Instinctively, Caedus swung his crimson lightsaber in a deadly arc.
But the slash met Kamish's Wrath—steel and plasma clashing with a shriek of physics protesting.
And then Caedus felt it. What—what is this weight—?!
His muscles screamed. His body was pushed back from the impact alone. His legs dragged across the stone. It wasn't just a parry—it was a force of gravity crashing into him.
The daggers weren't normal.
They're heavier—heavier than they should be. It's like… His thoughts flickered. A Star Destroyer. The weight of one is behind that blade—what is this weapon?!
Jin-Woo didn't let him cool down . With a twist of his wrist, his left hand moved—and behind Caedus, the air warped into a singularity.
A gravitational howl erupted as the Ruler's Authority activated.
A black vortex swallowed sound behind Caedus, the pull of a thousand collapsing suns dragging him backward. Caedus was flung like a comet, smashed through one wall, then another—stone, steel, and duracrete breaking like paper.
Smoke and rubble buried the Sith Lord in crumbled wreckage.
But he emerged again, coughing blood, his red saber dragging as he stood. He wiped the blood away, eyes burning with disbelief.
"…That Force ability of yours—it's not even your primary power, is it?" Caedus growled. "We Sith live by the Force. But you… what the hell are you?"
Jin-Woo simply tilted his head, calm and composed. "Maybe try using your flow walking. See if that tells you anything."
Caedus sneered—but inside, the frustration rose again. Bullshit. I already tried. The flow walking shows nothing. No timeline. No memories. No roots. All it gave me was Morgan's Lostbelt—and this damn primitive world.
Jin-Woo let the words hang as he dismissed Kamish's Wrath, the twin daggers dissolving into nothingness with a shimmer of orange light. With one smooth motion, he reached behind his back—and pulled free a weapon more fitting for the arena .
The Vectivus lightsaber. . And when he ignited it—FWOOM—the blade roared to life.
A pitch-black saber, flickering with violet at the edges .
Caedus narrowed his eyes. "Are you mocking me now, Jin-Woo?"
Jin-Woo's gaze didn't waver. "Yeah, Because you're weak."
Caedus's brow twitched,
but Jin-Woo was already deep in thought.
The quest system probably has a hidden condition, he mused, A special reward for finishing him off using Force or lightsaber. Tougher, yeah. But if I want to exploit it fully… gotta work for it. He's a trickster type. But hot-headed. Just like his grandpa—Vader the youngling killer.
Caedus snarled and pressed a hand to his chest. With a low hum of green energy, he began to heal—pulling his broken bones into place, sealing the ruptures. The Force coursed through his limbs like hot iron. But even that wasn't enough. Jin-Woo's Ruler's Authority had done something deeper. The pain still lingered, like his body was forever being dragged inward by a gravity that wouldn't let go.
"Fine," Caedus hissed. "Let's crowded this battlefield ."
He threw his arms wide—and the air turned green.
Dozens—no, hundreds—of specters erupted around him. Force phantoms—a sea of translucent warriors in tattered armor and forgotten Jedi robes, weapons raised. Each one glowing a faint green, their eyes hollow. Ghosts of past wars. His own haunted battalion.
Caedus pointed forward.
"CHARGE!"
The spectral army lunged—blades, pikes, sabers, all raised high, rushing across the battlefield like a phantom flood.
Jin-Woo didn't move. He merely raised a hand—calm and open.
And then—FWWOOOM— Not from shadow. Not from darkness.
From the Force itself—a ripple surged outward. Tearing open a veil of calm, a great rift cracked the air behind Jin-Woo.
And through it came his own [Force phantoms].
Blue-black in color, but unmistakably born not of his Shadow Monarch legacy—but of the training passed down from Darth Vectivus himself. Force constructs.. Echoes of power shaped by discipline, clarity, and mastery. Specters that moved with weightless confidence, guided by Jin-Woo's honed instincts.
"Go," he said softly. And they obeyed.
