After the whole staff fiasco, my skull still felt like soone had been testing out industrial blenders on it. Muscles ached in places I didn't know existed. Even my teeth ached, which didn't seem fair. I decided the rest of the day was officially on low-power mode: fix a few things, keep my head down, avoid any more Force-induced combat sims that end with feeling like I'd been tenderized for a banquet..
The experience with the weapon felt complicated. If I'm honest, it was a weird mix of "never again" and "wait, maybe just one more try."
Pretty sure the Force in that staff was like, 'Little here, you little shit. You thought you could just walt in and take away years worth of super-powered training like its your daddy's inheritance? Nuh uh'. It was training. Brutal, inescapable training. .
Which left sitting here afterwards wondering if this was so kind of elaborate martial arts lesson. Or worse—so cosmic-level "get good" arc I never signed up for. Was I actually supposed to practice instead of downloading skills through psychic osmosis?
Gross. That was not the plan. I could have hired an martial arts instructor with all that money I brought it for. Atleast my nuts would have been safe...even if they were in reality, it didn't an I didn't flinch randomly rembering the trauma they had experienced. Phantom Balls Syndro if you may call it...
I'd been hoping to fast-track my way into lee godhood with minimal effort. Just pick up the ancient relic, get hit with a wave of tragic mory-juice, and walk away stronger. But now it's looking like I might actually have to put in work. Disappointing. RIP to that dream. Press F.
And if that's true for the staff... maybe lightsabers work the sa way. Maybe the real combat lessons were the concussions we collected along the way.
I could just walk away from it. Get a regular weapon like a sensible person. Sothing non-haunted, non-Force-infused, non-soul-punchy. But the staff kept calling to . Sothing deep in my lizard brain whispering that I wasn't done. That I wouldn't beat the final boss unless I finished this side quest.
And yeah, I kind of hated how much that made sense...also how it didn't but I felt like it did.
A part of wanted to see where it went. Test my limits. Maybe break sothing. Cry a little. Grow as a person.
After that, the rest of the day felt ta. Just fixed so broken nav-computers, stitched together a squad of half-dead droids like I was doing amateur Frankenstein cosplay. Six in one day. Not bad.
My problem-solving brain was kind of firing on all cylinders, though. Starting to feel like I was pushing into "child tech-prince of Lothal" territory. Still not enough to impress any Force ghosts, but at least I had a good playlist and Vasha's vaguely affectionate insults to keep grounded.
But yeah, as I slumped into the bed that night, I had one thought:
It's ti.
Not for more trauma-simulations. Not for weird weapon dream fights. No.
For sothing worse.
Introspection.
Yup. I was gonna look inside my own body. Not in a surgery kind of way. I ant through the Force, obviously.
And look, I'm not proud of how long it took to even think of trying this. Two years of being an edgy Force nerd, and only now do I go, "huh, maybe I should use my god-tier perception to scan myself?"
Peak genius. Big brain moves. 500 IQ.
...
This was actual brain rot. Like, was this plot-induced stupidity? But there's no plot. This is a slice-of-life arc with a side of emotional damage. So who do I bla?
The author ofcourse.
Classic deflection maneuver. Bla the ta-author for forgetting to check under the hood when I was the one holding the Force flashlight the whole ti.
Anyway.
Ti to see what secrets my dumb little at-shell is hiding. Maybe even check if that accursed nightmare of a vison left any cracks in the eggs.
Maybe I'll find enlightennt. Maybe I'll find trauma. Maybe I'll find a tiny version of Yoda sitting in my spleen whispering "try harder, you must."
I don't know. But I'm about to find out.
So, I finally did it.
I started off with the basic structural layer of Hyper-Perception but pointed it inward. It took a bit of effort, to keep the bubble to collapse inwardly rather than outward that it did always, but it didn't seem out of scope. Nice!
It was... weird. Less in the "oh no, what have I done" way, but more in the "why the kriff haven't I done this before" way. Like, I'd been walking around with a lightspeed-capable scanner and just never thought to run a diagnostic on the at suit I was wearing.
