An Extract from Chapter II of the Encyclopedia of the Grand Conquest of the Sola Galaxy
The Technology Wars
Eons ago, at the dawn of time, a valiant hero emerged to safeguard the galaxy. She was Rayen, the first of the Solaren, beings of supreme power. Her majesty was unmatched, a beacon of hope to the galaxy; her might was rivalled only by the legendary warrior Dren and the other Solaren who would follow. Her splendour was second only to the singer of the free worlds, and in charisma and leadership, she stood equal to the Golden Emperor.
Her arrival signalled a divine epoch of technological marvels, heroic figures, and extraordinary transformation.
Yet, alas, in her profound love for those around her, she could not endure their loss, and thus, madness claimed her. She turned against the very people she had sworn to protect.
A formidable coalition of heroes and generals gathered to oppose her, and with great sacrifice, they overcame her. From her downfall arose the Federal Security Republic of Revos, the largest and most powerful nation in the galaxy, established in the hope that the galaxy would never again endure such a catastrophe.
Rayen’s deeds, both in her age of glory and her tragic decline, laid the foundations for many of the laws and institutions that persist in the present day.
Is there a great, unseen meaning to life? Are there transcendent laws that judge our every action? For each decision made, is there some hidden scale that tips, weighing our deeds?
And if you were granted access to this knowledge, would life change? Would it enlighten you, burden you, or leave you exactly as you were, only now aware of how little certainty truly matters? Were there divine laws set by beings of incomprehensible might and wisdom? Or are there truths so absolute that they transcend thought, consciousness, and creation itself?
Or perhaps there is nothing.
And if that were so, then did that mean life itself had no inherent value? Did action? Did consequence? Was it entirely dependent on the entity receiving said action?
What of the inescapable beauty of the world? What of the rigid laws that govern the world, laws that seem so deliberate it feels inconceivable to think they are arbitrary?
For Arifin Rensa Korlin, whether it was action, consequence, or intent, all those questions seemed well above his capacity to answer right now.
All that mattered to him was the dying man in front of him.
“Keep still, Mr Polsky, it will be over soon.”
Arifin’s hands moved firmly over Bryce’s chest, sensing the cause of the pain. Bryce’s pale, sweat-slicked skin tightened as shallow breaths escaped him. The soldier’s chest was a mangled mess, crushed bones, torn tendons, muscles in disarray. If Arifin rushed this or lost focus, the soldier would never breathe again.
But rather than panic, an eerie, cool calm took hold of Arifin. There would be no mistakes here.
Finding the largest tear, Arifin took a breath and called upon his presence. Energy surged from his core, pouring through his fingertips and sinking into the wounds. The soldier’s pain and fear rushed into him. Bryce’s breathing quickened, his eyes darting between the nurses around him and Arifin.
“Is everything okay?” asked Bryce, panic in his voice.
Arifin’s dark hair, streaked with a faint purple tinge, clung to his forehead with sweat as he smiled gently. His bright purple eyes met Bryce’s, full of calm and reassurance.
“Everything’s going to be fine, Bryce,” he said softly. “Just give me a few minutes, and you’ll be back to normal. Do you trust me?”
Bryce’s frantic breathing slowed as he met Arifin’s eyes.
“I do. Solaren.”
Arifin’s hand flinched slightly at those words, but he smiled anyway at Bryce and pressed on.
His hands glowed an ethereal light green, radiating warmth as his energy pulsed outward. Faint black markings traced his forearms, stretching and curling on his skin as his presence flowed into Bryce’s chest. It coiled like tendrils through the broken veins and sinews, flushing out stagnant blood and sustaining the damaged tissue.
The larger ribs came first. He mended them with painstaking precision, feeling each fragment resist before yielding under his will. A single misalignment could shatter the fragile connections, undoing his progress and leaving Bryce’s body ruined beyond repair. Yet he pressed on, reshaping them carefully, his focus narrowing to the microscopic level. Tendons were next, knitting back together like threads, slowly reattaching to the bone. The finer muscle fibres followed, some already intact, others needing to be rewoven or even created from scratch.
Arifin showed no signs of fatigue; his hands were steady and his breathing controlled. Yet within his mind, he processed a maze of biological and psychological needs. Caring was not just physical. Arifin eased Bryce’s nerves with his presence, feeding him faint impressions of hope while sifting through his stress and taking that burden onto himself.