Caedus's phantom army lunged forward—howling and flaring, blades and sabers outstretched.
Jin-Woo's force phantoms clashed into them like a stormfront. Blades met blades. Ghost met ghost. The air screamed with the fury of ancient wars reborn. The clash was a Force-born war, elegant and merciless.
Caedus clenched his fists and expanded his reach, casting his awareness wide.
[Sith Battle Coordination]—Caedus's specialty. His mind touched every phantom, guiding their movements, syncing their strikes. The spectral swarm moved with ferocity and precision, cutting through air like blades of pure will.
But Jin-Woo wasn't guiding. He was inhabiting.
[Naga Sadow's Projective Telepathy]—an ancient telepathic technique so invasive, so complete, that it made command irrelevant. Jin-Woo was not above his phantoms. He was them. Each movement they made was his own. Their counters, their feints, their aggression—it was all his singular mind stretched across a hundred burning silhouettes.
They fight through Caedus's army like living flame. Blades met air. Arms were severed. Specters dissolved under black-blue pressure.
Caedus's eyes narrowed. He's winning.
His phantoms were falling faster now, overwhelmed by Jin-Woo's ghost army's.
Tch. If he'd pulled those twin daggers again, this would've ended already. Lucky he hasn't.
And so—he moved.
The [White Current] shimmered around him—Force distortion masking his motion. A short-range blink, faster than a dash, quieter than teleportation. The air barely shifted before he was right in front of Jin-Woo, red saber raised high.
[White Current] warped the world around him. With a flash of cloaked motion, he reappeared directly in front of Jin-Woo—his red lightsaber already mid-swing.
The black blade of Jin-Woo's Vectivus lightsaber clashed it in a shower of sparks .
Caedus snarled and followed with his tanto lightsaber, a smaller, quicker weapon designed for off-hand precision kills. He slashed straight for Jin-Woo's head.
The blade halted caught between one of Jin-Woo's fingers.
Caedus blinked in stunned disbelief.
Is this a joke? He blocked my saber with one finger?!
The Force itself recoiled. The air tightened.
Caedus clenched his jaw. "Last chance…"
he growled, voice low, half-defiant, half-desperate. "…What the fuck are you?"
Jin-Woo's answer came with a smile.
He reached forward, grabbed Caedus's wrist, and— SLAM.
One motion. No effort. The Sith Lord was ripped from the air and smashed into the cracked floor like a sack of bones. The ground howled as it cratered beneath them.
Caedus gasped, body limp, vision spinning.
And Jin-Woo leaned in, whispering with the weight of certainty.
"Something a hundred times worse than any Sith…". "…If Celeste Morne were here—she'd agree."
For a second, Caedus didn't move.
Then—he smiled. "Good," he muttered. "Because I'm not like Sidious."
In a single brutal motion, Caedus slashed off his own left arm—the one still caught in Jin-Woo's grip—using his red lightsaber. The limb fell limp between Jin-Woo's fingers.
Caedus floated back with the Force, body levitating roughly ten meters away.
My Force lightning's useless. He shrugs it off like static, Caedus thought, hovering mid-air. And my strength… isn't enough to match him either.
Then there's no point holding back. No more tactics. No more thinking. I go berserk.
He roared. The air trembled. The dark side exploded around him.
Caedus's body twisted, bulging with power. Crimson energy wrapped around his severed stump, forming a spectral, Force-forged limb, glowing red with pulsing veins of black. His entire form ignited in a shroud of writhing green lightning, pure hatred made visible. His breath came heavier.
The red blade of his lightsaber groaned, its hum deepening as it extended longer—unstable, volatile, alive.
And Jin-Woo? He just shifted into stance, one hand lowered, one behind him. A small, pleased grin pulling at the corner of his lips.
Force Enrage, he thought calmly, watching Caedus spiral into madness. Just like Galen Marek From Force Unleashed 2 .
He's putting everything he's got into this now. Good.
