star wars: I'm just a chill guy

The days stretched into weeks, and the weeks into months. Kieran's time with Agamotto was filled with intense focus and discipline. The ancient Sorcerer Supreme had taught him the foundations of magic—how to manipulate the very fabric of reality, how to control energy and matter with his mind. He had learned to shape illusions, to weave spells with intricate hand gestures, and to unlock the latent potential within himself.

But there was more to magic than Agamotto had led him to believe. It was not merely about control or understanding the rules of the universe. It was about desire—a deep, consuming longing that burned within the core of every spell, every incantation. The more Kieran learned, the more he felt the call of that darker power, the pull of the forbidden arts.

Agamotto had warned him of this. Magic, he had said, was a force beyond good and evil. It was a tool, neither inherently light nor dark, but what one chose to do with it would shape their destiny. "Beware the temptation of power," Agamotto had cautioned. "It whispers to you when you are most vulnerable, when your need for control outstrips your desire for wisdom."

Kieran had listened to those words, nodded and trained under the Sorcerer Supremes' guidance. But somewhere, deep inside him, something was changing. The dark side of the Force, the hunger of Darth Nihilus, the rage of the Phoenix—it all fused within him like an unstoppable tide, rising with every new spell he mastered, with every forbidden incantation he spoke. The Mask of Darth Nihilus, now fused with the Helmet of Doctor Fate, pulsed with dark energy, urging him to unleash more of his power.

The first time he had felt it was when he attempted to summon a simple, protective barrier of light. What had begun as an exercise in defensive magic spiralled out of control. The barrier expanded, stretching farther than he intended, consuming the room around him in a storm of energy. He had felt it—the cold, insidious pull of the darker side of magic. For a moment, it had whispered to him, promising power beyond anything he had ever imagined. He could feel it now, lurking just beneath the surface, just waiting for him to give in.

He had tried to fight it, but it wasn't easy. Each time he performed a spell, it became harder to resist the dark whispers that swirled in his mind. Magic was supposed to be a way of maintaining balance, he had been told. But now, he could feel its seductive nature, its promise of absolute control. What if he could use it to bring order to the galaxy? What if he could stop the chaos before it even started?

The thoughts haunted him as he sat cross-legged in the temple, meditating under Agamotto's watchful eyes. His body was still, his mind trying to focus on the lesson of balance, of surrendering to the flow of magic without allowing it to take control. Agamotto had warned him countless times to maintain humility, to never let power blind him to his purpose. But the whispers were louder now, more insistent.

It had started small. A flicker of shadow in the corner of his vision, the briefest moment when his heart skipped a beat. But over time, it grew stronger. The dark power within him began to rise, and he began to harness it without even thinking. He had learned to manipulate the elements—fire, air, water, and earth—through sheer will, bending them to his command. But that was just the beginning.

One evening, Agamotto had asked Kieran to perform a simple spell—a healing incantation, to restore the life force of a wounded creature. The spell was meant to test Kieran's understanding of magic's true nature: to use it for selfless purposes. It was supposed to be a simple task, a reminder that magic was a tool for healing, for good.

But as Kieran spoke the incantation, something dark stirred inside him. The healing magic twisted in his hands, no longer a force of restoration but of domination. He saw the creature's body contort and shudder as it was brought back to life—not in the gentle way it was meant to, but with a violent, jagged surge of energy. Its eyes glowed with unnatural light as it rose, under Kieran's control.

Agamotto had watched with a deep, saddened frown, his eyes narrowing as Kieran realized what he had done. "The magic does not bend to you, Kieran," Agamotto said softly. "You bend to the magic. You have stepped beyond what is right, and now it will be harder to step back."

Kieran's chest tightened, but his anger flared. The creature in front of him wasn't even real anymore. It was a puppet—a thing he had revived and made into a tool. "I can control it. I can make it obey me," he said, his voice trembling with power. He raised his hand, and the creature responded, its movements jerky and unnatural, bound to his will.

Agamotto's face grew grim. "That is not the way, Kieran. The magic you wield will twist you, just as the dark side of the Force has twisted others before you. You must choose—control or balance. You cannot have both."

But Kieran couldn't hear him. His mind was clouded, filled with the echoes of the darkness that had taken root in his heart. The power was intoxicating, and he could feel the Phoenix Force roaring within him, its fire scorching away the doubts in his mind.

The days that followed blurred into one another as Kieran delved deeper into the dark arts. He began to explore the forbidden magics, the ones that Agamotto had kept hidden from him, the ones that twisted the very fabric of reality. Necromancy. Shadow magic. Soul manipulation. The more he learned, the more the mask of Darth Nihilus called to him, the more his desire for control consumed him.

One night, as he stood alone in the temple's inner sanctum, Kieran raised his hand to the stars above. He reached out with his mind, grasping at the very fabric of the universe itself. He could feel the power of the dark side, swirling like a vortex within him, its gravity pulling at him, urging him to let go. He allowed it, just for a moment. His fingers cracked with black energy as the Force surged through him.

And in that moment, Kieran Skywalker became something more than he had ever been before—a being forged in the flames of darkness and power, a being who could bend the universe to his will.

But even as Kieran revelled in his newfound power, a part of him—the part that still remembered the teachings of the Jedi, the part that still clung to Agamotto's wisdom—screamed in warning. He could feel the darkness spreading through him, seeping into every corner of his soul, clouding his judgment. The more he used the magic, the more he felt himself slipping away.

He had become a creature of power, but at what cost?

The world around him seemed to fade as his focus narrowed, his thoughts consumed by the magic, by the darkness that now coursed through his veins. The mask of Darth Nihilus burned against his face, and he felt the insatiable hunger of the Sith growing within him, gnawing at his sanity.

Kieran had crossed a line. The dark side, magic, the Phoenix Force—all of it had melded into something monstrous. The balance that Agamotto had spoken of seemed impossible to grasp now, and as he stood there, his body trembling with the weight of his power, Kieran realized something—he was no longer the man who had come to Earth to learn.

He was something else entirely.

And the galaxy had better be ready for what was coming next.

Agamotto had seen this coming. He had known it all along. But now, he would have to make a choice: could Kieran be saved? Or would he be lost to the darkness forever?