Xrion's Code

The cold wind swept through the bare tree trunks, branches like sharp peaks pointing upwards, the hard bark long ago adjusted to the harsh conditions, the heavy snow tended to blanket any uncovered parts of this blighted place, creating a false shell of safety, just the illusion that normal life could exist in this place.

Freezing vapor escaping with every breath, Tron and Morbia stopped at the forest's edge, next to a cliff. The precipice continued deep down, sparse protruding roots, sharp stone peaks, and pieces of cloth swaying in the wind.

A look full of admiration caught Morbia's attention.

"This is your first time here, isn't it?"

Tron looked down, his eyes growing hazy.

"Yes... How strange... Until this day, I've never had the urge to venture this far outside of the city..."

Kicking a random rock, dooming it to a long roll down the slope before crashing into a clump of snow, Morbia said:

"That's the point. Until a Blank moves on to the second stage, until it becomes a Half-Blank, the thought of going beyond the Outer Loop just can't occur to their minds."

Tron raised his hand pointing to the foot of a hill, sharp rocks peaked out of the snow-covered ground like massive swords of giants buried in the frozen field, perhaps as a memory of a great battle or as a mass grave.

Not far away, a small village struggled to survive, some wooden houses, very different from the stone monolithic buildings in Tron's city, emitted trickles of smoke in an attempt to keep warm from the wicked cold wind currents trying to mimic a blizzard.

From time to time, dark silhouettes walked leisurely from one house to another, simultaneously radiating both the danger and despair inherent in most of the captives of the Kyrexo Loop.

"So... Before we go there. Will you tell me about the Ghosts? At least about them, for starters."

Doom was closing in on him by the hour, but Tron's desire to learn more about the real world was unyielding.

"Sure."

Morbia nodded deeply. 

Then, she began to carefully climb down the slope, grabbing onto rocks and roots protruding from the ground. Her goal was to reach the road leading to the Blind Giant's Village, currently the base of the Scarlet Root members.

Before following her, Tron looked up at the dark sky.

"Hey... The sky, is it always like this? How threatening..."

Descending a little lower, Morbia cast her gaze at Tron with a raised eyebrow.

"The sky outside of Kyrexo Loop is completely different. It's blue and calm like the ocean, with soft white clouds floating serenely like life's companions."

"Ocean what is it? Agh... Never mind..."

Suddenly, Tron gasped, visualizing this amazing picture in his mind.

"I wish I could see that sky, not the gray fake one or that menacing darkness, but a calming plain."

'A calming plain, right...?' Morbia pondered biting her lip, 'I don't think you realize that the real world isn't a paradise at all.'

...

Ghosts were the natural enemies of humans, except for the humans themselves. The Ghosts came in a variety of shapes, sizes, and desires.

It was believed that Ghosts appeared as shards of history or as the culmination of some significant epic. They could be born from an event of any magnitude, be it a fight between lovers, the end of a great battle, or the fall of an entire kingdom.

Determining the origin of a ghost was difficult, as a ghost could appear at any time after an event, be it one day or a hundred years. The Ghosts absorbed fragments of different histories, creating themselves out of variable events rather than just a single incident.

However, often in the birth of Ghost, one of the histories featured strongly, standing out as the main story, the rest were just fuel.

They weren't evil spirits haunting someone or the undead.

That's why they're Ghosts - a fleeting memory that something once happened but no way to figure out what it was or who was involved.

The histories had different significance and therefore the power of the Ghosts varied greatly.

Many people, and all Harbingers, without exception, knew about the Xrion's Code.

The Xrion's Code existed for one purpose - to divide the power of the Ghosts as well as the Harbingers into stages. The Xrion's Code consisted of two categories: Ascension and Magnitude.

Ascension depended on Cells and Oblivion Cross to determine the power of the Harbinger. Tron, who was under constant threat - the Death Clock was too early to delve into the hierarchy of the Harbingers and the Ghosts.

But...

Even he - a Half-Blank who could die very soon, had to know the markings.

Ascension was divided into five stages: the Crucible Cross, the Shattered Cross, the Untouchable Cross, the Omnipotent Cross, and the Nameless Cross.

