Chapter 291. Discardia (Patreon)

If it’s proof Holiday wants, he’ll get it. The promise of a favor is too valuable to pass up.

“Ascendant energy is necessary to use the artifact we’ve discussed,” I point out. “I may need to use it during the competition.”

Holiday waves his hand dismissively. “Not a problem.”

Are you confident this won’t reveal our identities? Maria asks.

As confident as I can be. We will hide Maria’s face so Holiday won’t recognize her, but her combination of affinities, Sun and End, is uncommon. If he recognizes her mannerisms, the affinities might be enough to clue him into her identify.

Even so, a leap in logic is required to rectify Maria as she came to Eternity–doomed and fragile–with the powerful lich here now. Moreover, if Maria accompanies a Death practitioner, the likelihood that her companion is Ian Dunai is much higher than for a random ascendant. On the surface, this is problematic, but illogical entities like me and Maria are blind spots to Beginning, turning the affinity into a hindrance.

Consider the following logical statements. If the lich is Maria, then her companion is more likely to be Ian Dunai. If the lich’s companion is Ian Dunai, then she is almost definitely Maria Sezakuin. But if the lich’s companion is not Dunai, the likelihood that she is Maria plummets. How could mortal Maria encounter a random ancient within a few months and become his lich?

Therefore, if Holiday hypothesized that the lich was Maria, his affinity would scrutinize whether Ancient Black could be Ian Dunai. A mono-practitioner gaining two affinities in a year–regardless of time dilation–would be outlandish. He would conclude that Black is not Dunai, and then his Beginning would question its initial finding that the lich is Maria.

Y’jeni, maneuvering around a Beginning practitioner is exhausting, I tell Maria and Eury. Especially when he’s much better at outthinking others, both through years of experience and a significantly higher affinity.

You can only do your best, Maria replies. Tell me when you’re going to end my transformation.

Be ready, I tell her. I’m beginning now.

I take a deep breath, psyching myself up for the weakness to come. I can’t show a hint of discomfort or fallibility while Holiday is watching.

Easier said than done.

I draw Maria’s energy into myself, forcefully ending her transformation. Holiday’s expression is unchanging as my ember crown, the fiery plumage beneath my wings, and my silvery bracers disappear. Maria materializes next to me in a black dress, her face covered by a mask wrought of flames.

I feel as though covered in a wet, frigid blanket. My lungs and chest feel like they’re being sucked inward by a vacuum. Thankfully Holiday doesn’t have a Death or Life affinity, so he can’t see how I cheat the weakness, forcing myself to continue breathing evenly.

“Together, my lich and I hold five affinities,” I say, faking confidence. If I weren’t forcefully controlling my vocal cords and diaphragm, I’d be rasping. “So far, you’ve only seen mine.”

Maria flicks her finger and fire spirals around her arm, emulating the form of Ebon Pearl. The flaming snake hisses, its tongue flicking the air. Then it coils into a simple End array and Maria activates it using techniques learned from Ancient Ash. Only with his tutelage has she learned how to make arrays out of insubstantial forms of energy. When activated, it looks like a luminous stamp on the sky.

Maria expels a tongue of flame through the glowing array and it shifts into a flaming wheel, bent into shape by the array’s pattern. The cycle of samsara, she thinks to me. I’d add that description as flaming text, but Holiday won’t be able to read it. More likely, he’d recognize it from that contract we worked out when we first entered Eternity. That evidence would be damning.

Even as a Beginning practitioner, I hadn’t thought that far. I’m glad to have someone so sharp on my team.

Maria waves her hand and the array falls apart, dispelled. The wheel returns to a simple circular ball of fire. Maria snuffs it out by pinching it between her fingers.

“End and Sun,” I state. “Different from my Death, Beginning, and Remorse.”

“So… you’re actually weaker together?” Holiday asks.

I gaze upon him coolly. That kind of question doesn’t deserve a response. Also, even with the aid of Death energy, speaking hurts. “Eury, please take over.”

“Is this proof enough, Ascendant Crimson Teeth?” Euryphel says smoothly. It’s the same kind of voice he used when negotiating a contentious deal with the other princes. In the Selejo Imperial Federation, I figure he mostly uses it to quell the voices of annexed neighbors.

Holiday smiles. “Yes.”

Finally. I stab Maria in the chest, transforming her back into a set of regalia. I force my body to be still, tamping down on the reflex to sigh and stretch out my shoulders. Instead, I flex my wings, the plumage nearly setting pine needles on fire.

I gesture to the air. “Let us return.”

—

“Please explain why you’re participating?” Red demands, his thoughts roiling. “You can’t use any items. Without the dagger–”

“Holiday made an exception so I can use an artifact,” I mentally explain. “Hurry up and read my thoughts.”

He gives me a coy smile, his entire demeanor shifting from panicked to mischievous. “I already know. That’s how I reacted in my first Regret scenario. I thought it appropriate to share it with you.”

I blink. “Okay. Have you seen all my memories, then?”

“Probably, but you can share them again. I’m not a Beginning practitioner; I’ll pick up more details on additional run-throughs.”

I think through the events of the past several minutes, starting with when Holiday dragged me away. A few seconds later, Red gives me a thoughtful look.

