We''re back in the endless hallway, but it feels heavier now. The weight of what we''ve just witnessed presses down on me like a vice. My heart races, my breaths coming in shallow gasps. I can still hear his voice—the Chancellor''s twisted words, the cheers of the crowd. My hands shake as I try to push the memory away, but it clings to me.


    I stumble slightly, overwhelmed.


    "Talia, breathe," I whisper to myself, trying to find some control, but it''s useless. My chest tightens. It feels like the walls are closing in.


    Nikko''s voice breaks through my spiraling thoughts. "Poor Papa..." she says softly, her voice trembling with sadness. I glance at her and see her little ears drooped, her eyes filled with an emptiness I haven''t seen in her before. The sight of her like this, so fragile, makes my heart break even more. She''s just a child.


    Even Llamiryl, usually so calm, is struggling to regain her composure. She takes a few shaky breaths, her usual serene demeanor cracked. "For Ryu to have survived such brutality..." She pauses, the words seeming to catch in her throat. "In all my life, I''ve never seen such... devastation," she manages, her voice barely above a whisper.


    I nod, though I can barely focus. My hands are clammy, and my head spins as if the floor beneath me is unsteady. The memory of the Jedi falling, of the destruction, Palpatine''s twisted Empire—it''s too much.


    "Please tell me that''s the source of his guilt," I manage to choke out, my voice cracking as I try to hold it together. My arms are around Nikko now, holding her close as she nestles into me for comfort. I need this moment of contact, something to ground me.


    But Llamiryl shakes her head slowly. "I''m afraid not," she says, her voice steady but filled with sadness.


    Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I pull back slightly, eyes wide. "Then what could it be?!" I shout, the frustration and fear boiling over. "What if not that horrifying betrayal we just witnessed could be the source of Ryu''s guilt?"


    Llamiryl looks at me, her face softening with understanding, but her eyes are distant, troubled. "I don''t know," she admits quietly. "But calm yourself, Talia. I understand you are shaken up. I am too."


    I try to breathe, to calm myself, but it''s difficult. My whole body feels like it''s trembling.


    "We need to move," Llamiryl says firmly, though her voice is gentle. With a wave of her hand, she summons another door, its surface shimmering into existence before us.


    I swallow, my throat dry. "I''m... I''m sorry," I mutter, still feeling ashamed of my outburst.


    Nikko squeezes my hand gently, her small voice cutting through the suffocating tension. "We have to stay strong, for Papa." Her words are soft but filled with a quiet strength.


    It breaks through the darkness clouding my mind. I look down at her, seeing the determination in her teary eyes, and I can''t help but smile a little, despite everything. "You''re right," I whisper, squeezing her hand in return. "I''m sorry, Nikko."


    She nods, her ears twitching slightly as her expression lightens, if only a little.


    Llamiryl watches us for a moment before gesturing toward the door. "Come. Let''s not waste any more time."


    With one final breath, I gather my strength and step forward, walking through the door with Nikko by my side.


    I find myself standing in a dim, industrial space. The air is thick with the scent of metal and oil, and the distant clanging of machinery fills my ears. The place feels endless—rows upon rows of workbenches stretch into the distance, each with figures hunched over, working with mechanical precision. It''s overwhelming, the noise, the sheer scale of it all.


    Ahead of me, I see him—Ryu—standing at one of the workbenches. His face is weary, his eyes dark and hollow like he hasn''t slept in days. His posture is slumped, defeated almost, as if the weight of the world has worn him down. Beside him stands another figure, humanoid but with features unfamiliar to me. The alien has pale, leathery skin that seems almost translucent under the harsh lights. His head is slightly elongated, with thin, dark eyes and a mouth that narrows into a permanent frown. His fingers are long and thin, and he taps on the bins beside Ryu''s workbench, explaining something, though I''m still trying to take it all in.


    The alien''s voice is low, gruff. "Salvageable components go here," he says, tapping the middle bin to Ryu''s right. "Parts too damaged go here." He taps the bin on the far right. "Everything else goes in the left bin, understand?"


