His crimson hair was swept back by the relentless wind, the force pressing against him with such intensity that keeping his eyes open was a struggle. Yet, despite the oppressive gusts, a wide smile stretched across his face as he extended his arms wide, embracing the rush.
Standing at the prow of the Alexandria von Hohenheim, Zeke faced the immense pressure of the oncoming wind head-on. At that moment, he couldn't help but wonder—was this what it felt like to fly?
For the first time, a flicker of envy stirred. He had never longed for another's magical affinities before, but flight... Flight was tempting. To soar freely, unbound by the weight of gravity, to drift wherever the winds might carry him—what could be more exhilarating? How liberating must it be to cast aside all earthly constraints and sail across the endless sky, untethered and unstoppable?
"Faster!" He shouted over the roaring wind, his grin widening with exhilaration. "Give her all you've got, Captain!"
But the captain was having none of it. The man—once a loyal lieutenant under Kerim—vehemently shook his head, arms crossed in a firm, unmistakable gesture of refusal.
Zeke pouted, but deep down, he knew his request was unreasonable. While the ship could go faster, pushing beyond this speed was strictly reserved for emergencies. Any further acceleration risked damaging the vessel, and such reckless speeds were meant for dire situations, not indulging in a thrill-seeking whim.
Zeke couldn't help himself. It had been far too long since he last stood aboard the warship, and he had almost forgotten the sheer exhilaration of tearing through the clouds atop such a colossal vessel. Behemoth-class airships were in a league of their own. Was this what it felt like to ride a dragon into battle?
At that errant thought, a derisive snort echoed in the back of his mind. Thankfully, Khai'zar restrained himself to that single, dismissive sound instead of launching into a lecture on the majesty of Dragons.
Grinning, Zeke leaned over the railing, his gaze sweeping across the vast landscape below. They had been heading south since morning, wasting no time after his return. Tradespire was far behind them now, and they were soaring over Invocatia. This was the easiest stretch of their journey—the skies above the land of Summoners were among the safest.
The true test would come when they attempted to cross the jungles of Irroch. That vast wilderness remained untamed, a place where nature reigned supreme and beasts roamed freely. It wouldn't be wrong to call those creatures the true rulers of the land, rather than the scattered pockets of humanity that eked out an existence there.
Fortunately, most of the more fearsome predators were landbound, unable to interfere with their journey. However, that didn't mean the skies were safe. The massive trees of the jungle housed enough airborne nightmares to give even a seasoned captain pause before daring to cross that treacherous expanse.
Still, he had insisted on this route.
The Alexandria was no ordinary vessel—it was a warship, armed with cutting-edge weaponry, and he had full confidence in its ability to handle whatever threats lurked below. More importantly, he was no longer the helpless boy who had once fled from a pack of goblins.
No, the Ezekiel of today was a seasoned warrior, more than capable of holding his own in battle. With the elite Grandmages he had brought from his estate and the battle-hardened crew of the Alexandria, they stood a chance against almost anything short of an Archmage-level threat.
His gaze drifted to the horizon, where it almost seemed as if the first signs of that green hellscape were emerging. Of course, that was unlikely—it would still take a couple of days before Irroch truly came into view. But that didn't mean he had time to waste. This relatively peaceful stretch of the journey was his last opportunity to focus on what he had neglected so far.
His right hand tightened around the unyielding object he held—a small, unassuming cube. The World Anchor. Ever since that fateful day in the Tower of Scholars, it had never left his side. Though he had once been indifferent to it, dismissing it as little more than an oddity, that ignorance had long since faded. Now, fully aware of its true value, he found himself unwilling to let it out of his grasp.
Even though he was certain he had erased all traces of the encounter from the Scholars' minds, caution was never a mistake. Memories were fickle things and if there was even the slightest chance he had overlooked something… he would rather not take the risk.
Zeke's expression hardened as his fingers traced the intricate engravings along the cube's surface. Akasha was working tirelessly, applying everything they had learned in the Tower of Scholars to decipher its mysteries, but progress had been painfully slow. Whether she would ever succeed in unraveling its secrets remained uncertain.
But Zeke was done leaving things to chance.
If this artifact was valuable enough to stir greed in the heart of royalty, then letting it languish in obscurity was no longer an option. He needed every advantage he could seize—every tool, every scrap of knowledge—if he was to carve out a place for himself in this world.
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For the first time since their journey began, Zeke left his favorite spot at the prow of the ship, retreating to his chambers. He pretended not to notice the visible relief on the captain's face as he passed by, though he understood the man's sentiments. Enduring the whims of someone as reckless as himself couldn't have been pleasant.
His quarters were the largest and most lavish on the ship—an extravagance unheard of on a typical warship. Yet Maximilian, in his boundless eccentricity, had repurposed the Alexandria for private use, outfitting it with amenities that would have made any noble envious. An attached bathroom, a separate study—luxuries that now served Zeke well.
