Zeke approached the unconscious Progenitor, his gaze hardening. Even at a glance, it was clear that his condition had worsened over the past three months. What had once been a handsome young man had withered into a shriveled caricature of his former self. The only silver lining was the faint activity still present in his brain—Winter hadn't lost the fight just yet.
"I'm back, wolf," Zeke sent telepathically, marveling at his effortless use of the spell. It had barely taken him more than a thought to manifest the Spellform in his Core. He waited for a while, but there was no reply. The only sign that Winter had even heard his words was a slight increase in his brain activity. It seemed he was no longer in a state to talk, even mentally.
"I will try to cleanse the poison now," Zeke said after it was clear that they wouldn't be able to have a proper exchange of words. "Just hold on a bit longer."
Zeke broke the mental connection and sat down beside the Progenitor. The bed was vast, large enough for several people, and he moved closer to Winter's prone form. Oddly, the oppressive pressure he had felt during his last visit was gone and he didn't need to remove the amulet to alleviate it.
He grasped Winter's arm and immediately shuddered. The man's skin wasn't just cold—it radiated a chill that seeped deep into Zeke's bones. He recoiled, letting go at once.
Was this the result of the poison, or was Winter's skin naturally this cold? Both seemed equally plausible. Perhaps it was even a combination of the two. Whatever the case, it appeared direct skin contact was out of the question. There was no way he could focus on his task while simultaneously fighting off this chill.
Zeke focused on the veins in Winter's wrist. The skin appeared taut and fragile, but Zeke knew better. As a True Mage, he hadn't even been sure if he could pierce Winter's skin. Now, it was time to see if that had changed with his advancement.
The question was… how should he go about this?
Advancing hadn't magically granted him better spells. Sure, he could pour more Mana into the ones he knew, but would that really be enough?
Well, there was only one way to find out.
With a flick of his mind, Zeke urged his Blood to move, feeling a tiny prick as a thin red needle emerged from his index finger. He took a deep breath, gathering as much Mana as he could. But in the next moment, a shudder ran through him, and he abandoned the task on instinct.
What… the… FUCK!
Zeke blinked, looking down at his hand. The blood needle had extended to the length of his forearm, piercing deep into the bedding beneath him. He quickly released the spell, awkwardly retracting the blood into his body. A glance at Snow showed her staring at him, wide-eyed, her face a mix of confusion and doubt.
"I'm still getting used to my powers," he explained weakly. After a moment of awkward silence, Zeke shifted his focus inward. The power he had drawn on was overwhelming, far beyond what he had ever been capable of before. He couldn't be certain, but he suspected this was much more than what a newly advanced Grand Mage should be able to gather.
Using his Spatial Awareness, Zeke examined the changes within himself. In his haste, he hadn't yet taken a proper look. His memories of the advancement were hazy at best. The only thing he remembered clearly was holding on until a sense of saturation filled him. After that, he must have passed out.
What he saw now was nothing like what he remembered…
These weren't mere seedlings anymore. Three fractal vines extended from his Core, each targeting different areas of his body. The red vine had embedded itself in his heart, weaving through his veins and blossoming into a network that resembled the patterns on a leaf.
The blue vine had traveled to his head, enveloping his skull in a mystical exoskeleton covered with strange, mesmerizing patterns he couldn't even begin to decipher. It seemed to function primarily as a protective layer—something he was more than grateful for.
The purple vine traveled straight down to his abdomen before ending abruptly. If that were all, it would have been the shortest and most ordinary of the three. However, many similar fragments were scattered across his body. His hands, arms, legs, feet, and most of his torso were ensnared by the willful purple flower. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to its growth, and even space appeared unable to constrain it.
Zeke marveled at the three strange seedlings for a moment. He had never heard of anything like this before. Typically, a seedling would remain around the Core, becoming more lush as one advanced through the Grand Mage level. But his seedlings had done something entirely different—something unheard of.
Was this the result of the abundant Mana in the chamber?
If so, it meant that most Mages advanced under less-than-ideal conditions. Zeke almost pitied their stunted seedlings… almost. A larger part of him was elated. He couldn't be sure if the illustrious Mage families had ways to compensate for this, but he had clearly gained a massive advantage over most others.
A smile spread across his face as he prepared for another test. Without shifting his focus from his Core, Zeke began to gather Mana again. The change was instant. The vines throughout his body glowed in their respective colors, and a flood of Mana rushed into his Core. With a breath, he expelled it, repeating the process over and over, his smile widening with each cycle.
So that was what it was!
Like the roots of a tree, each vine acted as an extension of his Core, gathering Mana from a much wider area. They channeled the raw, unattuned Mana back to his Core, greatly increasing the amount he could draw from. It was as if he'd spent his entire life drinking through a straw, only to now discover how to sip directly from the cup.
