The Way of Wrought Earth, or: My Tale of Rebirth as a Mostly Inanimate Rock

Mirage Winter. Second Clause, current act. A Relic Hunter's life is harsh — and often short — in the shattered lands of the Frontier. But when Whitelight reemerges, a legendary blade capable of separating anything the user wills it to cut, a newly formed unit organized of Hunter’s both young and old (and sediment based, in a particular case) vow to stop it from falling into cruel hands. Standing against them is the Frontier itself: the unbridled wrath of global federations, fellow Hunters, and those who lurk in the shadows of giants. As the world races to unravel a history desperately concealed, a semi-sapient rock soon realizes that some things are better off dead and buried — especially when those secrets carry an insidious corruption with no cure. Iteration: Mirror-glass Stars in Iron Oceans. First Clause. A soul wakes up as a rock, clinging to fragmented memories and knowledge of another era. What fate awaits such a creature? No, this isn't satire. Yes, I am dumb enough to try to take this seriously. Updates Wednesday, Friday with a variable amount of chapters. This story is not recommended for the easily disturbed. This is your only warning.