"Who do you think it is?"
"No idea. The Mana doesn't feel familiar at all."
"Could it be an enemy?"
The second figure paused, then shook his head. "Highly unlikely. This doesn't feel like a powerful Mage. I'd guess we're dealing with a Grand Mage—a newly ascended one, at that."
Hearing this, the first figure relaxed. "Then they probably haven't had time to register yet. Should we open the gate?"
The second man nodded. "Let's. They're not a threat, and we can sort out the details once they arrive."
With a nod, the first man withdrew his Mana, opening the spatial gate just enough for a Grand Mage to pass through. If the stranger had been more powerful, the guards wouldn't have risked such a casual approach. But with a Grand Mage, they were confident they could handle any potential threat.
Moments later, the air shimmered, and a figure materialized at the center of the chamber. The guards assessed the newcomer with interest.
The man appeared young—likely in his mid-twenties, judging by his Grand Mage aura. He was almost certainly one of the prodigies of a prominent family. His crimson hair fell past his shoulders, framing sharp, golden eyes that sparkled with intelligence and a touch of craftiness. Tall and lean, his loose-fitting robes hinted at a well-toned physique beneath.
The second guard spoke. "In the name of the king, I ask that you identify yourself, stranger."
Though neither guard felt truly threatened, they remained alert. Even as Archmages, they weren't invulnerable, and there were ways to bridge the gap between magical realms—especially with another Space Mage involved. Caution was always wise; who knew what tricks this newcomer might have?
The young man's gaze shifted between the two guards, assessing his surroundings briefly before returning his attention to the one who had spoken.
"Since you serve the king," he said in a relaxed tone, "am I correct in assuming you won't report my arrival to anyone else?"
The second guard nodded. "You can be assured of our confidentiality. Not a word of your arrival will leave here." The young man seemed pleased, prompting the guard to add a cautionary note. "However, that doesn't mean you'll go unnoticed."
"What do you mean?" the young man asked, frowning.
The guard gestured around. "This is Tradespire. Nearly every faction has eyes here, especially on the Gate. The moment you step outside, at least a dozen spies will know you've arrived."
The young man nodded seriously. "If that's all, I think I can manage."
The guard didn't press further. He had learned long ago that meddling in other people's methods rarely ended well. "Then, will you tell us your name and affiliation?"
"I am Ezekiel, affiliated with the Hohenheim Company in the outer district of the third layer."
"The Hohenheim Company…" the second guard repeated, trying to recall where he'd heard the name. But the first guard's reaction was different; his eyes went wide.
"Are you really that Ezekiel?" he asked. "The rising star of Tradespire's younger generation?"
The newcomer tilted his head, considering. "Do you doubt me?"
The guard hesitated but didn't deny it. "From what I've heard, Ezekiel is not even twenty yet," he said, looking skeptical. "But you're already a Grand Mage…" he trailed off.
The young man only grinned. "Now you understand why I requested that my arrival remain confidential, right?"
"That…" the guard began but hesitated. "Is there a way you can prove your identity? We could call someone from your estate, but then maintaining your anonymity would be impossible."
The young man thought for a moment, then asked the first guard, "How much do you know about me?"
"…About you?"
"I mean, about Ezekiel," he clarified.
"Just what the rumors claim," the guard replied after a moment. "He's supposed to be a genius inventor, has three affinities, and is at odds with the empire."
The young man smiled. In the next instant, a red needle extended from his fingertip, lengthening steadily until it stopped, colliding with an invisible wall a step away. The guards, being Archmages, recognized immediately what he had done.
He had used Blood Magic to summon the needle, then halted it with a spatial barrier spell, demonstrating at least two affinities—Blood and Space.
"Will that be enough?"
His words echoed in their minds rather than aloud, causing the guards to nod. A young man with the rare combination of Blood, Space, and Mind was almost impossible to mistake.
In any case, the entry conditions for a Grand Mage weren't overly strict, as their potential for damage was limited—at least in a place like Tradespire.
"Welcome home, Ezekiel of Tradespire," the second guard said formally. "Please remember to register with the Mages Association at your earliest convenience; it will make it easier for us to recognize your signature the next time you use the gate."
The young man nodded. "I will."
"You'll still need to pay the gate fee, but we can send the bill to the Hohenheim estate if you prefer."
"Please do," the young man replied. With that, he headed toward the entrance, and the guards let him pass without interruption. After a few steps, he paused, pulled up his hood, then continued forward. A moment later, he vanished, teleporting somewhere outside the building.
Seeing this, the guards exchanged glances.
"Did you notice?" one asked.
The other nodded, astonished. "I didn't feel him create an exit point at all. There's no telling where he went."
"How did he do that?"
The second guard thought for a moment. "Maybe there's a personalized beacon nearby?"
"Possible," the first agreed after a pause. "Whatever the case, that young man is far more impressive than the rumors suggest. We should report his arrival immediately."
Shortly after, word of Ezekiel's return began making its way up the royal chain of command.