After a few more seconds, Arifin fused the final fragments of Bryce’s chest back together and exhaled.
“It’s done, Mr Polsky. Please lie down for a few moments. The nurses will see to you now.”
Arifin glanced at the nurses who took over Bryce’s treatment.
As he pulled away, Bryce’s hand grabbed him.
“Thank you, Solaren.”
Arifin grimaced but pushed through another smile.
“Of course, Mr Polsky. Please be careful in your next sparring session.”
The nurses wheeled out Bryce’s gurney.
Arifin watched him go, feeling satisfied at his work, but unable to push away the growing hollow pit that encumbered him every day.
“Mahdini...” a nurse said, walking up to him.
“Please, call me Arifin,” said Arifin with a hint of annoyance.
The nurse raised her eyebrows and looked pained, her mouth half open.
“Never mind. What were you saying?” Arifin waved a hand.
“Mahdini, we appreciate your services. We were going to close this section of the ward and take our break.”
“Oh. Of course. I’ll join a different ward.”
Another voice entered the conversation. This one rough and full of deceitful intent.
“No, no, no,” Kaen said slowly, turning the corner and leaning against the wall.
His tall figure was clad in rugged gold and purple armour, the badge marking him as commander of the royal guard hanging crookedly on his chest. Three ethereal swords, blue, white, and black, floated ghost-like around him, humming faintly. His unkempt blonde-brown hair and crooked badge were constant reminders of his lack of professionalism. As always, his wicked smile and twinkling dark eyes had a way of drawing you in, daring you to join him in whatever mischief he had planned.
“You’ve spent more than enough time here for today. I’m sure the well-trained medical staff of the Amercy can survive a few hours without their saviour.”
Arifin had known it was only a matter of time before this happened. Even though he was disappointed at Kaen’s words, he could not help but break out into a small smile.
“Don’t you have someone else to bother, old man?” Arifin said slyly.
Next to them, the nurse’s eyes flicked nervously between Kaen and Arifin, her unease evident. For all his casual demeanour, Kaen tended to make the area around him feel fragile.
The swordsman let out a soft, amused chuckle.
“Me? Nah. I’m just a washed-up deadweight, past my prime and bothering whiny little brats like you because I’ve got nothing better to do. Hehe.”
Understanding that Kaen was asking nicely, Arifin clasped the nurse’s hands and bowed his head to her.
“Thank you for the help today. What is your name?”
The nurse jerked her head back in surprise.
“Elena, Mahdi... ummm... Arifin,” she said.
“Thank you, Elena. Take care. Hopefully I’ll see you soon.”
Arifin walked out of the room, Kaen rolling off the wall and following behind him, leaving Elena looking at her hand as though it had turned to gold.
“You missed our training session, O Solaren. Slayer of worlds,” Kaen said sardonically.
Arifin bristled at his words.
“Did I? How careless of me. Perhaps you should use your almighty strength to drag me there on time, O Denshaki, slayer of... many, many, many people.”
“Warriors. Slayer of many, many warriors who engage me in fair and honest combat.”
Arifin scoffed.
“I doubt combat with you is ever really fair.”
Kaen nodded in affirmation.
“Ah, you’ve got a point there. I am god, after all.”
Arifin’s laughter was cut short as the soft clink of boots against the metal floor drew his attention. At the end of the corridor stood Ory Reiki, his personal guard, motionless, her glare fixed on him.
Though her expression was neutral, she never failed to radiate animosity toward those around her. Her dark purple armour, styled like Kaen’s but far more polished, marked her as one of the Thraxian Guard. A single streak of blonde fell against her natural brown hair as she stood at attention.
“Solaren. I see you have found yourself here... again. And are now late for our session,” said Ory, her voice monotone, her eyes narrowing in frustration.
Unlike with Kaen, Arifin felt anxiety tighten around his gut at her words.
“Ory... Sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting. I lost track of time,” Arifin said, somewhat sincerely. It was true that he’d lost track of time, but whether losing himself in his work had been intentional or not was a different story.
Annoyance washed away from Ory’s expression as she seemed to regain control of her face.
“Of course, I understand. You have many great concerns, the likes of which I cannot hope to understand. I would never presume to tell the Solaren where he ought to go or where he ought to be.”
Arifin’s stomach dropped another few levels.
“In other news, Princess Theria Abraxen has reached out to me, asking for an audience, should you grace her with your time.”
