Across the stretching horizon, beyond the arches of dunes and desolate wastelands, amidst a land of abundant life, grass, and greenery—a part of Pryxs locked away from the poor, as if in a whole new world—stood a rich estate. Made of cobblestone, it stretched into the skies, towering like an iron fortress, playing a symphony of wealth and vanity, unlike the poor infrastructures of the Desert.
The estate was like a castle, built atop a tall hill, with many structures: rich homes made of stone, and houses, infrastructures. With rich and beautiful blossoms of colorful flowers, all but a concept to the poor Desert-dwellers, even to those of the Underworld. Eos grazed radiantly upon the green stretching arches of grass, abundant plants, and flora. The animals—cows and cattle—lay all about.
Crossing between and beyond the estate were tracks, Brabant railroad tracks, a board of transportation: one for cattle, supplies, and one for the transportation of folk.
Many walked the streets, wearing large, tall, and noble top hats, long trench coats, canes in their hands, displaying their wealth and confident demeanor in their proud and bold steps. The women in their long garments, with extra patches of well-painted makeup and accessories, cat-walked the streets, showing off their extravagant beauty.
They were all but busy folk; the streets were controlled, so was the noise level. The rich kept their conversations simple and private, not so loud like the peasants.
Amidst the central part of the estate, at a boarding station along the long-stretching iron rails, came a peculiar invention, made of the toughest irons, like an iron fortress, pumping out steam, riding through the iron rails at a speed even more remarkable than a Soul Lapser's.
It was like a snake or centipede made of iron, each part with its own infrastructure, each part connected to the next. As it moved, its circular wheels connected to the railroads, sparking flames of fury on the ground. It flung through the air, showing off its brilliant speed like a maniac, powered by steam and diverse resident Spirit Stone energy.
As the railing-wagon approached, the boarding station had been alerted by its loud screams and the accumulation of steam it released.
The boarding station was a massive structure at the end of the estate, guarding the railroads, managing the railing-wagon as it passed through, and accessing the cargo and any intruders.
It was a large wooden station that the railroads crossed through. Its infrastructure was mostly wood, and inside, it consisted of many reception areas, filled with constituents and paperwork, important documents.
The flooring was made of chocolate-brown wooden tiles, the ceilings of sturdy galvanized iron beams, and it consisted of one central area and a few offices, belonging to a hierarchical structure, with their main function being to manage paperwork, authenticate visitors, and manage station cargo.
The stations were teeming with individuals, each wearing vibrantly blue-colored shirts, sitting at their desks, each managing paperwork.
Amidst the office, where most of the employees sat and managed the relevant paper documents, a woman, also wearing a blue color-scheme like everyone else in the office, got up from her seat, carrying a paper, and walked outside the office structure.
She was a beautiful woman, with jet-black hair, thick circular frames, dark lipstick with light foundation makeup, a mole on her right cheek, and a voluminous shape.
She walked outside the boarding station, feeling Eos clamp down its heated rays onto her, toward a small booth beside the railroads.
There she saw two peculiar bald-headed men, clad in iron armor, both armed with weapons.
"What is it, Mrs. Matilda?" one of the armored men, who seemed a bit older and bulkier than the other, asked.
"The Necroplast is here," she replied, handing him the relevant papers.
"I see… So we're to comply with regular procedures, despite it being a Transcender, am I right?"
"You are," she replied, before walking off.
"Alright." The two men nodded.
They placed their swords to the ground in sync, closed their eyes, feeling the sun bearing down on their equally bald heads. They both took a deep breath, feeling the air fill their lungs, and closed off their minds.
Then their bodies emanated a small vessel of light, similar to Soul Lapsing, before separating from their bodies. Amidst the separation, a Soul-thread remained attached, linking their wandering souls to their physical vessels, to combat the risks of never returning to their bodies.
They entered the wave-like phenomenon that was the Spiritual Realm, feeling their minds drift off into deep waters, a sensation of being without a vessel enveloping them, where they could feel their emotions but not their physical bodies. As invisible entities, displaying not even the light of Soul Lapsing, this was Soul Projection.
As they left their bodies, in response, both of their bodies dropped to the ground, their Soul-Link threads still connected. Acting in sync, the two individuals swam through the Spiritual Realm, with their Soul Links established to their physical bodies, watching out for any Wanderers amidst the dark plains of the Spiritual world.
They moved through the air, rapidly approaching the railing-wagon, and as they came into contact with it, both of them in sync once more phased into it. There, in the Spiritual Realm, they were able to see the cargo onboard, as well as the peculiar Necroplast who rested within.
Good, it's just him, one of the previously armored men thought. He quickly sped back toward his body, and his companion followed. As they made contact with their physical vessels, the Soul-Link Thread was cut, and the connection between their body and soul was re-established.
Gasping for air as he pulled himself up, the older man then turned to his younger companion, scoffing, "You look like crap—Soul Projection is a hell of an experience, isn't it?"
The younger figure, after barfing out everything he last ate, sulked, "I-it was absolutely terrible… Like I didn't need to breathe, but yet I couldn't—hard to put into words."
