and the Force."

Mace Windu continued, meeting the skeptical gazes of his fellow Council members. "The Sith shrine's dark influence can be absorbed into Anakin, channeling that power into something productive. It could enable him to develop a technique akin to what Gojo has—a curse technique that aligns with the Force, allowing him to manage both powers and maintain balance."

Jocasta Nu, her face paling at the implications, quickly interjected, her voice sharp with concern. "We don't need another Gojo! It's too dangerous. Someone with that level of unchecked power could easily become a threat, not just to the Sith but to the entire Order. We risk creating a force too great to control. Gojo is already beyond our understanding; to allow another like him would be to invite chaos."

Plo Koon, though known for his calm and measured approach, shared Jocasta's concern. "Jocasta makes a valid point. We tread a fine line between light and dark. To imbue a young padawan will be , particularly one so young and untested as Anakin, with such unpredictable power could jeopardize our entire mission."

Ki-Adi-Mundi spoke up, his tone reflective yet cautious. "The boy already has a connection to the Force that's unparalleled. Introducing cursed energy could amplify that, but at what cost? We must consider the possibility that, like Gojo, Anakin could evolve into something far beyond our control."

Depa Billaba, weighing the options, looked to Yoda. "We've seen the potential Anakin holds, but we've also seen the dangers of letting such power go unchecked. Gojo operates outside the constraints of the Jedi, and we've accepted that because he fights alongside us, but Anakin is different. He would be of us, bound by our teachings, yet wielding powers we scarcely understand."

Yoda, hearing the voices of his fellow Masters, acknowledged their concerns with a solemn nod. "Understand, I do. Dangerous, the path of power is. Temptation, always there will be. But different, this time it must be. If to balance the Force, we are to succeed, tools of both light and dark, harnessed they must be."

Mace Windu, firm in his stance, added, "The third option isn't without risk, but it's a calculated one. If Anakin is trained under our guidance, we can monitor his growth, steer his development, and ensure that this unique convergence of powers does not become a threat. It's an opportunity to turn the dark side's influence into a strength, rather than a weakness."

Jocasta Nu, unconvinced, pressed on. "And if he fails? If Anakin succumbs to the temptations that come with such power? We could be sowing the seeds of our own destruction."

Yoda, his eyes narrowing in contemplation, concluded, "Aware of the risks, we must be. But greater, the threat beneath our feet. A choice, we have. To ignore, destroy, or to adapt and grow. One who bridges these forces, balance may bring. Willing, we must be, to guide the light through the darkness. Or doomed, we are, by indecision."

The Council remained quiet, each Master reflecting on Yoda's words. The third option, though fraught with peril, offered a glimmer of hope—a path forward that did not involve surrendering their legacy or ignoring the darkness that threatened to overwhelm them.

Suddenly, Adi Gallia stood up, her posture firm and her voice steady. "Perhaps there is a fourth option," she said, her words cutting through the silence with a mix of bravery and audacity.

Mace Windu and Yoda exchanged puzzled glances, their thoughts briefly aligning. Windu's expression tightened as he considered the implications. "Gojo presented three options," Windu thought, his mind turning over Gojo's typically straightforward approach. "If there were more, he would have said so. This... fourth option feels like a deviation from his intended path."

Yoda's thoughts echoed Windu's skepticism. "Unrestrained, Gojo may be, but clear he was. Three options, only, he spoke. To stray from them, dangerous it might be." The weight of Gojo's words lingered in their minds; there was no telling what venturing beyond them could mean.

Adi Gallia, sensing their skepticism, pressed on regardless. "What if we continue to suppress the darkness through meditation and deeper understanding? We could study it, learn from it, and perhaps find its weaknesses. Gojo is powerful, yes, but he is not infallible. He is not all-knowing." She paused, her voice carrying a hint of defiance. "He has died once, maybe twice, and that tells me he can make mistakes. So why should we blindly follow his limited view when we have the wisdom of the Force and our traditions to guide us?"

Yoda looked at Adi Gallia with a curious glint in his eyes. "Interesting, your suggestion is. Why now, speak you do? Silence, you kept, before. To offer this path, why choose?"

Adi Gallia squared her shoulders, meeting Yoda's gaze without flinching. "Because, Master Yoda, I believe in the strength of our Order and the wisdom of the Force. I do not think Gojo has all the answers, and I believe there is value in exploring our own path rather than relying solely on his unorthodox methods. He may wield great power, but we are Jedi. We have our own ways of confronting darkness that do not require abandoning our principles or relying on one individual's chaotic approach."

Mace Windu, still skeptical, folded his arms. "But to meditate and wait could allow the darkness to grow unchecked. Gojo's options, however extreme, are immediate actions. Can we afford to take the time to simply understand when a more decisive action is needed?"

Plo Koon nodded in agreement. "The Force calls us to act, not just to observe. Gojo's intervention may have stirred these energies, but our response must be more than just passive study. We must ensure the darkness does not overrun the light."