This was the perfect place for uninterrupted research, and he intended to make full use of it. With strict orders ensuring he wouldn't be disturbed until they reached the borders of Irroch, he settled in, ready to unlock the mysteries that had eluded him for too long.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Zeke turned the cube over in his hands. He didn't expect to uncover anything new with this surface-level examination, but skipping steps—no matter how obvious—was not his way. He would be thorough.
The cube was perfectly symmetrical, its proportions flawless. It didn't even seem like something crafted by human hands—so immaculate was its surface. Despite being an artifact from ancient times, there were no cracks, no seams, no signs of wear or weathering. Not a single imperfection marred its form.
For all intents and purposes, it looked as if it had just been forged, fresh from its creator's hands. That alone spoke volumes about its extraordinary nature. Few things in this world could defy the passage of time so completely.
The only distinguishing feature on the cube's otherwise identical sides was the engraved script. Though the symbols clearly belonged to the same language, each face bore a different set of characters. It was maddening—he had come so close to uncovering their secrets, only to be betrayed by the very scholars he had sought for help.
At least he hadn't left completely empty-handed.
Finishing his visual inspection, Zeke moved on to experimentation. He had long since noticed the faint aura of spatial Mana emanating from the artifact, making it the logical place to start.
He inserted a sliver of his own Mana and waited. And waited. And… nothing happened.
Frowning, he tried again, this time with a greater amount—but the result was the same. However, something was different. Unlike most objects, through which spatial Mana would pass unhindered, the cube absorbed it. His energy was drawn inside and vanished without a trace.
That was interesting.
Zeke had never encountered anything capable of doing that to spatial Mana. By its very nature, space was unbound by physical constraints. It flowed through solid objects as if they didn't exist, allowing him to perceive his surroundings with absolute clarity.
Yet somehow, this cube not only blocked his Mana—it devoured it.
Intrigued by his discovery, Zeke did the only logical thing—he blasted the cube with as much Spatial Mana as his Core could produce.
If there was a limit to how much it could contain, he was determined to find it. And if the cube functioned like a reservoir, storing energy until it reached a critical threshold, then perhaps it simply needed to be refilled before it would activate.
Encouraged by this possibility, Zeke held nothing back. He flung open the floodgates of his Core, unleashing an unprecedented torrent of Mana into the artifact. It was an unstoppable deluge.
His overdeveloped Core, strengthened by the network of spatial seedlings embedded throughout his body, maintained a steady and continuous flow of energy. Since he wasn't shaping a spell—only converting the ambient Mana and channeling it—he could sustain the process with minimal effort. But that didn't mean it was without cost.
Within seconds, fatigue began creeping in. A Core wasn't designed to operate at maximum output indefinitely; the strain accumulated like the burn of a sprinter pushing past his limits. Even the fittest athlete could only maintain a full sprint for so long.
Recognizing this, Zeke adjusted his approach. The goal wasn't to force the cube to its limit as quickly as possible, but to expose it to an overwhelming volume of spatial Mana over time.
With a new, far more sustainable pace, he settled in for the long haul. But as the minutes stretched on, a sinking feeling took hold. The sheer amount of Mana he was pouring into the cube was beyond anything reasonable—yet it showed no reaction at all.
That could only mean one of two things. Either, his hypothesis was wrong. Or… the reservoir of the cubes was way beyond what a Grandmage could produce. Honestly, he couldn't decide which of the two was more likely, both possibilities seeming within the bounds of reason.
Just before his Core was completely drained, Zeke reluctantly halted his efforts. It would be unwise to leave himself defenseless, and he doubted that a fraction more Mana would yield any significant results.
His gaze turned thoughtful as he studied the cube, which lay still and silent in his hands. There was no change. No glow indicating the presence of absorbed Mana, no fluctuation in its energy signature, and no sign of any reaction to his relentless infusion. It felt as though his efforts had been for nothing.
Yet, despite the lack of immediate results, there was still something undeniably significant. The way it absorbed an almost incomprehensible amount of Mana was in itself an astonishing discovery. Zeke racked his mind, but no object or material he could recall seemed capable of replicating such a function. This alone made the cube a mystery worth investigating further.
Despite his efforts, it seemed that this approach had reached an impasse.
He couldn't afford to waste endless hours—or potentially even years—filling what could be an insatiable void with Mana. At his current strength, that path was far too inefficient. No, he needed a better strategy.
Zeke sat there, absentmindedly toying with the cube as he sifted through his memories, searching for a new approach. He didn't have to wait long before a particular memory surfaced. It was triggered by the question that had come to the scholar's mind the instant he realized what Zeke was carrying.
One of his first thoughts had been: Has the Cube already been bound?
But what did that really mean?
From the memories he'd absorbed, Zeke recalled that this was one of the few things the scholar had managed to decipher about the cube. It seemed that it was possible to form some sort of bond with the object—a connection beyond simply physical ownership.
But the specifics of how that bond worked, or what it entailed, had remained beyond the scholar's grasp. Still, Zeke couldn't ignore the potential of this lead. It seemed like a promising place to begin his next step.