The Multiverse Hunter

"You look good in that seat," Ali remarked, his tone casual yet edged with something harder, as he gazed out of the glass wall in the commander's office.

His red mask, as always, betrayed no emotion, though the faint tilt of his head suggested amusement. Below, the hangar was alive with activity. Soldiers and workers scrambled to load supplies, repair equipment, and manoeuvre ships into position.

Among them, one vessel stood out—a sleek black starship, a marvel of modern engineering. Its pristine hull gleamed under the artificial lights, exuding wealth and power.

"It's all thanks to you, Lord Ali," Lena replied from her father's chair, the commander's uniform sitting perfectly on her. She leaned back slightly, the hint of a smile on her lips betraying her satisfaction at how far she'd come.

"How's your dad taking retirement?" Ali asked, his focus still on the commotion in the hangar. The black starship was particularly fascinating. Workers hovered around it with the reverence of pilgrims tending to a sacred relic.

"He's oddly happy about it," Lena said with a chuckle. "He's enjoying the peace, though he's not exactly thrilled with my mother's nagging. They've got a lot of 'catching up' to do after all these years."

Ali finally turned to face her, his imposing figure silhouetted against the glass. "Well, it looks like my time on Tartek has come to an end. You've been a capable assistant, Lena. I'll be keeping an eye on your progress."

As he walked out of the office, Lena leaned back further in her chair, letting out a quiet sigh. A small smile played on her lips as she watched him leave.

'What a monster,' she thought, her mind flashing back to the devastation left in his wake. The forest, the Witch, the bodies—it was the work of something far beyond human. 'And yet, it's ironic he's very handsome…'

Ali descended the stairs from the office, his cloak trailing behind him as he strode toward the hangar floor. The buzz of activity around the ships slowed to a halt as his presence was noticed. Soldiers and workers alike stopped to glance at him, their faces a mix of fear and awe.

He walked past two coffin-like boxes being loaded onto an Imperial transport, sparing them a brief glance. Inside were the corpses of the Jedi—Master Lunara and Kale. Their remains were to be sent to Korriban, a victorious trophy for the Sith.

Further ahead, a hulking trooper carefully carried a small figure into the same ship. It was Reka, her unconscious body swaddled in bandages.

Following close behind was the nurse, her face pale and stricken as she caught sight of Ali. Her steps faltered as he turned his masked gaze on her and raised a single gloved finger, beckoning her forward.

The nurse hesitated, trembling as tears welled in her eyes. "My lord, please…" she stammered, shaking her head in a futile attempt to plead for mercy.

"Closer," Ali said, his voice like a cold blade slicing through the air.

The nurse reluctantly obeyed, taking one trembling step after another toward him. The hangar fell deathly silent, every pair of eyes fixed on the unfolding scene.

When she was within reach, Ali moved with terrifying swiftness.

UGH

The nurse gasped, her body jerking as Ali plunged his arm into her chest. The sound of tearing flesh echoed in the hangar as he withdrew his hand, clutching her still-beating heart.

Blood poured down her uniform as she struggled to remain standing. Ali used the Force to hold her upright, stuffing the heart into her gaping mouth before she finally slumped lifelessly.

"Consider yourself lucky it was quick," Ali muttered, letting her corpse collapse to the floor. The sound of it hitting the ground was the only noise in the otherwise frozen hangar.

He turned to the trooper holding Reka. "Take her body to Korriban," Ali ordered, gesturing to the nurse's remains. "Tell them it's a package from Ali to Sivara."

"Yes, my lord," the trooper responded without hesitation, his composure unnerving in the face of such brutality.

Satisfied, Ali turned his attention to the black starship. It was a striking vessel, sleek and predatory in its design, with a level of luxury that hinted at its astronomical price tag. He smirked beneath his mask. 'It's good to have wealthy lords under my control', he thought, recalling the blue-skinned alien who had "willingly" gifted him the ship.

Inside the ship, Ali took a moment to appreciate its interior. The central room was spacious, with plush black couches surrounding a polished ebony table. In the middle of the table was a state-of-the-art projector, and the walls were lined with sleek panels that pulsed faintly with gold lights.

"My lord, we're ready to leave Tartek at your signal," the young pilot called from the cockpit, his voice brimming with excitement. It was clear he was enamoured with the ship.

"You ever flown something like this before, pilot?" Ali asked, shrugging off his cloak and draping it over one of the couches.

"Not quite this caliber, my lord," the pilot admitted with a smirk. "But I've got over ten years of experience. She's in good hands."

"Good," Ali said, strapping himself into one of the couches. "Let's leave Tartek behind."

As the ship hummed to life and began to ascend, Ali leaned back, finally allowing himself a moment of respite. He opened his interface for the first time in weeks.

"Personal Mission: Kill a Jedi (2/1)"

'Finally,' Ali thought, closing the interface with a small, satisfied exhale.

The ship climbed smoothly through Tartek's atmosphere, its advanced systems making the journey far more comfortable than any other vessel Ali had traveled in.

The quiet was broken as a door hissed open, and Drogath entered the central room. He was dressed in loose, casual clothing, his towering frame still imposing without his armour.

Bandages wrapped around his arms and parts of his face, stark reminders of the battle they had endured.

Drogath sat heavily on the couch next to Ali, his expression somber. The two remained silent for a while, the hum of the ship filling the space between them.

Finally, Drogath spoke. "Are you going to tell me what happened?"

Ali didn't look at him as he replied, "You lost control. The dark side consumed you, and you turned on me. I had to bring you back."

Drogath's face twisted in confusion and frustration. "But why? Why did I lose control? I don't remember anything after running into the forest toward you."

Ali shrugged, walking to the small kitchenette to grab a bottle of water. "It happens to those who use the dark side. Maybe you overdid it, or maybe it was something else. Either way, you need to figure it out before it happens again."

Drogath sighed, leaning back and closing his eyes. "Lord, we're coasting now," the pilot announced. "Ready to enter hyperspace at your command."

"Hold off," Ali ordered. "I have an important call to make."

"A call? To who?" Drogath asked, sitting up straight.

Ali smirked. "The Sith council, of course."

Drogath's face paled, his already tired expression shifting to one of alarm. "The Sith council? And you didn't tell me?"

Ali chuckled. "Relax. I'm fucking with you… It's just the academy's Sith masters and one council elder. The Sith council is too busy destroying the galaxy to hold a meeting for two apprentices."

Before Drogath could respond, Ali's comms device beeped, signalling the start of the call. "Sit back and stay quiet," Ali instructed, throwing his cloak back on and stepping into the holographic rectangle in front of the projector.

The room around Ali vanished, replaced by the shadowy hall of the Sith conference chamber. To his left stood a projection of the Imperial commander from his last mission on Vorrath.

Opposite them sat fifteen Sith, their cold, calculating gazes fixed on Ali. Among them, Ali recognised only one: Sivara, seated beside an older human Sith who exuded authority.

The meeting had begun.

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