"I am surprised your family would pay for the VIP seats, Mordred," Zeke remarked as they made their way through the gate. "That must have been quite expensive, especially for a group of your size."
Mordred scoffed. "Are you kidding? We are almost 30 people, the cost would have bankrupted my family. Of course, we wouldn't pay for that."
"Then how did you get your spots?"
Mordred smirked as he rummaged through the inside of his robes. After a moment, his hand reappeared, holding a golden token. There was a spiraling tower depicted on it and Zeke recognized it as the insignia of Tradespire. "I got this."
"Never seen it. What's that?"
"It's a special invitation by the organizers," Mordred explained. "This allows me to bring up to 30 people."
"Neat," Zeke marveled, "I didn't know they sold those."
"They don't," Mordred replied smugly. "Aren't you forgetting about something?"
Forget about something? What did he forget? Suddenly, Zeke had a thought. "One of the Mages attempting a breakthrough today is from your house, right? Did you get that token because of that?"
"Got it in one," Tristan praised. "It would make no sense to have somebody attempt their breakthrough here and then pay for all your family members to be able to visit. If that was the case, people would just do it in private."
Zeke nodded. Whoever was in charge of this event had put a lot of thought into it. Shortly after, their group arrived in the same hall the ritual had taken place in. However, the space was completely transformed compared to two weeks ago. Instead of the raised stage, the floor was level and the seats had been removed.
The different sections were marked by sheets of cloth on the floor. Plush seating pillows marked the number of participants each group had paid for. Mordred and his group walked over to one of the sections that were closest to the center. There were 30 pillows placed on it.
"We can't accommodate all of you," he said, "but if you want, you could squeeze in with us, Ezekiel?"
"Thank you, but I'll be fine sitting with my people."
"Are you sure? You might learn more by sitting closer," Mordred offered.
Instead of replying, Zeke walked over to the area right next to the one reserved for the Bloodsword family and sat down. With a smug grin, he turned to Mordred. "I think I'll be fine."
The older boy stared back slackjawed, realization dawning on him. "You paid for the VIP section?"
"There is no better investment than to help my people grow," Zeke stated. "If this can allow even one of them to advance safely, then I consider this money to have been well spent."
At his words, more than one chest swelled in pride. Especially the four guard captains resonated with that statement. As combat Mages, power was their life's pursuit. There could be nothing better than to serve somebody who would fully support their ambitions.
"Well said," Mordred agreed. "Money can always be earned, power is still the most important." He swept his gaze over Zeke's group, his good cheer lessening slightly with each face he took in. "However… It is very uncommon to invest such a sum for people who don't carry your name. How can you be certain your men won't simply leave once they advance?"
"I can't," Zeke replied. "My mentor was of the opinion that people should not be bound to a house by such means. They should stay of their own conviction or leave altogether."
Mordred whistled in appreciation. "I had wondered why your mentor never adopted any of his men. Quite the noble sentiment, as expected from such a figure. But from what I can see, you are spending even more than he did. I pray your generosity doesn't end up hurting you in the long term."
Those words gave Zeke pause. Even after everyone had taken their places, he was still contemplating those words. They had awoken a fear Zeke had managed to keep suppressed until now. The question was now indelibly edged at the very forefront of his mind: What if his men abandoned him after taking all he could give?
He was paying for their affinity crystals, he was providing them with spells, he was teaching them about his research, and right now, he was trying to find a safe way to advance to Arch Mage… but what then? What came after?
All of a sudden, something dawned on him: Maximilian didn't have a single Arch Mage subordinate. Zeke had never questioned this fact, but now he couldn't think of anything else. Was it because nobody had managed to advance in all those years… or had they simply left? With how rare Arch Mages were, it was possible that there hadn't been a single one, but what if there had?
There was something else he had to consider. Should he even try to stop them from leaving? Did he have the right to? As he had just said to Tristan, Maximilian had always wanted people to stay of their own volition and not because they were forced to.
However, this philosophy didn't work well for Zeke's purposes. His ultimate goal was to gather strength, much more strength than Maximilian had ever had. Enough to stand up against any and all forces that would try to oppose the changes he wanted to bring to the world. How would he be able to do that with a group of volunteers?
Of the ten members of his inner circle, Zeke trusted each and every one — to an extent. They were the ones protecting his estate, fortune, and family. However, this was in peaceful times. How would their resolve hold up once he openly opposed the empire?
Needless to say, the empire would leave no stone unturned to hurt him. Turning his own people against him would undoubtedly be on their agenda. This was what the empire had done to Mara Sonnenstrahl, after all.
Would his people be able to resist that temptation? Zeke didn't know, but he highly doubted it. Honor and gratitude had a weaker pull than threats and riches. This was proven by the fact that history books were filled with betrayal.
Out of the ten people surrounding him, there were only three that Zeke believed would stand with him until the end. The others, he couldn't say, but even one betrayal of this magnitude could spell his doom…
The first of the Grand Mages stood, waking Zeke from his morose train of thought. The man had emerged from one of the large groups sitting close to the center. He recognized the sigil of their house as one of the great merchant companies dealing in rare spices.
A hush fell over the entire hall as the man stepped onto the meditation mat in the center of the room. He swept his gaze around, bowing slightly toward the location of his own people. "Greetings, everyone. I am Alessandro Mercer, and I represent the Velvet Pepperweave company. I am 97 years old and have a Nature Affinity."