Ory’s cadence was flawless and neutral. If Arifin hadn’t spent two years close to her, he might have missed the faint edge beneath the courtesy. It was not quite sarcasm, and not quite contempt, but a quiet form of rebuke masked as deference.
“I’d be happy to see her,” Arifin said, not returning her insincere tone.
Noticing the exchange from afar, the swordsman let out a low chuckle as Ory bowed and began leading the way.
“You’d think I murdered her whole family,” muttered Arifin.
“You did. I was there,” said Kaen, whistling to himself as they walked down the aisles and halls of the Amercy.
“That doesn’t help,” said Arifin.
“Wasn’t meant to. You also stood me up. So I’m still kinda annoyed at you.”
“Yeah, but you don’t care.”
“Nah... I... I give a fuck. You know? I’m pretty good at my job of training the next generation of Abraxen prusers,” said Kaen, stifling a yawn.
“Late night?” Arifin said, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah. Couldn’t sleep. Then I played a game of Baali and got destroyed. That didn’t really help either.”
They moved without interruption through the Amercy, Kaen and Arifin trading jabs as Ory shadowed them in silence. Soldiers and staff alike snapped to attention as Kaen passed, and bowed deeply to Arifin.
After a few minutes of elevators and mobile platforms, the trio arrived at the quarters of Theria Abraxen, First Princess of Abraxia.
Destro, Vice Commander of the Thraxian Guard, stood watch outside her door. The corridor lights caught the darkness of his skin and the tight braids woven through his hair. He wore the distinctive armour of the royal guard, while two ethereal swords, one green and one blue, hovered at his side, glowing with a light similar to Kaen’s own weapons.
“Solaren. Commander. A pleasure to see you both. Her Highness is waiting for you,” Destro said in his usual reassuring voice.
“My brother.” Kaen embraced Destro and patted him on the back. “What say we leave Ory here to do our job for us and go play some Baali?”
Ory’s jaw clenched tightly, yet her eyes stayed forward, betraying only the faintest sign of frustration. Destro let a small smile curl at the edge of his lips.
“Oh, my friend. I’m sure there is no need for you to embarrass yourself again.”
“What?! No... Well, if not, I suppose the valiant members of the Thraxian Guard can entertain me. Ory, do you have a boyfriend or something? Anything new in life? Give us details,” Kaen said, gesturing for her to share some gossip.
Ory’s cheeks turned red as she began a futile defence against her superior’s intrusive questions, while Destro opened the door and allowed Arifin to enter Theria’s chambers.
Inside, Arifin found the princess, Theria Abraxen, seated in a small corner and quietly reading a book. Her long, curled raven-black hair fell neatly around her shoulders, framing a composed expression as she sipped her tea. Her dark purple eyes lifted to meet his, surveying him with a blend of curiosity and faint concern. The rings on her fingers weren’t ostentatious enough to suggest arrogance, but just obscene enough to demonstrate her immense wealth.
When he entered, she raised her head and smiled warmly at him, calming his nerves.
“Arifin,” she said, setting down her book and rising to greet him.
“Theria. It’s good to see you.”
Arifin embraced her and kissed her on both cheeks before taking a seat beside her at her invitation.
“How was your training today?” she asked.
“Uhhh... yeah, I wasn’t exactly able to end up there on time.”
Theria’s lips pursed in exasperation, but unlike Ory, there was no judgment in her eyes.
“It’s okay. Why are you so reluctant to go these days?”
Arifin thought in silence, absentmindedly grasping the brands on his forearm with his open hand.
“Because... I’m worried there will be problems.”
“You mean because of where we’re headed?”
Arifin nodded.
“I understand,” Theria sighed. “Though, I must say, you’re not really going to be their primary concern.”
“I know. It’s just... This is my first time outside of Abraxia, outside of the palace. I want to be sure I don’t send the wrong impression. I should present myself in a good light.” Arifin rubbed his neck, aware of how embarrassing his thoughts sounded as he said them aloud.
“And you think training your abilities would somehow do that?” Theria prodded, taking another sip of her tea.
“No? I don’t know. I’m worried I might send the wrong message if the Mentires hear I’ve been constantly training to fight and improve my abilities. I should show them they have nothing to fear from me.”
Arifin glanced at Theria, who regarded him with a gentle, knowing look, one that seemed to disagree with him without needing to say a word.
“Shush,” said Arifin, shaking his head.