I bla internalized plot immunity.
The first thing I noticed was double vision. Or rather, double feeling.
It gave a excuse of a reason for why I never thought about what my body looked like through Hyper-Perception before is because, duh, I already feel my body, right? Like, if my arm itches, I know. If I stub my toe, my nervous system sends a hate mail. That's just normal human OS functioning.
But now?
Now I had two OSs running at the sa ti.
It was janky as hell to explain, so I'm not even gonna try deeply. But the vibe was: baseline biological feedback plus super-charged Force-fed sensory input, all stacking over each other like a badly optimized UI mod. I could feel everything.
Every twitch of muscle.
Every puff of lung expansion.
The literal sloshing of blood as it yeeted itself through my veins.
And the neural signals made go Oh boy. Imagine your whole body being a giant fiber-optic rave, where every synapse fired like disco lights trying to one-up each other. It was chaos. Beautiful, glorious, terrifying chaos.
It felt less like being in my body and more like owning it. Like, really being behind the wheel for the first ti. You ever get that feeling when you clean your room and suddenly rember it's your room? Yeah. That, but flesh version.
And the wild part was that I'd never gotten this kind of clarity from using Hyper-Perception on others. Even with the recent improvents where people started being less blurrier blobs and more high-def at sacks. My own body? Next-level.
I decided to take it a step further, because obviously, the only thing better than vibing with your nervous system is trying to go deeper.
I focused on one spot, trying to zoom in. Like a microscope, but powered by the Force and sheer stubbornness. I'd seen molecular outlines before, that was already in my perception bag, and since cells were way bigger than molecules, this should've been cake, right?
And yeah, I did it. I saw cells. Little blobs doing blob things. Cell walls, nuclei, all the usual suspects.
Too bad it was hella crowded in there.
Every ti I tried to look for anything specific, it turned into that mont in an RPG where the loot chest explodes and you can't find the one rare drop because your inventory is just soup. Organelles everywhere. Mitochondria flexing. Ribosos probably throwing a rave.
And, of course, no sign of midichlorians.
Not that I expected to see them. I didn't even know what they looked like. Little spark bugs? Glowing worms? The microscopic version of that one guy at the gym who swears he could've gone pro?
So yeah, I gave that up. Ti for Plan B.
Second layer. Force vision ti.
The mont it activated, everything changed. The world went dark—not creepy dark, but calm, intentional, ditative dark. Like everything turned the brightness down and whispered "shhh, sothing cool's about to happen."
And then the stars ca out.
Tiny lights. Faint at first. Then brighter. Inside the cells. All of them. Each one lighting up like soone flipped a switch and said, "Let there be aesthetic." And from each of those points, a soft stream of energy, one that was glowing, pulsing, alive — began to flow outward.
I just sat there (internally), blinking like a stunned jawa.
Because it wasn't just one or two cells. It was all of them. Every single cell in my body had this tiny, shining star tucked inside, giving off this radiant, organic energy. They weren't isolated, either. Each stream linked up with others, crisscrossing and weaving until the whole thing turned into this living, breathing web of glowing threads.
And then it hit : it was flowing. There was a direction. A cycle. Every stream rged with another, streams beca rivers, rivers turned into a river network, and all of it was moving toward my head.
The convergence point.
The apex.
And then the energy dispersed again, down through the body, feeding each cell in return.
Loop. Cycle. Pulse.
Harmony.
It was like my body wasn't just a at container anymore. It was an ecosystem of ta-physical energy and a star map all combined in one.
A symphony of life energy, and the Force was just casually vibing through it like a DJ mixing soul beats on a galactic scale.
I don't cry easy — not unless there's onions or severe physical trauma involved — but I swear sothing about that mont almost made tear up.
Because it was beautiful.
Not dramatic beautiful. Not holodrama beautiful. But that quiet, overwhelming kind of beautiful you feel when you realize how deeply alive you are.
Yeah.
This?
This was the good stuff.
