The cheerful chime of bells greeted Zeke as he pushed open the door, the sound echoing softly once more as it closed behind him.
He took a deep breath, his chest tight with a mix of emotions. Though he had known of this place for years, this was the first time he had ever stepped inside.
"Welcome to the Mage's Association," a dignified voice called. "How may I assist you, sir?"
Zeke turned his attention to the speaker: an older woman with her hair pulled back into a firm, no-nonsense bun. A pair of half-moon glasses perched perfectly on the bridge of her nose, and she wore a black and white uniform. The fabric was pristine, as though it had just come from the wash—without so much as a single crease.
The moment their eyes met, Zeke felt an odd impulse to straighten his posture. Despite all his experiences, there was no escaping the instinctive reaction of feeling like a misbehaving schoolboy under the gaze of a strict professor.
He suppressed a chuckle at the thought and offered her his best smile. "I'm here to register for the portal network."
Without missing a beat, the woman's deft hands retrieved the appropriate form. Moments later, her sharp gaze was back on him, all business. "Is this a registration for a member of your organization, sir?"
"I'm registering myself," Zeke replied.
One of her perfectly manicured eyebrows arched—only a fraction, but for a woman of her composure, it might as well have been a gasp. Zeke smirked inwardly. It made sense, though. After all, registering for the Portal Network required a mage to reach the level of Grand Mage. Achieving that before the age of 25 was the mark of a true genius. Zeke, on the other hand, was still in his teens, and despite his growing maturity, his youthful features made it clear he had yet to reach adulthood.
"Name of the applicant," the woman said, her tone cool and professional once again.
"Ezekiel," he replied.
The moment the name left his lips, the woman froze, her sharp gaze locking onto his face with newfound scrutiny. After taking in his crimson hair and golden eyes, she finally spoke. "Ezekiel von Hohenheim? Disciple of Maximilian Bombastus von Hohenheim?"
"Not anymore," Zeke said with a grimace, "on both accounts."
The woman inclined her head slowly. "A true shame. His death was a blow to the magical community as a whole."
Zeke nodded but remained silent. A part of him blamed the Mage's Association for Maximilian's fate. His mentor had been exposed, in part, because his messages to Tradespire had been intercepted. Even so, Zeke wouldn't stoop so low as to direct his frustrations at this woman—she wasn't responsible for what had happened.
After his name was revealed, the questions ceased entirely. Zeke watched in silent astonishment as the entire questionnaire seemed to fill itself out. The woman's pen moved with practiced efficiency, recording every detail about him without his input—his magical affinities, political affiliations, parentage, even his hometown.
Zeke's brows lifted slightly. He hadn't expected this level of thoroughness. Sure, he'd gained some renown recently, but for them to know this much about him from a single name? The staff here were clearly chosen for good reason. It was, Zeke had to admit, an impressive display of competence.
In less than a minute, the form was complete. The woman reviewed it one final time before sliding it across the desk toward him. "Portal registration is on the third floor."
Zeke accepted the document, giving it a quick glance. Everything was in order. "Thank you," he said.
"You're welcome, sir." The woman paused, then spoke again, her tone cautious. "If I may be so bold, you might consider visiting the seventh floor once your business is concluded."
Zeke raised an eyebrow. "What's on the seventh floor?"
"The Department of Records and Rankings," she explained. "You should consider registering your achievement."
Zeke frowned in thought. Initially, he had planned to keep his advancement under wraps for as long as possible. But now that he was registering for the Portal Network, secrecy seemed pointless. The registration would distribute his information to every nation with an active portal system, making it easy for anyone with influence to uncover his progress.
At this stage, continuing to hide his advancement would likely do more harm than good. If anonymity was no longer an option, leveraging recognition was the next best choice. Fame, after all, could be a weapon in its own right.
Zeke gave her a grateful nod. "I'll consider it," he said, turning to leave. However, after searching for a while, he couldn't find a stairway leading to the higher floors.
A soft clearing of a throat caught his attention. He glanced back at the woman who had helped him earlier. When their eyes met, she subtly motioned to the left, toward a spot he had just passed.
Without reacting outwardly, Zeke returned to the indicated area. He quickly noticed that the small alcove was etched with intricate inscriptions embedded in the floor. Upon closer inspection, he saw faint carvings on the wall: numbers ranging from 0 to 12, representing the building's floors.
