Phantom Menace Arc 055 : The Chosen One First Path

Finally, the Gorog collapsed fully—unconscious, tongue hanging out, its massive body sagging against the shattered rubble.. The beast was down. And it was over. Slowly, a wave of cheers rose from the outskirts.

One by one, citizens of Mos Espa stepped out from hiding—out of alleys, from behind broken market stalls, and from under overturned speeders. Then, the crowd began to gather around Jin-Woo, the towering Mark XLIV, and the Jedi.

"Thank you!"

"You saved us!"

"Bless you, stranger!"

"Is it… dead?"

People clapped, some cried, others just stood stunned. Farmers, traders, even a few off-duty guards joined the forming circle, speaking words of gratitude as if Jin-Woo had singlehandedly saved the entire sector. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon stood a short distance away, quietly observing. Their expressions unreadable—but their respect was unmistakable.

Mark XLIV stood unmoving at first—hulking, statuesque. Then a small flicker of movement caught Jin-Woo's eye. His gaze slid sideways.

Morgan and Rey stood near the edge of the crowd, half-shadowed by a stone column. Morgan's smirk was faint but visible, her arms crossed.

Rey, beside her, gave the tiniest nod, casually flipping a small, palm-sized controller in her hand before slipping it into her belt. It was a silent confirmation. She'd been piloting the suit remotely. The illusion remained perfect—the Armored Man's identity safe.

So she masked the control system well, Jin-Woo thought, eyes narrowing. Rey, who studied transfer essence months ago… now moving toward remote armor mastery. A new Tony Stark in the making, huh?

Before he could dwell further, a group of local children had broken free from the crowd and rushed up to Mark XLIV, staring in awe at its gleaming metal bulk. One of them—a young Rodian girl—looked up hopefully and shouted:

"Can you sign our autographs, pleaseee?!"

Right beside her, a Twi'lek boy bounced on his heels, beaming. "Yeah! Mr. Droid , you're awesome! You punched it like—BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!!"

The suit gave another slow thumbs up, servos humming with precise motion. The children squealed in joy.

Then, weaving through the crowd came a smaller figure—dust-covered, wide-eyed, and breathless: Anakin. He clutched a scrap of cloth and a stylus, clearly intending to get his own autograph from the armored hero.

But just before he reached Mark XLIV, a leathery hand suddenly yanked him back by the collar.

"Boyyy!" Watto snapped, wings flapping erratically as he caught the child. "Did you forget I own you? Get back to work!"

Anakin struggled, his voice defiant. "I'm a free person now, Watto! I don't belong to you anymore!"

Watto's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Free, huh? That agreement with the outlander… it's not official. He didn't even register anything—"

The words died in his throat. A towering shadow loomed behind him. Mark XLIV.

The suit stepped forward—slow, heavy—and loomed over Watto without saying a word. Its glowing eyes narrowed slightly. Every child, every merchant, every adult in the area stopped what they were doing.

Watto glanced up, sweat starting to bead along his leathery forehead. He swallowed hard but forced out a squawk. "Wh-what? Huhhh? Another outlander? Tatooine business is tough, you know—best not to meddle—ou—"

WHAM. Mark XLIV swatted him like a fly.

Watto was sent sailing across the square with a metallic CRASH, landing squarely inside a fruit stand and knocking over several baskets of meilu runes and hubba gourds. The whole store collapsed on top of him .

For a moment, silence.Then the entire crowd burst out laughing.

A snickering merchant shouted from behind a cart, " The outlander's got a sense of humor after all!"

Another chimed in, "Finally someone shut that floating toad up!"

Mark XLIV returned to its still pose, arm resetting at its side.

And Anakin? He looked up at the armored figure with stars in his eyes.

Mark XLIV's mechanical arm reset with a soft whir, servos locking into place. It stood still once more, towering like a statue of war-forged justice. Anakin gazed up at the armored figure, wide-eyed with awe.

Then the suit moved. Its helm turned slightly toward the boy,. "Do you know who I am, boy?"

Anakin blinked, then nodded firmly. "The mysterious Armored Man himself. I've been… no, not just me—my friends too. We've all been waiting for you." He paused, voice softening with hope. "Will you free us?"

Mark XLIV's head tilted slightly. "You seem to already be freed. The chip in your body—removed. By another outlander."

Anakin nodded once, slowly. "Yeah… but…"

He looked down for a moment, gathering his courage, then back up again. "Can I make one request? Not to free everyone. I know… that's impossible. But maybe… maybe just the kids? Just the ones like me. So they can have a better future."

There was a pause. No words came from the suit. Then, without a word, Mark XLIV turned away. A Wrench struck the helmet. sizzled harmlessly off the polished armor. And the culcript is Anakin himself . The crowd gasped, recoiling in shock. Some covered their mouths. Others instinctively took a step back.

Shmi's voice rang out in panic. "Annie—get away! It's dang—"

Before she could finish, a curved wall of transparent metal dropped from Mark XLIV's forearm and sealed Anakin and the armored figure inside. Electric arcs surged along its edges, humming like a living barrier.

Shmi slammed her hands against it. "Spare my son! Take—take me instead!"

But Padmé reached out, stopping her gently. "Ms. Shmi," she said quietly, eyes steady, "the Armored Man… he's not the type to hurt for no reason."

Qui-Gon stepped beside her, arms folded.

