What is this Dimensional Chat???

The galaxy trembled under the shadow of the Empire. Its fleets dominated the stars, its grip tightened around countless worlds. On a desolate moon, Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker moved carefully through the ruins of an ancient temple—one of the last remnants of the fallen Jedi Order.

But he was not alone.

A presence lingered in the air, something cold and calculating, yet not entirely dark.

"I see you seek to rebuild what has been lost, Jedi."

Luke's grip tightened on his lightsaber as he turned toward the hooded figure. A glint of red eyes flickered beneath the shadowed hood, watching him like a predator sizing up its prey.

"The Empire is vast, its power overwhelming," the stranger continued. "And you... lack the means to challenge it."

Luke ignited his blade with a snap-hiss, its blue glow illuminating the dust-filled temple. "Who are you, and why are you here?"

The figure chuckled. "Just call me Darkest—a visitor from a world far beyond yours. But I see opportunity here. I offer you a bargain. My service and my power, in exchange for something only your Order can provide."

Luke narrowed his eyes. "And what is it you want?"

"Ah, always questioning. A true Jedi," Darkest mused. "But that can wait. It seems we have uninvited guests."

Luke turned—and saw them.

A massive Imperial battalion stretched across the horizon, an army of stormtroopers standing in perfect formation, their weapons glinting under the cold light.

From their ranks, a figure emerged—a man cloaked in black armor, his gaze locked onto Luke with contempt.

"Skywalker," the Inquisitor sneered, voice dripping with venom. "Your time has come."

Luke tensed. "Did you bring them here?"

Darkest smirked. "Nope. Don't blame me for your incompetent enemies, kid."

Luke hesitated for only a moment before speaking. "If you're here to help—prove it. Fight with me against them."

Darkest shrugged. "Why not?"

Blaster fire erupted from the darkness, blue bolts searing through the temple ruins.

Luke moved instinctively, his lightsaber a blur of motion—deflect, parry, counter. His strikes were precise, every move a testament to his training.

Beside him, Darkest raised a hand. A red barrier of dark magic formed before him, dissolving blaster bolts on contact.

The Inquisitor smirked, his voice loud and commanding.

"Skywalker! Look around you! You're surrounded, outnumbered a hundred to one! Surrender now, and we might grant you a merciful death."

Luke stood firm. "Never!"

Meanwhile, Darkest let out an amused chuckle. "Mercy... you speak of mercy, yet all I see is fear disguised as valor. How fragile your courage is when you think numbers will save you."

Then, without warning—he moved.

Darkest thrust out his arm, twisting it in an unnatural way. A grotesque snap echoed through the battlefield as he bent it backward, the bones shattering like brittle glass. Then, with a sickening rip, he tore off his own hand and flung it onto the ground before the Imperial army.

Blood sprayed, thick and dark.

But he didn't flinch.

Instead—he laughed.

The severed hand twitched.

Dark tendrils sprouted from it, writhing and coiling into grotesque shapes. The earth beneath trembled as the tendrils dug deep, feeding off the darkness.

And then—the horror began.

Each tendril grew, morphing into twisted mockeries of human form. Skin hardened into armored hide. Bones snapped and multiplied. Grinning faces with Darkest's twisted smirk emerged from the writhing mass.

The one hand became hundreds.

A tide of chaotic monstrosities was born.

Darkest grinned, his crimson eyes burning with amusement.

"Unlike the original, I don't waste my time with petty human morals—compassion, love, order? Useless." He stepped forward, eyes gleaming with cruel delight. "What I do understand is that those who stand against me will learn the true meaning of terror—starting with you."

Then, he gave a single, simple command:

"Kill them all."

The battlefield erupted into horror.

Darkest's legion of creatures surged forward, their movements unnatural, their bodies shifting and mutating with each step.

Stormtroopers opened fire, but the beasts would not die.

Every time one fell, it melted into a black ooze—only to reassemble elsewhere, stronger, grotesquely evolved.

Screams filled the air.

Soldiers who had once believed in the strength of their numbers now found themselves trapped, hunted by monsters that tore through their ranks like a plague.

Even the Inquisitor—so assured of his victory—was trembling.

"W-What are you?!" His voice cracked with terror. "Jedi are supposed to follow the Light! But you—you're nothing but a monster!"

Darkest let out a dark chuckle. "Oh? You expected fairness in war?" His grin widened. "Pathetic."

He lifted his arm—bones still shattered, but thrumming with chaotic power.

A pulse of twisted energy rippled through the battlefield.

Metal twisted. Blasters warped into useless lumps of slag.

The Inquisitor's weapon turned to dust in his hands.

"No… no!" he gasped, stumbling back.

