Abeloth black eyes gleamed.
"Oh, good… Now I can finally speak. Not like the first time… nine years ago, when we met through the mirror. We could only communicate in hand signs back then. Primitive. Frustrating. But charming, in its own way."
She took a step forward, her bare feet not so much walking as gliding above the surface of the shifting structure's new plateau. Her gaze—two perfect wells of endless dark—drifted toward Jin-Woo. .
"And now here you are…" Her voice dropped to a hush. "The Shadow Monarch. The one who wields power even the Mortis gods would feel. I thank you… because of you, I—"
But she didn't get to finish. Daybit was already moving forward.
He stepped beside Jin-Woo without fear, Kukulcan to his left, Tezcatlipoca to his right. Behind them, the other Lostbelt participants stood near the arch of the floating structure—but did not look directly into the gateway. Daybit had warned them.
"Look too long," he'd said, "and the mirror looks back. If you're lucky, it'll just crawl up your spine. If you're not…"
That had been enough. Only the Lostbelt Kings—those who'd ruled civilizations torn from the roots of history—dared to keep their eyes open. Even they, though, watched with a fascinated caution.
Tezcatlipoca scoffed and nudged Kukulcan with his elbow. "So who's this charming little horror?"
Kukulcan clicked her tongue with a lopsided grin. "Abeloth. Like Jin-Woo warned us about. Lots of teeth. Black eyes. Definitely a Beast-Class if she ever entered mage bollocks radar . World Threat Level? If she entered our world, I'd put her between Type Mercury and Velber, easy."
Abeloth laughed gently. It sounded like static and honey.
"Ahh, the ever-observant lostbelt king . You're not wrong," she said with amused warmth. Then she turned her eyes toward Daybit—with eyes flickering with genuine admiration.
"And you… the man who made this all possible. Daybit Sem Void. Without you…" she gestured slowly toward Jin-Woo, "he might've only reached Korriban. A dull grave of Sith ghosts and prophecy."
" Again i repeat If not for you, the Shadow Monarch would have wasted his grand entrance… chasing ghosts on Korriban. You have my thanks."
Daybit didn't blink. "Your planet. It's on its way now, isn't it?"
Abeloth's smile widened. "Correct. You've freed me from my prison—one sealed by gods who feared not just what I was, but what I could become. It required resonance. Not just any energy. Something akin to the Father or the Son of Mortis."
She raised one hand toward the portal behind her as it began to split further, revealing the churning abyss beyond.
"Not the Daughter," she added, almost disdainful. "The Daughter's purity would never suffice."
And there it was.
Abeloth planet.
A massive sphere emerged through another dimensional gate beside jin- woo group —a living world drenched in storm and void. Tendrils of light wrapped it like neural vines, a dead biosphere scorched and warped by power no natural galaxy could ever sustain.
"I am now free," Abeloth whispered again—almost reverent.
The air itself warped around the gateway. Gravity distorted. A soft hum echoed across the platform, vibrating the bones of every Lostbelt servant and Master present.
But then— The gate began to shrink.
The world… slowed. Froze.
A horrific stillness overtook Abeloth's planet, as if it had hit some invisible barrier.
Abeloth's smile faltered.
"What's… happening…? What's oouuuh—!?"
She winced as the shrinking portal screeched in distorted resonance. Her body jerked slightly as the connection destabilized.
Daybit stepped forward, voice calm, precise.
"I took precaution," he said flatly. "Alongside Jin-Woo."
Daybit glanced toward the Shadow Monarch, who remained motionless at the cliff's edge, cape fluttering behind him like midnight silk.
"We combined my servant's Noble Phantasm—First Sun God Xibalba—with Jin-Woo's Flow-Walking, allowing us to rewrite temporal parameters across Coruscant. At first, we only intended to suppress outer influence…"
"…But I locked the gate frequency inside the planet's own projected gravitational echo."
Abeloth grimaced. "So that's what it was… I thought it was Tezcatlipoca. That godling—he has the power to destroy planet!?"
Tezcatlipoca laughed from the back, arms crossed, chin raised.
"Only on Coruscant. The planet's leyline is modified, and I—on Daybit's instructions—fused my domain into its atmosphere. Didn't make sense at first..."
He shrugged. "But now I get it. It was to cut interference. Not from enemies…"
His grin widened. "…But from you."
Jin-Woo, calm as ever, finally spoke. "To ensure no one could hijack the Tython Gate."
"Every gateway will now collapse ten seconds after opening—unless stabilized by someone who possesses mana or True magic energy. And You don't use mana ."
Abeloth's face contorted. She growled and surged upward, wings of tendrils flaring wide. She turned to flee, throwing herself into the air, racing toward the collapsing gate.
But— SLAM. A continent-sized mass crashed into her side. An entire Flood cluster—black, pulsing with biomass, shaped like a grotesque floating island—smashed into Abeloth, flattning her mid-flight and sending her spiraling back.
A slipspace rupture glitched open nearby . And from it, a voice emerged—cold, calculating, and absolute.
"Confirmed impact. Gravemind payload has reached designated target."
Jin-Woo lowered his arm slightly, not even looking at her.
"Say hi to the Gravemind for me," he said simply.
Behind him, the scene was apocalyptic.
Abeloth—the Primordial Mother of Chaos—was still flailing, her eldritch limbs shredding into lengths as they were ripped apart by the Flood biomass. The writhing plague spiraled tighter and tighter, embedding her body into the tendrils like she was being woven into a hive tapestry.