"He's testing your son's resolve."

Inside the barrier, Mark XLIV took one heavy step toward Anakin. Then its helm angled downward, eye slits glowing. "Boy," the voice rumbled, low and metallic, "why are you so determined?. Why didn't you just give up? .Why did you not accept your fate… when fate is cruel to anyone weak like you?"

Anakin's fists trembled as he raised his head, eyes gleaming with unshed tears and fiery resolve. "Because I had to. Because no one else was going to save us and I can't keep waiting."

He stepped forward, voice growing louder with every word.

"I didn't give up because I saw my mom cry every night. And I swore I'd never let her cry again." "I'm weak. I know that. I've always been weak. But I hate it. And I won't let it stay that way."

His gaze locked with the glowing slits of the armored helm.

"So if fate is cruel to people like me… I'll rip fate apart. I'll tear it down and make a new one."

"Because I want to fly. I want to build. I want to protect everyone I love. Even if it kills me."

He took one final step forward, defiant. "I want to become someone… no kid ever has to wait for again."

Mark XLIV said nothing for a long moment. The only sound was of its repulsors charging.

Then—vvvvrrrrmmm—the right gauntlet lit up, glowing white-hot. The repulsor hummed with stored energy. "Words are for losers," the armor intoned coldly. "How are you gonna back it up?"

Anakin didn't flinch. "Then I'll challenge you to a fight. In whatever you're good at. And I'll win—just like I'll win the pod race later. Because my friends count on me."

There was silence. Then— Ehehehe…

Mark XLIV's chest plates vibrated with deep mechanical laughter that quickly exploded into full-blown madness. "AHAHAHAHAHAHA!!"

It echoed through the desert, shocking the crowd. Even the Jedi watched in silence.

Then, without warning, the armor reached to its chest—kkrrrk!—and ripped out one of its secondary arc reactors, still pulsing with raw energy. The reactor flickered like a tiny sun in its metal hand.

Mark XLIV knelt and extended it to Anakin. "The next time we meet… it will be face to face. I will wear no armor."

He placed the arc reactor into Anakin's stunned hands. "Farewell… hero of the story. I will await how you end your chapter."

WHOOOM! The thrusters ignited, flames surging beneath the boots. In seconds, Mark XLIV launched into the sky like a comet, piercing the clouds—until it vanished completely into the stars.

Behind the barrier, the transparent shield faded. The crowd began to murmur.

Meanwhile, back on the outskirts of Mos Espa, in a hidden alcove surrounded by shadowed tech—Rey sat calmly in a cross-legged position, surrounded by a circular array of glowing holographic rings. Her fingers slowly retracted from the control array.

She leaned back, exhaling. There it is, Jin-Woo. Just like you always say to us… You always wondered what would happen if you ever clashed with him. Now you'll have that answer. The Invader… versus the Chosen One. Who will win?

Suddenly, a faint hum echoed behind her. A small, rippling portal shimmered into existence—its edges glowing with a pinkish-purple hue. Rey's body melted into a stream of dark smoke, slipping through the rift like a Nazgûl vanishing into shadow.

In the next instant, she reformed Stealthly beside Morgan, who stood casually leaned against a stone wall near the still-gathered crowd. Her arms were folded, one knee bent slightly as her gaze lingered on the boy now surrounded by children and murmuring citizens.

Morgan didn't turn, but her voice cut through the air in a soft whisper. "Nice acting."

Rey brushed off her robes and stood beside her with a subtle smirk. "Jin-Woo wrote the script. I just play my part."

A few meters away, Obi-Wan leaned in close to Qui-Gon's side, speaking low enough for only his master to hear. His eyes remained fixed on the crowd and the vanishing trail of the armored figure.

"I guess… the Armored Man has a soft spot for children," Obi-Wan murmured. "Even if he roasts us Jedi every chance he gets."

Qui-Gon gave no reply at first. He simply watched Jin-Woo with a calm, unreadable expression—watching the man stand silently as if none of this concerned him.

Eventually, Qui-Gon spoke, voice low but certain. "I'm sure… the Armored Man has a plan. After all…" He glanced toward Obi-Wan. "…even without the armor, he'll do just fine."

Just then, a protocol droid , approached with stiff, almost overly formal movements and dipped its head slightly toward the Jedi Master.

"Esteemed Jedi Knights," the droid began in a polished voice, "the great and magnanimous Jabba the Hutt cordially extends an invitation to his establishment. He requests your presence for a celebration… and specifically wishes to meet the outlander who wields a sharpened, transforming staff. Also, he has expressed interest in meeting the boy recently favored by the Armored Man."

Qui-Gon's brow twitched. He could already imagine the chaos that might follow if Jin-Woo accepted the invitation—especially in a place like Jabba's palace. A thousand possibilities, and most of them involved some form of reckless lunacy.

He turned calmly toward the droid. "Leave the boy out of this. Anakin is exhausted. He'll return to his mother and rest. As for the outlander… I'll speak with him myself. If I can convince him to come, he will."

The protocol droid gave a courteous nod, its photoreceptors blinking. "Understood, Master Jedi. The Hutt awaits your decision." It turned around and began its mechanical shuffle back into the distance.

Qui-Gon exhaled through his nose and rubbed his temple briefly. "Stars help me," he muttered under his breath. "Let's just hope Jin-Woo doesn't start a war over drinks."