ROUTE 1: FUTURE PHANTOMS

An angel throng bewinged bedight,

In veils and drowned in tears. // But really, you should leave such things for the sea.

ROUTE 1: CHAPTER 1: FIRST BLOOD

The contents of the syringe and the metallic device was crushed in Armas hand.

A strange sensation filled him as a gooey substance, the remnants of Vaporin, ran down his arm. It wasn't pleasure, not truly, but a strange sense of satisfaction. It was rather easy, wasn't it?

(Arma: Did I kill him?)

Armas eyes shone with a strangely excited look, his pupilles turning into thin dark lines.

(Manila: That would seem to be the case, master. I suspect you are a very impulsive creature indeed, master.)

(Arma: What I have done… What… You know… I feel…)

Arma was at loss for words, the confusion and the raw impulse of his action, how could he explain it… but then it came to him, he knew, he knew what he wanted, what the whispers in that darkness and the voice of the wind had told him.

(Arma: It doesn't matter, as soon as I drew breath I realised it. This is my life, and no one will take it away from me, ever. No one will decide for me, no one.... no… one...)

As Arma uttered the last word he collapsed, utterly exhausted. The weight of the gravity of the floating island finally taking its toll. Being born in the light, calming fluids of mensia, constantly fueled by an external source, it would not be wrong to compare his new earthly form to that of a newborn baby. When he woke up, it was Manilas voice who urged him back to consciousness.

(Manila: Master, master! Do wake up please, it has been too long already, master… Sleeping in at such a time, master has to know better than that.)

Arma opened his eyes and blinked. Beside him, a now full-sized luminescent woman sat. Now that he could get a closer look he saw that she was wearing a dress-suit and a short skirt, accompanied by stockings and heels. Her hair was cut in a perfectly aligned bob-cut, and she was wearing an intensely teal lipstick. All of it, shining and flickering with green light.

She was making the gesture of wiping of his brow with a small manifested cloth, but her touch couldn't be felt, she was there yet she was not.

(Manila: Master, I do understand your weakened state, but we must leave soon. This place… will not be safe, master.)

It would seem that Armas body had finally adjusted to the surrounding gravitational pull, but it was still hard to stand up, and just so he panted heavily as he arose.

(Arma: There is much I want to know… Hah, I know so much it feels like my head will burst yet it seems I don't know anything. I guess for now it's enough just to know where we should go.)

(Manila: Just as the old master said, many pathways are located at the ends of this field, master. Whichever direction master chooses, I am certain I can serve my master in finding an appropriate route. That is if you wish to leave this place, though I highly advise it master. )

(Arma: You don't have to call me master all the time. I understand that you somehow live inside me, although how I am able to comprehend it i'm not as sure of… My name is Arma.)

(Manila: That simply will not do master, a master is a master, after all.)

(Arma: Could you please, at least, limit the amount of times you say master to once per conversation?)

(Manila: Master… that request, I can agree to.)

Arma studied the landscape, the sky was still pitch-black, the glowing orbs far in the distance bathing the field with a surreal glow. Perhaps this place did not have a day and night cycle. The field remained the same, but seemed, almost even more oceanic as the wind had picked up and made the blue grass look like waves as it swayed.

(Arma: So I just have to walk in one direction, it doesn't matter which right?)

(Manila: Yes ma…. Yes, that is quite correct.)

Arma nodded, his eyes closed but with a ironic smile upon his lips.

(Arma: Let's go then…)

~~

After travelling for what must have equalled a day upon that blue, blue field, Arma finally felt tired.

He had experienced a strange sensation as he slowly walked forth in the high grass, it had felt as if things like time, hunger and sleep hadn't mattered there, and yet now his body was worn to its limits.

(Manila: Master, let's rest here for a bit, the sustenance provided by the mensia in your previous habitation must be running out right about now. Ah, in other words, you should be getting tired.)

(Arma: Yes… suddenly, I feel exhausted. I guess I need to eat, sleep? All of these things are new to me, although i still feel familiar with the concepts.)

