Zeke woke from his deep slumber and found himself… at peace.
He felt as though he could lie there forever and everything would remain fine. The world would turn as it always had, untouched and undisturbed.
The sensation was so foreign to him that it instantly raised alarms. Since when had the world ever felt so calm?
That thought snapped him fully awake, breaking through the lingering haze of sleep.
He found himself staring up at a dome of glass panels, so close he could reach out and touch them without rising. The unfamiliar view triggered a spike of panic at first, a jolt of adrenaline shooting through his veins. But then, recognition dawned.
He was inside the Mana Purifying Device.
He had fallen asleep the moment he'd lain down.
The realization of where he was sent a second jolt of warning through his system. The hatch was already open, which could only mean one thing—he was no longer breathing the purified gas. Instinctively, he searched within himself for the familiar craving, that all-consuming need he had once felt while clawing his way toward the rank of Grand Mage.
To his utter astonishment, there was nothing.
No hunger. No desperation. No ache.
In fact, he felt… invigorated. As though he'd just woken from the most restful sleep of his life.
It was the complete opposite of what he had braced himself for.
"Akasha?" he called softly.
[Answer]
Good morning, Host.
The reply was instant. And, if Zeke wasn't imagining things, even a bit smugger than usual.
"Did you turn it on?"
[Answer]
The device was used as we discussed. I opted for a lower exposure, primarily to ease Host's concerns in case of a miscalculation. The total duration of purification last night was approximately three hours.
"I… feel so good."
[Answer]
I am glad to hear that.
Zeke leaned back into the mattress, letting his body relax—but something tugged at the edges of his thoughts.
Akasha's tone had been too casual, more conversational than precise. That alone was enough to put him on edge.
"You did something, didn't you?"
No answer.
"Spit it out already."
[Answer]
I indeed did something to help Host cope with the side effects of the device...
The spirit sounded almost like a child caught doing something mischievous, clearly bracing for a scolding.
But nothing could be further from Zeke's actual feelings. Whatever Akasha had done to make him feel this good, he had no complaints—at least not unless it came with some catastrophic side effects, which he trusted her not to allow.
"Just tell me."
[Answer]
In order to ensure Host slept through the procedure entirely, I induced a state of full senselessness. It is a level beyond ordinary sleep, nearing complete separation of body and mind.
That was… unexpected.
For one, he had no idea how such a state was even possible. It sounded eerily similar to the condition he entered when ejecting his soul.
"How?"
Sensing his curiosity rather than anger, the Spirit materialized above him, gazing down from beyond the hatch of the device.
"It is something I also attempted for the first time," Akasha said directly into his mind. "A form of Mind Magic designed to induce a meditative trance. Combined with Host already being asleep, the effect was amplified. It enabled not only smoother absorption of the purified mana, but also accelerated recovery."
Stolen novel; please report.
Now that she was sure he wasn't upset, the words spilled from her in a steady, eager stream. It was the first time he'd seen her this animated over one of her discoveries. The sight warmed something in his chest.
Still, one question lingered.
"Where did you learn to do that?"
Akasha smiled—a real, unguarded smile he hadn't known she could make.
"I invented it."
"You?"
"Me."
Zeke stared at her in stunned silence.
This was... monumental.
While Akasha could think faster than an entire legion of human scholars, that didn't make her superior in every way. Creativity, in particular, had always been her weakness. Where humans had an innate urge to experiment, to push boundaries and innovate, Akasha had never shared that impulse.
She had always been content to work within the framework of what she already understood.
Yes, she was eager to expand her knowledge through observation, experimentation, and meticulous data collection—but innovation? That had never been her domain.
Until now.
To create an entirely new spell of her own accord and then implement it into one of their most critical projects was something Zeke had never imagined she could do.
It wasn't just unexpected.
It was almost like...
Zeke shook his head, never finishing that thought.
Whatever changes Akasha was undergoing could only benefit him in the long run.
"Want to tell me about it?"
Akasha nodded eagerly and launched into a detailed explanation—how the spell functioned, how the idea had come to her, how she'd run simulations thousands of times before attempting it.
He couldn't follow all of it. Her intuitive grasp of Mind Magic was far beyond his own. Still, the explanation was enlightening. For one, it gave him insight into how Akasha's thought processes worked. As expected, they were methodical and clinical for the most part. But here and there, he caught glimpses of genuine creativity woven through the logic.
A strange pride stirred in his chest, an emotion he didn't fully understand. It felt as if her small step forward was somehow his own.
Was this what it felt like to see your child speak their first words? Take their first steps?
What surprised him even more was the origin of much of the theory behind the spell. It had come, unexpectedly, from the insights he'd gained while exploring the memories of the Soul Devourer.
More precisely: from Augustus Geistreich.
Zeke had known Akasha would consume those memories with fervor, but he hadn't expected the first tangible result to emerge so quickly.
The revelation left him with mixed feelings.
