章節 64: Stand Proud You Are Strong
Amidst the wreckage of the ancient Sith shrine in Level 1, Gojo Satoru stood poised, his stance sharp and deliberate. His left hand, extended forward in a Wing Chun guard, had an open palm with an eye glowing with two yellow pupils—Pernida's essence. His right hand, shrouded in darkness, bore another eye—the eye of Mimihagi—gleaming ominously from the back of his palm. Facing him was Plagueis, occupying the formidable body of Sidious from a future timeline, equally prepared for the imminent clash.
Gojo's expression shifted into a sly smile as a message flickered into existence above his head, visible only to him:
Quest Updated:
All of Tenebrae's aspects have been absorbed.
Gojo glanced briefly at the remnants of Tenebrae's essence, now reduced to a void consumed by darkness, a single eye glaring from within. Then, another message appeared in bold, glowing letters:
Quest System Completed:
Title: Become True Emperor Beyond Life and Death, Not Just Immortal
Mission: Kill or absorb all aspects of Tenebrae, including Vitiate and Valkorion.
Reward 1: Age of Babylon: Wisdom of the People
A Noble Phantasm that allows Gojo to create weapons such as swords, axes, spears, and chains from the earth. These weapons match the strength of the Noble Phantasms within the Gate of Babylon, enabling Gojo to sustain combat for extended periods, akin to overwhelming an entire armory. This power mirrors the sheer endlessness of the ancient Age of Babylon, signifying the might and wisdom of the people who could match divine arsenals.
Reward 2: Enkidu: Enuma Elish
This Noble Phantasm, originally designed to bind Gilgamesh to the gods, has been transformed through Gojo's command to serve Honored One greater purpose. By harnessing a small amount of magical energy drawn from Gojo's own Soul King power, Enkidu merges with this divine force to create a spear of light composed of chains, designed to pierce and bind opponents in a single strike. Enuma Elish's power scales with the adversary's actions against humanity, making it exceptionally potent against entities like Abeloth , who have defied human values. This weapon, shaped by Gojo's will, manifests as a Divine Construct capable of restraining even the mightiest foes and binding them to the dominion of the true emperor.
As the power of Enkidu coursed through him, Gojo felt an electrifying surge flowing in his veins—a sense of unity between his Soul King essence and the divine force of Enuma Elish. The sensation was intoxicating, a perfect fusion of magic and authority that seemed to expand his already overwhelming presence. His four-pupil Rikugan eyes gleamed brighter, reflecting the immeasurable strength now at his disposal.
As Gojo's transformation intensified, Plagueis observed the shift with growing unease. The electrifying surge flowing through Gojo's veins was palpable, an intoxicating fusion of power that resonated far beyond the Force or dark side. His four-pupil Rikugan eyes shone with an intensity that seemed to pierce through the very fabric of reality, casting an aura of authority that dwarfed anything Plagueis had encountered.
Plagueis narrowed his eyes, trying to gauge the nature of this transformation. What in the depths of the dark side is this? he thought, his mind racing to make sense of the spectacle before him. Gojo's powers were unlike anything in the Sith's vast repertoire of knowledge. He could feel the overwhelming presence of something that wasn't just the Force or even the dark side. This was something beyond—an essence that defied the natural laws of their galaxy.
I don't understand this power, Plagueis mused, his gaze locked on Gojo. He wields a force unlike anything I've seen—a power that stops attacks with a mere gesture of his right hand, shrouded in darkness and adorned with a single eye. Plagueis clenched his fists, remembering the countless encounters where Gojo's right hand—Mimihagi, though he knew not its name—had simply halted whatever force was thrown at him. It was as if the very concept of opposition was rendered null.
Then there's that accursed temple, Plagueis thought, a shiver running down his spine. He recalled witnessing Gojo summon a structure that warped reality itself, dominating the battlefield with an oppressive force that turned all within it to Gojo's will. Plagueis had seen Gojo invoke this power before, bending space and matter within its domain—a domain Plagueis only knew as a nightmarish, unknowable shrine, not by the name of Malevolent Shrine.
But it was Gojo's manipulation of space that truly terrified Plagueis. He had seen Gojo wield Blue, the power of attraction; Red, the repulsion that could obliterate all in its path; and most terrifying of all, the dreaded Purple—a fusion of the two that unleashed a wave of annihilation so devastating it rivaled the birth of a star. The memory of Gojo's unrestricted Purple haunted him, a force that ripped through everything with the destructive might of a newborn cosmic entity.
Plagueis felt a cold sweat form as he remembered witnessing it for the first time. He tore through reality itself, with no regard for the scale of destruction. It was as if the galaxy had given birth to a new star, obliterating everything in its path. Plagueis knew that he was facing an opponent who could wield the very essence of space, warping it to his will with the ease of a deity playing with the threads of creation.
He commands the forces of space, yet he uses no Force power, no dark side—nothing that I can sense or comprehend. What manner of being wields such raw might without any connection to the Force or the dark side? Plagueis thought, the realization hitting him with the weight of an asteroid. Gojo was manipulating forces beyond his understanding, forces that operated outside the laws Plagueis had spent his life mastering.
Plagueis steeled himself, his eyes narrowing with a renewed determination. This is no ordinary adversary. Gojo Satoru is an anomaly, a force of nature that defies all known rules. But I am not without my own power. Plagueis shifted into a defensive stance, drawing on every ounce of his accumulated strength and knowledge. He knew that this fight would not be won by sheer power alone, but by the cunning and mastery that had defined his rise as a Sith Lord.
