It seemed that by becoming one with the Force, my friend had well and truly transcended humanity. What kind of monstrous willpower did it take to command the cosmos like this?
...Wait, that wasn't the immediate problem. The immediate problem was the massive hunk of space rock currently screaming toward our position!
"Anakin, what are you doing?! If that hits, the whole area will be—"
"Don't worry. Have you forgotten who I am?"
Despite my mounting panic, Anakin flashed that signature, mischievous grin of his. He stepped forward and raised his right hand toward the sky, palm open.
Then, it happened.
With a heavy, invisible thump, the meteor's velocity plummeted. It looked as though it had slammed into an invisible cushion, its destructive momentum swallowed by a sudden, overwhelming pressure.
It was a Force Push. One of the most fundamental techniques—the twin to the Force Pull.
"...!"
I could only stare, eyes wide with awe. It was a "basic" move, yet I was witnessing it performed with a level of mastery that reached the sublime. It was the ultimate expression of the art—the beginning and the end of Force manipulation shown in a single gesture.
Slowly, steadily, the meteor slowed until it lost all its lethality. It hovered, captive to Anakin's will, before being lowered gently to the ground beside us. It landed without so much as a puff of dust.
I stood there, frozen.
The meteor was massive—nearly ten times my current height. Roughly eight meters in diameter. Given its entry speed, if it had landed naturally, it wouldn't have just destroyed this mountain; it would have leveled my entire family estate.
"There. That should do it," Anakin remarked.
"...I... you..."
He had just handled an atmospheric re-entry with a casual "That should do it." The sheer volume of Force energy and the delicacy of his control were staggering. And he hadn't even looked like he was trying. He had stopped a celestial body with the equivalent of a flick of the wrist.
I realized then that even in death, Anakin Skywalker remained the Chosen One. I had never known a Force so vibrant, so precise, and so terrifyingly vast.
"...Incredible. I suppose... I should expect nothing less."
"Right? Well, it's been a while, and I'm in front of my disciple. I couldn't exactly embarrass myself, so I put in a little effort."
Anakin smirked, his pride as indestructible as ever. Even after death, his ego remained, though it felt tempered—softer than the turbulent arrogance of his youth.
"Anyway," he continued, "as you can see, I pulled an asteroid containing Kyber deposits from a nearby belt. Consider it a small gift for my student who wants to rebuild the Jedi."
"I don't think you can call something from an asteroid belt 'nearby,' and there was absolutely nothing 'small' about that..."
If he meant the belt between Mars and Jupiter, what kind of range did his spirit have? And even if he could reach that far, the calculations required to intercept a rotating, orbiting rock and bring it to a specific point on Earth at a specific time were mind-boggling. Even if I spent a lifetime in communion with the Force, I wasn't sure I could ever reach those heights.
"I'm going to extract the crystals from the ore," Anakin said. "After that, I think I'll hide them in various places around the city."
"Ah... are you talking about a Gathering?"
"Exactly. Personally, I never put much stock in the ritual, but... I suspect you feel differently."
I nodded silently.
The Gathering was a rite of passage for the Jedi of old. A Jedi was expected to craft their own lightsaber, but first, they had to overcome a trial to find their crystal. Traditionally, a student could not even be called a Padawan until they had completed this task.
To the common folk, even a Padawan was a "Jedi." To live up to that symbol and to master the techniques of the blade, a lightsaber was essential. That is why the Gathering came first. My situation was unique, but the principle remained.
As I had called it, the Gathering was a trial, not a treasure hunt. The initiate had to navigate a labyrinth and, from a sea of countless crystals, find the one that sang to their specific Force signature. They had to work with their peers to overcome obstacles, but the final step—claiming the crystal—had to be done alone.
It was a test of everything a Youngling had learned. To me, there was no path to being a Jedi without it.
"But... a Gathering on this planet?"
"Right. We can't exactly replicate the environment of the planet Ilum. So, we'll make it a pure test of your attunement—to see if you can pick the right one from several candidates without wavering."
"However," Anakin added, "it'll be a while before you're ready. And besides, no sane parent is going to let a preschooler wander the city alone."
"...Fair point."
I was still a kindergartner. On a planet where public safety was questionable at best, my parents' protective instincts were likely higher here than they would have been on Coruscant. Plus, given my "Quirk," I couldn't afford to take unnecessary risks yet.
"I have some preparations to make on my end as well. So, let's say... we'll hold off until you've started primary school. Until then, focus on the basics."
"Understood, Anakin."
"Good. Then for today, let's start with a review of Shii-Cho. Training starts now."
"Yes, Master."
I gripped the wooden practice sword prepared for me and squared off against Anakin—no, against my Master.
Shii-Cho was the first of the seven classic forms of lightsaber combat. It was the oldest, the most basic, and the most fundamental. It was simple, but simplicity meant a lack of waste. In the hands of a true master, Shii-Cho was all one ever needed. Many Master-class Jedi returned to it throughout their lives.
There was no better place to start. My goal for now: to surpass the man I was in my previous life through sheer, unrelenting discipline.