(2500 words )
Inside the wreckage—half-buried beneath debris and shadows—Jin-Woo lay still for a moment, back against twisted metal. Rubble fell from above in slow trickles.
He's… fast, Jin-Woo thought, not even surprised. And that punch—he altered the mass mid-blow by coiling all his tentacles inward. That's how he compressed power without needing a wind-up. If he focused, he could probably level a continent with that same technique.
He flexed his broken arm—then sighed. The shadows under his skin pulsed once. Dark tendrils snaked from his shoulder, wrapping around the fracture point—then knitting it back together in seconds. Bones reformed. Muscle reattached. Armor re-aligned itself with an unnatural clink. The Shadow Monarch's body rejected the damage entirely.
I can't rely on Force Storm… not the wormhole type, he continued in thought. He could reinforce his body against it. Ride the torque. Absorb it like a sponge.
Above, on the battlefield, Durge's eyes narrowed. Then—movement.
A figure stepped from the crater's shadow, smoke swirling at his heels. The masked man.
Jin-Woo walked calmly from the ruined wall—dust billowing around him. His stride was steady, unfazed. No limp. No weakness. No burn marks on his armor. He didn't even look angry. Just… mildly annoyed.
As he stepped into the sunlight, he brushed some loose rubble from his coat with one hand. Like he'd merely leaned against a dirty wall.
Durge's eyes twitched behind his visor. His mind ticked fast—calculating, processing.
The Sith from the Old Republic had insane techniques, he mused silently. Some could drain worlds, tear through minds, break empires. But this isn't Transfer Essence. Nor some cheap clone switch.
He studied the masked man closely. He regenerates… like I do. But it's not some mutation like bio-regen . Something . Absolute.
Durge's fists flexed slightly as he recalled the impact of their clash.
He didn't reinforce his body with the Force like most do. He took me on in raw hand-to-hand… and held his ground. Which means… His physical attributes are maxed.
But Durge's eyes narrowed further. He's holding back. Just like I am.
Their gazes locked—across the field. A long, silent moment passed. Then, in perfect sync, both spoke.
"What a pain-in-the-ass opponent type to deal with."
Durge's eyes narrowed beneath his helmet, the red lenses flickering slightly.
His power... still feels tied to the Force, Durge thought. Just like every Jedi. And Sith. Doesn't matter how twisted or ancient his techniques are—if I sever that connection, his body won't move the same. He'll be slower. Weaker. Less of a nightmare to put down.
But even as that idea took root, another thought slithered in behind it.
His reserves must be monstrous. That's why he didn't kill the previous bounty hunter—Caij Vanda Sr.—right away. He spoke to her. Delayed it . That wasn't mercy—it was time. Time to recover his Force reserves. Time to recharge. Just like now—he's waiting. Buying time.He doesn't look winded. But he's stalling.
Durge clenched his fists. Fine. Let's make this simple.He needs to use another high-tier Force ability. Like that Thought Bomb I read from archives . Or something worse. That's when I make my move.That's when my crew will activate it.The zone-nullifier.
Durge's thoughts sharpened with cruel precision. A prototype. Based on Jedi experiments to mimic Force Sever., unstable, but it works. We only need one second. One clean second of vulnerability... and I'll rip him apart from the inside.
He shifted his weight slightly, silently giving a micro-signal to the hidden squad positioned along the arena's upper rim.. Devices primed. Blades drawn. Sensors aligned.
Just one mistake, masked freak. Show me something wild again. Show me something real.
But then—Jin-Woo made anti-forked hand seal. The air changed. The gravity thickened .
"No no no," Jin-Woo said suddenly—calm, cold, like he'd read Durge's thoughts word for word.
"You're not subtle, Durge," he continued . "We both know each other's abilities are annoying."
His arms remained folded, fingers still holding the seal.
"But your little plan , To sever my connection with the Force, That prototype you're hiding? You didn't use it at the start… because you weren't confident."
Then Jin-Woo smiled. "Force Expansion: Thoughtless Bombs."
In that instant, the space behind him distorted. A domain began to unfold—slowly, terrifyingly real.
A massive red orb surged into existence behind him, pulsing with volatile, glowing points of energy—each one a potential detonation, twitching in midair like suspended blood droplets. The sphere wasn't clean or perfect—it rippled like molten wax. Blobby. Incomplete. Its edges shimmered, but its form remained unstable.
It was in progress. Only 60 seconds.
That's all I need. One minute to finish building a Force-based domain using the Thought Bomb as its nucleus. pure Force theory. Still missing some structure… incomplete formula. Doesn't matter.
My Monarch Domain's stronger. Denser. Purer. But that's mana. Different framework. This? This is Force-built.