If I am to defeat this… creature, I must strike with precision, exploit every weakness, and seize every opportunity. Plagueis' gaze fixed on Gojo's stance, noting every subtle shift, every potential opening. Despite the terror clawing at his mind, he could not afford to falter now. The stakes were too high; his quest for immortality, his very existence, hung in the balance.
As Gojo taunted him, Plagueis could feel the weight of the confrontation bearing down. But he refused to back down. This is the final gambit, he thought, his resolve hardening. Either I achieve immortality, or the dark side suffers a blow from which it may never recover. I cannot— he snarled inwardly, —I will not fail.
Plagueis, refusing to concede to the overwhelming presence of Gojo Satoru, made a desperate maneuver. He directed a part of the Red Force Storm that hovered ominously in Coruscant's sky, funneling it through the crater that Gojo had recklessly created upon his crash landing. The destructive energy of the storm, infused with properties of space manipulation and Force draining, surged downward like a crimson spear aimed directly at Gojo.
Gojo, with his four-pupil Rikugan eyes gleaming, observed the incoming attack with a sense of amused detachment. "A Force storm with space manipulation and draining capabilities? How troublesome," he mused, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk.
In response, Gojo combined his Visionary power, derived from Gremmy, with the newly acquired Age of Babylon, elevating his constructs to the level of divine constructs. He summoned Rhongomyniad, a towering spear of dazzling light, intricately adorned and spinning at a blinding speed. As it spiraled, it transformed into a colossal golden construct, mirroring the shape of Rhongomyniad's spiral shell—dozens of intertwined golden strips twisted and spun like a drill, emanating a radiant aura of Holy Judgement.
With a flick of his wrist, Gojo launched Rhongomyniad skyward, sending it hurtling towards the heart of the Red Force Storm. The spear's immense power tore through the storm, drilling a brilliant path that split the storm in two, creating a gaping hole in the ominous red clouds. For a moment, the swirling maelstrom faltered, pierced by a blinding golden light that shimmered at its core, like a sun bursting through the darkness.
Plagueis, seizing the opportunity created by Gojo's maneuver, prepared his next strike. He summoned the full extent of his power, channeling an immense surge of Force lightning, red and crackling with the fury of the dark side. He combined it with his Force draining capabilities, crafting a potent attack designed to sap Gojo's strength and deliver a decisive blow. The red lightning surged forward, twisting like a serpent with its fangs bared.
But as the deadly bolt approached, it stopped abruptly, as if hitting an invisible wall. Gojo stood calmly, his expression unreadable. He had already infused his Limitless Barrier with Reverse Curse Technique, creating an impenetrable shield that flawlessly filtered all incoming attacks. The barrier shimmered with a subtle yet potent energy, preventing any external force from breaching its flawless surface.
Gojo raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You just lost your first strike, body hopper," he taunted, the insult striking a nerve in Plagueis. The term 'body hopper' mocked the Sith Lord's desperate jumps from one clone to another in his quest for immortality, reminding him of his fragile existence tethered to borrowed vessels.
Gojo, his four-pupil Rikugan eyes reflecting a playful yet lethal intent, infused his right fist with the volatile energy of Minimum Purple. This technique, a condensed version of his Hollow Purple, enveloped his fist in a swirling vortex of destructive force. To counteract the immense recoil that could shatter his own arm, Gojo expertly layered Reverse Curse Technique beneath the attack, ensuring his own protection while amplifying the force's destructive potential.
But Gojo wasn't done. As his fist crackled with energy, he combined it with Black Flash, multiplying the force of his strike by a factor of 2.5. Black lightning surged around his arm, entwining with the violet energy of Minimum Purple, creating an electrifying display of raw power and chaos. The air around Gojo buzzed with anticipation, the ground beneath him trembling under the immense pressure of his combined abilities.
With a smirk, Gojo launched forward, his fist connecting squarely with Plagueis' chest. The impact was instantaneous and catastrophic. Plagueis' body convulsed violently as the combined might of Minimum Purple and Black Flash tore through his defenses. The sheer force of the punch caused a massive shockwave, shattering the ancient stone around them and sending debris flying in all directions. Plagueis' body was launched like a missile, rocketing from Level 1 of Coruscant's underworld up to Level 5127 in an instant.
As Plagueis soared upward, his flesh and bones struggled against the sheer, unrelenting power of Gojo's strike. His Sith robes were torn to shreds, and the flesh around his torso and arms blackened and twisted as if seared by an otherworldly fire. The Minimum Purple energy, even in its minimized form, continued to eat away at his form, leaving dark, corrosive wounds that defied conventional healing.
Plagueis' body skidded across the jagged terrain of Coruscant, a blur of red and black hurtling uncontrollably through the cityscape. He smashed through layers of durasteel and plasteel, his form barely holding together as he ricocheted off the sides of towering skyscrapers. Each impact sent tremors through the structures, windows shattering in a cascade of glass, steel beams bending under the force of his passage. The devastation was monumental—each collision a testament to the sheer, unrelenting force behind Gojo's kick.
As if by some cruel twist of fate, Plagueis' battered form eventually landed on the steps leading up to the Jedi Temple. The momentum of Gojo's assault sent him careening down the stone stairway, each jarring bounce leaving cracks in the ancient masonry. When he finally came to a halt, Plagueis attempted to rise, his severed hands trembling as he struggled to push himself upright. His breath came in ragged gasps, pain lancing through his body as the reality of his situation settled in.
