Jabba's eyes snapped wide open, his striking green irises glowing with an almost supernatural intensity, a light reflecting the sheer astonishment and focus coursing through him. Even he, who had spent the majority of his existence in prolonged hibernation, now understood with unshakable certainty that almost all warships fired the same type of projectiles-pure energy shells meticulously drawn from specialized chambers embedded deep within the vessel.
Yet what he saw before him was unmistakably real: a blazing, molten-orange fireball and a swirling, opaque violet mist-ball, both rocketing toward the northern mountain range at a speed far beyond anything he had previously witnessed in his long life. The air surrounding the fireball instantly ignited, scorching and shimmering, and the very fabric of space seemed to warp and ripple visibly around it.
On the opposite side, the violet mist moved with an eerie precision, causing the air to vanish completely upon contact, dissipating into nothingness as it advanced, as though reality itself was being undone along its path. Then came the inevitable moment of truth-the moment of impact with the mountains.
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