[Unitopia, Eastern Continent]
The nameless soldier awoke with a jolt. He hadn't had a dream like that in months, or even longer. However long this damned war had been going on for. He shivered, a disgusting oily feeling passing over his body like the sticky leer of a psychopath.
It was night again, the blue sun having set at some point during his black-out, the unbearable heat being exchanged for a chilling frost. It was almost completely dark, the stars and moon obscured by a thick veil of overcast clouds.
He could hear rumbling in the distance, rain falling onto metal with a staccato ring, like a thousand bells tolling in the dark. With the Vulture gone, and the fact that he had actually managed to get through a full sleep uninterrupted, it almost felt like this situation was better than before.
Almost.
Unfortunately, with these distractions gone and the worry for immediate survival sated, he was forced to confront his reality. His right arm was pinned under tons of rubble and warped steel, his legs couldn't even be felt, no doubt victims of the same fate. He had some leeway with his left hand, but damage and atrophy had eroded its strength down to a bare fraction of its normal state.
And, of course, the problem of food and water remained ever-present.
This is all to say, to say his situation was dire would be the grandest understatement of the century. The constant companion of the spectral whispers, ghosts of comrades past drilling their thousand-thousand grievances into his soul like a phantom lullaby was, ironically, the only thing that kept him sane. That and, of course, that burning core of spite at the centre of his being.
And so, giving up was something he simply could not comprehend even contemplating, which led back to the original problem.
How was he supposed to get out of this predicament?
My hatred, my will alone is weak. But I am not alone. And my will is no longer so weak.
Sending his consciousness inwards, he surveyed that immaterial tether that bound together the most metaphysical aspects of his existence. It felt stronger now, more robust than when he was forced to use it in a panic.
His soul itself felt more powerful, thrumming with an unseen energy that pulsed with every influx from the spectral whispers.
Even before, that strength was inhuman. Reaching out and crushing that metal in my fist felt...exhilarating. Too long have I been weak and helpless in the face of these forces. With this power, I finally have the right to decide my own Fate.
With that thought in mind, he surveyed the tether once more with surprise. Where it was once steel, it seemed he had now transformed it permanently into its more elastic nature.
It still felt as hard to snap as before, but it had a 'give' to it, as though he could move even further than before.
'f my body cannot move, then my Soul shall have to!
Experimentally, he moved his right arm, soul separating from the body with ease, an almost identical replica of his arm appearing above. He moved it about tentatively, marveling at the strange sensation.
He could still feel his real arm, but it felt distant and muted. Instead, the electric intensity of his soul occupied the forefront of his mind. It passed through the steel obstructions all around him, phasing through them with ease and a slight tingle.
He just knew, somehow, that if he concentrated, he could make is corporeal. As though he could channel some strange energy through it from the core of his soul in his heart.
But, despite his burning curiosity, for now he refrained. There were more pressing matters to attend to. And so, with a flex of mental effort, he placed his ghostly arm under a warped steel rebar and pushed.
Abruptly, he snapped backwards. It wasn't that he could move it, but that it moved so easily. Like pushing a box you expect to be filled with weights but that turns out to be heavy, he almost lurched out of his body entirely.
Wait a second, why can't I just do that? All of this rubble is so precariously balanced, its just as likely I get crushed under it than I manage to move it. After all, it's only my soul that is unnaturally strong: my body is just as fleshy and squishy as ever.
With this, he concentrated on that feeling earlier. He snapped back but that was merely out of shock and reflex than his tether actually pulling him back. In fact, he still felt in optimum condition, as though that single fight against the Vulture had pushed him so far to the brink that his endurance had doubled.
In that line of thought, he felt the beginnings of another epiphany, but he delayed it for now.
Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes. Tensing every muscle in his body at once, he exploded forwards hoping that sheer momentum could outweigh his own apprehension.
He furrowed his brow over his closed eyes as a tingling sensation permeated his entire body like a wave of electrical activity.
Did it work?
He cracked open his eyelids and, as soon as he saw his surroundings, they shot open in amazement. What greeted him was a sight he felt he hadn't seen in years.
The tiny pinprick of the sky he had been so used to seeing was finally expanding, covering the entirety of the firmament like a claustrophobic seal. Turning his eyes from the sky with some effort, he drew in the state of the battlefield around him.
Countless craters marred the ground, wreckages of overturned vehicles, crashed planes, mechs and other strange abominations littered the ground. The rain was pouring heavier now, flashes of lightning the only brief source of illumination.
As if suddenly realising something, he looked down below. There, through the smallest of gaps, he saw his own face. His eyes were closed, as though sleeping, but the rest of his body couldn't be seen.
Looking at mound of rubble over his body, however, it didn't look promising.
What about the tether?
Casting his perception inwards, he studied the tether. As if reacting to his intent, a glowing thread extended from his left chest right above his heart. It shone softly in the darkness, a ghostly green luminescence, before reaching down and connecting with an extending tendril from below.
So this is what it looks like, then. How far can I go? Once I reach the limit, will it snap me back instantly, or will I get pulled along? Or, will I just die? There really should be a protocol for these sorts of things.
Alas, the bureaucrats could never have foreseen this particular circumstance occurring and so he was resigned to trial and error.
Eh, its worked so far hasn't it? And I'm still perfectly sane.
That last statement seems a bit debatable, but we'll allow him the benefit of the doubt for now.
As it was, the soldier was unable to continue contemplating in silence for long. A low, rasping moan sounded out, barely audible under the pattering of the rain.
His pupils constricted and he crouched down to the ground. His softly glowing tether passed into his vision and for a second he thought about just returning.
What good would that do? Inaction is the same as stagnation, which is a fate worse than death. If I want to survive, and go beyond even that, then I will have to take the risk of stepping forward into the unknown.
So what if no-one has tread the path before me? I'll just have to be the first.