Gojo, floating high above, watched with a mixture of amusement and indifference. He had seen Sith Lords crumble under his power before, but Plagueis' defiance held a certain satisfaction—a Sith Lord brought low not by grandiose power plays, but by sheer, overwhelming force. Unable to resist, Gojo descended, landing softly beside Plagueis. With a flick of his foot, he delivered another kick, this time sending Plagueis crashing through the ground with enough force to bore a hole straight through the Jedi Temple's stairs, deep into the Sith shrine hidden beneath.
The impact was cataclysmic. The stone steps splintered and crumbled, giving way under the force of Plagueis' descent. The Sith shrine, long buried and hidden from even the keenest Jedi senses, cracked as the Sith Lord's body crashed into it. The ancient structure groaned under the strain, the dark energy within it pulsating as if in agony. Yet, despite the damage, the shrine remained intact, its sinister aura persisting amidst the wreckage.
Plagueis lay amidst the rubble, staring up at the distant ceiling of the shrine. His mind raced, grappling with the unrelenting truth that had been staring him in the face from the very beginning. Gojo had given him chances—fleeting, mocking opportunities to strike a blow, to prove that he was more than just a stepping stone in the path of a greater force. But those chances were illusions, cruel jokes played on a being who had prided himself on his mastery of life and death.
As Plagueis struggled to stand, his severed hands useless at his sides, he thought bitterly, He's given me the illusion of a chance, but I've been through six clones, Sith forms, and even ancient Sith avatars. I haven't even grazed his clothes. The realization was crushing, a weight that bore down on him with the finality of a death sentence.
For a moment, he stared at his own reflection in the cracked stone of the shrine, the image distorted and broken. "I know," he muttered to himself, his voice tinged with a hollow resignation. "I've known from the very beginning…"
But resignation wasn't enough to halt Plagueis' resolve. Gritting his teeth, he drew upon the dark energy of the Sith shrine, feeling the malevolent power flood his body. Shadows twisted around him, seeping into his wounds and forming new limbs—a grotesque, armored arm coated in darkness and crackling with reddish lightning. His eyes, now filled with determination and defiance, flared as a third eye opened on his forehead, glowing ominously.
"I don't care about this final body anymore," Plagueis snarled inwardly, his focus narrowing to a singular goal. "I need to throw everything I have just to get one blow on Gojo."
With a surge of dark side energy, Plagueis enveloped himself in a fearsome red lightning armor. The armor glowed with a violent intensity, arcs of electricity dancing across its surface like serpents of pure energy. The red lightning pulsed and crackled, emanating from the core of his being and wrapping his form in a flickering, tempestuous shield of destruction. The third eye on his forehead radiated malevolence, scanning the surroundings with an unholy light that made the very air sizzle.
Plagueis' newly forged arm sparked with raw power, its surface blackened and jagged, as if it had been pulled from the deepest abyss of the Force. Each movement he made left trails of crimson lightning in his wake, illuminating the darkened shrine with flashes of blood-red light. His entire presence was now that of a wrathful god, seething with the power of the dark side, ready to unleash devastation.
With a roar, Plagueis unleashed a sea of red lightning from the hole Gojo had created. The lightning poured out like a raging torrent, filling the abyss with searing, crackling energy that surged upward in a violent cascade. The sea of lightning surged like a tidal wave, exploding from the depths of the shrine and racing towards Gojo with the ferocity of a wrathful storm.
Gojo, standing some 500 meters from the Jedi Temple, watched the oncoming wave with a bemused expression. And then along came Zeus . and then wannabe Poseidon technique, he thought, his eyes glinting with a hint of amusement. But rather than dodge or defend, Gojo simply stood his ground, allowing the sea of red lightning to wash over him.
As the lightning engulfed him, Gojo remained unfazed, his form illuminated by the flickering red arcs that danced across his body. With a casual ease, he activated his spiritual pressure, manifesting as a radiant circle around him. The energy field shimmered like a transparent barrier, a dome of unassailable force that pushed back against the sea of lightning with a quiet, unyielding strength
Gojo's eyes gleamed with mischief as he activated Limitless: Lapse Blue. The force of attraction surged outward, grasping Plagueis and yanking him from the depths of the crater like a puppet on strings. Plagueis' body hurtled through the air, helpless against the overwhelming pull of Gojo's technique. In a blur, Gojo closed the distance, his fist crackling with Black Flash, the black lightning intermingling with violet energy. The punch connected squarely with Plagueis' face, the impact sending shockwaves rippling through the air. The power of the strike rattled the very foundations of the ancient shrine, splintering the stone further and causing the surroundings to quake with its force.
Plagueis, reeling from the blow, tumbled through the air, his armored form struggling to maintain composure. Gojo, with a casual leap, landed atop a nearby building, his eyes scanning the sea of red lightning now climbing the structures around him, enveloping the area in a tempestuous storm of destructive energy. The Sith Lord hovered ominously, his third eye glowing with malignant intent. With a snarl, he conjured thousands of orbs of Force lightning, each crackling with volatile energy, and launched them toward Gojo like a deadly hailstorm.
Gojo merely grinned, unperturbed by the oncoming assault. " So you're fighting fire with fire, huh? Let's see how that works out for you." With a snap of his fingers, the Age of Babylon activated on his left, materializing an arsenal of golden weapons—swords, axes, spears, and chains—each one shimmering with an ancient, divine aura, their edges razor-sharp and forged with the might of the old gods. On his right, Visionary conjured an array of modern weaponry from his own world: firearms from the Nazi era, assault rifles, high-caliber sniper rifles, and even rocket launchers from current military arsenals, save for nuclear weapons.
