Astral's Adventures

Once he opened his eyes. All that was in front of him was a pure blank white wave. No wind, no horizon, no sun. All it looked like was a blank canvas for an artist to color. He was still tied down in the chair he was in. He looked at the rope and it snapped. "So this is the afterlife, quite peaceful. Not exactly where I expected to be, but sure." He would feel his wrists, the rope burns fading from his body. He would stand up from the chair, and slowly start walking, trying to make any sense of this place. The more he walked, the more confused he would get, it was an endless view of white. Almost like a piece of paper he could draw on. Oceans and oceans of white. All he thought of was the gentle snowfall on a winter day when he was young. Slowly falling around him came snowflakes that he would brush off.

He would lie on the ground. He has had a long day and wanted to rest. He would wake up for what felt like hours later, and it was the same view. Same snow white sky and the endless amount of emptiness, something was different. When he fell asleep, there wasn't a bed where he laid. Now, there was a full size mattress. He brushed it off as the afterlife comforting him. He would take a mental note of the bed, and it would reappear. Seeing this he would then look to the old bed, it was still there; however, now there lies a second one.

Being mentally exhausted he would think of his favorite tea to drink. This place was only being more confusing. He would look down and see the tea, sitting down on his knees he would pick it up and taste a drop of it. It's just like his favorite restaurant and how they make it. He would slam it down before thinking of a solid oak end table. The solid oak end table would appear and he would set his tea down on it, which refilled itself when it was set down.

"What in the fuck?" He would summon his binder and look to see if anything could describe this type of event. It would all come up blank. "What is this place?" He would set his binder back on the ground and smile. "Summon me a couch."

The couch would appear in front of him as he hops onto it and would look into the sky. Blank is a state of mind. "I wish to see the stars." The color of the sky would shift, darkening to a midnight blue as white specks slowly appeared. Glowing softly he would reach up. Seemingly being able to touch it. Feeling the warmth from it fill his bones.

"This feels like what I always was lacking. A place to relax and hide my true self from everyone." He would think of a hanging sandbag and strike it. It felt amazing to lash out. He would keep hitting the sandbag as hard as possible, feeling all of his frustration leak out of his body from his hands, leaking a black ooze rather than his ruby red blood.

Pulling back quickly he would look at his knuckles and shake them off with one flick of his hands before summoning a towel and brushing off his hands. The ooze leaving stains into the towel. He would set it on the ground as it would slowly turn to ash and be whisked away. But Astral was focused on something else.

Looking forward he would think of any and all metals he could think of, from fiction to real life, and the large amounts of ores dropping from the sky and landing in front of him would make his mind clear, he was going to make something. He would think of a weapon forging book. Which showed many different weapons and ways to make them.

He would read and study that book until he had a natural understanding of forging, before making his weapons for real, he would practice with iron after setting up a full size forge. He would keep working at these weapons for years before he felt comfortable enough to make a single weapon.

This weapon was different, he took his time with each swing. Every time he raised the hammer he would feel the energy flow from it. Having his sweat drip onto the hot blade he would be excited to finish it. Quenching it in the blood of gods he heard it sizzle and simmer as it was formed. He felt like he had poured his heart and soul into it. Sharing a bond with the blade more than anything else. Feeling a unexplained love for his work. He wanted to name it. It deserved one, what about a name similar to that one legendary katana.

Sharpening it to slice through anything. He knew the perfect name for it. Murasama, swapping two letters from the legendary Muramasa. He went from one style to the next, crafting one thing after another for years, realizing that he needs to learn how to use these weapons. He would spend a even more time practicing on how to kill with each and every one.

Each weapon commanded its own style and technique to use. Allowing for Astral to work on his form and skill. Becoming a master of what he wants to work on. He may consider himself an average person. But his drive of perfection will fuel him beyond anything even he can imagine.

He then realized that he would need mesh armor in order to take bullets headfirst. He would read a book on how to forge armor, spending another few years practicing before taking his measurements. After he measured himself, he finally made the armor. It covered him from head to toe in heavy plates, he would try to move around in this armor. Being too heavy for him he would work out in it to increase his strength. He spent five years working on his physical abilities. Pushing himself past the breaking point on a daily basis. The overexertion he gave himself would only fuel him to become stronger, each and every minute was spent moving to improve his body. The armor was still bulky and hard to move in realizing it was a design flaw, he became bored and wanted to try something new for a period of time.

He then would read a gunsmithing book and learn more, before making just three weapons for himself. A handgun, rifle, and sniper. He would set up his armor and test his bullets against it. Each one would serve its own purpose.

The handgun, a close range beast of a weapon, with the high caliber to match it was shredding through his sample armor, though the handgun could hold its range if need be. Shaped kinda like a famous pistol from a video game he has played. The silver hue glowing like a radiant field around him.

His rifle was meant to be the midrange weapon. With hyperactive aiming habits. Astral could flick from one target to the other, the stabilizers on the weapon stopping any recoil bloom. As long as he was still, he would be dead on. Decorated with golden pinstripes while the rest is carbon black.

The sniper was special to him. Being his second named weapon for now. The Cat of Nine Tails, decorated in a wispy light blue stripes, explosive armor piercing rounds, in a nine round magazine with an ability to select fire between bolt action, semi automatic, burst and full auto. He put in extra work to make sure this rifle would be reliable from any distance. It became his pride and joy weapon outside of his sword.

The guns worked too well. They destroyed his armor and he needed to make a fresh suit. He figured it was just his guns being powerful but happy to upgrade his personal armor.

The second version was much slimmer, lighter and stronger. Having a mesh nanomachine undersuit to help with movement and flexibility. While the important spots to have more real armor were well covered in the same material as the Murasama. these armor points would feel weightless across his body. Wanting more protection he would add an overshield, he would combine different shield devices to make one ultimate creation. He felt like he was ready. He took his time adapting to everything.

He would want easy access for everything he has made to this point. Preparing his weapons on a rack for his own personal use. Everything from spears to swords to shields and everything else under the sun. It had felt like decades had passed for him. With the passage of time he wondered what the world was like when he came back, would it be the same? How would it have changed, could he even go back? He through of the place that he was trapped at, and a glowing hole would open for him. Hopping through, he would come back to reality and think that since so much time has passed that everyone would have left.