The Woman in the Stone

Far away, across the galaxy, in a xenogeneic space that resembled purgatory, there were many creatures from all sorts of different races. They were getting lashed by whips. A hellfire raged everywhere, and they were using shovels, pickaxes, hammers, and other tools to dig into the rock.

The stones were dark like ink, but they were also dull. The stones absorbed any light that shone against them, giving nothing back.

The Duke class elites were wearily lifting their shovels to strike the stone. Sparks flew with each hit, and bits of the stone crumbled away and split.

The Dukes and Marquises were like slaves, while the Barons and Viscounts were relegated to transportation duties.

The stones they collected were sent to a stone factory, where all sorts of stone weaponry were forged.

A man stood over them, his expression hard. He used a pen to draw carefully across the stone, marking dimensions as if he was planning how the rock should be carved into.