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Korriban – Outer Rim
Korriban was not a dead planet.
It only looked dead.
Once the heart of the Sith Empire — a power that had plunged entire galaxies into fear and terror — it now lay silent, like a mass grave of sand and blood. The ruins whispered of wars, of betrayal, and of dark rituals that even time itself could not erase.
The spacecraft pierced through the dusty atmosphere and landed with a heavy rumble upon the surface. Sand rose into the air like smoke from an open grave.
The hatch hissed.
Two figures stepped out.
The first was tall, nearly six-foot-three. Wild black hair spiked in every direction. A burn scar ran across his left eye — a mark of battles long past.
His white-and-red combat suit was scratched and scorched. White gloves wrapped around his fists, and over his shoulders hung a black cape that fluttered in the hot wind like the wing of a predator. His pants were torn, marked by countless fights.
The second was shorter, yet no less threatening. His white-and-yellow armor was heavily reinforced, a brown cloak dragging across the sand. Behind the mask hid a face without emotion — or perhaps too much of it.
The moment their boots touched the ground, they sank slightly.
The sand was warm.
Too warm.
And it was moving.
Both looked down. For a brief second, it felt as if the planet itself was reaching for them.
"Saiyan," the masked figure said quietly.
"You better remember why we're here."
Celor didn't look at him.
"My name is Celor. And just because you were born a number doesn't mean you have to call me that."
Silence.
Then SKO369 stomped the ground in anger. Sand exploded outward. In one swift motion, he drew his blaster and pressed the barrel against Celor's temple.
"You disrespectful piece of trash! Do you have any idea how many I've killed?!"
Celor didn't move.
Not even his pulse seemed to quicken.
"SKO369," he muttered. "Sounds like a broken droid. Was your mother a laboratory?"
The arm holding the weapon trembled.
"I swear, I'll blow your head off right here!"
A slow, dangerous grin spread across Celor's face.
"Go ahead. I'm bored anyway."
Seconds passed.
Only the wind howled through the ruins.
Then, with a curse, SKO369 lowered the weapon.
Celor's expression turned serious again.
"You can shoot me in the back later if you want. For now, we finish the mission. Our debts are growing faster than your temper."
Without turning around, he walked off.
---
Reluctantly, SKO369 followed.
The sand grew deeper.
Heavier.
Each step felt as if something beneath the surface was reaching for their legs.
The heat shimmered, and in the distance shadows seemed to move — even though nothing was there.
Finally, SKO369 stopped.
"Celor… something's wrong here. Can't we just fly?"
Celor halted without turning around.
"Fly?"
He let out a quiet laugh.
"Sandstorms here can skin you alive in seconds. And beneath us…"
He lightly stomped the ground.
"…there are things that tear apart warships."
Silence.
SKO369 swallowed.
They continued.
Then it emerged from the dust.
The temple.
A colossal pyramid of blood-red stone, wedged between jagged mountains. Dark cracks spread across its walls like veins. Broken statues lay scattered before it — horned figures with twisted faces and hollow eye sockets.
As if they were still watching.
"Celor…" SKO369 whispered.
"What the hell is that?"
"Korriban," Celor said calmly.
"The cradle of the Sith."
"Sith?"
"Warriors. Sorcerers. Monsters in human form."
A blast of hot wind swept through the courtyard. For a moment, it sounded like whispering.
SKO369 tensed.
"And what exactly are we looking for?"
Celor smiled slowly.
"Something that should never have been buried."
"A Dragon Ball?"
"No… better."
SKO369 frowned.
"What's better than a Dragon Ball?"
"Hmph. Pay attention."
---
Inside the Temple
A narrow, dark corridor led them into the interior. SKO369's helmet had a ki-detection function that allowed him to sense traps. He drew his blaster and advanced carefully. Celor followed, equally alert.
"You're lucky I came along. Without me, you'd probably already be dead. For the use of my helmet, I want sixty percent."
"Tch, sixty percent? You're insane. I discovered this planet. Besides, you didn't even want to come — you wanted to go home to your girlfriend… fuhhh."