“I didn’t say anything,” Theria said calmly. “You’re the one jumping to conclusions.”
“I know! I’m overthinking everything! Aghhh. I’m stressed, okay?! I’m scared. I’m supposed to be a weapon and a symbol of peace, but I can’t do anything without coming up short of someone’s expectations of me. Cut me some slack,” Arifin said, dragging a hand down his face.
Theria put a hand on his.
“It’s okay. You’ll do fine. You’re right to consider so many factors, but those expectations aren’t everything. It’s normal to get things wrong. Though I suspect you’ll continue to feel like this until we arrive.”
Arifin slumped in his seat, defeated, as Theria sipped her tea calmly.
“How are you?” he asked.
“I’m concerned but trying to remain optimistic. This peace delegation rests largely on my shoulders.” Theria rolled her shoulders back, looking every bit the regal princess she was. “I will shake the hand of the man whose father was killed by my father. And whose soldiers killed my mother.”
She exhaled, letting out her emotions with that last statement.
“But that is in the past. My king commands me to make peace and to work towards a prosperous future.”
“Do you think that’s likely?” asked Arifin.
Theria’s eyelids narrowed a bit as she thought.
“Yes. I do. I think it’ll take decades, and there are a lot of ways it can go wrong. However, the alternative is more war, and after almost two hundred years of conflict, I’d like to try and go for something different.” Theria creased her brow. “I would be lying if I said I wasn’t worried, though. It’s been quite a while since Abraxen royals have set foot on Star’s End under peaceful terms. I’m not quite sure what to expect.”
“We’ll be fine, though, right?” Arifin said, slightly concerned.
Theria tilted her head and gave a small, uncertain shrug.
“Probably. And if we’re not,” she gestured at the door, “our dearest Denshaki will carve their capital in two.”
“That’s quite gruesome to think about.”
Theria laughed softly.
“That is politics. Coming on peaceful terms goes only so far. It’s far more reliable to guarantee our safety when we’re travelling with the galaxy’s most powerful swordsman.”
Arifin raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t you think we’re sending mixed messages by bringing him?”
Theria’s gaze settled on him, calm and pointed.
“We could say the same of you.”
Arifin bit his lower lip, digesting her words.
“I’m not a weapon,” he said finally.
“No, you are not. But what you are and what others perceive you to be are two very different things.”
Arifin’s eyes drifted to the black tattoos tracing up his hand.
“Don’t be so sombre. Try to think of the fun you will have. You’ll have plenty of opportunities to show the world there is more to Arifin Rensa Korlin than mastering waves,” Theria said, smiling as her dark hair fell over her face.
Arifin struggled to force a smile back to her.
“I should go. I’ve been neglecting my training for a while.”
“Of course,” Theria nodded slowly and got up.
As Arifin walked towards the door, Theria grabbed his arm. He looked back to see the princess staring at him with earnest eyes.
“Arifin, I called you here to tell you I care about you and I believe in you. You will do great. Also, keep safe. Stick to the Denshaki where you can.”
Some of the tension eased from Arifin’s shoulders.
“Thanks, Theria. Your Highness.” He smirked at that last part.
Theria playfully flicked a hand at him, returning his smirk.
Arifin walked out of the room into a barrage of indignant protests from Ory, while Kaen remained utterly unmoved, smirking as Destro snickered beside him.
“How could you possibly think I would stoop so low as to engage myself with a parasite like Wese?” Ory said, her hand in Kaen’s face.
His arms crossed, his eyes twinkling, the Denshaki gave a lazy reply.
“I don’t know, Wese seems like a good catch. He’s got uhhh... nice arms. I felt like you two had something going on. Right, Destro?”
Destro, his shoulders bobbing with silent laughter, waved a hand away.
“I have no part in this, Commander. But Wese is a good man, Ory. If you did like him...”
“I don’t!” she practically screamed at them, causing both men to roll with laughter. Even Ory broke a slight smile. “You guys are the worst.”
At the sight of Arifin, the smile fell from Ory’s face.
“Oh! Arifin, done so soon?” Kaen said, wiping his eyes. “We were just having some classic Thraxian Guard fun.”
Ory shook her head, seemingly in no mood to continue with Arifin around.
“Yes. Her Highness is always good company,” Arifin sighed, clenching his stomach. “But I am ready for training, if you are.”
Rising to his feet, Kaen clapped his hands together.
“Perfect!”
