Space Marine in Star Wars

===Obi-Wan===

As Queen Amidala's entourage walked out of the ship, they made their way toward the massive doors leading deeper into the royal palace. As they approached, the double doors suddenly began to open, revealing a towering figure clad in armor.

Padmé's eyes widened at the sight of the massive Astartes, though this one was different. She assumed he must belong to another "Chapter," as Maximus would call it. His armor, blue and gold, was strikingly similar to Maximus's, yet there was something distinct about it. It seemed to shift in ways her mind couldn't fully comprehend, and the colors were a deeper, more vivid hue than she had expected.

The figure before them stood in silence, his presence dominating the space. His armor gleamed in the dim light of the hanger, each movement of his body causing the blue and gold plating to shimmer and shift in strange, unsettling patterns. It was as though the very surface of his armor was alive, responding to his every breath, every heartbeat, with a fluidity that defied the laws of physics.

Beside her, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan remained still, their hands subtly resting on their lightsabers as they too studied the new arrival. The silence hung in the air, thick with tension.

Padmé's breath caught in her throat. Unlike Maximus, who exuded raw physical power, this Astartes radiated a different kind of energy—an almost palpable force of the mind, of arcane mastery. His armor seemed to hum with the energy of sorcery, a mystic aura that made her feel small and insignificant in its presence.

The Astartes did not speak, his gaze fixed upon her through the darkened lenses of his helmet. It was as though he were examining her not with his eyes, but with his mind. Padmé felt an uncomfortable sensation, as if he were probing her very thoughts, peering into her soul. She fought the impulse to recoil.

Beside her, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan remained silent, but Padmé could feel their attention focused intently on the new arrival. The Jedi were not the only ones who felt the unease.

Padmé stepped forward, her voice steady despite the knot tightening in her stomach. "You are… one of them?"

The figure's head tilted slightly, a gesture that might have been an acknowledgment, but no words came. Instead, the shifting of his armor grew more pronounced, almost as though the suit itself were reacting to her presence. She felt a chill creep up her spine.

In a moment his hand lashed out and Padmé gasped as her body froze as if held by invisible chains. She struggled to breathe, every muscle locking into place under the force of his grip. Her heart raced, but her thoughts became clouded, consumed by a feeling of suffocation, as though the air itself had thickened around her.

"One of them?" The sorcerer's voice came. It seemed to resonate beyond her ears, warping the very fabric of reality itself. His words were not just spoken—they echoed, reverberating inside her mind. She felt her thoughts twist under his will, like a vortex threatening to swallow her entire being.

Padmé's vision blurred as a wave of power coursed through the air, emanating from him. The world around her seemed to bend, and for a moment, the hanger felt like an otherworldly place, a space caught between dimensions. She was aware of everything, but her body could not move, trapped in his grasp, as if she were nothing more than a puppet on invisible strings.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan acted instantly, their reflexes honed by years of training. Qui-Gon's lightsaber ignited with a snap-hiss as he dashed toward the sorcerer's right, while Obi-Wan mirrored him, the blue glow of his blade illuminating the darkened hanger as he charged for the left. Their synchronized movements were swift, precise, but Padmé could see the hesitation in their eyes—the sense of unease that clouded their usual confidence.

The sorcerer did not seem to notice, or perhaps he did not care, as his grip tightened around Padmé. Her vision swam, and she gasped for air, but there was no release. The sorcerer stood as still as a statue, his gaze unwavering as he awaited the Jedi's strike.

Qui-Gon lunged with practiced fluidity, his blade aimed for the sorcerer's side. But before it could make contact, the sorcerer's hand flicked ever so slightly, and the very air around him seemed to warp. Qui-Gon's strike passed through the sorcerer as if he were nothing more than a shadow, and the Jedi Master stumbled forward, caught off guard by the sudden disorientation.

Obi-Wan was not far behind, his blade swinging toward the sorcerer's other side. But again, the sorcerer's hand moved with unnatural grace, and Obi-Wan's attack fizzled against an invisible barrier, the force of his strike sending ripples through the air. The Jedi recoiled, his brow furrowing in concentration.

"You cannot fight what you do not understand," the sorcerer's voice purred, his words reverberating through the hanger like a deep vibration. His grip on Padmé tightened, and she felt herself lifted into the air, helpless and at his mercy.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan paused, sensing the overwhelming power the sorcerer wielded. Their lightsabers hummed, casting a faint glow against the shadows of the hanger, but neither Jedi moved to strike again. There was something far more dangerous at play here—something they had not yet fully understood.

Padmé's head spun, her vision narrowing as the sorcerer's eyes locked onto her with an intensity that could burn through steel. "You will tell me of the ones you speak, or I will rip it from your mind after killing everyone here." he murmured, the words floating in her mind like whispers in the dark.