The skies above Coruscant erupted in a cacophony of battle as Gojo's arsenal clashed with Plagueis' lightning storm. Golden weapons flew with blinding speed, intercepting the Force lightning orbs in mid-air. Swords spun like golden buzzsaws, cleaving through the orbs with effortless precision. Axes and spears whirled, deflecting the lightning bolts, sending them careening off into the distance with explosive flashes. Chains lashed out, coiling around the lightning orbs and dissipating them into harmless sparks.
On the other side, Gojo's modern weapons unleashed a barrage of bullets, grenades, and rockets, tearing through the Force lightning orbs with relentless efficiency. The air was filled with the deafening roar of gunfire, the sharp crack of sniper rounds, and the thunderous boom of rockets launching and exploding. Each modern weapon seemed to find its mark with deadly precision, cutting through Plagueis' attack as if it were mere paper. The sky was ablaze with a dazzling light show of golden radiance and modern firepower, intermingled with the crimson arcs of Plagueis' lightning.
The clashing forces tore through the sky, shaking the city below. Golden spears streaked like shooting stars, bursting through walls of lightning and embedding themselves in distant structures. Modern missiles spiraled, trailing smoke as they detonated in fiery blossoms, lighting up the skyline with flashes of destruction. The sheer scale of the battle was breathtaking, a spectacle of raw power and tactical brilliance that overwhelmed the senses.
Gojo watched the chaotic display with a look of sheer ecstasy, stretching his arms wide as if basking in the sheer grandeur of the destruction around him. The explosions, the shockwaves, the raw power—it was a symphony of chaos that resonated with every fiber of his being.
Plagueis, seething with fury, channeled his rage into a massive beam of red Force lightning, the largest he could muster. The beam crackled and hissed as it tore through the air, aimed directly at Gojo with the intent to annihilate.
Gojo barely spared it a glance, tilting his head slightly as he regarded the incoming attack with a side-eyed smirk. "Not bad for a tantrum," he mused, his tone dripping with condescension. "But it's not complete. Still, it makes for a decent light show." He referred not to Plagueis, but to the Maximum: Void technique he himself had yet to perfect.
With a calm, measured movement, Gojo stretched his right hand forward, darkness enveloping it like a living cloak. An eye opened on the back of his palm, gleaming ominously, while his four-pupil Rikugan eyes shone with an intense, otherworldly light. Gojo chanted softly, his voice resonating with the incantation, "Empty Invocation, Wheel of Samsara, Dharma of Dissolution."
As he finished, Gojo shouted, "Incomplete Maximum: Void!" A small black hole, no larger than a basketball, appeared in his grasp. The singularity swirled with terrifying density, its gravitational pull immediately apparent as it drew in light and matter alike. The black hole's properties tore into the fabric of space, its unstable trajectory veering unpredictably as it moved, leaving scars in reality itself. Plagueis' red lightning was devoured instantly by the black hole, as if it were nothing but a trivial spark in the vast void, reducing his powerful attack to mere cosmic dust.
The black hole surged forward, erratically carving its path through the air. It latched onto Plagueis' right hand with a voracious hunger, devouring flesh, bone, and the essence that fueled the Sith Lord. Plagueis watched in horror as his arm was sucked into the abyss, the black hole stripping away layers of his being with every second. The incomplete nature of the technique made it wildly unpredictable, the singularity spiraling erratically and tearing rifts in the sky above.
Plagueis staggered, gripping the empty space where his arm had been, his form flickering as his essence struggled to maintain cohesion. The brutal reality of his situation pressed down on him—Gojo's overwhelming power was an undeniable force, rendering Plagueis' mastery of the dark side, his formidable lightning armor, and his every ounce of strength utterly insufficient. But even now, staring defeat in the face, Plagueis refused to surrender.
With a defiant snarl, Plagueis raised his remaining arm. The sea of red Force lightning responded to his command, surging and twisting as it coalesced into two gigantic hands, crackling with raw, destructive energy. He wove Sith sorcery into the lightning, conjuring dark, spectral creatures that soared into the sky—nightmarish apparitions designed to distract and overwhelm Gojo.
Gojo, his expression one of mild annoyance, simply flicked his wrist. "Limitless: Reversal Red." A wave of repulsive energy blasted outward from his form, tearing through the spectral creatures with ease, reducing them to mere wisps of dissipating darkness. The massive hands of red lightning trembled under the onslaught of Gojo's technique, the sorcerous creatures vanishing in an instant as if they had never existed.
As Gojo finished dispatching the distractions, Plagueis seized his moment. With a desperate, vengeful cry, he slammed the massive hands together, attempting to crush Gojo within their electrified grasp. The hands, filled with the debris of Coruscant—skyscrapers, towers, vehicles, and countless other structures—descended with the weight of a collapsing city block, seeking to pulverize Gojo under the immense pressure of both raw Force energy and physical might.
Gojo, however, did not flinch. As the gigantic hands closed in, packed with shattered skyscrapers, durasteel beams, and the very fabric of Coruscant's infrastructure, he simply summoned his Reishi broadsword. The ethereal blade, glowing with a vibrant blue light, appeared effortlessly in his grasp. Without breaking his relaxed posture, Gojo swung the sword with a speed and precision that defied the monumental scale of Plagueis' attack.
