The stars above Varrak's Rest feel colder tonight. The metal bones of the old star cruiser creak under the weight of time and decay. I sit on the broken wing of a rusted fighter, staring at the fractured sky, thinking about how this all began—not just my hunger, not just this world, but everything.
This galaxy wasn't always a carcass for scavengers and warlords.
It used to be something else.
Something greater.
Something lost.
What was it called? If I remember right, the old histories had a name for it.
800 Years Ago: The Asteroid Event
The fall of Hitmoi began with a single stone.
A rogue asteroid, massive and ancient, crashed into the heart of the planet, shattering landscapes and rewriting the laws of nature. But it wasn't just rock and fire that rained down that day. Embedded in its core was a substance unlike anything humanity had ever seen—Aetherite.
It seeped into the land, the water, even the very air. Cities rebuilt themselves around the impact site, drawn to the impossible properties of the ore. Aetherite didn't just enhance technology—it changed people.
The first Espers were born in the decades that followed.
At first, it was subtle. A few individuals displaying feats beyond explanation—an old farmer whose crops flourished even in the harshest droughts, a soldier who dodged bullets before they were fired, a child who spoke of events before they happened. But as generations passed, the changes became undeniable.
A new breed of humanity had emerged.
People who could bend fire to their will, tear apart the sky with a thought, or glimpse moments of the future as if time itself whispered in their ears. Some called it evolution. Others called it a curse. Either way, the world would never be the same.
And humanity?
They did what they always did when faced with power.
They fought over it.
The Expansion & War
Power doesn't exist in a vacuum. It spreads, ignites, consumes.
The rise of Espers and the discovery of Aetherite didn't just reshape Hitmoi—it catapulted humanity into the stars. The once-impossible became reality. Faster-than-light travel, energy weapons, cybernetics—all powered by the limitless potential of Aetherite.
For a time, there was prosperity.
Then came the conflict.
Humanity soon realized they weren't alone in the galaxy. Other civilizations thrived in the void—some ancient, some young, all touched by the same hunger for dominance.
At first, there was diplomacy. Trade routes formed. Colonies expanded. Treaties were signed.
Then came the disputes.
Aetherite wasn't just on Hitmoi. Traces of it were found on barren moons, deep-space wreckage, even hidden within the cores of dying planets. And where there was Aetherite, there was war.
Empires rose. Empires burned.
What began as territorial skirmishes escalated into full-scale wars. Entire planets were glassed. Civilizations collapsed under the weight of their own ambition.
The governments of the galaxy—those once mighty ruling bodies—became shadows of their former selves. Unable to maintain control, they splintered, leaving behind lawless voids where power was no longer dictated by law, but by force.
And when order dies, the ones who thrive aren't politicians.
They're pirates.
The Age of Space Pirates
When the walls of civilization crumbled, those who had once lurked in the shadows stepped into the light.
Pirates. Mercenaries. Warlords.
They carved out their own dominions among the wreckage, turning abandoned fleets into armadas, dead planets into lawless havens. The remnants of old military forces turned to privateering. Aetherite miners became warlords. Slavers and raiders filled the void left behind by fallen governments.
They weren't just criminals.
They were survivors.
And in this galaxy, survival was the only currency that mattered.
Back to the Present
Varrak's Rest
I pull my jacket tighter against the cold wind sweeping through the ship graveyard. Rust and sand bite at my skin, the scent of oil and decay thick in the air.
This place—this dead place—feels more alive than the towns where people pretend to be civilized.
Varrak's Rest isn't a city. It's a wound. A festering gash on the corpse of an old warship that still hums faintly beneath our feet, its dying systems flickering with phantom energy.
The people here? They're not builders. They're parasites.
Scavengers who pick at the bones of the past, trading scrap for food, for weapons, for drugs. It's a place where names don't matter and debts are paid in blood.
A place where I shouldn't fit in.
But I do.
I've spent years surviving off scraps, stealing, fighting when I have to, running when I can't.
They call me a freeloader.
A stray too stubborn to die.
But the truth?
I'm more like them than they think.
Pirates don't follow rules. They take what they need. They hunt. They devour.
And isn't that what I do?
Hunger and Power
I stare at my hands, flexing my fingers as the tingling sensation lingers beneath my skin.
The Esper power inside me isn't normal. It's not refined or controlled like the legends of old. It's raw. Unstable.
It hurts when it surges. Like something is breaking apart inside me, trying to escape.
I don't know if that makes me dangerous.
Or just another broken thing in a galaxy full of ruins.
But what I do know is this:
I don't want to live like this forever.
Scavenging. Starving. Running.
If this galaxy belongs to the strong, then I'll become strong.
Not just to survive.
To take what's mine.
Because the pirates, the warlords, the scavengers—they don't see it yet.
But I'm just like them.
And soon, they'll learn:
I don't just belong in this world.
I was made for it.