His hand raised further, and Padmé's body was lifted higher, her feet no longer touching the ground. Fear flooded her chest as she struggled against his grip, but it was as if her body no longer belonged to her. The world around her was spinning, reality itself bending and warping in ways she couldn't even begin to fathom.

The sorcerer's gaze flicked briefly toward the Jedi. "You think your power is enough to stop me?" he said, almost amused. "I am the voice of the Warp. Your petty tricks will not work here."

Obi-Wan's gaze flicked to Qui-Gon, the unspoken understanding passing between them in an instant. The Jedi, despite their skill and experience, were helpless against the sorcerer's overwhelming power. Qui-Gon's face was unreadable, his grip on his lightsaber steady, but Obi-Wan could feel the same frustration and helplessness radiating from him.

As the sorcerer's power pressed down on them, threatening to crush them with every moment, Obi-Wan felt something—something faint but unmistakable. A ripple, like a dark pulse against the walls of his mind. It was subtle at first, like a whisper on the edge of his awareness, but then it grew stronger, more insistent.

"Power," a voice murmured, the word curling into his consciousness like a wisp of smoke, intoxicating and alluring. The voice was familiar, and it seemed to reach out to him, threading through his thoughts as if it had always been there, waiting for the right moment to be heard.

Obi-Wan's breath caught as the presence grew clearer, and the pull of it was undeniable. His body tensed, his hand unconsciously tightening around the hilt of his lightsaber. The power being offered was seductive, raw, and ancient, and for a brief moment, Obi-Wan felt the temptation to embrace it. To harness it, to channel it, to fight back against the sorcerer with a force that could rival the immense power currently holding Padmé in thrall.

"Power enough to fight this being on equal grounds."

The voice in his mind echoed, a promise of strength, of victory. Obi-Wan's thoughts began to blur, and his usual clarity wavered under the weight of this new force. The temptation was palpable—an offer to break free from the chains of the Jedi Code, to use the chaotic power that swirled through the air, that beckoned to him like an open door.

Padmé's sharp intake of breath broke through Obi-Wan's internal struggle, her fear slicing through the chaotic fog clouding his mind. Her pain, her helplessness—it was too much. He could feel it, feel her life being drained away, and the raw temptation surged once more, louder this time, calling to him like an ancient hunger.

Without thinking, Obi-Wan made his decision.

He reached deep within, and the power welled up from the depths of his being, filling every fiber of his body with its raw, uncontained energy. It wasn't the Force. The Force was something he had always known, something that connected the universe, something balanced. This was different. This was chaos. A tumultuous, unrefined energy that had no beginning or end, no light or dark.

The Warp.

The instant it filled him, he felt the surge, the pulse of destruction and force. It coursed through him like fire, licking at the edges of his mind, taunting him with promises of untold power. He could feel it bubbling up, ready to tear apart everything in its path. His grip on the lightsaber faltered as the weight of the power pressed down on him.

But the Force wasn't gone. It still clung to him, pushing back against the chaotic energy that now raged inside him. It resisted, like a steady current trying to hold back the floodwaters of a storm. Obi-Wan could feel the clash—the ancient, pure power of the Force fought against the swirling chaos of the Warp, trying to expel it from his body, to cleanse him.

But the pull of the Warp was stronger, its grip tightening as Obi-Wan drew more of it into himself. The Force strained under the weight of the unnatural power, its resistance slowing but ultimately unable to stop him. Obi-Wan's mind became a battlefield—he was stretched between the two forces, his very essence being torn in two.

He drew in more of the Warp, hunger and rage bubbling in his chest. His vision blurred, and for a moment, he could hear the voice again—the voice that had whispered to him from the darkness.

"Power. You are power. You can stop this."

The words wrapped around his thoughts, seductively familiar, and for a fleeting moment, Obi-Wan felt invincible. He could feel the chaos building within him, expanding, filling the empty spaces where the Force once was. His mind became a storm, and in the eye of it, one thought kept him anchored.

To kill these Astartes, and save everyone.

With one final pull, he drew the power into him, the Warp folding into his body like liquid fire. His heart raced, his blood ran hot, and he could hear the crackling energy around him, the very air vibrating with the weight of it. He opened his eyes, and the world seemed to shift, colors distorting, reality bending at the edges.

But something was wrong.

The Warp was not a clean power—it was wild, unpredictable, and it didn't just take; it consumed. And Obi-Wan could feel it consuming him. The very nature of his being felt… distorted. The lightsaber in his hand hummed, but it felt alien now, the connection to it slipping. The Force was still there, still trying to reclaim him, but it was fighting a losing battle.

He could feel himself changing, could feel the dark pull deepening.

