**Chapter 641**
**Scene 1**
**Coruscant – Lower District Recovery Facility**
**Dagon POV**
The sterile recovery room smelled of medical antiseptics and ionized air. I sat on the edge of the reinforced medical bed, my body still aching from the radiation burns and the raw power I had channeled to contain the final nuclear warhead. My newly white hair fell messily into my eyes, and the crimson-black spirals of my Sharingan-like eyes reflected faintly in the nearby monitor screens. I looked more like a demon than a Jedi these days.
Riyo Chuchi paced in front of me like a storm about to break. The Pantoran senator's usual shy and composed demeanor had completely shattered. Her blue skin was flushed with a mix of anger, fear, and exhaustion. She had been in the middle of a passionate — and very loud — lecture for the past ten minutes.
"You risked your life again, Dagon!" Riyo exclaimed, her voice cracking with emotion. "You flew straight into a swarm of nuclear warheads like some reckless fool! There have to be limits — even for someone like you! You're the Grand Master of the Jedi Order now! You're supposed to lead, not throw yourself into every suicidal situation that comes along!"
I stayed silent, letting her vent. *Huh. For a Pantoran who is supposed to be shy, Riyo seems very emotional right now. I always seem to be on the receiving end of this.*
Riyo stopped pacing and turned on me, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Do you have any idea what it feels like to watch you nearly die on the holofeeds? Again? I thought we lost you up there!"
*And then there's Grace,* I thought, glancing at the Zeltron admiral standing a few steps away. Admiral Grace O'Connor's vibrant pink skin had deepened to a fiery crimson, a clear sign of her intense emotional state. Her fists were clenched at her sides, and she looked like she wanted to both hug me and strangle me at the same time.
*Boy, she is colorful with her emotions. Why does she seem a little too much right now?* Apart from that one passionate night we shared — a rare Zeltron gift given only to those she deeply trusted — our relationship had always remained mostly professional. She was an officer, and I was her commander. But lately, her worry had taken on an almost maternal intensity.
"You absolute, reckless idiot!" Grace finally exploded, stepping forward. "Do you have any idea what it looked like from the bridge? Your armor readings were critical! Your vitals were dropping, and you still kept chasing those warheads like some suicidal comet! I thought we lost you, Dagon! We all did!"
I rubbed the back of my neck, wincing as the movement pulled at healing skin. "The Force probably has some sick joke going on. Riyo is a married woman. Why does she keep coming back into my orbit like this? And her husband Cal seems like a genuinely good guy — well, for Pantoran nobility or something."
Both women glared at me harder. I wisely kept the rest of my thoughts to myself and raised my hands in surrender.
**Scene 2**
The argument finally broke, as all storms eventually do.
Riyo's eyes filled with tears first. She stepped forward and threw her arms around me, burying her face in my chest. Her body trembled against mine as the fear she had been holding back finally poured out. "You can't keep doing this… I can't keep watching you nearly die over and over again…"
Grace followed a second later, wrapping her arms around both of us. Her Zeltron warmth pressed against my side as she buried her face in my shoulder. "You reckless, stupid, brave man… Don't you dare scare us like that again. We can't lose you."
I held them both tightly, feeling their emotions crash through the Force bond like waves against a cliff. Without thinking, I reached out with a gentle Force meld heal — a soft, soothing wave of calming energy that washed over their frayed nerves and eased the terror still gripping their hearts.
The crying slowed. Riyo sniffled, pulling back slightly. Grace wiped her eyes, a small, relieved smile breaking through.
But I earned a light slap on the chest from both of them.
"Don't you dare use the Force to calm us down right now!" Riyo scolded, though there was no real heat left in her voice, only exhausted affection.
Grace poked my chest with a finger. "You're still in trouble, General. Big trouble."
I smiled tiredly, pulling them both closer again. "I promise. I won't do it again."
They both gave me deeply skeptical looks, but the tension finally broke into quiet, relieved laughter. The three of us stayed like that for a long moment — tangled together in the aftermath of fear and relief — before the medical droids politely reminded us that I still needed rest.
**Scene 3**
**Warden Gunship – En Route to the Jedi Temple**
**Dagon POV**
The Warden gunship cut smoothly through Coruscant's upper atmosphere, its reinforced hull humming as it carried me back toward the Jedi Temple. Moff Trachta sat across from me in the passenger bay, his sharp features relaxed into something almost amused as he studied me.
"You know, for a Jedi known as the Demon of the Shield, you have a lot of people worrying about you," Trachta said, leaning back in his seat with a smirk. "Though I suspect the new name 'Hero of Coruscant' will be spreading soon across the holonets."
"Great. Just great," I muttered, running a hand through my now completely white hair. The strands felt strange — softer, almost ethereal. "You seem to be enjoying yourself, Moff."
Trachta chuckled. "Well, on one hand, this experience teaches me not to get married during wartime. Also, if I'm looking for a girl, I should just save her in battle. Seems to work wonders for you."
I laughed despite the lingering pain in my body. "I know a Fondorian general who might do well for you. Strong, intelligent, and she can keep up with your sarcasm."
"Hey, I don't want your problems," Trachta shot back with a grin. "Also, look at you — white hair at what age? Twenty-seven?"
I glanced at my reflection in the gunship's viewport. The white hair, the crimson-black eyes, the faint fangs — I really did look like a demon now. A tired, radiation-burned demon, but still.
"Yeah… good point," I admitted with a tired smile. "At least the scars are gone."
The Warden continued its flight toward the Temple. Below us, Galactic City was slowly coming back to life under emergency power, the scars of the attack still visible but the spirit of the Republic unbroken.
For now, at least, I was heading home — to face whatever came next.