Caedus vanished in a green streak of light and thunder.
He lunged at Jin-Woo—aiming to stab straight through his skull.
CLANG.
The blow was intercepted. Jin-Woo blocked it with his black-bladed Vectivus lightsaber, holding it like a dagger, catching the edge at an upward tilt.
Caedus's eyes widened for a blink—then he spun into a saber whirlwind.
And then—chaos.
A hundred clashes. In five seconds. . Shockwaves shattered the floor. Debris spun around them like they were inside a hurricane made of motion, hatred, and force.
Caedus unleashed everything—every lightsaber form, every bit of technique and brutality the Sith had ever burned into him.
Form II: Makashi.
Precision refined to the molecular level. Caedus's blade flicked, lunged, and needled in—aiming for the joints, the gaps, the slivers between defense. His footwork was surgical, the point of his saber always just where it needed to be.
But Jin-Woo parried them all with micro-movements. The dagger-length Vectivus blade shifted and twisted, intercepting with flawless timing. He didn't block. He redirected—turned every stab into air.
Form IV: Ataru.
Acrobatics ignited. Caedus leapt, spun, flipped through shattered columns and falling debris. He struck from above, rebounded off walls, angled his blade in curves that should've been impossible. Each motion was death in motion, a whirlwind of limbs and lightsaber.
Jin-Woo's cloak fluttered, untouched.
He slid between strikes. His blade met each flip midair, stopping sabers with no momentum wasted. His boots barely touched the ground, yet never lost footing. Each step was clean. Absolute.
Form V: Djem So.
Power incarnate. Caedus landed with a scream and swung downward, using two hands, pouring everything into raw destructive force. His attacks shattered what was left of the ground. Every strike meant to crush Jin-Woo's defense like a hammer to glass.
CLANG. CRACK. SCREEEECH.
Jin-Woo absorbed them with ease, not budging an inch. He let the power pass through his body, through the blade, into the floor. Every time Caedus struck harder—Jin-Woo just smirked.
Form VII: Juyo.
The embodiment of the Sith. Wild. Unpredictable. Vicious.
Caedus descended into a frenzy—his strikes became blurs of wrath, blades coming from unnatural angles, feints that shifted mid-strike into deadly blows. He screamed. He howled. His movement was no longer technical—it was instinct, savagery, bloodlust.
But Jin-Woo… was dancing.
Every strike was matched with elegant motion. His blade whispered through the air like a phantom. He weaved through Juyo without ever losing rhythm. His body twisted and arched like shadows moving through water.
And Caedus was losing it.
He used [Force Repulse]—a concussive blast of energy to throw Jin-Woo back.
Jin-Woo slid a few meters, his boots grinding, eyes still locked on him.
[Force Scream]. Caedus howled, and the very air shattered with sonic rage. Jin-Woo walked through it.
Did he just equalize me in speed as well?! Caedus's thoughts screamed over the symphony of blades.
How… how does he manage to grow this powerful?!
He roared. Forced more dark side into his veins. His [Force Enrage] now overclocked—his very cells boiling. His eyes turned bright orange, glowing like twin suns of hatred, veins crawling up the corners. His spectral arm cracked with power, lightning snapping along his back.
But Jin-Woo didn't even blink. His grin widened, calm and cruel. His eyes—no longer just glowing—shone, bright and deep purple
Another piece… The Shadow Monarch stirred.
The floor beneath Jin-Woo withered into black ash, and a low rumble groaned across the entire plane. The Vergence Arena, the simulated space within the green Sith Holocron—reality twisted by Caedus's Force constructs—cracked. Literally.
The walls groaned as space fractured. Thin green fissures ran through the air itself, humming with warped data and broken illusion. One of the stone monoliths suspended high above shattered, raining debris.
A long, spiderwebbed fracture tore through the sky.
And Caedus? He screamed once more and dove deeper.
[ White Current]. The ancient technique long hidden by Fallanassi mystics. The illusion of nonexistence. A perfect blend of silence and velocity.
