"Hello!" Soren called out as he bravely walked in.
In all his loops, he had never been to this place. But with what he had faced and experienced, fear had long been knocked out of his system.
He walked in deeper. "Hello! Mr. Madman?"
There was no answer. Within the warehouse were barrels bearing caution symbols. No doubt filled with ectoplasmic waste.
He walked even deeper. He was about to give up when he heard a container move at one corner of the room. He immediately rushed for that corner.
There—Soren found him.
The old man, covered in leaves and grasses. At least enough to cover up the crucial places. He was trying to remove a stick that had gotten stuck in between a good toe and his one bad toe, swollen to the size of an orange.
He looked like he was muttering words to himself—or his foot. What do you mean we have guests?
Soren approached carefully. "Hey... erm, Madman, I erm..."
The man paused, head turning sharply to Soren. "My name is not Madman...it's...it's ehhh...I can't remember." He focused once more on his leg. "I know it hurts. Can't you see I'm in pain too? If you had just done what I said all those years ago, you would not have been getting yourself stuck in twigs. Hold on now... I'll get it out for you, old pal."
—The old madman continued to rumble to himself... To his leg.
Soren approached carefully. "Okay. Well, Machos sent me. He said you needed help. Here, let me get that for you."
He leaned in to help the man. But the man panicked. "Don't touch us. Don't..."
But Soren, younger and faster, yanked out the stick.
"Ahhhhhhh!!!" the madman screamed in pain and relief.
"Yeah... Sorry about that. You know, we really should help you get that toe checked." Soren pointed at the orange-sized swollen toe.
"NO! Leave us alone." The man stood up, limping away. "Now... where was that rat?"
Although they called him a madman, Soren could see that he was not exactly mad. Maybe confused at best. After all, he was here hunting for rat meat.
He followed the man. "I'm serious, we can help you burst it open and..."
"NO!!!" the man turned sharply to him. "Stay away. Stay away from my Shade."
I take that back; he is definitely mad.
Soren rolled his eyes.
Maybe I should just do it by force. It would save everyone some trouble.
Yes. Brilliant idea.
He dove for the man's foot again.
As far as Soren was concerned, this swollen toe needed to be drained of pus.
However, the moment he touched it, he felt it.
It was like a heartbeat. It was low, but there.
Dying again and again had made Soren's senses sharp to fluctuations in soul energy.
He paused. Turned to the struggling Madman, his eyes shining in a mix of both surprise and horror.
Why didn't he think of it before? After all, the man had said to leave his Shade alone.
"Is... Is your bound soul... in your toe?"
The madman paused, raising his head to Soren, as if finding a person who finally understood him. "You...you can feel em too?"
The revelation was a lot to handle. There was a reason that bound souls were kept in Glasshearts. In fact, it was the reason they were called 'Bound' souls and not just 'Bond' souls—even though the warrior and the soul shared a bond.
Souls—turned Shades—were too unique creatures to keep outside the Glasshearts for a long time. This world was not their own. The Glassheart simulated their world.
Then again, having them within the human body was worse. After all, they were from beyond the Glass, and ectoplasm was an actual thing—poisonous to human beings. Even Soulbound warriors had died to it in the past.
While immunity was possible for some, no one was crazy enough to test that out.
The madman smiled at him so wide it seemed to touch his ears. "You can hear em.... You can hear my... Bulb!"
"Bulb!?" That name. It was familiar to Soren. Where had he heard that name before?
'The Bulb.'
Of course, he had heard of it before. Mechas were named after the Shades of their pilots.
The Bulb—that was the flag name for the Trash Mecha in the middle of town. That Mecha had been there for many years.
Who left it there? Who in their right mind would abandon a Soul Mecha?
He suddenly remembered Machos's words before he came here.
'Ahhh, yes. That was back in the day. Not just a warrior. The fool used to be a Soul Mech pilot. Killed a lot of Eldritch in his time, but losing your bond with your soul does somethin' to your mind, and...'
Soren looked at the Madman again. Machos had said that his Shade was destroyed a long time ago. But what if it was not? What if it was just the Glassheart that was damaged?
Soul Mecha Pilots were trained to die with their mechas. It was an honour for the people and an honour for the mecha. However, facing death head-on was an entirely different matter.
Soren had died many times before. He knew the fear one faced before death. That fear was unimaginable.
The Bulb had been a powerful mecha during the 3rd generation.
—And of course, it was called the third generation because of the 3rd great war against the invasion of the Eldritch horrors.
That happened about thirty years ago.
Soren looked at the madman. His aged appearance matched. Also, he was the only other person called a Dungie in the whole town. Of course, he was because this was a soul Mecha pilot. One that had fallen from grace.
There was indeed an Empire punishment for Dungies, but only if they were found.
Soren was both shocked and excited. He had tried all options, but none worked. The only way was forward. He had to do it. He had to face the Eldritch.
He suddenly sat before the Madman. "I have a request. Can you teach me how to pilot a Soul mecha?"
The Madman, who had begun talking to his toe again, paused. He turned to Soren, he grinned.
.....
Soren walked to the Trash Mecha. He looked at its kneeling form. This thing. This was the tool he needed to face the Eldritch. But could he do it?
Whoosh...
He dodged instinctively. The flying shit passed. It was Vass and his goons again.
Vass yapped at the side. But Soren could barely care about his opinion. His eyes were on the mecha.
Vooossshhhh.... Vass had activated his flames as he grabbed Soren by the shirt.
"Boss Vass..."
"Boss Vass's ass is so plump."
Their voices and shenanigans faded into the background.
Soren's eyes seemed to mirror the hollow sockets of the Trash Mecha. And then he remembered Machos's words from the first 'Death.'
That man's grating voice echoed in his mind.
...You think all great souls start shinn' right away? Nah. My dear boy, some are buried so deep, the world has to break a few times before they start glowing."
Soren climbed the Soul Mecha. All the way to its shoulder, and then through the wounded arm, he climbed into the cockpit. The chair in the centre was torn in several places. But it was still soft and comfortable.
It would not be the first time he was here.
It would not be the first time any child in the town was here. But this time around, there was more weight to his actions. He remembered the directions that the madman had given him.
The buttons to push and all that. He did them accordingly. And then came the most essential part. Placing his Glassheart in a fitted box in front of him.
He did it.
And in that moment, a low hum was heard as the mecha suddenly lit up.
According to what he had heard from the Madman, the Soul Mecha was not as damaged as it looked. In fact, the only reason he had abandoned it was that his Glassheart had been damaged, and without it, he could no longer access the Soul mecha.
Without that, he was just a waiting target for death.
But placing the Glassheart in the Soul Mecha was just the beginning. The real problem was the 'HANDSHAKE.'
Soren placed a hand on the Glassheart. He took a deep breath. "Commence handshake."
{Commencing handshake.} A robotic voice responded.
WUUUUUHUMMMMMMM
[Hunger] [Hunger] [Hunger] [Hunger] [Hunger] [Hunger!!!]
[You Died]
[Author's Note: Please add the Book to your Library.]