Magnitude reflected the shards of how great stories the Ghost supposedly came from. Ascension might have been the same, but it was obvious that the histories had different influences on the world.

Much like the Ascension, in Xrion's Code, the Magnitude was divided into five categories:

Nascent, Obscure, Radiant, Eclipsed, and the last one - the Calamity Magnitude.

Ascension showed the pure power of the creature, while Magnitude was responsible for its uniqueness.

Two ghosts could be born from the fragments of similar events, such as a great battle, and gain the Radiant Magnitude.

The participants of these two battles had different strengths, some were simple soldiers and peasants and some were knights and crusaders in heavy armor.

These details affected the Ascension. There was a significant difference in strength between Ghosts of different Ascensions but the same Magnitude - if these two battlefields became each other's enemies, the peasants and soldiers would hardly stand a chance.

Xrion's Code was a memory that everyone had to know in order to survive in this world, but it was not an encyclopedia of every known Ghost.

The world was constantly changing, some Ghosts could die an hour after appearing without even seeing sunlight and others could exist for hundreds of years, remaining undefeated, already creating new stories themselves. 

It was an endless circle.

...

The rarely used path was covered in a dense layer of snow, a quiet creak echoed in the footsteps of the two silhouettes, their stride had no halts, with the sole purpose of reaching the Blind Giant's Village.

"Ghosts... I wonder how strong that one on the bridge was?"

Tron muttered walking beside Morbia, who unlike him was nervously looking around. It was dangerous to walk along the abandoned path, but it was fast. Morbia was afraid that someone might attack them.

A clump of snow became too heavy for a simple branch, falling slowly to the ground along a dry trunk protected by rough bark.

A shadow fell across Tron's face, causing Morbia's eyes to go wide, beginning to inwardly curse their luck.

The wolf from the nightmare stared at them with a devious grin, two red eyes with vertical pupils dilated in curiosity, viscous saliva passing through the gaps in its wide extended jaw leaking through the crooked teeth, dripping to the ground.

The thick black fur rippled in the occasional wind currents, already accustomed to their hostility, considering it a friendly greeting. Wet mud covered the long claws on its hind and front paws, the small clean parts glistening from time to time, reflecting the light from the snow, showing off their sharpness.

The ribs protruded from the lean body, covered only with stretched rough skin, two long ears, one torn, occasionally shuddered to catch every sound of the world, in sync with the breath, a thin tail wagged from side to side.

A ghost tilted its head, not believing their accidental encounter. Slowly, stomping on the snow mixed with dirt, the beast approached them, leaning toward Morbia. She stood motionless, staring at one point.

A wide jaw opened, engulfing Morbia to her waist, sharp fangs almost touching her skin, clots of saliva falling on her shoulders, hair, and face, a stinking vile odor permeated her nose, the smell was worse than from a rotting corpse.

Sticking out its long tongue, the ghost licked Morbia once, from the bottom to the top, before lifting its jaw, its gaze lost interest, followed by a hard stare at Tron.

Tron's eyes reflected black fur, similar to the one he saw on the bridge.

Driven by the search for something new, Tron extended his hand forward. He couldn't touch the fur last time, he didn't reach it, but now the ghost had no intention of running away.

Morbia's eyes twitched sharply to the side, she wanted to yell at Tron, but she didn't dare make a sound.

Tap.

Not immediately, but Tron's hand touched the fur, a little messy and wet, but still pleasant, especially for someone who never felt anything like that.

Unable to see the weirdness of his actions, the beast leaned over to Tron, sniffed him like a dog a few times, and grinned widely with its fangs bared.

The shadow disappeared, changing places with the wind current, disturbing Tron's and Morbia's hair tips.

"He's gone...?"

Bewildered and a kind of resentment filled his voice, Tron turned around, broad paw prints left in the snow as fleeting seals ready to disappear, but the Ghost was nowhere to be seen.

"What a shame..."

Tron sighed, looking down at his palm, a few black curls of dirty fur quivering slightly, escaping on his hand in the cold flows.

That was the second time Tron met a Ghost, but... did they consider him their own, a human, or was he still a blank spot?