Ronin felt a creeping sensation of horror travel up his back. He couldn’t see; everything was simply black, and his head felt like it had been split open. Would his vision even return? Or was it gone for good now?

  I need to fix this.

  If he couldn't see, he couldn't work, and with work being the only way to get food, he'd starve.

  He once again entered his mind palace, seeing destruction everywhere.

  With the number of large rifts and tears that tore through his mental spaceship, he wasn't quite sure where to start. Much of the outer walls had crumbled and large sections of the ship were simply gone. The only parts of his mind palace that fully held together, were the gates from the Potentia Panorama.

  Since everything is damaged, I guess fixing this place is as good as any, Ronin reasoned, then walked up to the first crack nearby.

  Fortunately, the situation wasn’t entirely hopeless... With his new battle soul technique to prevent further damage, he was at least free to begin repairing the rifts. Ronin conjured himself a mental representation of a heavy piece of metal, then placed it in the crack. Next, he conjured up a mental blowtorch, then began welding the crack shut. Hurt as he was, the piece of metal felt heavy, and the blowtorch caused his already sore mind to radiate pain.

  Plate by plate, section after section, he slowly made repairs. The strain of the work made the headache worse, but after sealing his 10th crack, Ronin noticed that the deeper form of pain he felt, lessened a little. He was straining his mind to the limit, but the worst of the injuries were improving.

  Ronin walked over towards the 11th crack, or more accurately, the rift, then sighed internally. This thing was so large it tore through half his mind palace. It would take hours to fix.

  This is going to be a long night...

  He conjured another piece of metal, then placed it inside the rift.

  “…”

  As morning eventually arrived, and the artificial light of the prison complex turned on, Ronin slowly opened his eyes. His head still hurt, but it wasn’t as bad as before. Right now, however, there was a greater concern.

  Squinting his eyes, he could faintly make out vague outlines of shapes. He could see his bunk and the gangway outside, but it was all fuzzy somehow. Anything small, was for all intents and purposes, invisible.

  At least my blindness isn’t permanent, Ronin thought in relief.

  He’d underestimated the threat from the gates, and this was a rude wake up call.

  Next time I do something like that, my mind has to be ready.

  In this case the cost had been worth it, regardless of what happened, but he still could have spent more time fixing his mind palace earlier. Ronin made a solemn vow. From now on, he would never open a gate before his mind was fully healed.

  As he fumbled his way out of the bloody bunk, like clockwork, the morning alarm began to boom across the complex. Stumbling out of the cell, Ronin was then lifted off the gangway and down to the first floor. He didn't see much of anything, but he saw where the inmates where moving. Following along, he began one of the most unproductive work shifts of his life.

  Turns out, being half blind wasn’t exactly conducive to mining in dark tunnels. Sure, he could get through the life gate easily. The surrounding inmates ran like addicts fleeing a loan shark as he approached, but he had to be able to see where he was going. Just finding the jackhammer alone took him over half an hour.

  By the time his 10-hour time limit had passed, Ronin had only filled 4 of his required 10 carts. There would be no food today. Every prisoner ate their bar of synthpaste the moment they got it, so he wouldn’t be able to steal one either. Even worse, the nanobots had begun cannibalizing his body in an attempt to heal his injuries.

  If he couldn’t eat, it wouldn’t be long before the bots killed him.

  Ronin fumbled his way back up to his cell, practiced the Kalvrakian embrace, then sat down and entered his mind palace again.

  I already feel like I'm starving... he grumbled.

  How long did he have? a few days? By how he felt now, he probably wouldn't even last out the week. With each day on Exodon being counted as on Concordia, he had 50 hours each day. Considering that he needed to sleep, and the daily 10 hours spent mining, this left him with a total of 30 hours a day to repair his head.

  The entire prison is scared of me, but I can't even eat... he thought as he conjured up a piece of metal. Ronin shook his head. Let's say I can hold on for four days... that leaves me with at most 120 hours to repair my mind enough to see properly.

  It should be doable...

  He kept repairing his mind until he fell asleep, and by the time he woke up the next day, he could make out the shapes of the inmates around him. He filled up 5 carts this time. On the 3rd day, he could faintly make out the shapes of faces. This time, he filled 8 carts.