***
Zeke materialized in a secluded alley near the gate, timing his arrival to avoid drawing any attention. While a skilled Mage might still detect his appearance, he doubted anyone was watching that closely.
With a slight adjustment to his hood, he stepped onto the main street, moving down the familiar boulevard. His gaze drifted, taking in both old and new sights. The city was constantly evolving, yet its essence remained the same. Merchants called out energetically to passersby, trying to sell their goods. Elegant young women invited potential customers into upscale shops, and lively sounds spilled from the occasional tavern.
It was a scene of vibrancy and prosperity.
Zeke walked leisurely, not in a rush to return home just yet. Now, with no one aware of his arrival, it seemed like the perfect moment to gauge how the city had fared in his absence.
When he had left, the atmosphere had been tense, heavy with the threat of war. Tradespire, despite its strong defenses, bordered the empire of Arkanheim, and war on the horizon could only spell trouble.
Yet now, the gloom he remembered was absent. The streets bustled with activity, and people went about their daily routines as if nothing had changed. It seemed his mother's words had been true: the city's residents were confident the empire would be pushed back in the coming weeks.
To his left, Zeke spotted a dwarven shopkeeper in a heated argument with a pot-bellied merchant. Their debate over the price had long devolved into a shouting match, both their faces flushed with anger. Yet neither seemed ready to walk away from the deal, suggesting their fury was more of a sales tactic than genuine emotion.
A few steps further, Zeke passed a store with a long line outside. The sign above read Fruits of the World Tree, and several fair-skinned elven women stood outside, smiling and winking at the passing crowd. Zeke quickly looked away before one of them could make eye contact. He wasn't sure how perceptive these women were, but he had a nagging suspicion that their role might involve more than just attracting customers. They were likely as skilled at scouting as they were at selling.
As Zeke continued down the bustling street, he took in the diverse mix of people around him with a newfound appreciation. Now that he had seen more of the world, he could better understand the King's vision. Here, the copper-skinned Korrovans, the fair-skinned Arkanheim residents, stout dwarves, and even the aloof elves all coexisted. Tradespire truly was a one-of-a-kind place.
Suddenly, a commotion up ahead caught his attention. A crowd had gathered in a nearby plaza. Curious, Zeke extended his spatial perception to investigate, and what he sensed left him stunned. Without hesitation, he adjusted his course toward the source of the excitement.
Pushing through the throng, Zeke reached the front of a large platform where a familiar sight awaited him—a small-scale airship adorned with a beautifully carved lion's head at its bow. The sleek, luxurious design outshone any model he had seen before.
A tall man stood beside the airship, animatedly describing its features to the gathered crowd. Initially, Zeke assumed this was a rival promoting a competing product. But then he noticed the sign: Hohenheim Company.
For a while, he simply watched, captivated by the demonstration as the pilot deftly showcased the airship's maneuverability and ease of control. The crowd was awestruck, with gasps and exclamations of excitement echoing around him. Zeke joined in the applause, grinning at each new feature revealed. Whoever had organized this presentation certainly knew how to draw a crowd.
But beyond the showmanship, he noticed the substantial modifications to his original design. It seemed Jettero had put to good use the concepts and blueprints Zeke had sent back over the past year. With Akasha's help, he had amassed a trove of refined diagrams and ideas, and it was gratifying to see some of them in action already.
After lingering a little longer, Zeke finally left his spot in the crowd, his steps carrying him through the streets with a renewed sense of purpose. Seeing the familiar sight had stirred the deep longing that had gnawed at him for weeks. He wanted to see his family, his home.
The alleys and streets blurred by as he made his way toward the outskirts of the third layer. The Hohenheim estate, with its expansive grounds, couldn't be located close to the layer's center. Still, it didn't take him long to reach a familiar area.
Walking along the tall stone wall surrounding his estate, he could see only the treetops beyond. His pace slowed a bit as he neared the entrance, where familiar figures stood watch. These were his people, just as he remembered them.
The watchmen noticed his approach and immediately raised their guard, eyeing him with suspicion. Zeke didn't blame them—in fact, he understood their reaction. A hooded figure approaching at speed was rarely a reassuring sight. But before they could do more than scrutinize him warily, Zeke sent a telepathic message to them.
Immediately, the guards' postures softened, and the estate gates swung open. Zeke appreciated their quick response; he was certain there were prying eyes on his estate, and he preferred to keep his arrival discreet.
Flanked by a few watchmen, he walked up the well-paved path. The guards stayed vigilant, not yet fully assured of his identity. But the moment they entered the foyer, everything changed. Before Zeke could even lower his hood, a small figure barreled into him with the force of a charging horse.
"ZEEEKEEEE!!"
It was a blonde girl who barely reached his stomach. He caught her, holding her close, feeling the rush of familiarity and love. A second later, his mother joined in, flying down the stairs to embrace him.
In that moment, wrapped in the warmth of his mother's and sister's arms, Zeke felt truly content for the first time in a long while.
It was good to be home again.