Zeke's eyes gleamed as he drew in as much Mana as his Core could hold, filling it to the brim in an instant. Attuning it to the Blood affinity had become second nature, and he did so effortlessly. He waited a moment, and when he couldn't contain it any longer, he released the Mana all at once—without shaping it into a spell.
A low moan nearly escaped his lips as the Blood-attuned Mana surged through him. It felt like the most refreshing shower he had ever experienced, bathing his body in a massive influx of energy. His pores opened, and a shiver of pleasure ran down his spine as his muscles relaxed and vitality flooded his being.
Zeke remained seated for a time, his eyes closed. He was breathing normally, savoring the sensation he had just experienced. When his breath was steady again, he repeated the same thing—over and over. From an outside perspective, it might have looked like Zeke was enjoying himself frivolously. However, this actually served a larger purpose.
The three Body Affinities—Blood, Bone, and Flesh—drew directly from the caster's body to power their spells, acting as both a limiter and an amplifier. Though Zeke was restricted by how much Blood he could use, each drop was infused with concentrated Mana. The most effective way to increase the potency of his spells now was to push his Blood to its new limits of saturation.
Zeke repeated this practice for over an hour before feeling satisfied. Though he was still far from his upper limit, progress had slowed, and this was as much as he could achieve for now. His eyes snapped open, breath steadying as he reformed the blood needle at his fingertip. It gleamed dark and dense, pulsing with his intent. This time, he would succeed. Winter's life depended on it.
With careful precision, Zeke lowered the needle toward Winter's pale, frigid skin. The chilling sensation returned, but he pushed it aside, focusing solely on the blood flowing beneath.
Steady…
The needle pierced Winter's flesh after a moment of intense resistance, slipping into the Progenitor's bloodstream. Zeke closed his eyes, feeling the connection between his blood and Winter's. Though, it was difficult to recognize the nearly frozen paste inside the Progenitor's veins as the life-giving substance he knew so well. He sent his blood racing through Winter's veins, searching for the source of the poison that had ravaged his body. The moment his blood met the dark substance, Zeke shuddered.
The poison recoiled as if it had a mind of its own.
Zeke tried to pull at it, willing his blood to purge the taint from Winter's system. He increased the pressure, tightening his control, but the poison resisted. It slithered through Winter's veins like a serpent, evading Zeke's grasp. Every time he attempted to draw it out, it pushed back with force.
Zeke's brow furrowed. This wasn't normal. It was almost as if the poison had consciousness, an intent to remain where it was. He exerted more force, sending waves of his own blood to envelop it, but still, the poison refused to be swayed.
How is this possible? Zeke thought.
This poison—whatever it was—was unlike anything he had encountered before. He had experienced nothing like this when dealing with the Frostcale poison before, and even the samples directly from the enemy Progenitor had never shown such characteristics.
His mind raced, desperately searching for a way to combat the poison. He attempted to surround it again, pushing harder. But the more he pressed, the stronger the poison resisted, fighting back with a malevolent energy that seemed to surge in response to his efforts. The sheer defiance of the substance shocked him.
It's alive… he realized with a jolt.
The poison wasn't just a foreign substance; it was imbued with a will. Some force had bound it to Winter, and it wasn't going to release its hold willingly.
With a frustrated growl, Zeke withdrew his blood from Winter's body, retracting the needle. He stared down at his own trembling hand. His breath came in ragged, shallow gasps, and he could feel the strain of the failed attempt weighing on him.
The room was silent, save for the faint rasp of his own breathing. The Progenitor still lay unconscious, locked in his battle with the poison that consumed him. Zeke clenched his fist, anger flaring within him. This poison wasn't something he could simply remove with brute force.
What now?
Zeke stood up, pacing the room as his mind churned. He wasn't even paying attention to the worried glances Snow was shooting him. He needed a new approach. Direct removal wasn't working—if anything, it was making the poison more aggressive. He couldn't simply cleanse it the way he would any other affliction. This poison was different. It had to be tricked somehow, coaxed out of Winter's body, but how?
What was he supposed to do if the poison refused to leave Winter's body…?
An idea began to take shape in his mind, one that felt as dangerous as it was clever. If he couldn't remove the poison directly, maybe he could transfer it somewhere else. Somewhere it would no longer be a threat.
Zeke's gaze flickered back to Winter's withered form. He would need a place the poison was willing to go—a temporary one. A construct. Something that could hold it, even for a brief moment, while it was siphoned from Winter.
The thought sent a chill down his spine. [Blood Manifestation]. It was a risky technique, one he hadn't perfected, but it was his only option. If he could create a new body for Winter, even for a few moments, it might be enough to draw the poison out.
He clenched his jaw. There was no room for hesitation. Winter's time was running out, and he couldn't afford to wait any longer.
This had to work.