He could feel the difference in his own body. The Monarch Domain surged like a star collapsing in on itself—raw mana that dwarfed anything the Force could produce. But this expansion? It had reach. It connected to the very fabric of sentient thought.
Durge reacted instantly. He shouted toward the rim of the arena, voice sharp and commanding:
"NOW! ACTIVATE IT!" A sharp chirp echoed across the upper perimeter.
Hidden drones burst from the shadowed rim—small, fast, and already in motion. They scattered into the air with thrusters flaring, forming a rotating ring around the battlefield.
Then it hit. BWAAAAAAAA—!! A pulse exploded from the devices. A wall of static spread across the arena—a synthetic ripple designed to mimic a Force Sever effect. The air rippled. The Force twisted unnaturally.
Jin-Woo's domain behind him faltered—just for a flicker. The sphere twitched, distorted slightly, slowed.
Then Durge took his next step.
BOOM—! A ring of thruster-packed cortosis shields slammed downward from above—ringing Durge in a protective cage. Each shield locked into the next, forming a barrier resistant to lightsabers, energy weapons, and raw kinetic blasts.
Durge rolled his shoulders inside the dome, eyes gleaming behind the red visor. "You talk too much,"
CRACK— The sound split the air. A jagged fracture raced through one of the cortosis shields, spiderwebbing across its surface.
Durge's eyes widened. What—?
From across the field, still standing in the glow of the unstable domain orb,
Jin-Woo smirked. "In my world," he said, voice calm, taunting, "we have something called manga."
He extended one hand behind him toward the half-formed domain, "And what you did just now? That was the equivalent of a domain clash. I've seen that trick in a dozen battle shōnen. It's cute."
Another loud CRACK tore through the next cortosis plate—this one visibly dented, flickering from stress.
Jin-Woo's smile faded slightly as his voice sharpened. "Trying to destroy my Force Expansion by triggering burnout through suppression? All you did… was make me angry."
Durge's body tensed. His mind raced. The Force Sever effect… didn't work? That shouldn't be possible—!
Jin-Woo tilted his head, eyes cold behind the mask. "Old techniques… relic tactics passed down from Sith ghosts and scared old monks—they don't work on me, Durge."
"I'm not like you," he said. "I don't need to hunt the weak to feel strong."
Another CRACK. Then a second shield split clean down the middle.
"And your Zone Nullifier?" Jin-Woo continued. "That might've worked… if this was a closed-type domain. But it's not. I'm an open-type, Durge. I don't trap you inside with me… …I let the entire world watch."
CRASH— The cortosis dome shattered—plates erupting in every direction like shrapnel blasted from a bomb. Durge staggered back, caught in the debris cloud.
"Shit," he muttered under his breath, the panic finally cracking through his voice. "I misread his moves—!"
Jin-Woo raised his hand high, palm to the sky.
The swirling orb of his Force Expansion finally stabilized . Thousands of flickering red dots pulsed within it, each one a contained Thought Bomb, suspended, trembling with potential death.
Jin-Woo's voice boomed across the arena like a divine verdict. "Durge," he declared, " I have lived through countless cycles—throne eras, extinction events, wars between Atziluth-tier beings. "
BOOOOOOOOOOM—
A singular Thought Bomb broke loose from the orb—launched like a bullet forged from psychic death. It struck Durge dead center.
The arena exploded in a sea of light. Red. White. Black.
A blinding detonation erased the center of the battlefield in one breath. Every stone, every scrap of sand was vaporized in a pulse of raw, mental annihilation. The Force screamed in every direction as Durge's form was swallowed by the Thought Bomb's guaranteed hit.
Jin-Woo stood unmoving. He smiled.
His eyes turned toward the crowd—cold, regal, merciless—as if preparing to speak, to declare victory, to demand more.
But then—his gaze shifted. Something twitched in the dust.
A single, twitching tentacle—half-melted, bubbling still moving.A low hiss rolled through the smoke. Gas released..
Then—thud.
Another form landed. Forty shapes dropped into the cratered arena like meteorites. Each one massive. Armored. Writhing. Guns already drawn. Gen'Dai. Durge's crew.
All forty of them had jumped into formation in perfect silence—surrounding the blast radius from above, weapons trained, red targeting lasers already locked on Jin-Woo's skull and chest.
The smoke parted more.
Durge was crawling. Badly burned. His torso half-formed. His armor scorched and warped beyond recognition. His limbs moved slow, twitching, regenerating—but struggling. Not healing like before.
The Thought Bomb didn't just wound him—it broke something deeper. His biological regeneration was failing. His body was recoiling.
And for the first time in his long, brutal life…
Durge felt it. Fear. The fear of death. The realization that he could actually die.
He dragged himself forward toward Jin-Woo, one claw scraping the ground.