So I leaned in—way in—because once you glimpse the cosmic Force river flowing through your cells, you can't just look once and bounce. You gotta stare until your eyeballs burn or your brain leaks out of your ears. Whichever cos first.
And as I watched, it hit like a crumple-zone teor:
This is the Living Force. The sa pulsing life-energy that glows in every creature I've ever scanned. But until now, with everyone else it was just a fuzzy lantern floating in the mist—one big blob of "Oh hey, you're alive." Never in 10,000 hours of training did I appreciate how much mass this energy has. How heavy it feels. Like a cosmic plank of wood that each cell is a nail hamred into.
I could've sworn I sat there for hours. Maybe it was minutes. Ti doesn't exist when you're face-deep in existential glow-worms. But slowly, almost sneakily, I noticed sothing new:
Every single cycle—every convergence at my head, every dispersal back to my cells sent out a tiny pulse. A toot. Like my body was exhaling "Here I am!" into the big honking galaxy. And it wasn't telekinesis, my arms didn't twitch or anything. Nor was it Hyper-Perception scanning outward. It was just… , breathing Force.
Why the hell am I broadcasting? I thought, heart suddenly doing parachute flaps. I an, I guess Emotion Sensing stirs ripples in the Force field, but this was… constant. Every damn breath. Every cell cycle. If I'm always radiating this signal, any Force-sensitive droid, Jedi, Sith, or inquisitor with half a clue could ping from a parsec away.
I panicked—taphorically. Then literally, because panicking in Hyper-Perception mode feels like your nervous system is running a million tabs of tabs of tabs. So I tried to test my theory:
Could I actually trigger a bigger pulse by dialing my emotions up to 11? Classic rookie move, but hey, science. I closed my eyes and dove for my mory bank, but years of semi-normal life had shoved all the juicy trauma into a dusty corner. No epic Sith betrayal screams, no orphaned-in-the-cellar sob-sessions. Just... quiet nights fixing droids and Vasha joking I was a "professional headache distributor."
Crap.
I needed so emotional spice. So I went with the next best thing: ntal scenario—"Soone flirts with Vasha."
I could feel the bile-spike in my gut just imagining this sleazeball parading complints like "Your precision is just as sharp as that hydrospanner."
My blood pressure jumped. My fists clenched. My little heart went full "Not on my watch, buddy."
MY STORY WILL NOT HAVE NTR TAG!
In the mont the thought clicked, the Force-streams in my vision roared. What had been a leisurely celestial creek turned into rapids.
The glowing threads didn't change cycle or pattern—still flowing cell→head→cell in that elegant loop—but the intensity shot up. Starker light. Faster pulse. And the ripple I'd been broadcasting? It slapped outward like a sonic boom.
I swear I felt the echo through my ribs.
Holy kriff.
...
That confird it.
The ripple wasn't so random quirk or mystical background hum. It was emotion. Emotion being yeeted into the Force like a cosmic mood tweet. That was what I'd been sensing all these years using my little emotional-nudge skill: ripples like this. Emotional broadcasts.
The good news being that everybody's doing it. Constantly. Nobody shuts up emotionally in the Force. Which ans I wasn't special or screwed just because I glowed a little extra.
The bad news?
If anyone isn't broadcasting emotion—like, if soone's out here raw-dogging the Force without leaking anything—then congrats, that's your cue to pack your things, fake a planetary ID, and dip. Because either it's a Jedi on the run (which ans an Inquisitor isn't far behind), or it's already the Inquisitor themselves. Both flavors are nightmare fuel. Jedi are self-righteous narcs who couldn't mind their own business if it was duct-taped to their forehead. Even if one was chill, their trail always ends with black robes and red sabers.
Anyway, now that I'd unlocked the "Emotional Transmission Theory 101" in my growing diploma in Force-ology, the real question ca punch-dancing into my brain:
Why the hell is my telekinesis still garbage?
Not just TK either. All my externalizing Force powers were stuck at "sad little puff of wind" tier. I'd tried enhancing my limbs with Force—y'know, the cool Jedi parkour buff thing—to maybe get that juicy leg day multiplier or punch strength. Nada. Barely a tickle. It was like asking the Force to help and it just handed a passive-aggressive note that said, "try harder."