The broadsword sliced through the red lightning hands and the multitude of buildings as if they were made of paper. In a single sweeping motion, Gojo cleaved the attack into countless pieces, each fragment dispersing harmlessly into the air. The deafening noise of crashing metal, shattering glass, and ruptured stone filled the surroundings, yet Gojo remained untouched, standing in the epicenter of the destruction.
In a move that could only be described as a final, casual display of supremacy, Gojo struck a T-pose, extending his arms outward as if to embrace the chaos around him. His stance, an almost mocking declaration of his dominance, resonated with an unspoken message: no matter the scale of the attack, nothing could touch him.
As Plagueis scanned the wreckage, hoping to catch sight of Gojo amid the aftermath of his failed onslaught, a sudden blur jolted him from his thoughts. Gojo appeared out of nowhere, his expression as nonchalant as ever, and with a swift, powerful kick, he sent Plagueis crashing through the air once more, smashing him across another set of buildings. The force of the kick left Plagueis floating in midair, his body battered and bruised, his mind reeling from the relentless assault.
Plagueis thought, his mind a storm of despair and disbelief. Even with every reserve of dark side power, every emergency trick and forbidden technique, I never imagined… never believed… the gap between us could be this vast. His thoughts echoed with the crushing realization of his impotence against Gojo, his once unshakable confidence shattered by the overwhelming disparity between their powers.
Gojo, with a sly grin, appeared once again beside the drifting Sith Lord. Without hesitation, he grabbed Plagueis by the face, his grip like iron as he propelled them both downward at an incredible speed. They crashed through the towering structure of the Senate building, bursting through the Senator Rotunda and finally plowing into the Grand Convocation Chamber. The force of the impact shattered the Chancellor's podium, scattering debris and shocking the gathered holographic attendees.
Amid the stunned silence, Gojo pointed upward, where the broadcast in the sky continued to relay the ongoing battle to all of Coruscant. His smirk widened, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Ah, the broadcast… A very nice touch. Makes for a great vlog, don't you think?" he taunted, his voice dripping with arrogance. "Shows just how pathetic the Sith really are."
Gojo tightened his grip around Plagueis' throat, lifting him effortlessly off the ground. The Sith Lord struggled, his body wracked with pain and his essence flickering as Gojo's power overwhelmed him. Gojo's expression remained one of detached curiosity, as if toying with an insignificant insect. "Come on now, do your best," Gojo said, his tone laced with mockery. "You'll keep me company until my boredom is satisfied."
Plagueis gasped for breath, his eyes wide with a mix of terror and rage, but he was powerless to break free from Gojo's grasp. The realization that he was nothing more than entertainment to this unrelenting force settled like a stone in his gut. Trapped in Gojo's grasp, Plagueis could only glare at the man who had shattered his ambitions, the truth of his own insignificance glaringly clear.
And above them, the broadcast continued, a silent witness to the humiliation of a Sith Lord whose greatest aspirations were being dismantled piece by piece by a force beyond his comprehension.
In the Jedi Council chamber, the atmosphere was thick with tension as the ethereal broadcast continued to display the chaotic battle between Gojo and Plagueis. The sight of Gojo's casual dominance over Plagueis—a Sith Lord known for his cunning and near-immortality—left many onlookers bewildered and uneasy.
Adi Gallia, her brow furrowed in concern, turned to Yoda with a troubled expression. "Master Yoda, who is the real evil entity in this battle? Gojo's actions seem more like a prolonged torture of Plagueis rather than those of a hero."
Yoda's ears drooped slightly as he observed the unfolding spectacle, his gaze fixed on the image of Gojo taunting and manhandling Plagueis. The ancient Jedi Master was accustomed to discerning the complex nature of good and evil within the Force, yet Gojo's presence defied such simplistic categorizations. He found himself grappling with an uncomfortable realization—Gojo Satoru was neither hero nor villain in the traditional sense but a force that operated beyond conventional morality.
"Clouded, this situation is," Yoda finally admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "Gojo Satoru, powerful beyond measure, is. A savior, he may seem, yet ruthless in his methods, too. Balance, he does not seek. Entertainment, perhaps."
Mace Windu, who had been watching in grim silence, crossed his arms and added, "Gojo saved the Republic from a coup and has kept countless lives from falling into Sith hands, but his approach… It's as if we're witnessing a gladiator spectacle rather than a battle of good versus evil."
The broadcast displayed Gojo lifting Plagueis effortlessly, his demeanor as nonchalant as ever, contrasting sharply with the Sith Lord's desperate struggle. It was a sight that left the Jedi Council—and the entire Republic—questioning the true nature of their savior. The dichotomy of Gojo's actions presented an unsettling challenge: he was undeniably effective in combating threats, but his indifference to collateral damage and the suffering of his enemies painted him in a morally ambiguous light.
...............….
In the Jedi Council chamber,
the atmosphere was thick with tension as the ethereal broadcast continued to display the chaotic battle between Gojo and Plagueis. The sight of Gojo's casual dominance over Plagueis—a Sith Lord known for his cunning and near-immortality—left many onlookers bewildered and uneasy.
Adi Gallia, her brow furrowed in concern, turned to Yoda with a troubled expression. "Master Yoda, who is the real evil entity in this battle? Gojo's actions seem more like a prolonged torture of Plagueis rather than those of a hero."