  On the 4th day since going half blind, he could finally see enough to begin working properly again, but Ronin’s own body had begun working against him. It felt like there was a black hole inside his stomach. It devoured him from within. Simply moving had become tiresome. Still... he'd done it. In 9 hours and 43 minutes, he'd filled 10 carts with fractured rock.

  Finally — he could eat.

  “…”

  In spite of getting his steady supply of food back, in the days that followed, Ronin didn't stop. He spent nearly every waking moment fixing his mind palace, only pausing when working the mine or when he practiced the Kalvrakian embrace. By the end of the week, he'd stabilized his mind enough to begin freeing up the mental guardians of his battle soul technique.

  Hmm… Ronin hummed.

  He was currently standing in front of one of these mental guardians, inspecting it. With its four arms, the creature looked to be in the middle of tearing off a carapace of some kind. Wasn't this one of the combat techniques he'd seen the alien use during his vision earlier? Ronin reached out, then touched the guardian. It felt alien, which was not really surprising, but it also felt like it was a part of him somehow.

  He stepped back then tried to connect to the figure.

  He'd already established a link like this before, but at that time it had been instinctual. Ronin focused on his own will, searching for the feeling he'd felt when he stopped the mind palace from crumbling... He saw a golden line appear between him and the guardian.

  No, I'm still missing something, Ronin mumbled.

  He walked up to the figure, then touched it again, now with the mental link fully active.

  “To me,” he said, willing it to happen.

  The figure dissolved, then overlapped with Ronin's as he felt his mind become stronger.

  Yeah, that’s more like it!

  He clenched his hands in triumph. He could speed up his healing now!

  Congratulating himself on a job well done, Ronin was about to exit his mindscape but stopped himself. Everywhere he looked, he now noticed a faint golden light — a light that wasn’t his.

  Could this be the alien artifact energy? He wondered. Is this what’s changing my personality?

  If the mental guardians could help him locate the alien influence, they might also be able to help him stop it.

  “…”

  The days became routine after that, and one week turned into several. Ronin still focused on improving his mind, but now that the more pressing concerns were gone, he also spent more time on other things. Besides doing the Kalvrakian embrace every 8 hours, he spent time socializing with his cellmates and studied the texts he’d memorized from the academy.

  By his second week on Exodon, Ronin had reached the 6th stance in the Kalvrakian embrace and by the third week, he'd reached the 7th. That was also when he reached a bottleneck. He spent an entire 2 weeks just reaching the 8th stance and even after a full day of practice, he'd only progressed by about 2% into it.

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  At this rate it will take me 50 days to complete this stance... just what am I missing? Ronin wondered.

  Before he could think more on the issue though, he was interrupted by the large burly man sitting next to him.

  “Again!” Bulkster shouted.

  Ronin rolled up his sleeves, then placed his now emaciated arms back on the makeshift table. It was time for another round of arm-wrestling. The comparatively much larger hand of Bulkster, engulfed Ronin’s and the contest began.

  After warming up to him, his cellmates had begun this daily ritual a couple of weeks back. Or more accurately, Bulkster did the arm-wrestling whereas the others watched. The larger man’s big arms and better technique had won out easily in the beginning, but Ronin was a quick learner.

  “Are you sure you want to do this? You know what will happen right?” Ronin said, pulling the two interlocked hands closer to his side of the table.

  “Arrogant!” The giant grunted, then leaned in to compensate for the loss in leverage.

  It would not be enough. With how strong Ronin had become now, he had truly transitioned into the realm of the superhuman. The alien energy permeated every cell he had, making them stronger, and now that he’d mastered the arm-wrestling technique? He’d never lose to Bulkster again.

  Clamping down on the table with his elbow and knee, Ronin slowly lowered the bigger hand down.

  THUD

  “No!” Bulkster roared, then scowled at Ronin. “Again!”

  “It’s no use Henrik, he was always stronger. It was only a matter of time before he’d learn enough to beat you,” said Derek Ainstar, the half-machine half-man.

  “Hey! Unlike you, I’m not the kind of man who gives up,” Bulkster — or more accurately Henrik — bit back.

