Discordant Note | TBATE

Chapter 68: Platforms

Toren Daen

I sat cross-legged on a white platform in an endless purple expanse. This zone had no sky, no sun, and nothing resembling the waking world.

Promise floated near where I tied off a bandage. When I cinched it tight, wincing at the slight stroke of pain, my glowing dagger glided smoothly in, cutting off the bare excess of white cloth.

I was going to have another scar on my arm when that healed. Thankfully, it wouldn't debilitate me in a fight, but I wondered when my body would have more scar tissue than normal skin.

"Your mastery of the First Phase has improved dramatically," my bond commented, staring out into the purple nothingness. It fascinated and unnerved the asura in equal measure, where I simply dissociated until such things didn't bother me anymore.

Coming from another world tended to have that effect on your ability to suspend disbelief.

"I can't use it too often, though," I said, flexing my hand. The leather of my gloves creaked as I clenched and unclenched my fists. The red washed out of them surprisingly easily, considering how many times I'd bled on them. Though there was a faint tinge that I couldn't remove anymore. "My basilisk blood remains close to the surface. If I use the Will in succession too many times, it's sure to wake."

I usually waited a few days between uses of my Will and only engaged the Acquire Phase when absolutely necessary. I'd been in this zone for a couple of weeks so far, traveling from platform to platform.

It was the same zone Arthur had traveled through soon after the creation of his aether core. These were the same platforms that brought forth the creation of the Destruction rune and allowed Regis to gain a corporeal form.

At least I thought it was the same. Some of the platforms differed slightly from the description. Did that mean this was a different zone, or did it simply adapt to my presence?

"And your use of the Will is... partial as well, Contractor," Lady Dawn said. "Akin to a man who uses an axe only to cut down foes, rather than fell a tree."

The phoenix watched as a paper poster drifted in the endless aetheric expanse past my glowing white platform. It was far enough away that I would be unable to reach it, even with telekinesis.

The words on the front read 'Fall Out Boy,' and the men displayed clearly resembled the members of the band. Except there were tiny details wrong: a nose a bit too large, a smile too thin, a hairstyle out of place. It was as if the band were drawn from memory.

I'd gotten used to random objects that looked like they'd be from Earth drifting in the aetheric atmosphere after the first week, where they popped up every couple of days. This one still threw me for a loop. Patrick Stump had an absolutely appalling bowl cut in that poster, and I was nearly certain that the lead singer for Fall Out Boy never wore such an atrocity against nature.

If he did, I'd have to stop humming Centuries to myself when I cut through hordes of aether beasts.

I shook away my bewilderment at the image. "What am I missing, then?" I asked, taking a glance at the next platform. It hovered in a seemingly endless void, a few shimmering steps of solidified aether inviting me to follow. They followed a predictable pattern: white, red, orange, blue, then black. I'd just managed to kill the boss monster on my sixth black platform.

"The full goal of the Will is to assimilate the knowledge into yourself, much as you assimilate mana into your muscles, bones, and organs. You disperse this to your very being, instead of using the knowledge of countless phoenixes as a power boost."