"This... is insane!" Hill exclaimed in shock and horror.
As his vision changed from a blurry mess to focused clarity, he saw that he was sitting on an uneven slab of volcanic rock that seemed to move up and down slightly. It was black in color and felt unusually warm beneath his palms.
Just a few feet from where he was sitting, the ground sloped off into a churning lake of magma. Molten rock bubbled slowly before popping slowly, releasing awful gas into the air.
That was why the air smelled so much like rotten eggs, Hill thought to himself as he observed the horrors surrounding him.
The heat, which had seemed to increase in proportion to his descent, was now a thick force that hugged his body tightly. Hill could feel himself slowly being cooked alive.
Looking around wildly, he saw that his perch was just an island in the magma lake, enclosed in a hellish large cavern.
The cavern stretched so high that the ceiling wasn't illuminated by the light from the lake below. Instead, massive stalactites were hanging down from the cavern's roof, their low hanging tips slightly visible thanks to the magma.
There were other islands similar to the one Hill was on, some closer to him and some further away, each of them appearing as a dark silhouette against the fiery orange ground.
But that wasn't the worst part. He was all alone in this seemingly hellish landscape, with no sign of life.
How can I survive here!? He thought, beginning to hyperventilate. There's simply nothing I can do! How can I climb those walls or even swim in that magma!? It's impossible!
He stood up, his mind reeling and his heart pounding. He couldn't stay here, that was for certain. The heat was already starting to affect him, and he knew that if he stayed, he would either be cooked alive or fall into the magma, eventually.
But before he could do anything, he felt a strange shift within his consciousness. It felt like something had superimposed a structure upon his thoughts. The feeling similar to blurry vision snapping into focus or random noise resolving into clear sound.
What the hell is this? He thought to himself as he slapped himself on the forehead repeatedly. Something just happened to me!
He closed his eyes, and that was when he noticed it. Instead of everything going black, he felt he could still see. More accurately, it felt like he was staring into something else entirely, a space that he could only perceive with closed eyes.
No, that's not it. It's like... I'm seeing with my mind instead of my eyes.
What stood before Hill was the expanse of the soulscape that he had fought the ghost in. However, a bright light came from above this time, illuminating the surroundings.
In front of him was the image of the dead ghost's body... and his body. The ghost's neck was bent at an awkward angle, clearly dead. But that wasn't the issue.
It was his own body. His head was utterly separated from his body, lying on the ground next to the ghost's body. The portion of his neck that was still attached to his head appeared to have shattered upon hitting the ground, like a broken vase.
There was no blood coming out of his neck; it had been frozen all the way to the bone.
The ghost had killed him. He had died in the soulscape.
Huh...? What does this mean? Did I fail?
But before he could even ponder this further, a strange series of markings and unknown letters began swirling in the air.
They began clashing with each other in flashes of light, and as they did so, Hill noticed that they were becoming letters that he could read. The clashing continued, and soon, a series of words were displayed in the air before him, glowing brightly in the darkness like a full moon on a dark summer night.
[Transit Complete: Welcome to Igashia]
[Harbinger Deity Defeated: Ghost of an Uncertain Future.]
Hill stared at the words in confusion and shock as the message remained before him.
What are these weird names and phrases? Harbinger deity? Igashia? It was all quite confusing, and he felt a growing sense of unease. He had no idea what any of this meant, and the fact that it had appeared in his mind only added to the surreal nature of the experience.
He focused on the words, trying to make sense of them, but nothing came to mind. They were just a jumble of letters and symbols that held no meaning for him. He was about to give up and dismiss the message as just another hallucination when a new line of words appeared:
[Soul Art Manifesting...]
Hill's eyes widened at the sight. He didn't understand what the words meant but his intuition told him just one thing.
This is something special.
The thousand voices that had cried out when he had fallen began to vocalize again, their volume rising quickly like a vocal drumroll.
But before Hill could even react, the words disappeared. And in their place, a bright, glowing light emanated from his chest.