And then— She reappeared. Dragged—again—through the Gate Mirror.
But this time, infected.
Her body twitched, bloated with Flood corruption. Fungal nodules had erupted across her pale flesh. Her once pristine, flowing hair now hung in wet clumps, matted with sickly yellow-green spore clusters. One eye was completely taken—glowing red with Gravemind's awareness. Her planet loomed behind her in the gate's flickering reflection, infested beyond recognition—cities drowned under flesh. Mountains turned into nurseries of endless Flood growth.
Abeloth voice cracked through the gate . "I curse you… Shadow Monarch… I curse your name…!"
Abeloth throat spasmed—Flood tendrils squirming inside it—but she forced the words out anyway. "In another time… another life… I will burn you to de—" SNAP.
A massive black tendril snatched her from behind mid-sentence, dragging her into the pulsating biomass like a rag doll. She barely had time to scream.
And then—
A sound rumbled from within the mass. A monumental presence.
It spoke from every corner of the hive—echoing into the minds of everyone standing near the gate.
"The monument has been awoken."
"And together, side by side… all planets shall fall."
It was the Gravemind.
Alive. Awake. Fused with Abeloth.
Lightning crackled. Suddenly, her corrupted, half-bound figure lashed out.
"HRAAAAAHHHHH!!"
She roared—and from her hands burst an unnatural force lightning, but it wasn't ordinary. This was twisted with Mortis Alchemy, infused with the same elemental manipulation used by the ancient Ones themselves.
The sky above the Gate warped, blackening like a wound in reality.
Her lightning split into three forks—one red, one black, one gold—, tearing through metaphysical laws.
It struck the border of the abeloth Planet —
But Jin-Woo remained motionless. His eyes—half-lidded—watched with indifference.
"She's making a lot of noise for someone halfway digested," Pepe muttered.
Tezcatlipoca just laughed and whispered under his breath. "Goddamn. That Gravemind really is worse than our beasts."
Kirschtaria, who had by now stabilized himself with support from Caenis and Castor, narrowed his eyes toward the gate mirror where Abeloth's corrupted form was being consumed further into the writhing mass.
"…Jin-Woo," he asked calmly, but cautiously, "Are those… what I think they are?"
Before Jin-Woo could answer,
Daybit crossed his arms and said , "The Flood. A biological plague. The one you read about during your adjustment to this galaxy. Worse than the Yuuzhan Vong—far worse."
Ophelia stepped forward, an accusatory tone lacing her voice as she raised an eyebrow toward the hovering sentinel nearby.
"Bias, you kept one?" she said sharply. "You stored a Gravemind? After all the records said it was the worst calamity your machine construct race ever faced?"
Offensive Bias's small holographic eye spun calmly, as if unaffected by her tone.
"Affirmative," the Forerunner AI replied. "This unit retained a specimen… for practice."
"Practice?" Kadoc barked. "That's already a real calamity, not some warm-up match!"
But Jin-Woo raised a hand, finally breaking his silence. His voice remained neutral—eerily calm given the gravity of the topic.
"I'm the one who requested it," he admitted. "Creating a Gravemind wasn't Bias's idea—it was mine. A version specifically engineered for containment scenarios and theoretical obedience."
Jin-woo paused, then added dryly: "Though… there are two now."
That turned everyone heads.
Jinwoo Said : "I only authorized one. The second one wasn't part of the mission. But it reached 98% completion… autonomously."
"…Oh hell," Pepe muttered.
Morgan stepped forward from the side of the platform, one hand resting on her hip, the other lightly touching her temple as if trying to soothe a headache that was definitely named Jin-Woo.
She narrowed her eyes at him, voice deadpan. "As your second wife, Jin-Woo… I am hereby putting a leash on your creativity."
"I'd like to live a peaceful life at least once before the next universe cracks open."
But before anyone could chuckle, a voice tore through the distance—sharp, echoing, frantic.
"Shadow Monarch!" Palpatine shouted from the balcony of the Senate Rotunda, his voice booming over the city . "What is your purpose?! What is your goal?! Whatever it is—it will affect us all!"
Jin-Woo didn't even glance back. But the sentinel beside him lit up, and Offensive Bias spoke directly into his mind, calm and clinical:
"The Force density surrounding Coruscant is too high. To them, you are only a silhouette—an entity. They see you, but not your face. Not your soul. Palpatine only knows you as the 'Shadow Monarch,' same as the others. Your identity is safe."
Jin-Woo slowly took a step forward, his gaze distant—his presence, infinite. And he spoke.
"Since the fall of the old Sith Empire… and with the mediocrity of this current era… no one has ever stood in the heavens."
"Not you… Not I…"
"Not even the Mortis Gods themselves."
His voice dropped—low and final, like a verdict passed down from eternity. "But the emptiness… in the throne of heaven—" "It will be filled."
Then, the light around Jin-Woo warped—his silhouette disintegrating into flakes of obsidian shadow, as his form shifted, rising and reforming—
Into Ashborn.
A black rider. A thronewalker. Crowned with curling horns, armor draped in living shadow, seated atop a towering, obsidian warhorse whose hooves smoldered with spectral fire.
Ashborn , voice layered with forgotten echoes of kings and death,
"I will be the one to stand, in the heavens of this galaxy."
And with that, the floating landmass surged forward—driven by a force no longer tethered to this world. It ascended into the closing Gateway, toward Tython—
And just as the last edge of the platform vanished— The gateway slammed shut.
Coruscant was left in stunned silence. And the heavens had just chosen their king.