Fragments of the Past and the First Ascension

The week passed slowly, each day pulling Troy deeper into the mysteries of his mind. The fragments of memories—glimpses of an ancient, forgotten knowledge—began to surface more frequently, like shards of glass poking through the surface of his consciousness.

On the first night, it started with a dream. He was standing in an immense temple, the ceiling disappearing into the mist above, surrounded by hooded figures who chanted in unison. Their voices were distant, but the words vibrated with power. They spoke of "harmonizing the mind," of using mental energy not just as a tool but as a means of transcendence. When he woke, the details slipped away, leaving him with only the term—harmonizing the mind—lingering in his thoughts.

By the third day, as Troy sat quietly in the cold, hollow shell of the shack that had become his home, another fragment emerged. This time, it was not a dream but a sharp flash of memory. He saw himself strapped to a metal chair in the lab, his body restrained, his mind being drained of its energy. But amidst the chaos, he had resisted, pulling his mental energy inward, focusing it like a weapon. He remembered the strain, the intense pressure, and then the moment of clarity: focus all mental energy inward, create a singular point. He woke from the memory with his heart pounding.

On the fifth day, while walking through the narrow streets of the town, another whisper of the past came to him. It was more abstract, a concept rather than a full memory. He heard the echo of words he couldn't place, "The mind is a mirror of the soul. To ascend, you must not merely gather energy—you must become it." The idea resonated deep within him. Ascension wasn't just about manipulating mental energy; it was about becoming the energy itself. It was the missing piece.

Each fragment brought him closer to understanding the true nature of ascension, though it was still frustratingly elusive. He spent every spare moment practicing, meditating, trying to replicate the feeling he had glimpsed in those fragments. But nothing came easily.

During the days, Troy explored the town, interacting with the people who lived there. What he saw hardened the growing hatred inside him for the society that had abandoned so many to this brutal existence.

On his second day, he met a scavenger family—a mother and her two young children, their faces thin and drawn from hunger. They scavenged in the worst parts of the Disposal Zone, picking through piles of rotting bodies for anything they could trade for food. The mother spoke of the endless struggle, of scavenging for hours only to find scraps, and of watching people starve because they couldn't scrounge up enough.

The anger inside Troy flared. How could a society that prided itself on strength and ascension let people suffer like this? The gods spoke of survival, of guiding humanity, but these people had been discarded like refuse.

On the third day, he witnessed something that disturbed him deeply. A man, lying on the street, his body wracked with disease. No one helped him. People simply walked by, glancing down as they passed, waiting for him to die so they could scavenge whatever he left behind. Troy stood frozen, watching the man's labored breathing until it stopped. No one even blinked. The indifference in the air was suffocating.

Later that week, Jorra told him something that stayed with him. "We've learned to survive here," Jorra said one evening. "But we've also learned not to hope for anything better. The gods, the system—they built this world. We're just the remnants, the ones who weren't strong enough."

Troy wanted to argue, to tell Jorra that it didn't have to be this way. But as Jorra looked at him with resigned eyes, Troy realized that the people here had accepted their fate. It wasn't just the gods who had failed them—it was the entire system.

On the fifth day, a starving scavenger lunged at Troy, desperate for food or supplies. The man's eyes were wild, his body skeletal from hunger. Troy easily overpowered him, sending him tumbling to the ground. The scavenger didn't fight back. He just knelt there, gasping for breath, his eyes hollow and empty.

Troy didn't feel victorious. He felt disgusted.

The world outside the shack, with its rotting corpses and broken people, was a reminder that this was no life. Survival here meant giving up your humanity, and Troy refused to be a part of it. His desire to ascend burned hotter with each passing day—not just for power, but to escape the twisted system that kept humanity in chains.

By the sixth day, the fragments of memory had formed into something clearer, more focused. Troy understood now that ascension wasn't just about syncing mental energy or using tech—it was about merging with that energy, transforming his consciousness into something beyond physical form.

He spent the day in his shack, meditating, practicing the mental techniques he had learned from the fractured memories. He concentrated on pushing all distractions away, pulling his mental energy inward, sharpening it to a point. He could feel the energy building inside him, like a quiet storm gathering force.

As the hours passed, he grew more confident. The shift in his mind was subtle but undeniable. He felt lighter, as though the weight of the physical world was slipping away, leaving only his mental energy—pure and powerful.

The final step would come soon.

On the last day of the week, Troy woke with a sense of clarity. He knew today was the day. His mind felt sharp, his thoughts cutting through the fog that had lingered over him since his awakening. He could feel his mental energy coiled within him, ready to be unleashed.

He spent the morning alone in his shack, focusing inward, pulling every ounce of his mental energy into a singular point. The room around him faded from his awareness as he concentrated harder than he ever had before. His breath slowed, his heart rate dropped, and his consciousness began to drift away from his body.

Time seemed to stretch, the hours blurring together until he was no longer aware of his physical form. All that existed was the point of energy in his mind, glowing brighter and brighter with every passing second.

By late afternoon, he could feel the barrier between Base 0 and Base 1 thinning. The line that separated the physical realm from the mental one was almost within reach.

Finally, as the sun began to set, Troy reached the breaking point. With one final surge of mental energy, he let go of his physical self. In an instant, his consciousness snapped free, and he felt himself pulled upward, into something vast and infinite.

The world around him vanished.

When Troy opened his eyes, he was no longer in the shack. He stood in a vast, ethereal landscape, the air thick with energy. The colors were strange, the sky filled with unfamiliar stars. Time itself felt different, slower, as though the entire realm was suspended in a dreamlike state.

He had done it. He had ascended to Base 1.

The sensation was overwhelming, but for the first time, Troy felt truly alive. The power that thrummed through him was unlike anything he had ever known.

He had escaped the prison of Base 0.

Now, his journey truly began.