20. The Unmoored

[SCOURGE spell: THE SHRIVING]

[MP cost: 66]

[Spell Description: Use the power invested in the Herald of the Righteous Chains to brand a target soul with the Mark of the Soulless. Inflict exactly 66 points of Deific damage (cannot be mitigated, buffed, or multiplied). The target soul is then shriven of their self, bringing them one step closer to Nirvana.]

***

It was immediately clear that Trippy in his pseudo-corporeal form—because it was Trippy, right? Couldn’t be anyone or anything else—defied categorization by any existing ‘system’. Pathsight did give it a try, labeling the cloud of Souldust as: [???], along with an HP bar that might as well have been a red blemish upon a field of glowing particles.

“Tri—Trippy?”

The gig was up. Serac could no longer maintain her Wayfarer-Instrument confidentiality, because the Instrument itself had up and revealed itself to the outside world.

Only… that wasn’t the right way to characterize what had happened. Up until now, Serac had assumed that the Unmoored soul that she’d taken to calling Trippy had ‘possessed’ the six-shooter vessel that was REVOLVER. Yet, just now, as Trippy manifested his visible Souldust form, he’d clearly ‘come out’ of her Penitent’s Circlet.

There was no denying it. No alternate possibility. The fact that her Circlet and all its pesky tendrils were gone without a trace was proof enough of that.

Serac holstered REVOLVER and used her freed-up hand to palpate her forehead. It was smooth all the way through, save for the two roots of her horns. No blood, no scars, not even so much as a hint of the constant pressure that used to keep her up at night. It was as if the Circlet had never been there at all.

“Heh…”

A weak, almost hesitant chuckle escaped, containing and releasing with it the years she’d spent under the trinket’s heel. What was more, she almost felt silly for obsessing over this because, right now, her liberation from her Penitent’s Circlet was very nearly the least crazy thing about the whole situation.

For as soon as Trippy manifested himself, several things happened all at once.

Skyhowl the Prismatic Hound tensed and leaned back on its hindlegs, barking out a warning that sounded… surprisingly dog-like. Sublimity reacted by putting a placating hand on the scruff of the dog’s neck, all while they themselves raised SCOURGE high in the air, as if to ward off Trippy’s very presence. Even Zacko let out a low whistle and backed off a step, no doubt wondering just what in hell he’d signed himself up for.

But the craziest part of it all was definitely Trippy himself.

Putting aside the fact that he’d somehow willed a hologram of himself into being, just who could’ve foreseen that ‘himself’ was a Rakshasa? The hologram didn’t boast the highest fidelity, but a Rakshasa’s characteristic features were nevertheless unmistakable: short and slim in stature, cinnabar skin, and a full set of sharp onyx claws to go along with a proud pair of horns.

Serac reflected on the brief yet dense history of her conversations with Trippy. Manusyas usually don’t require such reminders, but you never know with you Rakshasas. It’s been an age since I’ve worked so closely with anyone of your background. I’ve had precious few dealings with Wayfarers of your kind.

Through it all, he’d always given her the impression that he was someone from a very different walk of life than hers—at the very least, someone from a higher Realm. How was it that they could share the same lowly beginnings as hell bumpkins then end up with such wildly divergent worldviews?

She already knew that she knew so little about Trippy—her liberator, her mentor, her voice from nowhere. The craziness unfolding before her now only highlighted that she knew even less than she’d imagined. And she was suddenly gripped by the fear that she’d never get the chance to learn more.

“Before you make demands of me… spirit,” Sublimity was the first to address the hologram directly, “I should think it’s only customary to introduce yourself first.”

For a moment, the already hazy edges of the hologram oscillated as uneven waves. Hesitation. Uncertainty. Consternation. Plain as day. It’d be almost funny if it weren’t so unbelievable. Now that Trippy was outside of Serac’s head, she could read him like a book.

“Forgive me, O Herald. I do not mean to obfuscate, nor to offend, but I… I truly do not remember my own name. If it should please you, however, my… companion here calls me ‘Trippy’, and that serves me well enough in my current state.”

At this, Serac felt a sudden rush of warmth. It was such a little thing. Just a silly nickname between friends. And yet—

“And pray tell, what is your current state? As far as I can tell, you bear the appearance of a Rakshasa, yet you clearly do not belong to this Realm—nor perhaps to any of the other Five.”

“That’s because I’m Unmoored.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Serac followed the exchange with a deepening frown. Beside her, Zacko too looked more perplexed than ever. Sublimity, for their part, did not shift from their defensive posture, but the jewel upon their helmet flashed as if in understanding.

“Could it be?” For the first time, Sublimity’s even voice took on a new note—a hint of awe. “The Abiding Ones spoke of such a thing, but I’d always assumed it to be the idle fancies of failing minds. Pray tell then, Unmoored Rakshasa, just how did you come to find yourself in such an unfortunate non-state? If I’m to take the Abiding Ones at their word, this must’ve happened, what, at least several Kalpas ago?”

Zacko let out another low whistle. Serac’s newly unconstricted head swam with concepts that were impossible to wrap her mind around.