SKO369 turned around.
"How old are you? Twenty-seven? How many girlfriends have you had? Oh right — zero. I wonder why."
Celor lifted his chin.
"Hm. I think I know. Because I'm too good-looking."
SKO369 snorted.
"No. You're unattractive because you're thirty-three point four million credits in debt. That's the economic output of two dwarf planets. You're so broke you can't even afford new pants."
Annoyed, Celor glanced at his torn trousers.
"Yeah, yeah. Instead of finding a Dragon Ball to pay off your debts, you make even more? If I were you, I'd change galaxies. Otherwise they'll find you… and then you'll just be a legend."
Celor growled.
"Tzzz, idiot… you're one to talk. There's a 350 million credit bounty on your head just because your girlfriend's an assassin. Don't forget I let her walk back then — and my debts doubled because of it."
SKO369 fell silent.
Celor noticed immediately. A provocative grin spread across his face.
"I heard she came back from her little retirement. What was it? Chronic headaches? A virus? Or was she… on her period?"
Suddenly, SKO369 fired.
Celor reacted instantly — appearing behind him in the next heartbeat, grinning widely. Furious, SKO369 spun and tried to kick him.
Effortlessly, the Saiyan blocked the strike, grabbed the extended leg, and hurled SKO369 out of the corridor into a vast chamber. His head slammed hard against the floor.
For several minutes, he lay motionless.
When Celor entered the room, his jaw dropped. Drool almost slipped from his mouth.
The chamber overflowed with gleaming gold — golden tables, golden cutlery. The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries, each telling its own story. Above them, luminous elder stones lit the ceiling like stars in deep space.
Behind SKO369 stood a golden sarcophagus.
At the sight of it, Celor nearly squealed like a child on his birthday.
// This entire room could pay off my debts for a few million credits… maybe even the whole loan if I lie a little. //
He didn't care how SKO369 was doing. His focus was entirely on the gold.
From his armor, he pulled out a small capsule and threw it to the ground.
Puff.
A massive storage container appeared.
// Good thing I brought a few storage capsules. These things can hold anything — even houses. //
He was about to start collecting gold when SKO369 attacked again. Celor dodged smoothly.
"You're insane! You have no idea what we're dealing with!" SKO369 roared.
"Hey, you started it. I just joined in."
"Don't mock me. You're going too far."
Celor felt the genuine anger radiating from him.
// Oh man. Like a ticking bomb. At this rate he'll summon a demon or something. //
Just as Celor folded his arms, black smoke began rising from the sarcophagus.
The gold rusted.
The glowing stones dimmed.
From the smoke, a voice echoed:
"Who dares disturb the great Naga Sadow?"
They froze.
"Naga Sadow???" Celor muttered.
From his armor, he retrieved a Sith Holocron — a small pyramid with a red sphere at its center. An old woman had once given it to him, claiming it would solve all his problems.
Suddenly, a shot rang out from behind.
Celor dropped to his knees.
"You did good work," a familiar voice said.
"You… you are…"
He looked up.
SKO369.
"You bastard! You're behind this, aren't you? You allied yourself with that damned, sadistic freak Janemba from the Frieza Clan! What are you now — a racist?"
"Shut up! I had no choice, I… I… Just shut up!"
At the entrance stood Janemba.
Two meters forty-five tall. Skin like natural armor. His tail swayed eagerly.
He formed a violet ki-blade in his hand and slowly approached.
"You were good… Celor."
"Go to hell…"
"Any last words?" Janemba asked with sadistic delight.
"Fuck you… If I die, you won't have to pay your damn debts and you—"
Celor looked at SKO369.
"Akira Suzuki. Have fun screwing your girlfriend, you son of a bitch."
"Tzzz…"
Celor's final glance met Janemba's eyes before the blade pierced his throat.
Darkness.
It seemed to be the end.
But then—
A strange light enveloped him.
"Wake up. You're not dead."
With those words, Celor opened his eyes.
He was in his childhood bedroom.
Seventeen years old.
Back in the past.
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