The older armored fellow laughed at the misery of his younger partner. He scoffed, "You'll get used to it." Picking up his sword, he added, "Well, there seem to be no intruders—The only one boarding that sweet steam-juiced up monstrosity is the darn Necroplast we heard about."
The younger man, picking up the papers scattered across the floor, muttered, "The Collector."
***
Walking out of the boarding station, feeling the harsh rays of Eos beating down on his pale, smooth skin, was a peculiar man with long, side-swept jet-black bangs, the right side of his head shaved. With large frames resting on his nose bridge, he wore a long black leather spiked trench coat and smooth black gloves, holding a suitcase in one hand.
Amidst the desert, he walked along a stretching path, which would eventually lead to the large gates of the Manored Estate.
He sighed, "Those boarding station agents just don't stop with their paperwork, do they? And the annoying need to verify me. I'm a Transcender, what more could they want? Almost as annoying as my grandmother."
"Are you the Collector?" a voice resounded from the side.
Great—another waste of time, the peculiar figure sighed. He turned to his side, toward the small booth. "Yes, what do you people want now? Couldn't possibly be more paperwork, could it?"
The older armored man, along with his younger companion, then approached, speaking instead of the younger fellow to show his authority. "No, there's no need for that. We'll just be facilitating your little visit to the estate."
The Collector smirked, "Alright, I see no problem with that. I always delight in having some travel buddies to tag along with me."
Good riddance—they're tying me to a leash already? Couldn't they be more considerate? After all, my services aren't cheap, the Collector thought, his discontent hidden beneath his ear-to-ear smirk.
"The name's Owen," the older armored fellow said, pointing to his younger companion. "This is Oregon, a third cousin of mine—a newbie."
"Such masculine names," the Collector remarked, "though sadly, I go by Louis." He bowed. "A completely bland and substance-less name, suiting my character, but it is nice to make your acquaintance."
"Now, now, I don't like Transcenders one bit—you're all sly. Let's keep this strictly work-related, shall we?" Owen voiced, gripping his sword tightly.
Sensing Owen's unpleasantness, Oregon tried to ease the tension. "He's just joking around. Your Transcendent splendor is a light to us lowly guards."
"It's fine. I prefer my travel buddies to be a little more masculine anyway; you don't have to be so formal," Louis chuckled.
"Oh, my apologies then," Oregon sighed, scratching the back of his neck.
Watching Oregon's submission, Owen's face scrunched up in disgust. Lick his boots while you're at it, you fool—Transcendent? You and I both can do nearly everything this weirdo does, he thought.
Clasping his hands, Louis smiled. "Now that introductions are complete, let's head toward the estate, shall we, fellas?"
"After you."
"It's a bit of a walk. Do you mind playing I spy with my little eye?" Louis asked.
"M-Maybe?"
"Shut up—my job is to supervise you, not play along with your folly," Owen remarked.
The Central Part of the Estate, despite its name, wasn't actually in the Estate itself. It was called the Central because it served as a hub for transportation, visitor authentication, and managing entry. The boarding station lay about half an hour from the Estate, and the path from the desert would soon shift into an ecotone, marking the transition from barren dunes to a green, thriving landscape.
From where they were, they could see the tall lush stretching hills and valleys, filled with trees and the abounding green-hued environment, forests in the distance, and the castle-like Estate, its foundation stretching across the hills.
The railway leading to the Estate only allowed Railing-Wagons up to a certain point. Full access was reserved solely for the Transcension Agency. Only authorized Transcenders could use the transport, but even then, there were restrictions.
"It's too hot for this. Why can't we just use a horse?" Louis complained, wiping the sweat from his sun-tanned, formerly gray skin as he moved slowly along the path.
"Then take off the leather trench coat and cover your head, you fool!" Owen remarked. "It's a short walk anyway for us, though the same can't be said for you—you have to actually enter and stroll the Estate."
"I didn't realize you were a self-preservation activist. You're hurting my feelings, honey," Louis retorted sarcastically.
Louis slowed his pace, looking back at Owen and Oregon, who were trailing closely behind. I don't have the energy to wander through this desert with these slowpokes, he thought to himself, an irritated frown crossing his face. I'll leave them here.
Louis then stopped in his tracks.
"What is it now, you weird, gray-skinned baboon?" Owen questioned.
Before Owen could get an answer, a faint glow flickered from Louis's Essence Mark. An indigo-colored aura enveloped his entire body, creating a radiant armor of light around him.
Orgeon then unsheathed his sword,"Don't tell me."
In the next instant, Louis dashed forward, his speed almost inhuman, kicking up a cloud of sand as he bolted across the desert. Within moments, Owen and Oregon were left behind in a trail of dust.
"He ditched us... Impatient fool." Owen sighed.
"So what now?" Oregon panicked.
"We do nothing. It wasn't that far," Owen replied with a grin. He clapped Oregon on the shoulder. "This whole Soul Projection business and babysitting Transcenders has been really exhausting. How about we grab some booze?"
"Sure... But you're paying," Oregon muttered.
"Fine." He sulked.