    Ryu—looking worn and detached—nods silently, his gaze fixed on the bench in front of him. His clothes are the same as the other workers around him: dull, dark-colored garments stained with oil and grime, simple and practical. Everyone around us is focused, their heads down, not a word exchanged among them.


    The alien continues, his voice cutting through the drone of the machinery. "We''ve got a lot of droids to disassemble. You get paid per unit you break down. Any salvageable parts you toss out, and it''ll be docked from your pay. Got it?"


    Again, Ryu nods, but his face shows no emotion. He looks like a man going through the motions, his hands moving almost mechanically as he starts to work.


    I glance at the workbench. On it lies a battered, humanoid-looking machine—its once shiny surface now scorched, dented, and torn apart. Ryu lifts one of the arms of the machine, a long, thin appendage that seems too fragile to belong to a warrior. His hands move quickly, deftly, as he begins disassembling the machine, pulling out wires, removing small components with careful precision. The parts fall into the bins as instructed—some in the middle, others in the far right.


    I can''t take my eyes off of it. This... this place. The noise, the cold efficiency, the workers all hunched over their benches in silence—it feels wrong. I look around, trying to make sense of it, but I''ve never seen anything like this. Rows of conveyor belts stretch as far as I can see, each one carrying more of those battered machines, their parts slowly stripped away by the silent workers.


    Nikko tugs at my hand, her small voice barely audible over the sound of the belts roaring to life. "What is this place?" she whispers, her ears flattened against her head, her eyes wide with confusion and fear.


    "I... I don''t know," I whisper back, my voice trembling. "But it feels... empty. Cold."


    Llamiryl, who''s been silently observing, furrows her brow. "This is a factory," she says softly, her eyes scanning the massive space around us. "A place of... dismantling."


    I glance back at Ryu. He''s taken apart most of the machine now, his movements steady, methodical. His face remains stoic, but there''s something deeply unsettling about the way he works—like a man lost in routine, detached from everything around him. It''s hard to reconcile this version of him with the Ryu I know.


    Nikko presses closer to me, her small hands trembling. "Why is Papa doing this? He looks... tired. Sad."


    I don''t have an answer. All I can do is watch as Ryu continues to work, pulling apart another section of the droid, wires and components falling into the bins with a dull clatter. The alien next to him moves on, not bothering to linger. There are too many workers, too many machines to be dismantled.


    The silence among the workers is unsettling. No one speaks. No one looks up. It''s as though they''re all cogs in the same machine, moving in perfect rhythm but with no heart, no soul. The hum of the conveyor belts and the clatter of broken parts are the only sounds in this vast, lifeless place.


    I feel a chill run down my spine. I can''t shake the feeling that this place is more than just a factory—it''s a symbol of something deeper, something that''s crushing the spirit of the people trapped here. And Ryu... Ryu is one of them.


    We watch in silence as he continues to disassemble the broken machines, his hands never stopping, his expression never changing. The weight of it all presses down on me, and I realize that this memory is far darker than any battlefield. This is a place of slow, quiet destruction.


    And I wonder, with a sinking heart, how long Ryu has been here. How long he''s been trapped in this cold, silent routine.


    Llamiryl stands quietly for a moment, her eyes narrowing as she concentrates. I''ve seen this look before—when she''s trying to access Ryu''s memories, to pull information that he knows but we do not. Her brow furrows, and she takes a deep breath.


    "This... this is a disassembly plant," she says softly, her voice carrying an eerie clarity. "We''re on the planet..." She hesitates for a moment, then the word slips out, unfamiliar on her tongue. "Ord Mantell."


    I frown, the name meaningless to me. "A disassembly plant?" I ask. The confusion in my voice is hard to hide. It doesn''t explain the cold efficiency of this place, the lifelessness that seems to stretch out before us.


    "It''s where they bring the remains of destroyed machines," Llamiryl continues. "It''s been almost a year since Ryu went into hiding. Hiding... from the Empire."