Adi Gallia remained resolute, her conviction unwavering. "Perhaps the answer lies somewhere in between. Not Gojo's extremes, nor complete inaction, but a path that integrates our strengths as Jedi. We are not bound to the whims of one being, no matter how powerful. The Force has always been our guide, and it is to the Force that we must look now."

Yoda stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Difficult, this choice is. For the Force, no easy answer it offers. But consider, we must, all voices. A fourth option, you say, and listen, we shall."

As Adi Gallia's proposal settled in, a wave of contemplative silence swept through the Council. The Masters were weighing the practicality and potential of this new option. Suddenly, Jocasta Nu, usually steadfast in her adherence to tradition, broke her silence. Her voice, though usually filled with the certainty of one who holds centuries of knowledge, now carried a note of cautious optimism.

"Adi Gallia's suggestion… it may have merit," Jocasta Nu began, her gaze steady as she looked around the chamber. "We have always believed in the power of knowledge and understanding. Perhaps, by studying the shrine more closely, we could find a way to suppress its influence without resorting to destructive measures. Gojo's methods, while effective, are not the only way."

Ki-Adi-Mundi nodded in agreement, his long fingers stroking his chin. "Indeed. The Jedi have thrived for millennia by exploring every avenue, every possibility. It is our duty not to rush into drastic actions when patience and wisdom could offer a different solution. Meditation and study may allow us to find a weakness in the shrine, a way to contain it without succumbing to fear or destruction."

Depa Billaba, usually one of the more measured voices on the Council, added her thoughts. "Adi Gallia's fourth option isn't about inaction; it's about balance. We must address the threat, yes, but not at the cost of our principles. We cannot afford to become reactionary. The very essence of being a Jedi is to seek harmony, even in the face of darkness."

The Council room was filled with nods of consideration, the Masters visibly warming to the idea of a solution that aligned more closely with their values. The notion of learning, of adapting without losing the essence of what it meant to be Jedi, resonated deeply.

Mace Windu, still cautious, glanced between the Masters who supported the fourth option. His skepticism lingered, but he recognized the validity in their points. "Exploring the shrine's weaknesses through meditation and understanding is certainly more aligned with our ethos than outright destruction," he conceded. "But we must remain vigilant. The darkness won't wait for us to figure it out. If we choose this path, we must act with urgency and purpose."

Plo Koon, whose own contemplative nature had always leaned towards caution tempered with action, nodded. "Then we must ensure that our efforts are not merely passive. We meditate, yes, but also prepare for swift action should the need arise. We balance our wisdom with readiness."

Yoda, watching the discussion unfold, closed his eyes briefly in thought. The voices of his fellow Masters, usually so varied and often discordant, were finding a surprising harmony in this moment. Perhaps this was the path they were meant to take.

"Reasonable, it seems," Yoda finally said, his voice carrying the weight of centuries. "Balance, in all things, we seek. Gojo's approach, powerful though it may be, not the only path, it is. Strength in unity, we must find. Trust in the Force, and in ourselves."

The Jedi Council, now united in a cautious yet hopeful accord, turned their collective attention back to the task at hand. A fourth option, perhaps, was not about defying Gojo's wisdom but finding their own within the vastness of the Force.

Adi Gallia, feeling the momentum of her suggestion gaining traction, stood a little taller and spoke with renewed determination. "Then let us bring Gojo Satoru here again. I want to present this fourth option to him personally. And bring Qui-Gon Jinn as well, since he is the one who vouched that Anakin Skywalker would bring balance to the Force. His insight could prove invaluable in this discussion."

As Adi Gallia's words resonated through the chamber, Mace Windu leaned closer to Yoda, his voice lowered to a whisper. "I'll bet my lightsaber on this, Master Yoda. When Gojo hears about this fourth option, he'll swear in the vilest words you've ever heard. He's going to say, 'You're all fucking dead.'"

Yoda, never one to shy away from a wager in moments of lighthearted camaraderie, gave a sly smile and whispered back, "Agree, do I? Hmm… If right you are, teach you, I will, my battle meditation technique, personally." He chuckled softly, the rare hint of amusement twinkling in his ancient eyes.

The Council, now poised to re-engage with Gojo and possibly Qui-Gon, prepared to face whatever reaction might come. They knew Gojo's temperament and his often blunt, unfiltered way of expressing himself. But they also knew that this conversation could be pivotal—both in dealing with the dark side's resurgence and in shaping the Jedi Order's approach to balancing the forces of light and darkness.

As they awaited Gojo's arrival, the Masters shared a quiet moment of anticipation. Whether their chosen path would lead to harmony or conflict, they were united in their purpose: to safeguard the light and ensure the Order's future, no matter how unconventional the methods might need to be.

(Funny, Gojo is probably all-knowing since he possesses Almighty now—just an author's note.)

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章 52: The Rebirth of the Honored One: Gojo Satoru's Ascension

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