At the edge of Ultramar, aboard the Forerunner Fleet flagship—the Ark of Will.
The vast interior of the vessel was filled with sleek geometric lines, soft bands of light, and ever-present energy patterns that flowed like living things.
Yet within a quiet chamber in the medical section, the atmosphere was tinged with gravity.
Lion stood outside the observation window of the medical bay like a silent obsidian statue.
His gaze pierced the reinforced glass, fixed tightly on the figure lying upon the life-support platform within—Luke Skywalker.
Luke's face was pale, as though he had only just recovered from a long illness, fine beads of cold sweat covering his brow.
His eyes were shut, his brows faintly furrowed, as if he were enduring some invisible pressure.
There were no obvious external wounds on his body, yet that frail aura made Lion feel as though an icy iron claw had gripped his heart.
The power this Jedi saint had displayed in his earth-shaking duel with Darth Vader was enough to inspire awe in any warrior. His current weakness was all the more alarming.
The hatch slid open soundlessly, and a Forerunner medic emerged with a complex diagnostic slate in hand.
"How is he?" The Lion's voice was low and urgent, carrying unquestionable authority. His towering frame nearly blocked all the light in the passage.
The medic replied evenly, "Lord Luke's vital signs are stable. There are no physical injuries. Deep scans indicate abnormal energy conflict and fusion within his body. Trace residues of highly corrosive dark energy have been detected. Their properties closely match the individual encountered previously. This dark energy is being forcibly fused and converted by the Lord's own powerful light-energy field. However, the new energy produced by that fusion... appears to be beyond his effective control. His mental fluctuations