A gentle knock disrupted the stillness of Zeke's isolation, echoing through the chamber and pulling him from his immersed state. Confused, he looked up, struggling for a moment to regain his bearings. It felt like waking from a long dream, and it took him a moment to remember where he was and what he had been doing.
"How long has it been, Akasha?" he mumbled.
[Answer]
Almost six days have passed.
Zeke frowned, surprised by the unexpected response. Hadn't he just entered the chamber?
Tap tap tap—the knocking echoed again.
Zeke couldn't see through the thick fog but his Sphere of Awareness was large enough to encompass a bit of the outside world as well. With it, he could see Gravitas standing there, prepared to knock one more time. Hurridly, he connected to her mind.
"Did something happen?" he asked.
The reply was instant. "No, Master, nothing happened. But it has been a week since the last foray, and Frost came by to ask if you were ready to send his people out again."
Zeke's hazy mind cleared further, and he started to remember the situation. He had indeed promised Frost to send out his people once a week to hunt. He just hadn't expected that time to go by so quickly.
"Tell him I'll be right there," he sent, slowly getting to his feet. He sensed Gravitas walking away as he struggled to adjust. His muscles were stiff and rigid from prolonged disuse, making him feel like a creaky machine being turned on for the first time in years. However, he eventually managed to stagger his way to the exit.
"Turn it off, Akasha," he ordered as he grabbed the crank.
Immediately, the sound of valves closing and gears chittering filled the air. Taking this as confirmation, Zeke slowly began to turn the handle, unsealing the entrance.
The moment the panel unlocked fully, it was yanked from his grip as the remaining gas rushed out, unwilling to stay confined. Zeke watched with interest as the gray smoke billowed into the larger chamber before gradually dispersing. In less than a minute, the wondrous gas had vanished completely.
Under normal circumstances, Zeke would have wondered about the gas's whereabouts, interested in its assimilation into the surrounding world. However, he was not in a state to pay attention to this detail.
Zeke collapsed onto all fours, clutching the glass panels desperately. His face had gone pale, and his entire body felt heavy. Each breath was a torturous struggle, and he felt more nauseous than ever before. It was as if all the blissful feelings of the past week were now reversing, as though he were repaying a karmic debt.
He managed to hold it together for the first few minutes, but eventually, he couldn't fight it any longer. He vomited violently, expelling the small amount of food he had consumed, followed by the water in his stomach, and finally even stomach acid. Despite having nothing left to give, his body was wracked by relentless spasms, his stomach still demanding to purge more.
However, the worst of his suffering wasn't the vomiting—it was breathing. After a week of isolation, his body seemed to have developed an allergy to air itself. Every breath felt like molten fire searing his lungs. Zeke was immobilized by the pain, almost unwilling to breathe at all. If he hadn't known that he would die within minutes without air, he might have refused to breathe altogether. Even so, he kept his breaths shallow, trying to adjust to the foreign sensation.
It was utter agony.
Out of options and unable to think clearly, Zeke did the only thing he could think of to end his suffering. He detached his Soul from his body and used his self-developed puppeteering technique to become a spectator to his body's wretched state. Immediately, all sensation vanished as he could now only 'see' through his Spatial perception.
"I didn't think it would be this bad," Zeke thought as he watched his limbs twitch uncontrollably, his body flailing on pure instinct. He quickly used his Blood Magic to steady himself, preventing the worst of the tremors to avoid injury or damaging the machine. Beyond that, there was nothing more he could do.
[Notice]
The machine was likely never intended for prolonged use. The inventors probably designed it as a substitute for rare resources, not as a tool to accelerate a Mage's progress.
Zeke thought this over. In his incorporeal state, he was not bound by the same emotional responses he was used to, but the news still disturbed him. "What does that mean for our plans?"
[Answer]
The severity of the condition is still unknown, but it is inadvisable for the Host to re-enter the chamber until all symptoms have resolved. Additionally, it would be wise to study the long-term consequences, as these effects are likely to become more pronounced with each repetition.
"Give me an estimate," Zeke demanded.
[Answer]
Based on the current rate of recovery, the worst of the symptoms should subside in less than an hour. However, full acclimatization may take up to a day.
Zeke watched his body struggle, his face contorted in pain. This wasn't good. Losing a day each week might be manageable, but what if the symptoms worsened? While he was safe for now, if the symptoms intensified with each session, his life could be at risk after just a few more times in the chamber. On the other hand, he couldn't afford to extend his time outside. The tribe might last three months, but they couldn't survive for a year.