Even he had to admit that the Emperor was a master of his craft. A single stray thought glimpsed in those memories had offered more insight than a year's worth of lessons at the Elementium, especially for Akasha.
Still, the idea of allowing that man's knowledge to seep into his mind, to influence his path with methods born of cruelty and control, made Zeke uneasy. Yet it was a bitter pill he had no choice but to swallow.
Beggars couldn't be choosers.
And in terms of strength, Zeke was very much a beggar compared to the true giants of the world.
Men like Augustus, Midas, and Sheol.
They had transcended the ordinary. Empires bent around them. Entire professions existed to study their every move, to react, to prepare, to survive.
These men were less like people and more like forces of nature, kept in check only by others of their kind.
...And he couldn't wait for the day he would join their ranks.
With that thought, Zeke finally turned his attention to what truly mattered: inspecting his gains.
Though the night in the device had been far more pleasant than he'd feared, comfort hadn't been the point of the experiment.
The true purpose of the device was, of course, to grow his Core.
Even though Zeke had reached the level of Grandmage, it was by no means the end of his journey. While it was said that one could not sprint to the rank of Archmage, pushing himself to the peak of his current level was still very much within reach, at least for him.
Until the day his Soul growth became the bottleneck, he would press on.
His focus turned inward, descending into himself to examine the state of the three seedlings sprouting from his Core.
The red one, tightly wound around his draconic heart, symbolized his Blood affinity.
The blue one, cocooned around his brain in a lattice of serene complexity, represented his Mind affinity.
And the purple one, spreading wildly and without regard for distance or continuity, embodied his Space affinity.
These seedlings sprouting from his Core were extensions of his abilities—the primary focus of any Grandmage. With their aid, it was theoretically possible to add a new component to one's spells, something that fundamentally separated Grandmages from all lesser beings.
Will.
A concept that was simple to explain, yet incredibly difficult to master.
In theory, Will allowed a spell to act with a mind of its own.
A basic example might be a spell that could track an opponent, following their movements until its energy was depleted. But a true master could elevate that idea to unimaginable heights.
The clearest example of this had been the Progenitor of the Frostscale tribe, whose poison had behaved like a living thing: autonomously adapting, shifting, and reacting.
It had seemed to possess a mind of its own.
Zeke was far from mastering the concept, having achieved only rudimentary success with it so far.
But that was more a shortcoming on his part than a limitation of the seedlings themselves. The way they had sprouted, spreading through most of his body, was unlike anything he had ever read or heard about.
His second advancement had, once again, unfolded in a way that completely defied the accepted literature. Zeke was beginning to suspect that much of the common knowledge surrounding magical advancement was intentionally limited.
It simply wasn't plausible that all the great families, with their legions of scholars, had failed to uncover what he had discovered on his very first attempt. Though luck had certainly played a role in his progress, luck was always part of discovery. And it was unthinkable to him that, across all the centuries gone by, no one else had ever been lucky.
A small smile spread across his face as he examined the night's results.
Though not as extreme as his prolonged sessions beneath Winter's mountain, the experience had been undeniably fruitful.
Far more than it had any right to be, given the brief exposure.
Zeke studied the tendrils winding through his body. The one connected to his heart had grown thicker, more robust and intricately formed. The others had changed as well, each evolving in their unique ways.
"Do you have an explanation for this?" he asked the empty air, trusting Akasha was both listening and already aware of what he meant.
The silver-haired woman, who had stood motionless until now, blinked once. Her voice entered his mind as smoothly as if their conversation had never paused.
"The special nature of Host's advancement has led to an overdeveloped Core."
"What do you mean?"
Akasha responded without hesitation, as though quoting from a textbook. "The anomaly is twofold. First, these seedlings are capable of absorbing vast amounts of purified Mana. Based on my calculations, a single hour in the chamber now provides more benefit than an entire day did prior to your advancement."
She tilted her gaze toward the top of the device, where the chemical reaction occurred.
"This conclusion is supported by the increased rate of fuel consumption."
Zeke nodded. That matched his observations. But he could feel a caveat coming.
"...However, the downside of these overdeveloped seedlings is that they will require an enormous quantity of Mana to reach maturity. Likely proportional to their enhanced size, if not greater."
Zeke sighed. There it was.
Fortunately, the diagnosis wasn't as grim as he had feared. In fact, the news didn't dishearten him at all. A larger lake naturally required more water—that much was obvious. Yet once filled, it would far surpass the shallow puddles of lesser mages, even those who claimed their Cores were full.
At least, that was how he liked to think of it.
He couldn't wait to see what he'd be capable of once these seedlings reached full maturity. Perhaps a feat akin to the Frostscale Progenitor's wouldn't be entirely out of reach.
Stirred by his anticipation, Zeke suddenly found it unbearable to remain in bed a moment longer.
Daylight was burning, and progress awaited.
The road to greatness was long, but every step mattered.