The light grew brighter and brighter, filling the entire soulscape with its brilliance, and then, with a sudden burst, the light exploded outward, blinding Hill momentarily. When the light faded, he saw a ghostly hand hovering before him.
It was red in color, translucent and wispy, as if made of mist. It moved with a graceful fluidity that defied the laws of nature.
Hill reached out tentatively to touch it, but his fingers passed right through the hand without any resistance as if it were made of air. Behind the hand, another series of letters converged.
[Soul Art Granted: Phantom Hand.]
[Description: The phantom watches. From the unseen, a hand extends to guide, assist, and manipulate when the wielder falters or overlooks. A silent partner in the soul's shadow.].
Hill's eyes widened in surprise. He didn't have much expectations. After all, the awakened back on earth had special abilities, and now that he was awakened himself, he understood that he would receive a special power as well.
The thing was, he hadn't really prepared himself for when that moment would come. And now that it was here, he felt strangely numb and unable to properly react to a once in a lifetime experience.
Be thankful, Hill. With this power, you can defend yourself in this new world.
He took a deep breath and tried to calm his racing heart. He didn't know how the ghostly hand would be useful to him, or what he could do with it. But he knew that it was a gift, and he had to find a way to use it.
He reached out and tried to grasp the hand again, but it simply passed through his fingers as if it wasn't there. He tried again and again, but to no avail.
"Can I not touch you?" Hill asked softly, his voice echoing in the vastness of the soulscape. The hand remained silent and still, hovering in the air before him. Hill sighed. "Well, that is to be expected. You are a ghost, after all." He paused. "But... how do I use you?"
Suddenly, the hand moved. With a wispy burst of movement, it drew parallel to his right hand, mimicking the posture of his palm and fingers. It was as if he was looking at a mirror image of his right hand, except the ghost's hand looked strangely feminine in comparison to his.
Clenching his right hand, his eyes widened as the phantom hand copied his movement, its fingers curling inward to form a fist. He unclenched and the phantom hand followed suit.
"Well... that was unexpected. We can move in tandem. I wonder what else we can do." He said to himself. He stretched his right arm out, extending his fingers. The phantom hand followed, its fingers elongating and stretching like mist. He moved his arm to the right, and the phantom hand followed.
He waved his hand, and the phantom hand mirrored the movement perfectly. He tried to grab something, but the phantom hand simply passed through it as if it wasn't there. It was strange, like having a second shadow, or a doppelganger.
Hill's mind raced with possibilities. One of which was a strange connection he was making with the manifestation he had defeated earlier. It was a ghost, just like this phantom hand, but it was able to turn solid at will. Surely he could do the same thing with the phantom hand, right?
Perhaps it has to do with my willpower. Maybe if I think hard enough, the phantom hand can turn solid like the manifestation did earlier! He thought to himself.
With his mind focused on that singular goal, he tried to imagine the hand turning solid, willing it to become more than just a ghostly apparition.
And then he noticed it, a strange resistance against his will that felt both physical and mental at the same time. He pushed harder, and as he did so, the hand began to solidify. The misty form became more opaque, and Hill could see it crackle into a solid form with a deep red hue.
But he couldn't push it further. He relented, feeling winded and exhausted as his arm flopped to his side. The hand returned to its original misty form as the tension left him, but Hill could not help but feel amazed at his discovery.
"You can turn solid. You can turn solid!" He cried out in excitement. "But, it's not quite like the manifestation. It seems to have a limit that is set by my willpower. Oh well, I'll probably get better with practice. I'll have to give it a try later."
Suddenly, he remembered the description of the phantom hand and what it had said. He stared at the ghostly hand, his heart beginning to beat. It was just a theory but...
"Silent partner in the soul's shadow..." He giggled awkwardly. "Is there any chance that you're..."
Before he could finish, the phantom hand drifted close to his face and slowly traced its solidified fingers down his cheek. Its touch felt like a gentle breeze, soft and ethereal.
"...Sentient?" He finished, his eyes widening. He began to laugh, the sound echoing through the soulscape.