  “It's called being smart. I didn’t fight the Planetary guard when they came to collect my taxes.”

  “We've already talked about this!” Bulkster complained. “I’d already paid my taxes, but they wanted more. Of course I had to stand up for myself.”

  Yeah, out of every possible crime the 2-meters-tall giant could have been in for, tax evasion was the last thing Ronin would've thought of.

  “By the way… anyone interested in coming along to watch the meteor shower tomorrow?” Olsen Scar, the man with the CLM tattoo asked.

  Meteor shower? Ronin wondered. No, more importantly… we’re in a prison inside a literal mountain right now! How?

  Probably noticing Ronin’s confusion, the CLM man chuckled.

  “There are pathways out of the mountain. We'll have to work for a few hours extra, but if your body can handle the burn, it's well worth the show.”

  “Naw, I’m not into that kind of stuff,” Bulkster brushed him off.

  Derek simply pointed towards his metallic parts: “No can do.”

  Olsen then looked to Ronin: “What about you? It only happens once a year.”

  “Are you kidding me? Of course I’m coming!” Ronin replied.

  A meteor shower, on a different planet? There was no need to ask. He was in the moment he heard the word meteor.

  After discussing the plan tomorrow with the terrorist, Ronin hit the bunk, then began the usual bedtime routine. He closed his eyes, then entered the mental realm. There were dozens of mental guardians scattering the edge of his mindscape now.

  He gazed at them, then muttered: “To me.”

  The guardians rushed over, then dissolved as they merged with him, filling him with power. With access to new senses, Ronin could see the foreign golden energy everywhere now. There was just so much. But... he could still hold it back.

  He looked at the barrier he'd erected two weeks ago. Straining under the pressure, the barrier held back the flood of golden light, protecting him. He'd learned how to do this sometime after merging with the guardians, and... it had worked like a charm. He didn't unknowingly walk into places of danger anymore. He didn't feel that all-consuming hunger for battle. It felt good to be himself again, though, some changes had clearly been permanent.

  Ronin still felt no guilt over the people he'd killed. In addition, for every day he didn't fight someone, the more the energy kept coming. As a result, holding back the energy had become an ever-increasing ongoing struggle.

  Just then, the barrier flickered, and some of the golden light made its way in. He flexed his new mental muscles, then grit his teeth: It was time to go to war again.

  “…”

  The next morning, Ronin and Olsen — the BLM terrorist — headed through the life gate and into the cave system. With his stronger body, Ronin had become a fast miner, and after spending a couple of hours filling up his 10 mandatory carts, he placed the jackhammer to the side, then went over to Olsen.

  CRACK!

  His cellmate launched another burst of pressure into the basalt, fracturing it. Ronin bent down, then picked up some of the rock fragments.

  “So... what made you decide to become a terrorist?” He asked.

  “Terrorist?” Olsen questioned. “No, the CLM stands for liberation. You know, this prison isn't really that different from Concordia — we’re all trapped here.”

  “Well, it wasn’t liberators that fired rockets at me two months back. That was you guys,” replied Ronin.

  Olsen moved the jackhammer over to another location.

  “Haven’t you ever wondered why it’s so hard to leave Tar?” He asked, brushing past Ronin's statement. “We have the technology to leave, but if you disregard what you’ve heard in the media, who do you actually know that’s left this place?”

  Ronin furrowed his brows. One of his earlier friends had indeed tried to leave. The guy had earned enough credits, then tried to book a trip out of the system. Ronin didn't know much of it, but he'd gotten rejected somehow. Still, why would Olsen choose such a strange topic when introducing terrorism?

  “What do you mean?” Asked Ronin.

  “My point is…” Olsen twisted the jack-hammer’s handle, fracturing more bedrock. “If you can’t even leave, what freedom do you really have? And why would the government even prevent people from leaving in the first place?”

  “I—I don’t know,” replied Ronin.

  “Makes you wonder, huh? How much of what you know is actually really true? How much of it is a lie? And why are so many people living in such poverty? If the government is not evil, why are you here right now and not on Concordia? You're innocent, right?”

  “—Alright, I get it,” Ronin cut him off. “You bomb innocents because you think the government hurts more people than it has to.”