Dark tendrils slithered at his feet. Before he could react, they struck, wrapping around his limbs like living chains. He screamed as the void energy devoured him from the inside out—his very essence unraveling.

His body contorted, his face frozen in eternal horror as he was consumed.

The battlefield fell silent.

The Empire's proud forces—reduced to nothing.

Darkest turned, his gaze sweeping across the surviving stormtroopers, now trembling in sheer terror.

He cracked his neck.

"Alright then," he said casually, stepping forward.

"Who's next?"

"Stop! That's enough, Darkest."

Luke's voice rang out, firm and unwavering.

Darkest turned to face him, his grin unwavering. "Why do you want to stop me, son? They're your enemies, right?"

Luke took a step forward, his eyes filled with conviction. "That's true… but this is not the Jedi way." His voice softened just slightly. "I admit—you're strong. Very strong. But I sense the darkness in you."

Darkest's grin widened, though there was something colder in his expression.

"I use whatever I need to survive, Skywalker." He gestured toward the battlefield. The broken bodies, the fear lingering in the air. "The galaxy is a cruel place, and sometimes you have to be. No wonder you keep losing to the Empire—just like my own homeland, you're too kind. And that's your greatest weakness."

Luke didn't waver. "Maybe you're right. But we have to be better. If we become like them, then what's the point of fighting at all?"

Darkest's expression twisted with irritation. "You're a damn fool." His voice dropped, filled with something between anger and disappointment. "I've seen what mercy gets you in this galaxy—dead friends and lost causes."

With a flick of his wrist, Darkest seized a random stormtrooper with his remaining hand, yanking him off the ground and dragging him close to Luke.

"You." Darkest's crimson eyes burned into the soldier. "How many innocents have you murdered in the name of your Empire?"

The stormtrooper struggled against Darkest's grip, then sneered.

"Why should I bother counting the number of traitors and lowlifes we slaughtered for resisting our glorious regime?" He spat at Luke's feet, his expression unwavering. "I regret nothing."

Darkest's grin returned, but there was no humor in it. Only cold amusement.

"Did you hear that?" He turned back to Luke. "Sounds irreparable to me." His fingers tightened around the soldier's armor. "What do you think about this one, son? He reminds me of the kind of scum back in my world—entitled, ruthless, completely beyond redemption." He scoffed. "And you? You're just like those fools who fund their wars, let them trample over you, and still defend them in the name of principles."

Luke shook his head. He refused to be provoked. His grip on his lightsaber tightened—but he did not ignite it.

"It's not about right or wrong, Darkest," he said, his voice calm yet firm. "It's about what we become in the process. If we abandon our principles… we've already lost."

The tension between them was palpable. The air crackled with the clashing forces of light and dark.

Darkest held his gaze for a long moment. Then, with an exasperated sigh, he released the soldier, letting him crumple to the ground.

"...Fine," Darkest muttered. "Have it your way, Jedi." He waved a dismissive hand. "What are you gonna do with them?"

Luke exhaled slowly. "Leave the rest to me. I know what to do." He gestured for Darkest to follow. "And… come with me. We have a hidden base nearby."

Darkest tilted his head, then smirked. "A secret base, huh?" He dusted off his coat. "Well, now you've got my interest."

And with that, the two figures—one of light, one of chaos—walked side by side into the unknown.

•

Word of a man with mysterious and terrifying power spread quickly through the galaxy's underworld. Whispers of his abilities reached the ears of smugglers, bounty hunters, and scientists—some intrigued, others fearful. His presence defied all known logic, neither Jedi nor Sith, yet wielding forces beyond imagination.

Deep in the lawless Outer Rim, Darkest arrived at Ord Mantell, a world of scrapyards, crime lords, and secret rebel outposts. His destination was an underground base, where the Galactic Rebellion was plotting its next move against the Empire.

Waiting for him was Captain Zera Voss, a brilliant former Imperial engineer turned freedom fighter. With short silver hair and a cybernetic eye, she carried herself with the sharpness of someone who had seen too much war and betrayal. She had heard rumors of Darkest's power but remained skeptical.

The dimly lit war room hummed with the sound of holographic projections—maps, starship blueprints, and battle plans flickering in the air. Rebel officers murmured among themselves, exchanging uneasy glances as Darkest entered.

Zera's gaze was sharp. "You have powers unlike anything we've seen, Darkest." Her voice carried the weight of both curiosity and caution. "But tell me, what do you want from us?"

Darkest stepped closer, his red eyes gleaming like embers in the dark. "Your galaxy fascinates me." He gestured at the hovering holograms, absorbing the details of their starships and weaponry. "In my world, we harness the flow of mana, bending reality itself. Here, you mold the stars with your machines. I seek to understand the Force, your technology, and the power of your science."

