Ascension Through Monsters

The mining outpost of Vesta-7 clung to the edge of a desolate world, its sprawling machinery and towering rigs casting long shadows over a landscape of endless rust-colored dunes. Once a bustling hub of resource extraction, Vesta-7 had fallen into decline after decades of relentless mining depleted its richest veins. Dust storms rolled across the horizon like restless phantoms, shrouding the sky in a perpetual haze that seemed to mirror the hopelessness of its inhabitants. For Aidan Lorne, this barren wasteland was both a prison and a proving ground, a place where dreams were crushed but resilience was forged.

Vesta-7 wasn't just any mining outpost; it was the crown jewel of the powerful Darnath family, one of the wealthiest and most influential clans in the galaxy. The Darnaths controlled multiple planets, their empire built on the backs of laborers like Aidan. Their wealth came from the extraction of rare minerals and resources vital to the galaxy's beast taming industry. Vesta-7 was rich in Luminarite, a mineral prized for its ability to enhance the bond between beast tamers and their creatures. The substance was essential for crafting taming collars, energy conduits, and even advanced healing serums for beasts. This made the planet invaluable to the beast taming community, but it also meant that its workers were little more than expendable tools in the Darnaths' eyes.

Aidan wiped the sweat from his brow as he maneuvered his loader mech through the jagged terrain of the pit. His shift was nearly over, but the exhaustion gnawing at his muscles told him otherwise. The weight of repetitive labor had carved lines of weariness into his youthful face, and his arms ached from the constant strain. The suffocating air, thick with metallic dust, made every breath feel like a small battle, and the relentless noise of machinery echoed in his mind long after his shifts ended.

He longed for something more than this. He yearned to feel the wind in his hair, to see stars that weren't obscured by the perpetual haze of dust. He dreamt of exploring strange new worlds, of encountering alien life, of experiencing the thrill of the unknown. But these were just dreams, fleeting fantasies that offered little solace in the harsh reality of his existence.

'What was the point of it all?' he wondered, his gaze sweeping across the desolate landscape. He worked tirelessly, his body breaking under the strain, only to earn enough credits to survive another day. There was no joy in his labor, no sense of purpose. He felt like a cog in a massive, indifferent machine, his life reduced to a monotonous grind with no end in sight.

A wave of despair washed over him. Was this all there was? Was this the extent of his existence, a life spent toiling in the mines, his dreams forever buried beneath the weight of poverty and despair? A bitter taste of resentment lingered in his mouth. He resented the Darnaths, their wealth built on the backs of men like him, their indifference to the suffering they caused. He resented the universe itself, for its cruel indifference, for the way it had snatched away his family, leaving him adrift in a sea of loneliness and despair.

But then, a flicker of defiance ignited within him. He wouldn't let this break him. He wouldn't let them crush his spirit. He would find a way out of this, a way to escape the shackles of poverty and find a life worth living. He would prove to himself, and to the world, that he was more than just a miner, more than just a cog in their machine. He would find his own path, a path of freedom and self-discovery, even if it meant defying the very system that sought to keep him down.

"Cycle complete," the mech's automated voice announced, breaking the monotony. Aidan sighed in relief. He powered down the machine and climbed out, his boots crunching against the gravelly ground. The pit was a sprawling expanse of jagged rock and machinery, illuminated by harsh floodlights that cast long, eerie shadows. Around him, other miners were wrapping up their shifts, their faces etched with fatigue.

Aidan secured his haul and began the trek toward the depot, his mind already drifting to the meager meal awaiting him. He clutched the data slate containing his work report tightly, knowing that every credit counted. The path to the depot was lined with towering machinery and conveyor belts, their rhythmic clanking a constant backdrop to life on Vesta-7.

As he approached the depot, a group of miners loitering near the entrance caught his eye. Garrick, their ringleader, leaned against a support beam, his bulky frame exuding an air of menace. His face was a patchwork of scars, each one a testament to the countless brawls and skirmishes he had survived. His eyes, cold and calculating, glinted with a predatory gleam, and his cracked knuckles suggested a man who was no stranger to violence. The way he carried himself—shoulders squared, chin high—spoke of someone who relished the power he held over others. Aidan's grip on the slate tightened. He knew this routine all too well.

"Well, if it isn't Lorne," Garrick drawled, pushing off the beam and sauntering toward him. "Let's see what you've got today."

"I'm not in the mood, Garrick," Aidan said, his voice steady despite the knot forming in his stomach. He tried to step around the man, but Garrick's cronies blocked his path.

