The Multiverse Hunter

I promised a big chapter didn't I? So here u go….Enjoy!

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The auction had finally opened its grand doors, inviting an exclusive audience from across the galaxy to marvel at the rare treasures on display.

The room was abuzz with excitement as guests, dressed in their finest attire, filled the seats. Among them was an older woman in a stunning green dress, seated alone in the front row. Her posture was poised, her demeanour calm, but her sharp eyes betrayed her true purpose—she was here for much more than a simple auction.

Meanwhile, high above in a hidden VIP box, Ali sat alone. The dark Sith uniform he wore amplified his intimidating presence. His red and black mask rested on the table in front of him, next to his two lightsabers.

Ali's cold, calculating eyes focused on multiple screens that displayed live feeds from the auction's various entrances. As he prepared for the night ahead, he methodically loaded his Desert Eagles, each magazine sliding into place with a satisfying click.

Unbeknownst to Ali, at a hidden side entrance he hadn't accounted for, a group of four men in black suits stood at attention.

They flanked an Asian man who entered the building with an air of exhaustion, his face shadowed by sleepless nights. The men escorted him with practiced precision, guiding him up a secluded path to the auction's upper levels, where the most secure areas were located.

Trailing them at a discreet distance was Kale, dressed in a stolen waiter's uniform. He moved silently, blending into the shadows as he followed the group. His eyes narrowed as he watched them ascend to the top of the building. The group eventually entered a heavily guarded office, leaving Kale to observe from a safe vantage point.

"I have eyes on the seller. He just entered a highly secure office. I suspect he's meeting with the auction owner," Kale sending a swift message to the Jedi master seated below.

The woman read the message discreetly while raising her hand to bid on an ornate tea set, more for appearances than genuine interest.

She was outbid by a couple sitting two rows behind her, but she hardly cared. 'Not that I have any use for a tea set,' she thought, keeping her focus on her true mission.

Inside the fortified office, the Asian man stood before the auction head, a much shorter individual who exuded an air of authority. The seller's tone was polite but firm as he addressed the auction head. "Where is it?"

In response, the auction head clapped his hands. Two of his men entered the room, carrying a large, reinforced case. They set it down gently, unlocked it, and revealed its contents: the most advanced jetpack in the star system.

The Asian man's eyes lit up as he crouched near the jetpack, his hands trembling slightly in excitement. 'With this, I'll be able to survive so many worlds,' he thought, already imagining the possibilities. In a universe full of danger, the ability to fly was a priceless asset.

"And the relic?" the auction head asked, his voice tinged with impatience. "My clients are waiting for the main event."

The Asian man straightened up, removing a glowing blue amulet from around his neck. "Here. It was nice doing business with you," he said, handing it over with a polite smile.

The auction head inspected the relic briefly, its ethereal glow illuminating the room. Satisfied, he placed it in a lavish box and left the room with his men.

As soon as the auction owner left, the Asian man's polite facade dropped, replaced by a sly grin. He reached into his pocket and pulled out another amulet, this one glowing green. 'Idiot,' he thought, amused at how easily he had duped the auction head.

Kale, still tailing the group, hid in a nearby storage room as they passed. Once they were out of sight, he peeked out and saw the Asian man alone in the office, strapping on the jetpack.

"The relic is headed your way," Kale whispered into his comms, sending an update to the Jedi master.

Downstairs, the Jedi master glanced at the presenter, who was riling up the crowd with an announcement that the long-awaited relic was about to be unveiled.

In the VIP box, Ali's attention shifted as a figure caught his eye on one of the screens. A woman had entered through the underground staff section, her movements smooth and deliberate.

Ali watched intently as she rendered guards and staff unconscious with Dathomirian magic, leaving a trail of sleeping bodies in her wake.

"I've got eyes on the Witch," Ali spoke into his comms. "Follow her, capture her alive if possible."

Elsewhere, Drogath emerged from a room in the lower levels, his massive frame casting a shadow over the corridor. He glanced at his comms, which displayed a live tracker of the Witch's movements. Without hesitation, he began to pursue her.

On stage, the auction head stepped into the spotlight, carrying the ornate box containing the supposed relic. Ali approached the window of his VIP box, closing his eyes to focus his Force senses on the artifact.

When the auction head opened the box, revealing a dull and lifeless object, Ali's eyes snapped open. "A fake," he muttered under his breath.

The Jedi master, seated below, had already come to the same conclusion. Her sharp senses told her the true relic was elsewhere. She stood abruptly, her sudden movement drawing attention.

The guards at the door reached for their weapons, but before they could act, the Jedi master used the Force to hurl one of them across the room. His body slammed into a wall, crumpling to the floor.

Without a word, she exited the auction hall, leaving behind a room full of stunned onlookers. Up in the VIP box Ali put on his mask and holstered his weapons, "Found you", he said as he left the room.

Meanwhile, Kale quickened his pace as he pursued the Asian man through the corridor. The player, told by his spirit that he was being followed, pulled a small, round object from his bag and tossed it behind him.

Kale's eyes widened as he saw the grenade bouncing toward him. "FUCK!" he yelled, using the Force to hurl it through a nearby window. The grenade exploded in the air outside the skyscraper, shattering the surrounding glass and sending debris flying.

"Jedi," the Asian man muttered under his breath, recognising the skill of his pursuer. He sprinted down the hall, his eyes darting to the windows overlooking the city. 'No need to risk using the jetpack yet,' he thought, deciding to bide his time as he was inexperienced in using his new toy.