His lips curled into a knowing smirk. "In return, I offer you something beyond your comprehension—magic. The fusion of your technology and my sorcery could create weapons, shields, and advancements the Empire could never counter. Together, we could reshape this war."

Silence hung in the air. The idea was insane—yet dangerously tempting.

Zera crossed her arms, her mechanical fingers tapping against her forearm. "You expect us to just hand over our secrets?"

Darkest chuckled, spreading his arms. "And yet, you expect me to fight your war without any trust in return?" His voice carried an amused edge. "You need allies, Captain. You need an edge. Do you think the Empire fights fair? No. They hoard power. They twist science into tools of oppression. Imagine turning that against them—machines imbued with magic, weapons that defy logic."

One of the officers scoffed. "We don't even know if his powers work the way he claims."

Darkest smiled darkly. He raised a hand, and the very air around them warped. A deep hum resonated through the base as the metal walls twisted, bending like liquid. The holograms flickered wildly, distorting before reshaping into perfect, three-dimensional schematics of the Death Star.

Gasps filled the room.

Zera's one organic eye widened. "You just—restructured the data fields. You rewrote the holographic matrix." She turned to him slowly. "That's not just magic, that's…" She struggled to find the right words.

Darkest let the silence linger before speaking. "This is but a fraction of what I can do." His voice was calm, measured. "Imagine what we could build together."

Zera exhaled, rubbing her temple. "This is dangerous."

Darkest's smile never wavered. "All great advancements are."

She looked to her fellow rebels. There were no easy answers. The Rebellion needed an advantage. The Empire's grip tightened every day. And standing before her was a wild card—one that could either turn the tide in their favor or unleash something far worse than the Sith.

After a long pause, Zera extended a hand. "Fine. We exchange knowledge. But if you betray us…"

Darkest grasped her hand with a confident grin. "You'll try to stop me." He chuckled. "Let's hope it never comes to that."

As the deal was sealed, somewhere in the shadows of the galaxy, the Empire took notice. And they were not about to let this anomaly go unchecked.

•

Beneath the hidden rebel base, in a dimly lit workshop filled with flickering monitors and humming machinery, Darkest and Zera embarked on an unprecedented experiment—an exchange of magic and technology unlike anything the galaxy had seen before.

Zera, with the precision of a master engineer, guided Darkest through the intricacies of hyperdrives, energy fields, and blaster mechanics. She explained the flow of power through circuits, the delicate balance of reactor cores, and the unforgiving logic of machines.

Darkest, in turn, revealed the secrets of elemental summoning, warding glyphs, and the ability to alter the very essence of matter. He carved runes into droid processors, giving them an eerie semblance of free will. He inscribed spells into starship engines, allowing them to phase through hyperspace with unmatched precision.

He smirked as he worked, muttering to himself, "I'll have to thank Dora for lending me those grimoires. Even his little magic tricks are enough to impress these people."

The workshop became a crucible where science and sorcery merged.

Zera, intrigued by the possibilities, experimented with enchanted crystals from Fran's world, embedding them into weapons and shields. Darkest, seeing potential, infused mana into blaster rifles, crafting a prototype weapon that could fire condensed magical energy—a bolt of pure arcane force, capable of piercing even the Empire's strongest armor.

But it was unstable. The energy fluctuated unpredictably, the balance between magic and machine still imperfect.

Despite the risks, word of this new hybrid technology spread through the Rebellion. Soon, Imperial forces faced the impossible—blasters that bent reality, shields that deflected both blaster fire and the Force, and droids that moved with unnatural precision. The tide of war shifted.

Yet, with each victory, Darkest's frustration grew.

Despite all he had learned, something about this galaxy's technology felt alien to him. Its mechanisms were cold, lifeless. They lacked something… something deeper.

He began pushing the boundaries of their experiments, seeking to fuse magic with hyperdrive technology, attempting to fold reality itself. Power surges rocked the base, warping space in unpredictable ways. Rebel engineers whispered behind his back, calling him "The Engineer of Chaos."

But others… worshiped him.

To them, Darkest was no mere warrior or scientist. He was a force beyond comprehension—a Messiah from the Void.

One night, in the depths of the workshop, Zera and Luke confronted him.

Zera slammed a metal crate onto the workbench. "Enough, Darkest. This power—it's not meant to be controlled like this. You're playing with forces that could tear reality apart. We can't afford to destroy ourselves before we even reach the Empire."

Darkest turned slowly, his red eyes crackling with an energy akin to a brewing storm.

"You fear what you do not understand, Captain." His voice was calm, but underneath, something simmered. "I have glimpsed the truth. Your machines—your weapons—they are incomplete. But with magic, they can live. They can become more than mere tools. They can think. They can feel."

His lips curled into a smirk. "If only you'd let me finish my work… I promise you, Tayo—that little bus—will exist in this world."