“I’m really curious what Holiday has planned for the next series of rounds. They usually go quickly, lasting a few minutes each at most. The ascendant is genuinely concerned that things won’t go over well.”

“He doesn’t seem like it,” I reply. After our discussion, Holiday and I returned to the observation platform. While we were gone, the competitors flew up to mingle and choose their partners for the upcoming sequence. As soon as Holiday stepped foot on the glassy platform, he socialized with observers and competitors, bearing a charming, albeit intimidating, sanguine smile. He looks in control and confident.

The remainder of the break passes quickly.

Holiday walks to the side of the platform and announces the start of the next round. “Each competitor has chosen an observer to aid them. Each pairing should proceed to the field.”

Looking down, I realize that the field has been terraformed again. I hadn’t noticed; it must have happened in the last minute or so. Many of the thorny roots have grown together, creating a large wooden platform with two walls, almost like a giant treehouse. Within are rows of chairs grouped in twos, with space between pairs.

It looks like…

A classroom, Maria finishes.

Holiday is so screwed.

He’s a powerful Beginning practitioner, Maria says. He has a goal and a plan.

“I wish I could hear your thoughts on the matter,” I transmit to Euryphel. I wish he could be like himself, speaking freely, as he did when we were alone with Holiday. “I need to dismiss you for this next part. Red and I shouldn’t be separated again for a while. Hopefully he’ll be eliminated in this round.”

I could ask for Euryphel to wait on standby in the event that Red isn’t eliminated, but I would feel guilty. He has more important things to do than out-scheme ascendants at a party. I’ll survive without him.

“I don’t intend to call you back.”

He stiffens but doesn’t show any other sign of having heard me.

“Thank you for everything,” I continue. “Let me know if you need my aid. I can always use the transmission artifact to visit. And don’t worry, I won’t keep you in too much suspense. I’ll check in after this is all over.”

I dispel my wraiths and click the transmission artifact’s button to unsummon Eury. I give Holiday a probing look as I head for the tree classroom with Maria’s regalia intact. He doesn’t protest.

How does he, or any of the ascendants from the Hall of Ascension, intend to enforce the item moratorium? Maria asks.

An End array, perhaps? I suggest.

I don’t know how that would work. I assume they’ll use arrays to detect to expenditure of ascendant energy, but not all artifacts require it.

Either they won’t check, and ascendants might get away with cheating, or they have other means Maria is unaware of. Ultimately, it’s not our problem.

When we reach the treehouse, Red and I sit down in a pair of seats. We’re the first to sit down, the other ascendants eyeing the setup with skepticism. They languidly file in, dropping into chairs and eyeing the competition. Some pairs speak in barely audible murmurs, while others opt for complete silence.

Red and I have the advantage of being Remorse practitioners, so speaking into each other’s minds is easy. Even if I choose another affinity for this challenge–since all observers will be under the one affinity restriction–being an actual Remorse practitioner has improved how I package thoughts, so to speak. Red will be able to communicate better with me than other non-Remorse practitioners.

When the last pair finds their seats, Holiday appears in the classroom, moving so fast that I barely track his arrival even with my trained perception and Beginning affinity.

“Welcome to Discardia,” Holiday announces, his arms held out wide to the sky. “A playground to test mental malleability. We are all old, and some of us–ancient.” He delivers the line like it’s a joke; no one laughs. “To join the Hall of Ascension, ascendants must be flexible. They must exercise prudence in their judgments. They must think not as practitioners, but as stewards of Eternity, interpreting its will. To that end, I’ve devised a challenge that takes place elsewhere.”

Suddenly, a round button appeared on each desk, red, with the white icon of a star.

“Place your hands upon the star,” Holiday instructs.

When my fingers touch the button’s smooth surface, I hear a voice in my ear, like I’m wearing a headset. “Observer Black, please select an affinity for this exercise.” It sounds like Holiday, but I see that his mouth isn’t moving. A few ascendants flinch; I assume they’re all going through the same thing.

“You also hear a voice?” I ask Red.

“Affirmative. And now I see two icons, both of them glowing.”

Just as he says that, three icons appear in my vision. The first is a feline skull; it represents the Death affinity.

The second is three numbers not in hashscript, but the other system of numbers Karanos mentioned, the standard set. I suppose most in Eternity would know it. I peg it as the symbol for Beginning.

The last icon is two human head silhouettes facing away from each other, with a jagged line between them, forming a connection. This must be Remorse.

I’m almost tempted to pick one of my newer affinities. Everything I’ve heard from Holiday suggests that this won’t be a test of raw strength. Beginning might be the best option in that case. But I’m much less familiar with the affinity than Death. I’m not sure if others will be able to see my actions in this round, but I don’t want to reveal myself as inept if I choose Beginning and fail to use it well. I’m trapped in the paradox of wanting to do poorly so Red is eliminated and needing to do well so the black faction takes me seriously and lets me meet with Achemiss.

In the end, there’s really only one choice.

“Rotate the button to change between the options, then press the button to make your selection,” the disembodied voice explains.

I rotate the button to the left. The icon of the skull glows in my vision. I press the button down and the other options go dark.

“Selection registered. Preparing Discardia.”