  “No,” said Olsen. “I didn’t join the CLM because the government hurts people… I joined because they killed my son when he tried to leave.”

  “Oh,” Ronin replied.

  The conversation turned quiet after that, and they worked in silence until Olsen’s 10 carts were filled. They then began moving along a series of different tunnels and Ronin saw more people join them. Entering something akin to a central tunnel, the stream of inmates around them soon grew to thousands of people.

  “Has anyone ever tried to escape like this?” Ronin asked, finally breaking the silence.

  “In the beginning we all had to go on this pilgrimage… the prison enforced it. Maybe they thought it would help rehabilitate us or something,” the CLM man said, pointing towards one of the aged posters along the tunnel wall.

  The poster depicted a spaceship, transporting a huge chunk of ice towards a blackish-red planet. It read: “A new life has more meaning when you see what you build. We are all valued cogs in the machine called civilization!”

  “So, the meteors are made of ice... but what of my earlier question?” Ronin said, a little peeved at being deflected and ignored every time he asked this guy something.

  “Yeah, it's all a part of the terraforming project,” Olsen replied. “They put boosters onto comets out in the Urdag Belt, then send them here. Anyways, you should forget about escaping. Many have tried, but this prison is not without its defense systems. I saw some escapees attempt to fly out once. They had some friends come in on a ship.” The CLM man chuckled dryly. “The ship was shot down the moment it came near. They didn’t stand a chance.”

  There was a break in the conversation as the tunnel rose up into a short, steep incline. After they climbed up, Olsen, in between breaths, continued: “The planet's moons have military installations… They’re kitted out with everything from rail guns and rockets to high-powered lasers… The complex has some stuff too… If you ask me, you’d need an army if you wish to break out.”

  Ronin considered Olsen's words… Impossible to escape unless I have an army? Fine. I guess the strong do as they will and the weak suffer what they must. If I'm to have any chance at my dream then, in other words, I must become strong — unreasonably and undeniably strong. Only the prisoners respect me now… but if I can make kingdoms respect me? If I can make Empires respect me? Who will stand against me then? I sure wouldn't have ended up in a place like this, that's for sure.

  For a while, they just continued walking. The long line of people in front of them, as well as behind, gave the whole event an almost religious feeling. And when the tunnel eventually widened out, Ronin was met by a large plateau on the side of the mountain.

  Inmates lined up everywhere as they all stood still in solemn silence. They seemed to be looking out at something, and Ronin followed their gaze:

  He saw nearby volcanoes spew out red hot lava. Further back, he saw other types of volcanoes explode, billowing tons of ash into the atmosphere. The ash blanketed the sky, painting it pitch black, and endless streams of lightning bolts flashed down along its ashy plumes. It was as if this mountain was at the center of a violent storm, being the only calm area in a sea of geological chaos.

  Ronin lined up along with the rest of the inmates, spotting numerous guards clad in warsuits, ready to strike the moment anybody tried to run. As Olsen walked up beside him, the ash in the sky lit up in yellow as a bright streak of light struck down from above.

  There it is! Ronin thought. A meteor!

  The heavenly body only became brighter and brighter until finally, in an explosion of illumination, a hole formed in the clouds of ash.

  BOOM!

  “It’s at times like this I’m reminded of my son,” Olsen said after the sonic boom passed. “If you ever get out of here, either leave Tar or join the resistance… We live in an age where the stars are at our fingertips. Cosmic marvels, so grand and majestic they boggle the mind are out there, waiting. We all have the power to visit them now, but in Tar... we can’t. You’re different Ronin. From what I’ve seen of you this last month, I have a feeling there is more in store for you yet.”

  The CLM supporter then turned to Ronin, his eyes blazing with conviction:

  “Promise me this kid… If you ever do make it out — remember us. Share our stories so our struggle is not forgotten.”

  Ronin looked to the skies as more and more streaks of light began appearing. And before the sonic booms could drown out his voice, he promised:

  “Alright, I will. I was planning on leaving this kingdom anyways.” Then, he followed up to himself, when I'm finally free from the corrupt police force, free to make what I want, I will make the greatest spaceship ever built.