Zera blinked. "…The hell is a Tayo?"

Luke sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't know, and I don't want to know. But what I do know is this—Zera is right." He stepped forward, his blue eyes full of concern. "I know you, Darkest. You are not someone who allows chaos and evil to reign."

Darkest scoffed. "And what makes you so sure?"

Luke's expression was firm, unwavering. "Because if you were, you wouldn't be here helping us. You would have sided with the Empire, where you could unleash your powers freely. Instead, you chose to fight with us. You chose to build."

There was silence.

Zera folded her arms. "You've already changed the war, Darkest. But if you push too far… you might not like what you become."

Darkest stared at them for a long moment, his chaotic energy still pulsing through the room.

Then, slowly, he exhaled.

"…Fine." He flexed his fingers, the storm in his eyes dimming. "I'll step back. For now."

•

Darkest stood at the heart of the rebel base, his face twisted in fury. "After all I've done to raise the standard of living in this shithole and bring glory to your people, this is what I get? OUTRAGEOUS!!!"

Zera didn't flinch. Her arms were crossed, her stance unwavering. "We don't care about your childish tantrums. It's not just for our sake—it's for yours too."

With that, the project was shut down, the prototype weapons confiscated. The rebellion could no longer allow his reckless experiments.

That night, Darkest vanished from the base without a word. The only thing he left behind was a cryptic message scrawled on a datapad:

"The Empire is not your only enemy. There are forces outside this universe that your machines cannot contain. You will regret stopping me. I take the Gundam and Sentient Super Computers project with me until you fools realize your mistake.

You guys are naive, dumb, and not fun.

Good luck facing the Empire alone without my awesomeness. 🤪"

Zera groaned, rubbing her temples. "Did… did he seriously throw a tantrum?"

One of the rebels hesitated. "H-He's gone for real? What about the people here? What happens to them now?"

The room fell silent. The weight of their decision sank in—without Darkest's power, stability on this world might collapse.

A veteran soldier scoffed. "At what cost? I've heard the stories. He rules through fear. Anyone who opposes him disappears… or worse. He's no different from the Empire. We don't need another tyrant."

Another rebel disagreed. "Fear is a tool, like any other. It's what kept the Empire in power for so long. And now? It's what kept order here. Without him? We have nothing left."

Zera clenched her fists. "This is a mess. What will the people say when they find out?"

They wouldn't have to wait long to find out.

With the Empire's grip on Ord Mantell shattered, Darkest seized control, ruling the world with a forceful grip.

He dug deep into the planet's latent resources, uncovering ancient technology buried beneath the ruins. He reprogrammed rusted war droids, setting them to work rebuilding cities. Machines tilled barren fields, while underground reservoirs were tapped, bringing clean water to settlements that had suffered for decades.

The transformation was swift, almost miraculous. Markets that had once been empty overflowed with supplies. Once-forgotten streets glowed with power, and families who had lived in constant fear now walked freely.

The people spoke his name in hushed voices—some in reverence, others in terror.

"The Messiah from the Void."

Luke Skywalker saw it firsthand. He watched children playing where there had once been nothing but despair. He saw crops growing in once-dead soil. A miracle.

But at what cost?

"No one else could have done this," Luke admitted. "But his methods…"

He feared what Darkest was becoming. The Force wasn't a weapon to dominate others—it was about balance.

Back at the base, tensions were boiling over.

One rebel slammed his fist on the table. "We need to find him! Do you think we can stand against the Empire without him?"

Zera hesitated, then met his gaze. "I just… I just want to guide him to the right path. I'm afraid his ambition will lead him—or us—straight into the kind of tyranny we're fighting against."

She thought back to all the moments Darkest had helped them. He wasn't warm, not in a way most people were. But he watched over them, offering protection in his own way. He always noticed the smallest struggles, intervening when it mattered most.

That contradiction fascinated her.

Even more frustrating? He could be so damn childish. The contrast between his god-like power and his ridiculous antics only made him more irresistible—at least, to her. A strong, independent woman like Zera should not have been drawn in like this. And yet, the urge to pamper and tease him grew stronger every day.

Too bad he never seemed interested in her.

Or in any woman.

Which was… good.

That meant she still had a chance.

Before she could say anything more, a booming voice cut through the room.

"You're all idiots."

A grizzled general—a former bounty hunter—stepped forward. He sneered. "You lot talk a big game, but tell me this—who else can do what Lord Darkest has done? Who else can bring order to this world?"

The room was silent.

"That's what I thought. Bitch, all of you are just talk."

Zera gritted her teeth, but she couldn't deny the truth.

A rebel sighed. "So… what do we do now?"

Luke's voice was steady. "We find him. The fate of this world—and the future—depends on it."

To be continued…