    My heart skips a beat at that word. The Empire again. "But why here? What are these machines?" I ask, gesturing toward the broken droids on the assembly line, still being taken apart piece by piece.


    Llamiryl lets out a sigh, looking down at one of the disassembled figures. "They''re... Separatist droids," she explains. "Machines that fought during the Clone Wars."


    "Separatists?" I echo, trying to make sense of the term. It sounds like some distant enemy, one I''ve never encountered, one I''ve never even heard of before today.


    "The CIS," Llamiryl says, the term coming out slowly, as though she''s processing it herself. "The Coalition of Independent Systems. They... they were once a group that tried to break away from the Republic."


    I blink, the words washing over me, confusing and strange. I''m still not sure I understand. "So... there was a war? Between these machines and the Republic?"


    Llamiryl nods, her expression thoughtful, her eyes distant as though recalling something buried deep within Ryu''s knowledge. "Yes, the Clone Wars," she says quietly. "The Republic, with their army of... soldiers, against the Separatists. It was a brutal war, fought on countless worlds, with machines like these and clone soldiers fighting in the name of their leaders."


    I glance at one of the broken droids lying on the bench. Its head, now disconnected from its body, stares back blankly with empty, dead eyes. I feel a strange sadness for it, even though it''s just a machine, lifeless and cold.


    "So... Ryu''s been hiding here," I murmur, my voice trailing off as I try to wrap my mind around all of this. The thought of him, alone, in a place like this for so long... it sends a chill through me.


    Llamiryl nods again, a slight sadness in her gaze as she looks at Ryu working silently. "Hiding from the Empire... trying to survive after everything fell apart."


    Nikko clings tighter to my hand, her ears drooped. "Poor Papa... he''s been hiding all this time?"If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    I don''t have the words to comfort her. All I can do is hold her closer and try to make sense of what Llamiryl has just told us. A war we never knew of, machines we''ve never seen, and a galaxy at war with itself. And now, this Empire hunting down those who survived.


    Ryu looks like he''s been through so much already. And this is only another chapter in that painful, endless story.


    Llamiryl''s eyes suddenly widen, and I can feel the shift in her demeanor immediately. A knot tightens in my chest. "What''s wrong?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.


    She glances at me, her expression grim. "The Jedi... during the Clone Wars... they were searching for a Sith Lord."


    The air feels heavier at her words, and my heart skips a beat. Sith Lord. That title alone sends a wave of dread through me. Nikko, clutching my hand, gasps softly, her small voice trembling as she mutters, "A... a Sith Lord?"


    I glance down at her, my own heart pounding. I can see the fear in her wide, innocent eyes, her ears flattened against her head. The weight of those words feels suffocating. The Sith... they were monsters of legend to me, but I knew their horrors all too well through Ryu''s past. And now, to hear that one was lurking during this war... it''s too much.


    "Yes," Llamiryl continues, her voice tight. "That Sith Lord... he overthrew the Republic and simultaneously ended the war."


    I feel my stomach churn at the revelation. The pieces are starting to fall into place, and the connection terrifies me. My mind races, but before I can say anything, Llamiryl''s next words hit like a hammer.


    "A Sith Lord by the name of Darth Sidious," she says. "Palpatine... was that Sith Lord."


    My breath catches, and I feel the blood drain from my face. "Palpatine..." I whisper, the name now tainted with the darkest of evils. "The same man who declared the end of the Republic? He''s... a Sith?"


    Nikko, shaking beside me, barely manages to speak. "A... Sith Lord?" Her voice is so small, so afraid. It''s as though the very idea has shaken her to her core.


    I tighten my grip on her hand, trying to offer comfort, though I feel just as lost and horrified. "So... it is just like the Sith Empire," I mutter, my voice trembling. The realization makes my skin crawl. Everything about this Empire, this new galactic regime—it mirrors the Sith Empire''s dark and oppressive reign. The cruelty, the manipulation, the conquest... it''s all there.


