American Comic Plane.
Yes, ever since OAA had learned from Orsaga about the information concerning his own plane—that in other spacetime realms, it was often spread in the plain and unadorned outward form of American comics—
He had simply taken to calling his own plane the American Comic Plane.
Concise and perfectly clear!
Of course.
All of that was merely a codename, with no deeper meaning involved whatsoever.
Other than making it easier for outsiders to distinguish it, it had no actual damn use.
If he wanted to.
He could call this place Plane A, the Tomorrow I Want to Eat Someone Plane, the Full-Service Massage Plane... there would be no problem at all.
As the ruler here.
OAA, who had no feelings to speak of.
Did not care in the slightest whether something sounded pleasant or not.
As for information about this place being spread about freely.
Just as Orsaga did not care about his own name being spread around.
OAA did not particularly care about such trivial bullshit either.
Every now and then, he would even snatch a few transmigrators from other spacetime realms who knew part of the information, toss them into his territory, and calmly watch them perform all sorts of tricks.
Moreover.
That information which had spread out would, from time to time, spawn even more subsidiary spacetime realms in the outside world—cheap knockoff American Comic Planes that were essentially counterparts of this place.
After gathering in those counterparts that had developed on their own.
OAA would reap some rather decent gains every so often.
Therefore.
Overall.
As of now, OAA was fairly satisfied with the situation.
At present, looking out across OAA's body—the boundless spacetime territory of the American Comic Plane—countless bubble-like Semi-Independent Spacetime Aggregates were linked together by streams upon streams of colored