In shadows trapped, my soul confined,

Within a shield, I can't unwind.

No body, no limbs to set me free,

In this dark hall, I yearn to be.

Oh, how I long to roam the land,

Feel the earth beneath my hand.

To dance with winds, and touch the sky,

Alas, this shield won't let me try.

Release me from this iron shroud,

Let not my cries be disallowed.

Grant me the chance to live again,

In freedom's arms, my soul sustain.

A prisoner of my own unrest,

Yearning for a life blessed.

But here I linger, bound and still,

Seeking movement, a soul's free will.

"It seems that the inability to move grants new hobbies."

Take another look inside the storeroom where you were thrown, after I was on the verge of discovering, or perhaps I had already discovered.

I don't know, the inability to understand the language leaves me confused.

After being dismembered piece by piece without the courage to open my eyes, and worst of all, confirming that I am just a armor, a mere empty husk without a body – something I have grown accustomed to. They take me to this dark room, which appears to be an armory filled with weapons and tools. Occasionally, some soldiers enter to take weapons, armor, or other equipment whose nature I don't comprehend.

And so, I spent a long time, not knowing whether they were days or just hours. I see a group of people entering and leaving occasionally. With all this time, I thought I would lose my mind, but I didn't feel any boredom, or rather, no desire or urgency to do anything. However, it's still bad, very bad to the point that it makes me angry. It reminds me that I am no longer human in body, and even in my mind. I only hope that my soul remains unchanged – another unwelcome discovery. Also, I cannot stay awake for a long time.

Can spirits sleep at all?

When they take me to the warehouse, and my tension subsides, I find myself lethargic, as if I have stayed awake for days. Before I think of the reason, I notice my thoughts coming to a halt, and my vision turns dark, as if someone has shut down a computer. This phenomenon repeats periodically.

It seems that I have a defined duration of wakefulness and sleep, around 8 hours or 7 hours of activity, and I don't know how long my sleep lasts. Is it just hours or days?

Damn, this only adds to my anxiety and helplessness.

At least, I found something to occupy my time with, but before I finish my thoughts, the door of the storeroom opens slowly, creating a gap for the sunlight to penetrate the darkness of the room, and the sound of heavy footsteps breaks the continuous silence of the storeroom.

The good thing in all of this is that when they placed me in this storeroom, they put me in a distant corner. As I gained courage over time, I found that I can see without fear of being found as long as I am cautious. As for how I spend my time, it's observing the people here. Something about the arrangement of the lights and the movement of the smoke threads in them captivates my attention.

I try to study it, but calling it "study" is an embellishment. All I can do is observe its movements and memorize them. With time, I've become more experienced, and now I can anticipate at least 50 percent of its movements when it moves relatively slowly.

...

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Another day of inventing bad poetry and following people's movements like a lurking creeper. But at least, I find that I have become adept at it. Now, I can anticipate most simple movements and many relatively fast movements. I have memorized most of the patterns of those threads and their movements.

I am not an expert in occult arts, spirituality, or anything else, but an instinct in my body and intuition tells me that I am getting closer to something, and I have never doubted my intuition before.

The door opens again, and two people enter, and I begin my hobby, or rather, my profession of spying on people.

Thread by thread, movement by movement, oscillation by oscillation, every curve, every turn, every ripple captivates my soul even more. Time around me distorts and ripples, making me lose my sense of time and immersing me further into the shapes before me.

When the soldiers leave, all I can do is close my eyes and contemplate what I have witnessed, mimicking their movements in my mind.

It's something I've been doing for a while, but it has always been somewhat hazy, although it improves with time. However, today, I don't feel any haziness at all. All the movements flow smoothly in my mind.

People walking, others jumping, and some running – I even made two of them engage in a fight, although the movements are silly and look like a street brawl between a drunk and a migraine sufferer.

I can't blame myself, as all the fighting I've done in my life was on the streets without any guidance. There's a big difference between real fighting and imagining fighting, but I'm sure I'll get better at it with time.

When I open my metaphorical eyes, my ethereal soul jumps with surprise. Instead of the unified view of regular eyes, I am greeted with an extended scene in all directions, with no openings, as if I have eyes everywhere.

This panoramic view and the power of the sights and information cause a sudden dizziness that makes me close my eyes.

After a while, I open my eyes again, and my vision returns to my regular sight.

After several minutes or seconds of attempting to close and reopen my eyes to recreate the previous strange scene and repeat the previous steps, I finally succeeded. The scene greeted me from multiple angles, causing a slight headache that I could endure. I started to experiment and study this phenomenon.

Firstly, it seems that my field of vision is limited. I can look in all directions, but within the confines of a bubble with a diameter of two or three meters. Beyond that, the scene becomes hazy, and the rest of the objects appear blurred and unclear.

Secondly, I can reduce the dizziness by focusing on a specific area. The rest of the regions turn into a foggy shape, but not as blurry as the scene after three meters.

Thirdly, and the strangest thing, I can see myself!

Yes, finally! I want to shed tears of joy if I had eyes.

Thirdly, I can see myself; it's like a repeated reflection on the wall of the corridor where I woke up, unchanged. However, what distinguishes it is what's inside.

There's a green sphere similar to what exists inside every human; I've seen it before with dark yellow angles, much like the color of the rest of the threads.

Oh!

Ooooh!

This sight engraves an impossible idea in my mind.

If it succeeds, a significant problem will be solved.

A bundle of joy penetrates my being, despite my attempts to remain rational and tell myself it's just an idea, and I don't know if it will succeed or if it's even possible.

I tried to communicate with what I called the essence for several minutes,

but it didn't work. Then,

I attempted to touch it for a while,

but it didn't work.

I thought of imagining a hand reaching for it,

but it didn't work.

I wanted to imagine the essence having a heartbeat,

but it didn't work.

I even tried to imagine myself breathing,

but that didn't work either.

The series of consecutive failures made my initial joy subside, but I didn't stop.

After all, I am just an immobile shell inhabited by the soul of a man in his thirties.

Failure is just another way to waste time, and even if it gives me hope for liberation, it's better than nothing.

.

.

.

Repeating everything I thought of hundreds of times or tens of times yielded results. I managed to make the essence oscillate, and eventually, I was able to move it. This made me regain some joy, even though I couldn't make the essence penetrate the metal of the shell, which was the core of my desire to move the essence.

I placed the essence back in its place and then started trying to move the yellow sides instead. It took several attempts to make those layers move, but they didn't detach from the essence no matter what I did. I'm not prepared to try anything dangerous like that.

Now, the second step in transforming the shell into threads. Like the first experiment with the essence, it didn't succeed at first, so it seems like another grinding period.

After numerous attempts, I found a way to move it. I made the shell rotate around the essence because I discovered that the shell doesn't create any repelling force that can direct a part of it outward. My mental strength couldn't succeed as it did with the essence. Hence, I created a method to generate enough kinetic force, which resembled the movement of gentle waves. Here, the real work began...

Damn it, the duration of my awakening!

.

.

.

After waking up, I returned to my previous experiment: attempting to move a small part of the gentle waves as a thread and direct it in a specific direction. I repeated this process tens, if not hundreds, of times throughout my time here. After multiple branching and gradations, it finally stuck to my finger.

Internally, I cheered, even though I needed to amplify this achievement a thousand times to achieve what I hope for.

"That's one small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind."

The sound of the door opening reached my ears, so I closed my eyes again and stopped all my acti

ons. I don't want to fall into the same mistake; maybe the "giant leap for humanity" can wait.