Yoda's ears drooped slightly as he observed the unfolding spectacle, his gaze fixed on the image of Gojo taunting and manhandling Plagueis. The ancient Jedi Master was accustomed to discerning the complex nature of good and evil within the Force, yet Gojo's presence defied such simplistic categorizations. He found himself grappling with an uncomfortable realization—Gojo Satoru was neither hero nor villain in the traditional sense but a force that operated beyond conventional morality.
"Clouded, this situation is," Yoda finally admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "Gojo Satoru, powerful beyond measure, is. A savior, he may seem, yet ruthless in his methods, too. Balance, he does not seek. Entertainment, perhaps."
Mace Windu, who had been watching in grim silence, crossed his arms and added, "Gojo saved the Republic from a coup and has kept countless lives from falling into Sith hands, but his approach… It's as if we're witnessing a gladiator spectacle rather than a battle of good versus evil."
The broadcast displayed Gojo lifting Plagueis effortlessly, his demeanor as nonchalant as ever, contrasting sharply with the Sith Lord's desperate struggle. It was a sight that left the Jedi Council—and the entire Republic—questioning the true nature of their savior. The dichotomy of Gojo's actions presented an unsettling challenge: he was undeniably effective in combating threats, but his indifference to collateral damage and the suffering of his enemies painted him in a morally ambiguous light.
Yoda closed his eyes, seeking solace in the Force, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of events that Gojo Satoru had unleashed upon the galaxy. "Hero, villain, or something else entirely, Gojo Satoru may be. What matters, remember we must, the Force's balance is. Not easy, this path—"
Before he could finish, a deafening explosion shook the Senator Rotunda, cutting off his words. The blast echoed through the city, sending tremors that were felt even within the Jedi Temple. The Council members watched in shock as smoke billowed from the newly created hole in the Senate building, their thoughts instantly turning to the one responsible.
Mace Windu's thoughts were sharp and filled with frustration. Gojo, I understand the need to stop Plagueis, but your methods are reckless. This isn't justice—it's chaos. You blur the line between a savior and a tyrant. Whatever your intentions, you're teetering on the edge of madness.
Yaddle, her serene composure shaken, could feel the delicate balance of the Force being disturbed. Gojo, your power is unmatched, but your actions reek of arrogance. If you cannot differentiate between what is necessary and what is merely for your own amusement, you may become a greater threat than the Sith you claim to oppose.
Yoda's thoughts were heavy, tinged with sadness. Clouded, Gojo's path is. Driven by strength and amusement alike. Gojo, know your own heart, you must. Dangerous it is, when justification and entertainment become one. The Force, out of balance it is, and further, it must not tip.
Meanwhile, at the Grand Convocation Chamber, through the gaping hole Gojo had created, the scene was one of utter devastation. The air crackled with tension as Gojo conjured a thin, luminous path, resembling a shimmering sheet of ice that snaked through the sky. With effortless grace, Gojo skated along the path, accelerating toward the stars as though the battlefield was nothing more than his personal playground. His expression was one of casual amusement, finding delight in Plagueis' mounting fury.
Plagueis, seething with rage, glared at the taunting figure of Gojo Satoru. His patience, already worn thin, snapped as he raised his hand, summoning the Red Force Storm that swirled menacingly above Coruscant. The storm coalesced into a vortex of immense power, a swirling maelstrom of crimson lightning and dark side energy. With a guttural shout, Plagueis poured every ounce of his hatred into the storm, screaming with all his might, "FORCE!" The vortex grew, its tendrils of lightning clawing at the atmosphere, and as it reached higher into space, it expanded exponentially, swelling to a size that rivaled Sidious' most destructive Force storms.
The storm loomed over Coruscant, its presence oppressive and terrifying. On the surface, it appeared contained, but as it reached the upper atmosphere and beyond, its true scale became apparent—an immense, roiling mass of dark energy that threatened to engulf the very moon themselves. Plagueis, his eyes wild with fury, shouted once more, "STORM!" and the vortex intensified, its crimson core blazing as it sought to obliterate Gojo in a single, apocalyptic strike.
As Gojo skated at lightspeed through the vast expanse of space, effortlessly navigating the tendrils of Plagueis' expanding Force Storm, his mind buzzed with anticipation. " these guys won't even know what hit 'em. Time to flip the script and show them what real chaos looks like," he thought, his grin widening. "The Trade Federation and Sith army are about to get a masterclass in trolling ."
Meanwhile, the Senate and the Jedi watched in a mix of awe and dread as Gojo's light trails vanished into the distance. Coruscant's skies were still darkened by the ominous Red Force Storm—a testament to Plagueis' desperation. Gojo, however, was already moving on, his chaotic journey spiraling out of the Jedi and Sith's control, leaving them scrambling in his wake.
In Naboo space, the remaining fleet consisted of 4 Xyston-class Star Destroyers and 11 Lucrehulk battleships. On one of the Lucrehulk bridges, a Neimoidian officer stared wide-eyed at the screens, his expression shifting from concern to outright panic. "This is bad… really bad," he muttered, watching as the storm—now resembling a colossal vortex of destructive energy—loomed closer. "Is that… Is that storm coming this way? We need to—"
Before he could finish, an sith -esque officer on a Xyston-class Star Destroyer barked a command, his voice sharp and unyielding. "No deserters on my watch!" He slammed his fist onto the console, and the Xyston fired a devastating volley at the nearest Lucrehulk, tearing it apart in a spectacular explosion. "Hold your positions or be obliterated!" he roared, enforcing discipline with ruthless efficiency.