Obi-Wan's body convulsed as the Warp continued to tear at him, black veins snaking across his skin like poison coursing through his very soul. His heart pounded in his chest as he fought to hold on to the thread of his sanity. The power—that power—was intoxicating, but it was also eating him alive from the inside out. He could feel the destruction spreading, warping his flesh and mind, yet for the briefest moment, he felt unstoppable, a force of nature in his own right.

But the Astartes' mocking words cut through the haze like a blade.

"Foolish mortal. So starved for strength you play with something you do not understand," the massive figure said, his voice a low, rumbling growl that seemed to shake the very air around them. The Astartes gazed down at Obi-Wan with cold, almost pitying eyes, his posture radiating confidence and disdain. His armor shimmered with the faint glow of arcane power, the markings across his chest and pauldrons shifting as though they were alive, just like the Warp that now consumed Obi-Wan.

With a casual wave of his hand, the Astartes released Padmé from his psychic grip. She crumpled to the floor, her body weak and trembling, Lyra and Shmi rushing to catch her, their faces filled with worry and fear.

Obi-Wan's breath came in ragged gasps as he fought to maintain control. Every movement sent jolts of agony through his body as the Warp sought to claim him fully, but he wasn't finished yet—not while everyone was still in danger. His fingers tightened around his lightsaber, the weapon now feeling like a distant memory in his trembling hand, but it was all he had left. The Force flickered weakly within him, struggling to push back, but it was slowly being overrun.

The Astartes, unfazed by the display of raw power Obi-Wan was struggling to contain, smirked. His voice dripped with malice.

"Very well. I'll play with you for a moment."

The words were a challenge, a statement of absolute confidence. The sorcerer seemed to have no fear of Obi-Wan, even as the Jedi stood in the midst of the raw power of the Warp. He could see the torment in Obi-Wan's eyes—the struggle between the purity of the Force and the corrupting chaos that had begun to claim him.

With a single, swift motion, the Astartes extended one armored hand. Obi-Wan's body was lifted off the ground, the Warp's energy merging with the Astartes' telekinetic power. He was hurled backward, crashing into the far wall of the hangar with bone-shattering force. The impact left Obi-Wan crumpled on the floor, gasping for air, his body shaking as the overwhelming energy continued to gnaw at him.

"Pathetic," the Astartes muttered, his voice tinged with amusement before he turned his attention to Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon, who had been watching Obi-Wan, his eyes wide in understanding of what his apprentice had done, was suddenly struck by the same force. He was flung against a nearby ship, slamming into it before crumpling to the floor, unconscious.

"The power you seek is not meant for you," the Astartes said, looking back to Obi-Wan as he slowly advanced. "It is chaos incarnate, a force that consumes all who try to harness it."

Obi-Wan could feel the Warp coiling inside him, pushing against his consciousness as though it sought to take full control, to drown him in madness. The pain was unbearable, his very cells threatening to tear apart as he struggled to hold on.

But he couldn't let it win.

Through the haze of agony, Obi-Wan forced himself to push to his feet. His legs trembled beneath him, but he stood. His lightsaber, barely within reach, felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, but he seized it with desperate hands and ignited the blade with a snap-hiss. The blue glow flickered weakly in the dim light, but it felt fragile compared to the chaos that surged within him.

The Astartes stopped a few feet away, his expression unreadable behind the helm. His laughter filled the air, mocking Obi-Wan's defiance.

"You think you can stand against me, with your pathetic weapon and your fading mind?" The sorcerer's voice was laced with dark amusement. "The Warp is eternal. You, on the other hand, are a fleeting mortal."

Obi-Wan's grip tightened on the lightsaber, his mind a battlefield between the power of the Warp and the last flickers of the Force that still burned within him. The Astartes' power was overwhelming, but Obi-Wan was a Jedi. He had fought battles before, had faced impossible odds. He wouldn't give in now.

The Astartes began to raise his hand again, preparing to strike the final blow. But Obi-Wan, in a desperate surge of willpower, took one step forward, using every ounce of energy he had left. He brought the lightsaber up in a flash, slashing through the air with speed and precision.

The Astartes moved with uncanny swiftness, his hand reaching out to deflect the blow with a burst of psychic energy. The lightsaber's blade clashed against the invisible force, the energy reverberating through the air like a thunderclap. Obi-Wan's knees buckled under the pressure, but he pushed forward, fueled by the need to protect everyone and stop the chaos before it consumed everything.

But the Astartes was too strong.

With a wave of his hand, the sorcerer sent Obi-Wan flying once more, crashing into the wall with a sickening crack. The world around him blurred as the Warp roared in his mind, threatening to drown him.

Padmé's voice reached him, faint and desperate, calling his name. Her concern, her belief in him—it was the only tether to reality he had left.

The Astartes stepped forward, preparing to finish what he had started, his presence filling the space like a suffocating storm.

Obi-Wan wasn't sure how much longer he could hold on, but as he struggled to stand, he realized one thing: this fight wasn't over yet.

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