    Llamiryl nods, her gaze sharp and focused as she stares at Ryu, who remains silent and absorbed in his work, pulling apart a more intact battle droid with mechanical precision. "I''m afraid so," she says softly, her voice filled with sorrow. "Palpatine, Darth Sidious... he orchestrated it all. The war, the fall of the Republic, the rise of the Empire. It was all part of his plan."


    I swallow hard, my mouth dry as I try to comprehend it all. The galaxy had fallen to a Sith Lord, just like in the dark days of the Sith Empire. But this time, it''s worse. The entire Republic, the hope and order of the galaxy, swept away by the evil of one man—one Sith.


    The weight of everything presses down on us—this overwhelming truth, this terrifying revelation. And as I look at Ryu, still hard at work, his expression grim and focused, I can''t help but wonder what it must have been like for him. To have escaped such manipulation, such devastation, and now surrounded by it once more.


    ?????


    The memory shifts, and suddenly, we''re standing in the middle of a bustling spaceport. The air feels thick, almost suffocating, though I can''t quite place why. The strange metallic scent in the air is foreign to me, like something is wrong with it—tainted. Ahead of us looms a massive building, tall and worn down, its doors hissing open as workers stream out. They look exhausted, their faces drawn and sallow, as if they''ve been trapped inside that place for far too long.


    The spaceport itself is overwhelming. It''s chaotic, with vendors everywhere, shouting to anyone who will listen, trying to peddle strange goods—scrap parts, metal, and other items I don''t recognize. The entire place feels rough, filled with people who look... dangerous. I instinctively move closer to Nikko, who''s gripping my hand tightly.


    Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a group of small figures at a stall. They''re cloaked in brown, and their eyes—glowing yellow—peek out from beneath their hoods. They chatter to each other in a language I don''t understand, waving their hands as they try to sell bits of junk. I stare, confused. What are they?


    Nikko tugs at my sleeve, her ears twitching nervously. "What... what are those things?" she whispers, her tail flicking behind her in agitation.


    I shake my head, just as bewildered. "I don''t know. I''ve never seen anything like them before."


    Ryu keeps walking, ignoring the shouts from the vendors and their attempts to get his attention. He looks rough, like he hasn''t slept in days. He moves with a purpose, but I can''t help but notice how tense he seems. Suddenly, I spot a man leaning against a wall. He''s a slippery-looking man, the kind that makes your skin crawl just by looking at him. His greasy, slicked-back hair is so dark it almost seems wet, and the thin wisps of it barely cover his scalp. His skin is pale, with an oily sheen to it, as if he hasn''t washed in days. His face is sharp and angular, his thin lips curled into a constant, crooked smirk that never quite reaches his shifty, beady eyes. Those eyes dart around nervously, scanning the crowd, never staying in one place too long, as though he''s always looking for trouble—or trying to avoid it.


    He''s dressed in worn, mismatched clothing, layers of patched-up fabric that hang loosely on his wiry frame. His jacket is frayed at the edges, the sleeves too long, and the color—if it ever had one—has long since faded into a murky gray. A faint odor clings to him, something sour, and it only adds to the overall sense of unease his presence brings. There''s a permanent slyness in the way he moves, like a predator waiting for the right moment to pounce, or a con artist always ready for his next mark. Everything about him screams untrustworthy.


    "Pssst, hey," the man calls out, stepping away from the wall and following Ryu. "Wanna make some more credits?"


    Ryu doesn''t respond. He keeps walking, his expression set in stone, but the man doesn''t give up.


    "I bet you barely make enough for rent and a bite to eat, disassembling those droids all day," the man continues, his voice slippery, like he''s trying too hard to sound friendly.


    Ryu stops in his tracks, turning slightly. "Look, whatever you''re trying to sell, I''m not interested," he says, his tone clipped.


    The man smirks and steps closer. "I''m not selling anything, just giving you an opportunity to make some real credits. Look, I won''t waste much of your time. Just hear me out, and if you still say no, that''s that, okay?"


    Ryu lets out an exasperated sigh and finally says, "Fine."


    The man grins, his eyes gleaming. "Wise choice. Those idiots who run the disassembly plants have no clue about the treasures they''re sitting on." He leans in, lowering his voice like he''s sharing a secret.