The Neimoidian officer, witnessing the destruction of his ally's ship, stammered, "This… this is madness. Gojo and Lord Plagueis, they're clashing like gods, and we're just caught in between! We can't survive this—we have to jump to lightspeed, we have to get out of here!"
Just as they prepared to flee, Gojo materialized in the middle of the fleet, standing confidently in the vacuum of space as if it were his stage. His four-pupil Rikugan eyes glowed intensely as he commanded, "NO YOU WON'T." His voice, amplified by his spiritual pressure, echoed through the ships' comms, reverberating like a divine decree. "All ships are forbidden from moving until I say so. Defy me, and I'll rip you apart myself."
Gojo's presence alone was enough to send a chilling wave of compliance through the fleet. Every officer, whether Neimoidian or sith , froze at their stations, the weight of Gojo's threat hanging over them like a guillotine. The ships held their positions, caught between the terrifying authority of Gojo Satoru and the relentless storm unleashed by Plagueis.
As the storm loomed ever closer, its malevolent energy swirling with increasing ferocity, the tension aboard the remaining Lucrehulks and Xystons escalated to a fever pitch. On one Lucrehulk, the Neimoidian officer's hands shook uncontrollably as he glanced between the approaching storm and the figure of Gojo, who stood defiant amidst the chaos.
"This is insane!" the Neimoidian officer muttered under his breath, his eyes wide with fear. "That storm's gonna rip us apart! We have to jump to lightspeed, now!"
An Sith officer on a Xyston-class Star Destroyer, though outwardly composed, felt the mounting dread. Sweat beaded on his brow as he kept a close watch on Gojo, whose four-pupil Rikugan eyes seemed to pierce through the very souls of every crew member. He clenched his fists, barking orders to maintain their position but unable to quell the growing sense of doom. The officers exchanged nervous glances, some silently praying, others frantically recalculating their odds of survival.
One of the Lucrehulks, its crew driven to the brink by the impending destruction, began its lightspeed sequence. But before it could escape, it was abruptly crushed by a massive blue orb—Gojo's Limitless: Lapse Blue—crumpling the ship like a tin can. The wreckage spiraled into the void, consumed by the unyielding force of Gojo's technique.
Gojo remained silent, a predatory grin spreading across his face as the rest of the fleet froze, paralyzed by the unmistakable message: defy him, and face utter annihilation. The Red Force Storm edged ever closer, tendrils of destructive energy licking at the space around them. The intensity of the impending storm sent tremors through the ships, with panels sparking and alarms blaring—a cacophony of fear and impending doom.
The Neimoidian officer clutched the edge of his console, sweat dripping down his face as the storm's proximity tightened his throat. "It's almost here… It's gonna—"
"Not yet," Gojo's calm, measured voice cut through the chaos, an unsettling calm in the midst of the maelstrom. He watched with a gleam in his eyes, savoring the mounting panic as the storm drew closer still, its crackling energy now mere meters from swallowing the fleet whole.
The Sith officer's hand hovered over the jump command, knuckles white from the tension. His mind raced. "We need to go, now, before—"
"Not yet," Gojo repeated, his voice unyielding, as if he alone commanded the very fabric of time and space.
The storm was upon them, a wall of raging energy that seemed to blot out the stars. The Neimoidian officer squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable impact.
Gojo clapped his hands, the sound sharp and definitive. "YOSH!" he declared, his voice ringing with finality.
At his command, the fleet jumped to lightspeed, narrowly evading the storm. But two Lucrehulks, delayed by just half a second, were caught in the outer tendrils of the Red Force Storm and obliterated in a blinding flash of energy. The storm continued its wrathful advance, tearing apart the Naboo moon Tasia in a cataclysmic burst, leaving nothing but scattered debris.
High above the chaos, Plagueis rode the crest of the Force Storm, his breath ragged and his form weary from the exertion. He huffed, his chest heaving, and muttered to himself, "Even someone as formidable as Gojo… he can't have escaped unscathed from that."
Without warning, Gojo appeared beside him, sitting nonchalantly as if he were merely taking in the view. Plagueis' eyes widened, shock mingling with disbelief at the sight of his nemesis, untouched and unbothered.
Gojo smirked, leaning back casually. "If it had hit me, maybe," he taunted, his voice dripping with arrogance and mockery. The unspoken truth hung in the air—Gojo Satoru, untouchable and unfazed, had once again made a mockery of the dark side's greatest efforts.
Gojo's taunt hung in the air, laced with his trademark arrogance and a hint of playful cruelty. "Why didn't you use Exar Kun's telepathy or Force Dominate on me to freeze my movements? Or maybe try a Force essence transfer to hijack my body? Seems like you're holding back, Plagueis." His eyes sparkled with mischief, the corner of his mouth curling upward as he leaned in closer, almost as if to share a private joke.
Plagueis, still reeling from the earlier clashes, grimaced. His expression hardened, but the flicker of fear in his eyes was unmistakable. "Your mind is like an impenetrable wall," Plagueis admitted, his voice laced with frustration. "Even if I could transfer my essence into your body, I have the distinct feeling something more terrifying than death would be waiting for me inside." His thoughts drifted to the horrors that might lurk within Gojo's soul—echoes of Exar Kun and Valkorion, twisted and corrupted by Gojo's insatiable power.