His gaze landed on the number three, the floor he needed to visit first. Raising his hand, he tentatively touched the inscription. At once, he felt a faint pull from the enchantment. Loosening his tight control over his Core, he allowed a trickle of Mana to flow into the glyphs.
A bright white flash briefly blinded him, and he felt space warp around him—a sensation he recognized instantly. When the light faded, Zeke found himself on a similar platform in a different location, his hand still outstretched toward the wall.
Turning around, he saw an entirely new scene. The corridor behind him confirmed he had reached the third floor. He began walking, curiously taking in his surroundings. The floor hosted more than just the Department for Portal Network registration.
As he strolled past various offices, his eyes skimmed the signs: Magical Beasts, Magical Contracts, Marriage Registration, and finally, Portal Network.
Zeke entered the department and was greeted by an elaborate setup. Instead of the expected simple desk, the room resembled the lair of a mad scientist, filled with a diverse array of magical apparatuses—each more intricate than the last.
"What do you want?" a gruff voice barked.
Zeke continued scanning the room, his curiosity piqued. He could discern the purpose of about half the devices, and given more time, he was confident he could decode the rest. Then again, there was no need to rush. Akasha had likely cataloged them all already.
Turning to the man who had spoken, Zeke handed over his document with a polite smile. "I'm here to register."
"You?" The man's disbelief was clear, but as his eyes flicked over the neatly filled-out form, his expression quickly shifted. "Apologies, sir," he said after a brief pause, placing the document carefully on his desk.
"The cost of registration is 100 gold," he announced, his tone turning brisk and professional. "We can begin as soon as the payment is made."
Zeke nodded, retrieving a golden bar stamped with the number 100 and placing it on the table. The man barely spared it a glance before sliding it aside.
"Very well. If you'd please follow me," he instructed, gesturing toward one of the devices Zeke didn't know the purpose of. "Please channel your Mana into this device," the man instructed.
The registration process continued in much the same way, with Zeke following the man from one apparatus to the next. Each device was designed to assess a different aspect of his Space affinity. At one point, he was even instructed to perform a short-range teleportation inside a small, isolated chamber. Throughout the process, he could feel the constant hum of magical instruments measuring and analyzing his every move.
The procedure was far more thorough than he had expected. After this, there would be no mistaking his magical signature—no matter where he teleported. The sheer amount of data collected made it impossible to confuse him with anyone else.
The tests took nearly an hour, during which the gruff man guided Zeke through every step. Once the process was complete, the man disappeared into an adjoining room, leaving Zeke alone. Zeke used the opportunity to study the magical devices again. Now that he had interacted with most of them, their purposes were far clearer.
Before long, the man returned, holding a thin black rectangle. The object was inscribed with strange letters and resembled the business cards used by wealthy merchants—except it appeared to be made of metal, and the text was written in a language Zeke didn't recognize.
The man handed the card to Zeke. "This is your identification card. Ususally, the system will automatically recognize your magical signature. However, if you're asked to verify yourself, present this card to the Portal guards. It contains an encrypted summary of all your information and measurements."
Zeke nodded, placing the card in his pocket. "Anything else I need to know?"
The man pondered for an instant. "I recommend that you wait a few days before independently using the Portal Network. Otherwise, it is possible that you will not be recognized yet. Arriving at one of these Portal could turn out to be quite dangerous or even deadly."
Zeke nodded, having already expected something like this. This restriction wouldn't influence him. After all, he would use the official portal between cities instead of opening a passage on his own. After all, he had never been to the dwarfen capital and therefore couldn't even perceive the beacon's frequency.
The man gave Zeke a few more words of caution before sending him on his way. Soon, he found himself back on the platform that traversed the floors, his gaze flickering between the numbers.
Should he leave now, or visit the Department of Records and Rankings?
Zeke had grown accustomed to the spotlight over the past few years. A part of him even relished the attention and admiration. However, this decision would draw more focus on him than ever before.
So far, his accomplishments, though impressive, could still be attributed to the achievements of a remarkably talented youngster. But advancing to Grand Mage at his age and officially registering the record would place him at the top of leaderboards, possibly even overshadowing legendary geniuses of past eras. It was a step that needed careful consideration.
Was he truly ready to put himself in the spotlight of the entire continent?
Zeke's hand hovered over the etchings for a moment, caught in thought. Then, with a firm decision, his finger pressed against the number 7. In an instant, a flash of light enveloped him, and he found himself in a new location.
It was time to make history.