(Manila: I would imagine that you are simply mentally drained, master. Too many new experiences. Your mind needs rest to process them. Being born almost fully mature cannot be easy… I will help you settle your spirit, perhaps then sleep will come to you.)

Manila looked thoughtful for a moment, her long green hair swaying in the wind. It must have been a conscious decision of her to appear this way, as no external circumstances really affected her.

(Manila: Master… is there anything you wish to know?)

During the trek Arma had often thought about conversing with Manila, but somehow, for some reason it didn't seem like it had been neither the right place or time. Now, as he laid down upon the field, he felt that he could allow himself to open up for a moment.

(Arma: Manila… what am I? What am I doing here?)

(Manila: As I mentioned while I was still under the control of the old master you are a construct. That is to say that you are an engineered creation, a doll that has been breathed life into with the power of the wind.)

(Arma: So it was true… he made me.)

(Manila: Yes… that is accurate, but I would not dwell on it. He is dead now after all, a decision you made.)

She did not seem saddened by that fact, on the contrary; her glowing smile seemed satisfied beyond measure.

(Manila: So, when it comes to your other question… I believe your purpose, “what you are doing here”, disappeared along with him; Vaporin. Now it is up for you to decide... What do you want to do, master?)

Arma closed his eyes and laid out his arms upon the smooth patch of grass which he had chosen as his resting place. Behind his eyelids the spheres above him still seemed to glow, swirl around and glitter with the promise of endless possibilities. What would he do?

(Arma: I want you to tell me about yourself. I don't even know who you are.)

Manila, who seemed to sit on her knees beside him, her hands neatly folded upon her lap, looked away.

(Manila: I am Manila, I am you servant and I… No, maybe at another time. I do not wish to tell you about myself at this moment, with all due respect, master.)

(Arma: I guess… that's… fine.)

As soon as he had uttered the last word the young man started to fall into a deep slumber. In his dreams he was still moving, walking as if he were an automaton, piloted by the green lady which lived inside of him, and when he woke up, he realised that this vision had been reality.

He must have walked for a few hours at least, in his sleeping state, and now they had reached the edge of the field. The end of the floating island.

(Manila: Wake up master, we have arrived. Why don't you take look a closer look, i'm sure the sight will be magnificent.)

Hesitating at first, as his mind took control of his body again, Arma suddenly decided and walked up to the ledge, standing on the border to the depths below. Beneath him, beneath the island, far down below in the great distance, there was a vast sea.

Unlike the fields of grass behind him, this was clearly a body of water, or some sort of liquid, but the color was that of the purple verbena, some ancient flower lost in the distant past.

The sea looked wild and dangerous, as beautiful as it was deadly and strange.

Arma couldn't explain the feeling, but he felt an instant kinship with this endless ocean.

Manila stood beside him, making the motion of holding his with her left hand, while pointing down towards the great mass of water with the other.

(Manila: The Sea of Dreams. Few have seen it, master, but it is a splendid visage, isn't it?)

Arma stole a glance at Manilas ghostly touch and noticed how her fingers trembled.

(Arma: Why are you trying to hold on to my hand?)

(Manila: I … I have a fear of heights, master.)

The prudent woman looked embarrassed for a moment but then seemed to gather herself as she purposefully corrected her attitude. Arma humoured her and pretended to hold her ghostly hand with his own.

(Manila: Hm! Now then… If I am correct, which is usually the case, a pathway should be right in front of us. It seems to be activated by a phrase: “some things die, others live.” Simply stating this should allow us to travel to a new destination. Due to my form however, I do believe you will have to be the one to say it, master.)

(Arma: Well then, some things die, others li...)

As soon as he had uttered the last word Armas body and mind was sucked into the ether, transformed and transported to another place with an instant deafening noise, not unlike breaking through the sound-barrier.

It was like being torn apart and then being put back together again but in the same brief moment that his body started to blink away to the other location, he caught the glimpse of something else.

Wind, breaking free from the ocean below, and with its multitude of colors, travel and spread unto to the far away reaches of this world. Deep within its shades and variations; the fanatical, wondrous darkness of willpower.