The Amercy was the pinnacle of Abraxen engineering. At seventy-two kilometres long and ten kilometres wide, it carried a crew of nearly twenty-five million souls. It was armed with six Major Heavy railguns, each powerful enough to crack a planet apart, alongside dozens of lesser batteries that could still tear through most warships with ease. Its state-of-the-art Thirty-Six Calibre reflective shields surpassed those of most dreadnoughts and could withstand blows from even powerful Masters of War.
Deep within the Amercy was one of its combat halls, a training arena five kilometres across in every direction. Its interior had been lined with Orlin, a rare material capable of absorbing presence and stabilising the powerful fields needed for high-level combat exercises.
The brand burned on Arifin’s forearm. Sweat dripped down his brow as he strained his arms.
“Relax, Arifin,” said Ta Sha, watching him. The squad commander of the Thraxian Guard did not carry heavy plate armour like Ory, Kaen and Destro. Instead she wore fine, light purple and white robes, similar to Arifin’s, complementing her bronze skin and dark hair.
“You are restricted; let your emotions flow unperturbed.” Ta Sha held a hand just in front of his, feeling his presence, analysing his state of being. To the side, Kaen and Ory watched from a distance.
In the air, a ten-metre-wide sphere of steel trembled, barely holding itself together. Arifin breathed heavily, his rhythm uneven, as though he had to remind himself every few seconds.
As his power circled within him, he focused inwards on his core. To use a wave was to connect with a vital aspect of reality and impose one’s will upon it. This was only possible when the user’s understanding of themselves and the nature of that aspect were in alignment. It was a delicate, fragile synthesis. At any moment, if concentration or vigour were lost, the effect would dissipate.
And within himself, Arifin drew upon the canons he held to be true: to offer a steady hand to those in need, to see the person before him as an individual rather than a title or occupation, and to maintain a firm understanding of the world while always striving toward a greater one.
There were a great many things Arifin did not understand, and many more he needed to improve upon. But these three tenets formed his core, and from that, he was able to project his mastery of the third primary wave: space, the art of understanding distance, form, and the relationship between physical matter.
Arifin tensed his core, and the ball of steel transformed into a cube, then a straight line, then a flat circle, and finally he compressed the steel in on itself and willed it out of existence.
Exhaling loudly, Arifin stumbled back into Ta Sha's supportive arms.
“Well done. Impressive as always. Your control over matter improves every session.”
“Thanks,” said Arifin, sitting himself up.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. We get it, you can build circles and make flashy presentations,” Kaen said from the sidelines. “Let’s focus on your presence training. Ory, get in there and ring his head.”
“Yes, sir,” said Ory, her voice disciplined, though a flicker of eagerness betrayed her.
Arifin was given a few minutes to recover, then grabbed a sparring sword from the rack and drew up a stance against Ory.
Before they started, Ory lowered her own weapon and nudged his knees and elbows.
“You’re holding yourself too rigid. You’ll break your arm if you try to use your full strength with each strike. Wait for the right moment.”
“Sorry,” Arifin said, trying to absorb her feedback, even as his body fought the urge to tense up.
Unconvinced, Ory closed her eyes and focused for a few seconds. Arifin watched as three limiters stacked over her, each one reducing her strength, speed, and defence by a significant margin. When she opened her eyes again, Ory had suppressed herself to a warrior of Arifin’s calibre, perhaps even slightly weaker.
Ory tapped her blade against his, signalling the start of the bout.
Instinctively, Arifin retreated two steps back, trying to find steady footing. Ory swooped in low, dealing wide attacks on either side of him. Arifin’s barrier took some hits as he failed to parry many of her strikes.
Arifin was by no means a poor warrior. His skill was middling, even admirable for someone who was not considered a frontline pruser. However, in the face of the raw, swirling talent that was Ory Reiki, there was very little he could do.
Even with her speed and strength brought down to his level, Ory’s blade still moved faster than Arifin’s eyes could follow. And on the few occasions he did catch up with her, she would get close in and use her fists or legs to keep him off balance.
“Use your eyes, dumbass; she’s being greedy with her offence,” shouted Kaen from the sideline.
Arifin drew back a few metres and enhanced his eyes with presence. Sure enough, Ory’s energy flickered around her, reinforcing some areas while leaving others vulnerable. That explained her rapid strikes and powerful blows, despite her weakened state. However, that level of control and precision over presence was something that only a few could reach. Arifin severely doubted he was one of them.