    Ryu raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"


    "Those droids. Intact they are worth thousands of credits. You know the kind I''m talking about?" the man asks, glancing around.


    Ryu shakes his head.


    The man sighs in mock disappointment. "Tactical droids. I''ve got a buyer who''ll pay you what you make in an entire planet''s rotation for just one head of those things. And the fools at the plant are breaking them down, tossing away the value. All I need you to do is sneak in, grab a couple, and bring them to me. I''ll give you fifteen percent—easy money."


    Ryu crosses his arms, his expression skeptical. "That simple, huh? And where do you come in?"


    The man chuckles. "You''re a smart fella, right? I make sure the Empire doesn''t catch wind of it. Keep things hush-hush. Wouldn''t want clone troopers knocking on our doors, now would we?"


    Clone troopers? My stomach churns at the mention of them.


    Ryu nods slightly, considering. "What about security? I see guards watching the facility all day."


    "That''s just during the day," the man says, waving a hand dismissively. "At night, they''ve got droids patrolling the facility."


    Ryu exhales heavily, as though weighing his options. Finally, he nods. "Alright, I''m in."


    The man claps his hands together, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Wise choice. Name''s Shinx, by the way."


    "August," Ryu replies, his voice calm.


    August? My eyebrow shoots up in surprise. I glance over at Llamiryl, and she meets my gaze, already knowing what I''m thinking.


    "He''s using an alias," Llamiryl explains quietly. "He''s hiding from the Empire, remember?"


    I nod slowly, trying to wrap my head around it all. This world... this life Ryu once lived feels so distant from everything I know.


    ?????


    The memory shifts again, and I find myself in a place unlike anything I''ve ever seen. It''s dimly lit, and the air is thick with strange smells—sour and sweet, mixed with something burnt. There''s noise everywhere, a cacophony of voices blending together, all speaking in languages I don''t understand. The walls hum with energy, the flickering lights casting odd shadows across the room. At first, I can''t make out much of what''s happening, but the longer I stare, the more it comes into focus.


    We''re in some sort of large room, a gathering place, but it''s nothing like the taverns or pubs I''m familiar with. Tables are scattered all over, patrons of all shapes and sizes sitting in groups, laughing, talking, and drinking from strange glowing cups. In the corner, I spot a bizarre, shimmering figure—a woman, though her skin is blue, and she has these long tendrils instead of hair. She''s barely dressed, her body moving in a way that''s both hypnotic and unsettling as she dances in the middle of a small crowd. The crowd ogles at her, eyes fixed on her every move, while a glowing, floating image of her is projected above them, like some sort of magic display. It makes me feel... uncomfortable.


    Next to her, some strange boxy device is glowing, and two patrons are jabbing at floating, ghost-like figures that seem to be fighting each other. It''s like a game, but I don''t understand how it works. They cheer and shout with each jab of their fingers. In the far corner, there''s a figure behind the bar—no, it''s not a person at all, but a metallic thing. A droid. I recognize it from Ryu''s memories. It''s serving drinks, its movements jerky but efficient as it hands over more of those glowing cups. The whole place is overwhelming, a blend of smells, sounds, and sights I''ve never experienced before.


    I glance down at Nikko, who''s clutching my hand tightly. Her wide eyes are darting from one corner of the room to the other. "What is this place?" she whispers, her ears twitching nervously. I don''t have an answer for her.


    Llamiryl, usually calm and composed, is visibly taken aback as well. She''s trying to hide it, but I can see the way her eyes narrow slightly, the way her lips press together as she takes in the sights. "I''ve never seen anything like this," she mutters under her breath. Neither have I.


    The door hisses open, drawing my attention. Ryu steps inside, dressed in dark clothes and a long cloak that drapes over him like a shadow. A satchel is slung over his shoulder, and he moves through the room with purpose, ignoring the raucous patrons and strange music playing from the other side of the cantina. His face is set in a hard expression, and it''s clear he''s been here before.


