The Tale of a Trinacornagon

[Unitopia, Eastern Continent]

In the graveyard where the dead still whispered, the nameless soldier stood in spectral form under the harsh, blue sun. He craned his neck, looking up at the cloudless sky, shielding the sun with his hands.

Isn't it usually the case with these things that the sun is our weakness? Everyone knows that ghosts perish under sunlight.

He moved his hand experimentally, not noticing any particular difference.

I don't feel anything, really. Maybe a little bit warm, I guess?

More questions than answers about his current state of existence remained than felt comfortable, but such things were beyond him for now. Ridding himself of such tangential thoughts, he reminded himself of his immediate goal:

Exploration has to come first. I may be able to move around, but I still go back to my body at the end of the day. So food and water is key. Even if there are behemoths hiding out there in this wretched place, they cannot kill what is already dead.

Looking down at his form, for the first time he was able to truly appreciate the miraculous nature of it. A Soul, wandering outside the body. He was clad in his old uniform, green camouflage, the badge on his shoulder hazy and indistinct as if blurred by something.

Yet it was pristine, undamaged and unmarred, as though reflecting the purity of the Soul itself. He could feel that pure power running through him, thrumming just beneath the surface. It felt as easy as a push of a mental button to channel that energy through any part of himself, though he restrained himself for now. Drawing attention in a place like this was too risky, especially when things existed that could see, or even damage, his Soul form.

The hexagonal prism he had fought came to mind.

Whatever that thing was, it disappeared. But it left what it was dragging behind. There's no map or compass to guide me, I may as well make my way back there.

A seemingly sound line of reasoning, the nameless soldier made his way to the charred wreckage he had stood upon, overlooking the extent of the battlefield for the first time. There in the basin below, stood the remnants of their clash.

For a second, there was a strange sense of deja vu. It felt like until seeing it before his eyes, he had been subconsciously doubting his own memory. That it had been nothing more than a dream, for him to possess such power.

But the evidence had presented itself before his eyes unmistakably. The small crater where he had used himself as a projectile and crashed into the ground. The destruction caused by the wild swings of its chains, aimed with the intent of taking his life. He shivered as he recalled how close he came to the edge.

But I lived. And I am stronger for it.

Tearing his eyes past the foreground he looked into the distance. There, at least, nothing had changed. Still the endless hellscape greeted his eyes, twisting mounds of heaped wreckage until the very horizon. Though now there were no foreboding shadows and strange colossi moving in the distance, perhaps having returned to slumber during the day.

The whispers that spoke to him of fury still assaulted him, especially now, overlooking the truest extent of the abyss he had found himself in. Shaking his head, he lightly leaped from the ledge, landing softly on the ground below.

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Before him, the metallic cube left by that strange abomination stood, the few chains used to drag it lying on the floor beside it. Approaching it warily, he put a hand forward, placing it on its shiny, silver surface.

Its cold!

Surprisingly, sensation was transmitted through his ghostly palm. Despite the blazing heat of the sun, the metal was cool. Unnaturally so. He made to remove his hand, but his hand remained glued to its surface. He furrowed his brow, increasing the strength with which he pulled, but in vain.

Abruptly, a strange feeling of hollowness pierced into his stuck palm. As if a hole had been pierced through the shell of his skin into the vessel, draining it of the ghostly energies that sustained him. More than pain, it felt like that which held together his very identity was being sucked away.

At first it was a trickle, but the speed only grew until it felt like a rushing torrent. His hand grew number with each passing second, he could even begin to see it fading, becoming more spectral.

Gritting his teeth in panic, he grabbed his wrist with his other hand, pulling hard, but to no avail.

Even the ghostly whispers, their constant presence reassuring, started to stutter in his ear, cutting in and out like static. The unfamiliar silence in the voids when they disappeared was deafening to him.

His mind raced, but at the end of the day he only had a single tool available to him. His forehead creased as he pushed aside the increasingly unbearable sensation. Narrowing his mind until only a single axiom dominated it, letting instinct take the reigns once more.

Focusing inwards, he grasped the reigns of the spectral energy himself. If before it was easy, now it was akin to grasping a rushing torrent with bare hands. But failure was a word that he had incinerated from his very being.

If it is like a river, then I shall simply have to grab the river!

The energy bucked and writhed, but his will was like iron. Unbreaking, firm, the will that had not broken against the stars would not falter here. Still, he felt it convulsing as if rejecting his hold. Taking whatever he could gather, he shover it unceremoniously into his arm.

A now-familiar ethereal glow began to emanate from it as he felt it swell with supernatural power, though it was muted when compared to before.

As if noticing, the feeling of unnerving hollowness intensified, like a thirsty man desperate to consume all of the oasis presented to him. If said oasis was his very Soul.

This time, though, it was not strong enough. With a wrenching pull, there was a subtle pop, and he stumbled backwards as his hand detached from its surface. An immediate feeling of relief washed over him as the stifling sensation disappeared.

Cradling his hand with the other, he watched the cube warily from a distance as if it were a stalking predator. But it simply sat there. Nothing had changed, at least superficially. Even walking around to see its other faces had granted him no greater insight.

Whatever that was, I would not like to try it again. Different to the deconstructing wave that hexagonal prism emanated before leaving, this felt...stranger. Maybe because I was more conscious, I could feel that as the energy drained away, my Soul eroded, my self was lost.

But it didn't feel malicious. No, more like just a property. It draining my energy was just like water running from a higher point to a lower point. Whatever reason that thing was dragging it around for, I couldn't even guess at.

It stood there innocently as the soldier studied it for some time longer. Eventually, he shrugged his shoulders. At the end of the day, whatever secrets it held were beyond his grasp for now. It would make more sense to keep exploring.

Mapping out at least an immediate radius is a top priority. That way at least if I do encounter...something...I can have the home-court advantage. Who knows, other things might not find it so easy to escape.

With that thought in mind, he felt for his tether absent-mindedly. As he did so, he felt a piece of knowledge nestle into his mind, of his location. Not exact, per-say, but just a feeling of how far he was from his body.

Well, that's another tool for the box. Now I can always remember where my half-dead corpse of a body is, in case I ever forget!

With that feeling in mind, the soldier began his spiral, picking a direction at random. The distant caws of vultures a constant reminder to stay vigilant, no matter how deserted such a place seemed.