Seeing a potential opening, Arifin twisted his hips and dashed forward, swinging at her side. Ory moved as though performing for an audience, flipping into the air with effortless grace. She touched a single finger to Arifin’s blade as it passed harmlessly through the space where she had been, then kicked him in the face.
Blood sprayed from Arifin’s mouth as broken teeth scattered across the floor. He tried to recover, tried to retaliate, but Ory was already there. She drove her blade through his stomach, caught his arm, pinned his legs, and forced him hard to the ground.
Arifin managed a final struggle, but it was moot. His barrier shattered, and Ory slid her blade out from him and stood over him, victorious.
Without missing a beat, Ta Sha’s presence swirled around Arifin. As Ory withdrew her blade, his wounds closed, his teeth reformed, and his body returned to full health.
Although the blade was gone and the wound had closed, traces of Ory’s presence still lingered inside him. Cold. Apathetic. The strike had carried no cruelty, but no hesitation either. And as she stepped back, she showed no hint of remorse for the pain she had caused.
“Damn!” said Kaen to Ory. “You don’t have to go that hard on him each time.”
“You did say to clobber him…” said Ory.
“Yeah, clobber. You don’t have to impale him every time, sheesh. You alright there, little warrior?” asked Kaen, walking over to him.
Groggily, Arifin pushed himself to his feet and gave a shaky thumbs-up.
“Yep, I’m good.” Being stabbed was quite painful, but by this point, he was quite accustomed to the downsides of his training.
“Good. Another four rounds and you can be done for today.”
Over the next thirty minutes, the outcome of the rounds did not change. Arifin landed a few lucky hits, but Ta Sha still had to heal him four more times from otherwise fatal wounds.
After the final bout, Ory and Ta Sha departed, leaving Arifin to follow Kaen through the halls toward his quarters.
“Is there a point to this training?” asked Arifin, as a pair of naval officers saluted Kaen.
“What do you mean?” said Kaen, returning their salute as he passed.
“It’s not like I will be fighting any battles any time soon. And my strengths do not exactly lie in hand-to-hand combat.”
“Listen… I’m just doing what I’m told. And besides, learning how to kill people is always gonna be useful at some point. Especially for the great Solaren.” Kaen patted Arifin on the back. “We regulated entities are responsible for the protection of the Sola Galaxy. It’s our duty to be… fuckinnn…” Kaen waved his hands in the air as he waited for the right words to come to him.
“Groovy and cool. You get what I mean?”
Arifin sighed.
“I don’t really want to learn how to kill people.”
“Uh huh. Uh huh. That’s too damn bad. I’ve got a job to do. For the foreseeable future, I am going to teach you these things. Or get Ory to teach you. And it’s your responsibility to at least try to listen and learn from your fantastic teacher.”
Kaen stopped outside Arifin’s quarters.
“Listen, I know you’re going through a lot. You’re a teenager, and teenagers are moody, annoying and overly philosophical, when a calm, playful and nihilistic demeanour is a far superior way to live life.”
Perhaps having the opposite effect Kaen intended, Arifin’s shoulders slumped.
“Agh. What I mean is… you’ll be fine. You should stop worrying about how everyone is gonna perceive you and just be happy that you finally got to leave CarExal for the first time. I’ll catch you tomorrow, ok? And I better see a fucking smile on your face. Your bad energy is disrupting my relaxed mindset.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, old man,” Arifin said, smirking.
Letting out a wry chuckle, Kaen turned his back and waved lazily over his shoulder.
Arifin returned to his quarters and prepared for bed. But when he finally laid his head down, sleep did not come easily.
The expectations placed on him were unclear at best. To some, he was their savior. To others, a political asset, even a weapon. Some expected nothing from him at all.
And some, like Ory, seemed disappointed that he had failed to become the all-powerful Solaren they had imagined.
And yet, what could he do? Arifin had been born with the potential to become the most powerful entity the galaxy had ever known, but the laws written in fear of him had forced him to remain a shell of what he might have been.
Even if he did become powerful, what would the end result be? More bloodshed? The very reason legislation had been passed against him was the violence and galactic civil war that had preceded his birth. Were they not right to fear his ascension?
So many questions, with so few answers.
Arifin’s mind swirled with them. Like most nights, he found it difficult to sleep. But eventually, exhaustion took him, and he drifted off wondering what his first true encounter with the wider galaxy would bring.
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