Jin-Woo didn't move. Because time had already stopped. The Rift Slip had activated.
From his perspective, everything slowed—voices dropped to a crawl, movements became sludge, and even the wind stalled mid-air .
Blaster bolts that hadn't even fired yet were already suspended in his mental vision.
Jin-Woo's eyes narrowed. Then, he raised one hand and spoke calmly. "Monarch Domain."
Without warning, a dome of complete darkness erupted—fifty meters wide—enclosing the battlefield in a solid, suffocating field of absolute shadow.. Only the arena remained.
A closed-type domain. The temperature dropped. The light died.
Then— SHUNK—SHUNK—SHUNK—SHUNK—SHUNK—!!
From the blackened ground, a thousand shadow spears erupted at once—coiling like serpents, then lancing forward with precision no mortal could escape.
Each Gen'Dai was pierced. One. Two. Ten. Forty.
All impaled—writhing, twitching, collapsing as shadow-forged spears pinned them through their cores. Limbs were shredded. Armor crumbled. No screams. Just the sound of spears tearing through indestructible flesh like paper.
Durge was the last. A dozen black javelins tore through him—lifting his already broken body off the ground.
Jin-Woo walked forward through the still air, calm as ever, each step measured. Dust curled away from his boots.
He stopped in front of Durge. The Gen'Dai bounty hunter, body unraveling, blinked slowly. His visor cracked. Blood and oil dripped from his mouth.
His last words came out in a whisper—shaky, but proud.
"…Never thought… an unkillable like me… would finally die…"
"…Shame… there's still so many fights I wanted to enjoy…"
Jin-Woo's eyes flicked once—to confirm.
The domain was still sealed. Perfect.
He raised one hand. "Arise."
A surge of monarch mana poured out. The entire dome rippled as shadows pooled beneath Durge and his fallen crew. One by one, they were swallowed—consumed into the abyss.
Then—
[Notification: Shadow Extraction Successful.]
[40 Gen'Dai added to the Shadow Army.]
[Notification: Shadow Bounty Hunter – Durge | Rank: Elite Knight.]
[Durge's Racial Ability: Regenerative Mass-Shift Physiology – Added to Skill Section ]
Jin-Woo smiled. His shadow army had grown. Stronger. Meaner.
Durge's shadow knelt silently behind him—fully formed, armor blackened and glowing faintly violet. The 40 Gen'Dai followed, stationed like statues, eyes empty but ready.
Jin-Woo just gave the silent order. Return.
The shadows understood.
Durge bowed his head once—then dissolved into smoke, vanishing back into Jin-Woo's shadow like he had always belonged there. One by one, the other Gen'Dai followed—forty monstrous silhouettes melting into the darkness beneath Jin-Woo's boots.
And then— CRACK—CRACK—CRACK.
The Monarch Domain fractured. Cracks spread across the dome like glass under pressure—webbing lines of violet and black flashing outward before it all shattered at once with a soundless implosion.
The outside world returned.. The arena.
The stunned, breathless crowd. They had been screaming for his death minutes ago—mocking, cursing, betting on his execution.
Now… they couldn't speak. Not a single voice dared rise.
From the royal box of the Hutt Clan, Ziro and Jabba sat frozen. Their grotesque faces paled with disbelief. The masked man had survived—won—no, dominated in a one-versus-ten-thousand bloodbath. And not just that… he had destroyed Durge. Durge—the unkillable. Dead. Or worse.
From the royal box of the masked warrior, Morgan crossed one leg over the other, arms folded neatly across her lap. Her expression was unreadable. But she was smiling.
Rey, reclined just beside her, casually scooped another bite of the enchanted faury cake into her mouth and mumbled through the frosting, "Mmm. Needs more butter."
Padmé stood stiffly near the edge, hands gripping the railing. Her breath was caught in her throat.
She couldn't stop staring at him.
Jin-Woo's methods… she thought, they're different. Brutal. Cold. I've heard stories of the Armored Man… how he protects the weak. How he's a symbol of hope. But this Right now . He opposite of what armored man should be .
In the center of the arena, Jin-Woo slowly turned to face the crowd.
Dust swirled at his feet. Smoke still clung to the air.
Then, he raised both arms.
And shouted—voice echoing through every loudspeaker, every projection, every corner of the arena like a war drum .
"ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?!"
He stepped forward.
"ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?!"
His voice climbed.
"ISN'T THAT WHY YOU'RE HERE?!"
Silence stretched for a seconds— Then the entire crowd erupted.
"MASKED MAN! MASKED MAN! MASKED MAN!!"
The chant thundered through the arena like a shockwave. Everyone stood—nobles, slavers, offworlders, soldiers. Cheering. Screaming. Worshipping.
A god of war wearing a mask. had been born before their eyes.