He descended a flight of stairs, where two guards appeared with their weapons drawn. But before they could react, the Asian man fired two precise shots, killing them instantly with blasts to the head.

In the dimly lit lower section of the skyscraper, the Witch moved with purpose through a long, desolate corridor. Her tattooed hand traced faint green lines in the air, leaving a subtle trail of energy in her wake.

She paused abruptly, her sharp instincts warning her of something ahead. Her gaze locked on a thick, armoured hand gripping the edge of the corridor's corner.

From the shadows, a hulking figure emerged. The air grew heavy with his presence, and the walls seemed to tremble under an unseen weight.

Drogath stepped fully into view, his imposing black armour glowing with pulsating purple lines that cast an eerie light on the narrow walls. Each movement of the giant alien radiated raw, barely-contained power, like a volcano on the verge of eruption.

The Witch's sharp eyes widened slightly, though her expression remained stoic. 'He's strong,' she thought, immediately recognising the threat. Green particles began to gather around her hands, swirling like a storm ready to unleash chaos. Slowly, her arms rose in preparation for the battle she now knew was inevitable.

"Surrender, Witch, and we will show mercy," Drogath growled, his deep, resonant voice reverberating through the corridor. Even as he spoke, cracks formed in the walls around him, splitting the stone under the sheer intensity of his presence.

The Witch's lips curled into a cold smirk, her hood sliding back to reveal her face. Her bald head gleamed under the corridor's sparse lighting, and her pale, almost ethereal skin was etched with deep green markings that seemed to pulse faintly with life. She had a striking, almost haunting beauty, and her presence was as commanding as it was otherworldly.

"Get out of my way," she said in a voice as icy as her expression.

With a roar, Drogath charged forward, his every step shaking the floor beneath him. The corridor quaked with his advance, the very foundations of the building groaning in protest. Each impact of his heavy boots sent debris crumbling from the ceiling and walls, as though the structure itself sought to escape his wrath.

The Witch's hands snapped together in a swift, deliberate motion, and the corridor obeyed her command. The walls convulsed, folding inward like giant jaws closing in on Drogath. Massive slabs of stone and metal rushed together, seeking to crush him under their immense weight.

BOOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Drogath barely slowed. He lowered his head and drove forward with the force of a runaway freak train. The collapsing walls exploded outward as he barrelled through them, debris flying in every direction.

The corridor became a cacophony of destruction, yet Drogath emerged unscathed, his glowing armour practically alive with energy. Dust and rubble swirled around him, framing his immense figure as he locked eyes with the Witch.

She clenched her fists tightly, her green magic flaring to life. From the fractured air around her, thick, spectral chains materialised and shot toward Drogath.

They wrapped around his massive arms, legs, and torso, tightening with a metallic groan as they restrained him. The chains glowed with a sickly green hue, anchoring him in place and pulling his limbs wide apart.

The Witch moved with lethal precision, sprinting toward him with her right palm aglow, the intensity of her magic making the air crackle audibly. Her intent was clear: she would finish him with one devastating strike.

But as her glowing palm neared his chest, it stopped abruptly, halting mere inches from the armour. Her eyes widened in shock as she felt an unyielding wall of Force standing between her and Drogath, a barrier so potent it was as though the air itself had solidified to protect him.

Drogath exhaled sharply, releasing a burst of hot steam from his mouth. His yellow eyes burned with fury as the chains binding him trembled, cracks forming along their spectral surface.

CRACK! SNAP!

The chains shattered, fragments of green energy dissipating into the air. Drogath brought his massive hands together with a thunderous clap, the sheer force of it causing a shockwave that rippled outward.

BOOOOM!

The Witch barely had time to react as the wave of Force energy slammed into her. She threw up a protective bubble of green energy, but it was far from enough. The impact sent her hurtling backward, her body smashing through wall after wall until she finally skidded to a halt on the floor.

She struggled to her feet, her bubble broken and her breath coming in laboured gasps. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, and her hands trembled as she wiped it away.

Her sharp eyes darted toward Drogath, who stood tall amidst the wreckage, his armour glowing even brighter than before. He stepped forward, each movement measured, deliberate, and unstoppable.

'Monster,' she thought, her mind racing.

But she was far from finished. She began whispering rapidly under her breath. Even Drogath, whose Force sensitivity was not his greatest strength, could feel the atmosphere growing heavier, denser with a power that defied logic.

The rubble around the Witch stirred, rising into the air and swirling toward her. Bits of stone and metal fused together, reshaping and reforming until they became a massive bow fixed in the air. The Witch gripped its rough surface, her pale hands glowing as she channeled her magic.

She stood beside the bow, her movements almost ceremonial as she drew back her hand. A deep green arrow manifested, crackling with raw energy that made the air hum with tension.

The arrow glowed brighter and brighter as she poured her strength into it, her focus so intense that blood began to drip from her nose.

Drogath, undeterred, planted his feet firmly on the ground. He lowered his head, steam billowing from his mouth as he prepared to unleash his own devastating attack.

The purple lines across his armour glowed with blinding intensity, and the sheer pressure of his gathered Force energy caused the ground beneath him to fracture.

The corridor became a battlefield of pure energy as the two combatants prepared their final moves. The Witch's stone bow creaked under the strain of the arrow's power, while Drogath's form became a beacon of concentrated destruction.

The air between them crackled with impending chaos, the tension building to an unbearable crescendo.

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