I let go of the deep-layer vision and ca back to the real world. Darkness peeled away like a curtain, and I found myself once again inside my very mundane, slightly ssy room. The real world felt so flat now, like going from IMAX Ultra 4D back to a 2006 CRT monitor.
Mind and body both needed a sec to reset.
I grabbed the lukewarm caf on the side table. Basic. Bitter. Beautiful. Sipped it like it held answers, which it didn't, but caffeine never judged.
Then I placed the mug in my palm, holding it like a lab subject.
Hot.
Right. Let's test so theories.
I activated Hyper-Perception again—but this ti, I made it do the full thing. Bubble mode. Inside and outside. Not just my body or the mug. . The environnt. The whole damn vibe.
And there it was.
The living Force kicked in, humming through my cells like before—cell→head→cell, all glowy and wholeso—but now I paid attention to the second stream. The movent that happened whenever I tried to do sothing. Like raise my hand.
I moved my hand toward the cup, real slow, focusing.
And holy shit.
I felt it.
The mont I intended to move the cup with my mind, the flow inside shifted. Not just the usual inward pulse of energy—it changed direction. Instead of the elegant body cycle, it launched upward toward my head. Like the cells were reporting in. And then—
Boom.
A pulse fired back from my head. It wasn't explosive. More like a precise instruction. A focused "go here, do this" signal, riding back down through the arm I'd raised.I rolled my eyes at the empty silence between and the mug—until I decided to put my money where my mystical mouth was.
I wasn't a total no-show with telekinesis. After two years of drilling my Force muscles on wrenches and datapads, I could already levitate small stuff in arm's reach like a pro's apprentice. So I focused on the caf mug, curled my fingers as if I were going to actually grip it, and dialed in.
Inside , that familiar pulse glowed: cells → head → arm → hand, the whole luminous loop. And this ti, I felt the signal make it all the way out of my finger-tips—weak, trembly, but definitely there. The mug quivered. A tiny crack in its aura.
I willed harder. Everything inside surged. The mug lifted an inch. Then two. Definitely moving.
Victory?
Kind of. It hovered—slow, wobbly, like a shaky hologram of itself—before dropping back with a soft plunk.
So yeah, I moved a mug. But with the amount of effort I poured in, I might as well have been bench-pressing a speeder bike. The outgoing pulse still got mangled on the way out; it just had enough juice left to nudge the cup a little.
Curious, I eyed the bedside table next. Solid plastital, loaded with tools. If I raised my hand toward that, would I get the sa half-hearted lift?
I tried. Signal lit up internally, pulsed outward—but this ti, as soon as it left my wrist, it flat-lined. The table wavered like a bad holo-projection… then froze. No motion. It was like my Force signal hit an invisible "weak object" filter: anything above mug-size just vapor-locked.
I sighed, letting the bubble of hyper-perception collapse. Mug back on the table, table exactly where it was.
My body was broadcasting. Constantly. I was wired into the Force like a damn antenna.
But sowhere along the chain, between intention and action, my control cable got snipped.
And I had no idea why.
Yet.
--
A/N: The hour to vote is now!
And also, soone comnted in previous chapter in the guess the faction section. The guy doesn't have a userna but just an profile pic with letter T so I dunno how to ntion him. He said that in previous chapter, another dude had said the Faction na, but I couldn't find the comnt for that.
Maybe its not showing for or I don't know what so I can't verify that. If the Naless Guy with T wants to redeem him reward, just write any of your contact info in comnts! Thanks for participation.
Also we are gonna go in psychological territory a bit for the next 5-6 chapters. They are part of sa arc, titled Premonitions I to VI. The calm before the storm if you may say it is.
So part may feel slow but everything is intentional.
If you want to support or read advanced chapters, you can do so at Patreon. I would be highly appreciative of that and it would support very much in my writing endeavors.
Link: www(dot)patreon(dot)com/Abstracto101
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