Mind Game, Part II

In the gleaming twilight dyed in red, the cloudless sky extended far until it meets the stretching horizon, a thin dash of silver. I stood atop the octagon hill, a small protrusion out of this flat and featureless world. Maybe the word "hill" was not quite accurate; the crafted structure made of a marble-like material could be a part of some ancient religion's praying ground, emanating an austere aura . Around twenty wide steps extended from the center to all sides of a perfect octagon, elevating my position slightly above the barren ground. 

"Are you expecting something more?" She spoke, with a slightly condescending tone.

I shrugged. For a moment, I felt like I just lost a hand on all-in. But maybe the pure emptiness was so contradictory to my expectation that I felt a vague idea of more up her sleeves. 

"This is your capability so far, just this octagon hill. Of course, comparing to quite a number of contracts I have made in the past, projecting an area that can fit about one hundred people is actually quite good on your first try."

"You have talent." I ignored her smirk. The complement was far from genuine. 

"Nah, just kidding. I am just being nice." Nice was still an exaggeration. She was just saying that so I would not give up my effort immediately. 

"That said, the quality of your projection is above average. For example, the ground we are standing on right now is a perfect octagon."

"Well, with a margin of error of 1%. So not too great." Yeah, always with a bite in the end. 

"Anyways, since it is your first time. I guess I will help you out a little bit."

"Don't get me wrong. It is not like I feel compelled or anything." Right, you did not, and I was not expecting the dere side any time soon. 

"We are going to make a contract, so I kind of obligated to do that."

"And you are just...just pathetic." 100% Honesty. 

"Here, you have the privilege of holding my hand."

"I want to clear your mind. For example, think of a world of pure white with nothing in there, not even yourself. Once you have completely removed yourself from the picture, your world be imprinted to the outside and manifest in the project that will shape this ground."

"Now, Mashiro."

My mind went blank. For a moment, my vision was filled with intense rays that I could not block with the darkness of my closed eyelids. Even the surest path to obtain darkness had been tainted to a state of gray. Rather than projecting my mind onto my surroundings, the brightness eroded away my consciousness and transformed it to something foreign. 

"Not half bad. I have seen better, but this will do for now."

And I opened my eyes. 

Replacing the barren grounds were boundless acres of solid ice, polished to an almost mirror finish. More precisely, my logical description of the pure white world was a giant frozen block, while my intuition seemed to be different slightly. The ground felt harder and heavier. Even if I swung a hammer with all my strength, there was probably a good chance that I would chip the hammer, rather than a dent in the ground. 

She let me take in the moment and said slowly,

"Now, let them rise." 

-What do you mean, Viola? 

"No need to hold it back, and hold your own reality close. If the world rejects your vision, modify it such that it is strong enough to withstand the erosion and reconstitute so the principles align." Words, no meanings. 

-I still not quite understand. 

"Alright, you are truly pathetic." She took a deep sigh, "Repeat after me."

"Oh mighty wind, bring forth thy tempest."

I tried to open my mouth, but instead I didn't speak a single word. Somewhere, a trigger clicked and hot streams rushed through my body. A fierce sandstorm appeared out of nowhere, a huge cyclone encircling the octagon hill. 

However, I could see perfectly through the storm. Carved markings began to appear out of dusts while stone pedestals precipitated out of those same small dust particles. When the wind calmed, roads branched from the octagon hill in all directions, lined with pedestals on both sides and connected by paths radially spaced. 

"Good, keep going."

-and thousands of blades sharpened with thy fury.

A hail storm approached. Gleaming twilight washed away the perfectly spotless white ceiling, and the air itself felt now harder and heavier. 

That was what it felt like, but what fell were not chucks of ice. Instead, swords, cold steel fell in synchronicity. At each pedestal, a piece of weapon slid perfectly into the hard stone, giving off a faint noise. In a blink of an eye, the sound of raindrops stopped. All the swords were of one familiar shape:  slightly curve edge of a sabre, the simple basket-hilt covers from the crossguard to the sharp pommel, and the crest--the raven resting on two branches of cedar. 

"Now, that is more like it." She smiled. 

And that was genuine.