"Not in the mood?" Garrick echoed, mock surprise coloring his tone. "Come on, Lorne. Don't be like that. Share the wealth."

Aidan glared at him but said nothing. Garrick snatched the slate from his hands and scanned the report, his lips curling into a sneer. "Pathetic haul, as usual. How do you even survive on this?"

"Give it back," Aidan demanded, his voice low and firm.

"Or what?" Garrick taunted, tossing the slate to one of his lackeys. The group laughed, their jeers echoing in the cold night air.

Aidan clenched his fists, every fiber of his being screaming to fight back. But he knew better. Garrick and his crew thrived on provoking others, and any retaliation would only make things worse. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to relax.

"Enjoy your fun," Aidan said evenly. "I'll be reporting this."

Garrick's grin faltered for a moment before he chuckled. "Sure you will. Now get out of here before we decide to take more than just your slate."

They tossed the slate back at him, and Aidan caught it, his jaw tight with suppressed anger. Without another word, he walked past them and entered the queue in the depot to submit his slate. The clerk barely glanced at him as he submitted his report and collected his credits—a paltry sum that barely covered his living expenses.

He checked his total credits: 3,983. "Soon..." he thought. Even though it would still take a lot of time to reach 5,000 credits, it felt possible. He was still very young, after all. Sixteen years old, and already he'd been working in the mines for eight years. On Vesta-7, every child was required to start mining work at the age of eight. It was mandatory.

He needed 5,000 credits to move to a different planet. Much of his savings came from his parents' contributions before their deaths. His father had died five years ago from malnutrition and overwork, his dream of moving his family to a better world unfulfilled. His mother had followed soon after, succumbing to exhaustion and despair, leaving Aidan and his sister alone.

Life for the mine workers was brutal. The planet's pollution kept the air quality index perilously close to 300, a level deemed hazardous to human health. His sister's accident in the mine had cost her an arm, a tragedy that left Aidan with mixed emotions. While he mourned her loss, he also felt a grim relief that she no longer had to endure the mines' dangers.

But the tales of legendary beast masters, whispered among the workers during rare moments of respite, fueled his hope. One day, he dreamed of leaving this hellish place with his sister and becoming a beast master. He'd seen only one beast master in the mines: Orlan, the manager. Though rumors claimed Orlan wasn't particularly powerful outside the mines, here his authority was absolute.

Aidan's father had once told him a chilling story about a man who tried to assassinate Orlan. The attempt ended in horror when Orlan's tamed beast—a panther-like creature with razor-sharp claws—disabled the man in seconds. Orlan's fury had been so great that he burned the man alive in front of the workers as a warning. No one dared defy him after that.

There were also darker rumors—whispers that even if someone managed to save 5,000 credits, it didn't guarantee freedom. Some said a family who paid their debt and submitted the amount was devoured by Orlan's beast. Whether true or not, the rumors added another layer of despair to the workers' lives.

"Well, that's for the future to worry about," Aidan muttered to himself as he entered the canteen. The stark, utilitarian space reeked of grease and sweat, its walls stained with years of neglect. He grabbed a tray of food—a few withered potatoes and a chunk of stale bread—and found a seat at the edge of the room. The other miners paid him little attention, their exhaustion keeping them silent.

Aidan poked at his meal, his thoughts drifting. This life was all he had known for years, a relentless cycle of work and survival. But he couldn't shake the feeling that he was meant for something more. Somewhere out there, beyond the dust storms and desolation, lay a world of possibilities. He just had to find a way to reach it.

His musings were interrupted by the sound of laughter from a nearby table. Garrick and his crew had entered the canteen, their boisterous voices grating against Aidan's nerves. He kept his head down, focusing on his meal, but their presence was a constant reminder of the powerlessness he felt.

The comms crackled to life, cutting through the din. "Attention, all miners," Orlan's gruff voice announced. "Shift schedules for tomorrow are posted. Check your assignments before leaving."

Aidan finished his meal quickly and stood, avoiding Garrick's gaze as he made his way to the exit. The night air was cool against his skin, a welcome reprieve from the stifling heat of the canteen. He glanced up at the sky, the stars barely visible through the haze of dust and pollution.

'One day', he thought. 'One day, I'll leave this place behind'.

As he walked back to his quarters, the faint rumble of machinery and the distant chatter of miners faded into the background. Aidan's mind was already planning his next steps, each credit earned bringing him closer to a future far from Vesta-7. For now, though, he had to endure. Survival was the first step toward freedom, and he was determined to take it.