He fused it with [ Force Enrage.] His body blurred into a streak of blinding light green lightning—and vanished.
And for a moment, it was like he had become light itself.
He broke the sound barrier without a sound. He bent light. Time warped around him as he reached speed of light. He was everywhere at once—an untouchable, unstoppable flash of fury.
But Jin-Woo— He simply add . More of the Shadow Monarch's power slipped through his body .
His Vectivus lightsaber darkened. The blade—already pitch black—shifted further, taking on a dense violet core . It grew longer, sharper, no longer just a saber, but a monarch's fangs.
And then— They clashed. Again. And again. And again.
In thirty seconds, reality shredded.
Each movement was no longer visible. Only the streaks.
A brilliant light green bolt—Caedus.
A vicious black-violet arc—Jin-Woo.
They tore across the battlefield like gods dueling at the edge of time. Their strikes shattered monoliths, cracked the sky, tore deep canyons into the arena's foundation. The holocron-generated space flickered and glitched—unable to process the speed, the violence, the pressure. Color inverted.
Their blades met thousands of times in moments, sending out pulses that annihilated every physical structure still standing. The artificial sun in the sky cracked—splitting into twin, inverted orbs of green static. The cracked ceiling above—virtual though it was—glowed with jagged scars of raw code and cosmic stress.
Jin-Woo and Caedus—two forces of nature, colliding in full.
But then—there was a moment. Just one.
And in that moment, Caedus hesitated. He only wants to clash blades, he assumed—push this into a contest of technique and speed.
It was his mistake. In their final streak of speed-of-light clashes, the last two—Jin-Woo met Caedus's lightsaber, blocked it—
And then let go of his own Vectivus lightsaber. That grin never left his face.
Without warning, Jin-Woo moved his body—not as a swordsman.
But as a Hunter His fist blurred.
Then— WHAM—WHAM—WHAM—WHAM—WHAM—WHAM—
A hundred punches detonated across Caedus's body—his ribs, chest, arms, skull—all struck simultaneously. The air bent from the impact, his body jerking from the sheer delay in registering the blows. Invisible fists. Delayed afterimages. Pure devastation. His mouth opened in raw agony—
"HRRRRAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!" Caedus screamed, his voice echoing across the breaking arena.
But he didn't fall. Instead, he pushed back.
In the instant of that final impact, he twisted his own body, using Jin-Woo's momentum—he caught Jin-Woo's neck in a brutal grip with his bare, spectral-enhanced hand. Lightning surged around his arm, locking the hold like a vice.
With a brutal roar, Caedus pinned Jin-Woo, slamming him back-first into a floating chunk of monolith.
He yanked his own red lightsaber to his remaining hand and drove it forward—now an inch from Jin-Woo's glowing purple eye.
The energy blade hummed like a beast ready to bite.
And Jin-Woo? Still smiling. Still calm.
A voice echoed One that belonged to who he used to be.
S-Rank Hunter [skill— "Mutilation."]
Caedus didn't understand what that meant. Until it happened.
Suddenly—ribbons of slashing darkness danced around Caedus's body, moving faster than sound, faster than light. He didn't feel the pain at first—only the pressure, like dozens of micro-blades crawling under his skin.
Then— SHRRAKKK—SKKRRRNNCH—
His right arm was severed at the shoulder.
His right leg was shredded at the knee.
Then his left knee cracked—then the thigh.
All in a chain of rapid-fire cuts, too fast to block, too violent to process.
His body hit the ground in a collapse of red and sparks.
And yet—Caedus did not fall apart.
Driven purely by instinct, he howled and pulled every last ounce of the Force inside him, commanding his severed limbs back to him—not to heal, but to temporarily reconstruct. Green lightning webbed over his skin, binding bone to muscle, muscle to vein, tissue to will.
He pushed himself up—breathing ragged, mouth snarling—and flung himself backward, retreating ten meters, creating distance between them.