Souls often used the word ‘Kalpa’ in a purely metaphorical sense to mean an inconceivably lengthy stretch of time. It felt, therefore, inconceivable that here was a soul who was actually Kalpas old.

And the hologram of this soul, even in his Kalpas-old wisdom, jumped and flickered in his most blatant display of uncertainty yet. In the end, however, Trippy managed to regain a semblance of stillness before he gave his answer.

“In my previous existence, I was one of the entities responsible for causing the Upheaval.”

This one didn’t even get a chance to rattle around in Serac’s head, because it went straight over it. ‘Upheaval’ was a word she knew and might’ve even used on occasion, but something told her that Trippy’s version of it carried a deeper meaning she wasn’t privy to. Zacko’s utter lack of reaction told her that the Manusya too was none the wiser.

Which made Sublimity’s reaction all the starker in comparison. For the Deva in radiant armor suddenly and violently rocked in their saddle, all while letting out a booming laugh that rang harshly against Serac’s ears.

It was by far the Deva’s biggest show of emotion yet, and even their own dog cowered under the intensity, with downturned ears and a pitiful whimper to boot. Serac gaped, stupefied, even as Trippy’s hologram waited patiently, with his outlines showing nary a disturbance.

“Oh, this is good,” Sublimity spoke again, even before their laughter had subsided. “This is frankly marvelous. In fact, I don’t know how this day can get any better. Say no more, you crazy Unmoored bastard. I see the way of things, now, and… yes, I agree. I do much prefer this ‘alternate solution’ of yours.”

“Wait, what?” Serac blurted, no longer able to watch on as understanding slipped further and further away. “No, do say more! Keep saying more until I actually know what the hell is going on!”

“I’m glad that we have an understanding,” Trippy pressed on, ignoring Serac. “And I take it this means you will—?”

“I will let your pet keep her toy. In fact, I’ll do you one better by letting her keep you too. So you may yet reap the fruits of your own folly. Only, of course, I can’t let you keep your self. You understand.”

“What? No, I don’t understand. Explain!”

“I do understand. Thank you, O venerable Herald. I’m… in your debt.”

Sublimity audibly and visibly snorted. Serac couldn’t for the life of her see what was so funny.

“No! Trippy, what did you just agree to? What are they doing to you? What—”

Indifferent to a Rakshasa’s fervent protests, Sublimity raised their Deific Instrument once more. This time, they unreservedly radiated their intent to use it, except…. SCOURGE’s five lashes were no longer meant for Serac.

“Serac Edin, listen to me one last time,” Trippy’s hologram twisted in space, his blurry face and impressive horns pointing in Serac’s direction. “I thought I’d have more time to impart to you what I know and remember, and for that miscalculation on my part, I apologize. But I won’t apologize for choosing you to share my journey. For it’s still very much that: our journey—yours and mine—to reach the peak of Mount Meru, and I still have faith that you’ll see it through. To that end, Serac, allow me to leave you with one last thought. May your Path never lead you astray for long.”

Before Serac could formulate a reply, SCOURGE’s five lashes let out a resounding crack as they whipped through what remained of Trippy.

[THE SHRIVING]

The hologram lost its shape… and never got it back again. The now scattered cloud of Souldust that had been Trippy hovered in place for a fleeting Ksana. Then it dissipated completely, resorbed into the Interstitium.

Serac stood rooted to the spot, stunned into silence. What… what just happened? Did Trippy… die?

But, for the first time since she’d been Pulverized deep within the bowels of the Damnatorium, there was no one to listen in on her private thoughts, nor to offer their snarky advice.

Across from her, Sublimity—Herald of the Righteous Chains—had already straightened in their saddle, assuming the same neutral posture with which they’d barged into Serac’s life, unannounced and uninvited. And it was with this perfect calm and controlled authority that they and their Deific Steed took to the air again, without so much as a syllable of goodbye.

Serac craned her neck absent-mindedly, the better to track Sublimity’s exit. But the Deva was already gone, leaving only Naraka’s ever-red sky in their wake.

For the next—she didn’t know how long; she’d lost track of time—Serac simply and silently stared at the sky. At this wide open world that was now hers to explore to her heart’s content.

A world ruled by powerful bureaucrats and their overwhelming cruelty. A world that yet hid so many secrets her lowly self hadn’t been privy to. A world… absent of a sentient six-shooter that had been her liberator, her mentor, and her friend in the short time they’d known each other.

Only… that also wasn’t the right way to characterize what had happened. For she still had that six-shooter in her possession, securely holstered upon her Wayfarer’s belt.

And that sentient friend of hers—that voice from nowhere—where had he come from? How did he know to choose her of all the souls in the Six Realms, after allegedly literal Kalpas of waiting for the right—

“Deific transmutation… already completed. Instrument… already designated as: REVOLVER. Candidate identified. Initiate—correction—pairing already completed.”

Slowly, as if her mind was wading through molasses, Serac Edin attuned herself to the reality of a new transformation. A voice from nowhere. One that now Anchored itself, firmly and irreversibly, unto the invisible yet unbreakable tethers between her and her six-shooter.

“Greetings, Wayfarer. I am your Special Guidance Protocol, designation: TRIPPY. How may I be of your service?”