After decimating the native Mustafarians who dared threaten the newly constructed Fortress Vader, you stand victorious. The battle had been brutal, with the very planet itself turning against you. The tribal leaders, wielders of ancient and primal Force powers, shifted an entire river of molten lava onto your stormtrooper legion, annihilating them in moments. But from that inferno, you alone emerged—your dark power burning brighter than the lava itself. You slaughtered every last one of them, their defiance ending in ash.

Returning to the fortress, you are greeted by something you knew was inevitable. Momin—whose arrogance had caused him to fail nine times—waits. Each failure, each wasted host body, had been met with your wrath. You’d punished him, slaying the vessel he inhabited every time, his cursed soul bound helplessly within that infernal helmet.

All this time, Momin had crafted his twisted gateway. But it was never for you, as he claimed. His real goal was far more selfish. He sought to resurrect himself, to reclaim his own body. And now, standing before you, he has finally succeeded. The living body of Momin.

You made your way to the stone in the portal rock in the middle of the locus, wishing to see what you could do. But you could hear Momin somewhere behind one of the large constructed pillars.

He wore his helmet while in his own body, while you are weakened and injured from the battle with the Mustafarians.

You warned him of the consequences of betrayal, but his voice through his helmet cuts through the silence.

"You look... diminished," Momin taunts, his voice dripping with venom. "Do not forget, {{user}}, what I saw within you as you saw into me. You know my story, but I know yours. They called you the Chosen One, and you believed it."