While keeping a close watch on his condition, he pondered his future course of action. He wasn't willing to give up on his plans after this setback, but he still feared the consequences of his rash actions. What if he grew unable to use the chamber again after those three months? Was it really wise to risk losing his strongest weapon only so that he could save the tribe?
Zeke was uncertain.
He cared for Snow and had promised her father he would try his hardest, but was he truly willing to risk his own future for such a slim chance of success? Even if he overcame all his hurdles and advanced to the Grand Mage level in time, he wasn't confident about saving Winter. At best, he gave himself even odds at succeeding.
As the minutes passed, Zeke noticed that he was beginning to breathe more evenly, and the distorted expression on his face lessened. Tentatively, he tried returning to his body, prepared to quickly escape again if the pain was too much.
Instantly, his physical sensations returned. His lungs burned and his throat felt raw, but it was manageable. He winced as he tried to sit up; the cramping in his abdominal muscles had caused some minor tearing, making it feel like he had just completed the most grueling workout of his life. However, Zeke was no stranger to pain and had endured much worse.
With only a light grunt, he got to his feet and staggered out of the chamber. He tried to focus his dry eyes and quickly spotted his supplies not too far away. He awkwardly stripped out of his stained robes and put on a fresh set of clothing.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted his reflection in a crystalline surface they had hung for decoration. He looked awful. His face was bloodless, his eyes red, and there were still traces of vomit around his mouth. If he had walked around Magusburg or Tradespire looking like this, people might have mistaken him for a homeless man.
Zeke chuckled at the thought. What would people say if they knew that the renowned young genius, celebrated for his talent in amassing wealth, was living in a run-down cave looking like a beggar?
Being rich and famous certainly wasn't as glamorous as the stories made it out to be. In many ways, his life had been much easier and more joyful when he was just a nameless boy in an unimportant village. Now, he was forced to decide on people's lives or deaths, weighing the pros and cons of each decision with seemingly only bad options to pick from.
Was this what it meant to be in charge?
Unexpectedly, Zeke felt a surge of empathy for the Emperor of Arkanheim. If Zeke struggled with the limited influence he had, how much harder must it be to rule an entire empire? He pushed those thoughts aside before they could fully form. There was no point in wavering or sympathizing with his enemy. Life had set them on opposing paths, and Zeke was certain the Emperor wasn't wasting time dwelling on his struggles either, so why should he?
He splashed a cup of water on his face and quickly wiped it clean. It had already been quite a while since he promised to meet with Frost and the man was certain to begin to feel impatient. Zeke tried to relax his body and take on an upright posture, fighting through the protest of his muscles. When he was reasonably content with his efforts, he left his room and made for the area they used as a send off point.
Upon stepping through the door, many pairs of eyes focused on him instantly. His three guards were there, alongside Frost and around two dozen of his people. Zeke tried to smile, but his lips were dry, and he felt them resist the movement.
"You look awful," Frost said, a tense look on his face.
Zeke shrugged. "I never said this would be easy."
Frost fell silent, his expression complex. "I didn't think you would go that far…" he muttered after a moment. His reaction was echoed by most of his men. It seemed Zeke hadn't been as successful in hiding his condition as he'd thought.
"There's a price for everything," Zeke said, breaking the awkward silence. "If I want to increase my power quickly, it will naturally come with hardships. It's a price I'm willing to pay…" He kept the next part to himself, though in his mind, he added the words 'for now.'
Frost nodded, returning to his stoic expression. "Are you able to send my people out?"
Zeke pondered that for a second. Was he? He quickly sat in his usual spot and closed his eyes. He tried to focus on the distant beacon, trying to check if his Core worked as normal. To his surprise, the process was effortless, and he was able to connect to the distant location with nothing but a thought.
Despite the suffering he had endured over the past hour, the improvements to his Core were undeniable. With three affinities growing in tandem, his Core had made a significant leap forward. Zeke could instinctively feel the increased Mana he could command. This was the most extraordinary surge in power he had ever experienced. Usually, such progress might have taken up to a year.
"Let's begin," he said, a genuine smile emerging on his face.
One by one, the hunters disappeared from the cave, and Zeke didn't even feel tired afterward. Normally, he would need a short break by the end, but now he felt capable of handling more. He began to understand why the Chimeroi had become so addicted to the Blood Boil technique. The sudden surge in strength was undeniably compelling.
After Frost left, Zeke took a walk around the mine. Much had changed in the week that had passed, and Gravitas was showing him around and reporting on all the changes. However, despite trying to pay attention, Zeke's mind was elsewhere…
No matter how hard he tried, his thoughts kept returning to the pure bliss he had felt over the past week. Zeke had to force himself not to rush back into the chamber to experience it again right away.