After his introduction, the man sat down cross-legged and closed his eyes. Every single gaze was solely directed at Alessandro at this very moment. Zeke noticed that the surrounding magic remained undisturbed. It was forbidden to cast any spells during the Advancement Ceremony out of fear it might disturb the Mage in question.
However, that was no hindrance to Zeke. One of the main reasons he had paid such an astronomical price for his tickets had been to get him close enough to use his sphere of awareness. Nobody would even notice him using his passive spells.
"Akasha, suspend all other tasks. I want your full attention on this."
[Answer]
Affirmative! redirecting all sensorial capacity toward the individual named Alessandro Mercer.
Zeke cleared his thoughts and focused. This deserved nothing less than his full attention. Advancing to Arch Mage was a risky procedure. There was no publicly available method to undergo the process safely. Each house had its own methods and tricks, passed down from previous members. Maximilian had also handed down his notes and insights to David in order to help his chances. However, there seemed to be no consensus on the best way to go about it.
In theory, the process was fairly straightforward. Any Grand Mage whose core had reached the limit of his growth could attempt it. As with any advancement, this was accompanied by a major change to the core. But whereas all previous stages had forced the core to evolve, the step to Arch Mage went the opposite way. It was often referred to by its other name: Core Shattering.
Zeke watched with rapt attention as the man gathered Mana toward his core. Zeke realized immediately what he was trying to do. He did not attune the mana, a clear sign of casting an unattributed spell. The question was, what spell would it be?
Zeke studied the weave of mana. He had seen similar patterns before… something with force? Was the man going to crush his core using a force spell? But the spell looked too complicated for such a simple purpose. What other function would it have?
He wasn't left guessing for long, as the spell took shape mere moments later. He had been right; it was indeed a force spell. However, instead of merely shattering his core, the spell pulverized it with the additional effect of scattering the remains. Zeke applauded the ingenuity of this approach. From how he understood it, the goal of the advancement was to infuse one's core throughout the entire body.
An Arch Mage didn't have a distinct core anymore. Instead, their entire body would serve that purpose. By crushing and scattering his Core, the man seemed to be off to a good start. However, if the process was this easy to complete, the chances of a successful advancement would be far higher than they were. There had to be more to it.
The man was sweating bullets but remained unmoving nonetheless. Some kind of process was definitely underway, but Zeke didn't notice any great changes to his body. Was he going through a mental change then? Whatever was happening looked quite taxing.
Zeke felt for the man, his entire future rested on his success today. If his advancement failed, he would never again be able to cast a spell. He would have to live a mundane life. Well, maybe not quite mundane — he would retain his physical advantages and his longer lifespan, but his days as a Mage would be numbered.
[Notice]
With the shattering of the core, the man's magical defenses have crumbled.
"So?" Zeke asked in bewilderment. "I am not here to kill him, Akasha."
[Answer]
Affirmative! I found it prudent to inform Host that without his magical defenses, it might be possible to observe the man's Soul.
Zeke could have slapped himself when he heard those words. How could he have missed such a simple fact? Without a core, the man had no more Mana to protect his Soul. This was an even more extreme version of the mana-suppressing tea he had used previously. Without a moment's hesitation, he extended a bit of his Soul to observe the scene.
Immediately, he perceived the man's intense struggle. It had not been a mental change but a spiritual one. His Soul was going through the most drastic transformations Zeke had ever seen.
His Soul was many times bigger than any Zeke had seen to date. It had the shape of a verdant tree and reached from his navel to his neck. However, as Zeke watched, there was something strange happening to it. Its shape distorted and wiggled as if it was resisting some unseen pressure, but gradually, it was losing the fight.
The tree was ripped this way and that way, its shape changing all the while. This brutal tug of war continued for a couple of minutes until Zeke finally realized what was happening. The soul had lost its connection to the body and was trying to reattach itself. This was similar to what Zeke used to do during his early experiments with Soul Magic.
However, the man's situation was a lot more perilous. Unlike in his case, the Soul had no fixed point to anchor itself to. This was most likely also the reason why it was pulled in every direction at once. The Soul was probably attracted to the remains of the core that had been scattered all throughout the body.
The tree was being pulled more and more. It now even started to take on a humanoid form. But the further it was stretched, the more transparent and fainter its form got. It hadn't yet reached half the size of the man, and Zeke could barely make out the individual leaves anymore. This would not end well.
After one final, strenuous pull, the Soul reverted. It looked akin to a rubber band that had snapped. The tree Zeke had seen earlier was back once more. However, it now looked slightly misshapen. Furthermore, it seemed to drift aimlessly inside the man's chest. This was nothing like any Soul Zeke had ever observed — the tree now seemed like an unmoored boat drifting aimlessly in a small pond.
Simultaneously, there was a reaction in the real world. The man's entire body lurched, and he started to vomit violently. For a while, everybody observed silently as the man lay there, tears and snot running down his face. After a few minutes, the shaking and sobbing subsided, and the man got up.
His face was a mess, his eyes red and puffy. However, more so than his disheveled state, Zeke noticed the look in his eyes. He looked like a soulless husk, a mere shadow of his former self.
With heavy steps, the man started walking. However, his path didn't take him back to his colleagues. Instead, he made his way toward the exit. He either didn't dare face his employer or, more likely, wasn't welcome there anymore.
Either way, the man had failed — his path had been severed.