At least I could be sure of one thing as I slowly finished my recovery. Gold and platinum existed in this world. I focused on my inventory. I felt a lingering effect of the vertigo from the atomic deep dive, but planting a hand on the ground kept me going. I had at least three types of gold coin, the platinum, three that looked like silver or at least darker than the platinum, one set that was metallic white, and one really dark set. Doing the math only gave me nine, meaning the shifty coins could hide even in my inventory. Well, they could run but not hide. I focused on an image of one of the shifting bastards in my mind, and my inventory agreed. I had eight of those left. Trying to force find the coins was bad, but looking at them was worse. My inventory was dark, and it wasn't a clearly defined space, but it was the dark of a house at night, or a TV that was on but black. There was still some light there. The shift coins, though, were the blackest of black, a black hole in an otherwise black hole. It seemed like I had an affinity for the nothingness of the void.

  I summoned one of my blades and focused on my senses to see how it arrived. Normally, I would just think about which hand I wanted it in and how, and once the thought was complete, it was there. It took a few tries, but I saw it. For the briefest of moments, that even my enhanced senses barely caught was the void. It was in the shape of the blade, haft and all, like a dark tear in reality, and then pop, my blade was there. I had the vague sense that there was more, but I could not focus on it enough.

  I queried Ink on the subject. He was of zero help.

  “Enough theory for today, time for practice.”

  anticipatory trill

  I pulled the platinum from my inventory, not bothering to see how it materialized and saving myself the vomit ride. It felt different in my hand, similar to how a knife just feels different from when you first try to cut up a potato with your parents at age six and slicing fries at age twenty-six. I felt like I knew this material very well. My plan was to destroy the coin and practice remaking the platinum for Ink to learn.

  I just started to focus on destroying the coin when it fell to dust in my hand. I felt the mana drop, but it was significantly less than the auricum one and far less explosive. I could feel Ink pool into my hand. He encased the powdered platinum but did not dissolve it. I sent a warm, affirmative feeling through our link. The liquid in my hand looked like it was boiling; he was obsessed over new material.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  I looked down and watched as the front flap of my loincloth turned to platinum and back. Now I could see the allure of the fully armored king. Self-repairing armor of the best materials made from the cheapest of mass. That was until I touched it. It was very soft and I’m pretty sure I could cut it with a butter knife.

  disappointed trill

  “Worry not, my fluidic friend. I'm sure it's a matter of time before we get you to make armor. If not, still don't worry. If all you ever do is give me an endless closet of the latest fashions, it will be effort well spent.”

  Happy trill

  “It could also be a mass thing, density thing, or a how much you absorb thing. I know you know how to do what you do, but I think learning what you can do might take time.”

  My life was all about choices and decisions. Should I sit and focus on my magic and learning materials or get back to sparring with Mord? I thought about it for a few hours and even discussed the pros and cons with Ink. Ink was all for learning more materials, but he agreed that as long as we had them in our inventory, we could learn them later. We would not always have access to Mord, so Mord it was.

  I quickly rushed through Mord Senior’s room, with the obligatory stop to see if his monologue had changed, and was in the training room in less than two minutes. Mord was ready. He gave me no time to set as he came with a flurry of punches and kicks. It seemed he was going to focus on my unarmed skill. It made no difference to me. The Way of the Void was adept at both hand-to-hand and a few specific weapons, such as my blades. The more we fought, the faster I learned. It took about fifteen rounds before I could avoid the majority of attacks, most of which ended with finger pokes or flicks to the ears and head. The lightness of the strike was intimidating as it showed his mastery, but I was also very appreciative not to be getting the punching bag treatment.

  Another hundred or so exchanges occurred before I got my first strike in. As I found the opening, despite the two other openings that were definitely traps, I could see why Mord resorted to the pokes and flicks. I had time to consider my strike once it was good and through his guard. I could have delivered a punch that would have laid out even the stoutest of humans, but what was the point? The match would have to pause for the other to get back up. Mord wasn't an enemy trying to harm me, he was an opponent, or better yet, a teacher teaching me. I lightly tapped my finger against his temple. He responded with a gentle ball tap in the opening I gave him while I was busy falling into the third trap.

  It took another fifty or so exchanges before I got a legitimate hit. At that point, he stepped back, and the blue light engulfed him once more.

  He let me go after the thousandth or so time I failed to defend.

  The nap at the end of the stairs was very much bliss.