Gojo let out a mocking laugh, a sound that echoed with a chilling nonchalance. "Kuhuhu, because of Exar Kun and Valkorion, huh? You turned into a loser when faced with someone stronger than you lost ,now you become nothing more than shit dirt." Gojo's words were laced with venom, but his delivery was almost casual, as if he were commenting on the weather.
Plagueis stood silent, his pride battered but not yet shattered. His silence spoke volumes, a mix of resignation and cold, simmering rage.
Gojo's eyes gleamed as he continued, "However, things have gotten very interesting since my awakening. I think I'll humor you a bit more." With a flourish, Gojo extended his right hand, chanting an incantation that echoed ominously through the void. "Unleashed," he murmured, and suddenly, a storm of dark lightning with a shadowy hue began to crackle around his fingers, spiraling and writhing like a living entity of pure malice.
Plagueis watched, his gaze narrowing in shock and confusion. "Isn't Gojo supposed to be using some unknown energy? Now he's wielding the dark side as well?" he muttered to himself, his mind racing to comprehend the evolving threat before him.
Gojo grinned, enjoying Plagueis' bewilderment. "Oh, this little trick? It's because I ate all of the failed emperor's essence," he said cryptically, referring to Tenebrae and his various aspects, though keeping that detail to himself. "Don't worry, 'Bodyjack,' I won't cheat by revealing all my cards with a binding vow. I'd hate to spoil the fun."
Plagueis' expression hardened further at the nickname, a bitter reminder of his dependence on body-hopping for survival. The insult struck a nerve, but Gojo's next words pulled his focus back to the battle.
"Prepare yourself," Gojo said, his tone shifting from playful mockery to something darker, more intense. "Let's finish this with lightning power ."
Plagueis, with his remaining arm crackling with energy, gathered every shred of his dwindling power. Red lightning surged from his fingertips, spiraling upward into a towering vortex that roared with the fury of a dying planet . The Red Force Storm, once a testament to his might, now seemed desperate—a last, defiant strike against the inevitability of his defeat. It blazed with chaotic, raw power, arcs of crimson electricity slashing through the air as it expanded into a colossal tempest. Plagueis poured every ounce of his hatred and ambition into it, creating a storm that could rival the apocalypse itself.
Gojo, watching with an amused glint in his four-pupil Rikugan eyes, began to playfully manipulate his hands, almost as if conducting a symphony. With a sudden wave of his hand , he materialized a giant dark bow in his grasp, shadows twisting and contorting into an ominous shape. In his mind, he dubbed it "Indra's Arrow"—a weapon of pure destruction, formed to pierce through the heart of even the strongest storms. The arrow hummed with a deadly energy, dark and forbidding, as if it could tear the fabric of space itself.
As the scene reached its climactic peak, everything around them faded into a stark white canvas. Plagueis found himself walking through the void, where he was met by the spectral forms of legendary Sith: Darth Bane, Darth Nihilus, Exar Kun, and Tenebrae. The weight of his failures bore down on him, and with a weary sigh, Plagueis confessed, "I'm sorry… everyone I failed."
Darth Bane, the architect of the Rule of Two, spoke with a calm, wise demeanor. "There is still Sidious to carry our ambition forward. You fought using his future self, didn't you? You wielded his form powerfully. Sidious will grow stronger in the future; even if the dark side is devoured by Gojo, Sidious will find a way to bring it back, whole and unyielding."
Plagueis nodded, drawing strength from Bane's words. "We are the true rulers of the galaxy," he declared, turning to his fellow Sith. "No matter what happens, our legacy will persist. I am honored to have met you all, even in this form."
Gojo suddenly materialized beside them, his presence an unwelcome interruption. "Oh? You still dream of ruling the galaxy?" he sneered, his tone dripping with contempt. Plagueis opened his mouth to speak, but Gojo cut him off, his voice rising with a biting critique. "I know what you're going to say. You want the same fame and glory as the Jedi, to be glorified in this unfair galaxy. But here's the truth—it's rubbish."
Gojo's expression darkened, his eyes flashing with a dangerous intensity. "You're still bound by the same rules, stuck with the Rule of Two and the endless politics that stifle your potential. You should be training, embracing death as a part of progress, and eventually, ignoring it altogether like I do. Burn the unfair rules of this galaxy and rise to be the strongest on your own terms."
Plagueis listened, his gaze dropping as Gojo's words struck a chord. For the first time, doubt crept into his expression. "Maybe you're right, Gojo Satoru," he murmured, the admission feeling like a crack in the armor he had worn for centuries.
Gojo's demeanor softened slightly, and with an unexpected sincerity, he said, "But I'll give you this—I had fun fighting you." The statement caught Plagueis off guard, his eyes widening in surprise.
Gojo continued, his tone almost reflective. "Humans, sorcerers, Jedi… You've outlasted them all in terms of strength and tenacity. Stand proud, Plagueis. You are strong."
The Sith Lord's composure broke, tears welling in his eyes as he faced an acknowledgment he had never received—not from his master, nor his apprentice. It was a validation of his struggle and his strength, something he had craved but never found.
"No one… No one has ever told me that," Plagueis whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. He fought to retain his pride, lifting his head with renewed resolve. "But I am still a Sith, and we will rule the galaxy. That is our destiny."
Gojo simply shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Huh. Alright then," he replied nonchalantly, acknowledging Plagueis' declaration without dispute. In the end, it was clear: Gojo Satoru played by his own rules, indifferent to the grand designs of Sith or Jedi alike.
每周推薦票狀態
-- 推薦票
榜單 
-- 推薦票