    He approaches a booth where Shinx sits, the same slimy man from before, and across from him is a woman with blue skin and tendrils draping down her shoulders—another one of those dancers, but she''s not dressed like the one on display. This woman wears more practical clothing, but her posture is casual, and she seems to command the space around her. She looks Ryu up and down with a skeptical eye as he sits across from them. I can tell immediately that she doesn''t trust him.


    "Azula, this is the fella I was talking about," Shinx says, nudging her with his elbow. His greasy grin stretches wide as he eyes Ryu.


    Azula doesn''t seem impressed. Her dark eyes narrow slightly as she takes a long drink from a glowing green cup, downing the liquid in one gulp. "He doesn''t look like much," she mutters, her voice sharp and unimpressed.


    Shinx waves her off with a dismissive laugh. "Don''t mind her, she''s hard on everyone. So, were you successful?" His eyes flicker greedily toward the satchel.


    Ryu says nothing as he places the satchel on the table. Shinx snatches it up eagerly, opening it just a crack before his eyes widen in delight. His chuckle grows louder, echoing above the cantina''s noise. "Well done, August. Three heads? Ooh, that''s gonna fetch a pretty price." He closes the satchel quickly, sliding it beside him.


    "My payment?" Ryu asks, his tone flat, but firm. He''s not interested in pleasantries.


    Shinx grins again, reaching into his coat and pulling out a small leather pouch. He places it on the table, sliding it across to Ryu. Ryu takes the leather pouch and opens it. I catch a glimpse of what''s inside, and they don''t look like coins at all. The small, rectangular chips glint under the dim light, with strange markings that almost look like a form of runes, but more mechanical, almost too perfect. Some of them are silver, others gold, but they all share that sleek, industrial look. I''ve never seen currency like this before.


    Ryu counts the chips quickly before slipping the pouch into his cloak. He doesn''t seem fazed by it, but I can tell from the way he moves that this isn''t a small sum. Whatever he''s gotten involved in, it''s not just a few spare coins.


    "You know," Shinx continues, leaning in closer. "I got a bunch more jobs like this. No need to waste your life away in that plant. Join my crew, and I promise you there''s more where that came from." He gestures to the pouch of credits as if it''s the key to all life''s problems.


    Ryu leans back slightly, his expression unchanged. "Never liked working in that plant anyway. Count me in."


    Shinx claps his hands together, his grin as wide as ever. "Excellent!" He turns toward the droid behind the bar, raising his voice to call out, "Yo, barkeep! Three Mantellian Savrips for the table!"


    The droid gives a curt nod, its mechanical limbs whirring as it prepares the drinks. The name of the beverage makes me frown. Savrips? That doesn''t sound like anything I''d want to drink, but I''m quickly realizing this world is filled with things I don''t understand.


    Shinx''s eyes light up, and he claps his hands together again, just as the droid returns with the drinks. The drinks are placed in front of them, tall glasses filled with a thick, glowing liquid that shifts from green to blue as the light catches it. It looks almost alive, and I can''t help but wrinkle my nose at the sight. The drink has an unsettling glow, much like the rest of this grimy, polluted place.


    As Shinx takes a long sip of his Mantellian Savrip, his eyes gleam with the look of a man who''s just struck gold. Azula, sitting beside him, eyes Ryu carefully, clearly still not entirely convinced of him.


    Nikko tugs on my hand, her ears drooped low. "Papa''s doing bad things, isn''t he?" she asks in a small, sad voice.


    Her words hit me hard, and I struggle to find the right answer. I look at Ryu, who seems distant, like he''s already made peace with whatever he''s doing. His cloak, his dark clothes, his tired expression—he''s nothing like the man I thought I knew.


    "I don''t know," I whisper, my heart heavy with uncertainty.


    Llamiryl stays silent, her sharp eyes watching every movement, but even she seems at a loss for words. This place, this world, it''s so far removed from anything we''ve ever known. The lights, the sounds, the people—they''re all part of a life I can''t begin to understand.


    And yet, Ryu''s part of it. For better or worse.