He could see it written across their faces.
The excitement, the relief, the greed. The question was no longer whether a market existed, but rather how much he could milk them for.
From all appearances, Lara and Tristan harbored the greatest desire. Their eagerness came as no surprise. Akasha had collected every scrap of intelligence returning from the frontlines, and Zeke possessed a good understanding of their dire circumstances.
The only complication was his reluctance to exploit their desperate hour, even if it meant sacrificing potential profit.
After all, Lara and Tristan had shown him kindness when he'd been nothing, a nobody with empty pockets and grand dreams. Their presence here today likely stemmed more from sentiment than genuine expectation. Therefore, while he would gladly negotiate hard with the others, he refused to do the same with them.
Still, business remained business. He couldn't shortchange himself for the sake of friendship either, especially now, when the Wraith existed in its most potent state—before any countermeasures could be developed.
Zeke harbored no illusions. The Empire would eventually devise methods to counter his invisibility. But in these first crucial months, he felt certain the Wraith would live up to its name. It would become an unstoppable specter haunting the skies, intangible and irresistible.
The finished vessel had exceeded even his ambitious vision. Imagining it in his mind had been one thing, but witnessing a ship the length of five carriages simply vanish from sight sent chills down his spine. Even his enhanced senses failed to penetrate its camouflage. Naturally, he could detect the void it created within his Sphere of Awareness when it entered range, but that represented the limit of his ability to pierce its concealment.
At this point in time, the Wraith stood as the pinnacle of magical engineering—the marriage of the continent's finest minds with its richest resources. Or at least it would remain so until he conceived something new.
Zeke had come to fully appreciate that his lead in this field had grown insurmountable, and no one could hope to close the gap anytime soon.
This didn't mean he excelled in every discipline, but even in areas where true masters surpassed him, he maintained a level few could match. The result was a creation that exceeded expectations even in his weakest areas.
Or more accurately, in Akasha's weakest areas.
After all, claiming sole credit for this achievement would be absurd. Without the Spirit's assistance, none of this would have been possible. To be fair, Zeke possessed considerable talent as an engineer. His hands moved with precision, his mind worked with clarity, and his instincts proved reliable. However, that marked the extent of his natural gifts.
He couldn't compare to those rare geniuses who had devoted decades to relentlessly perfecting their craft. Perhaps one day he would be able to, but that day had not yet arrived. Akasha, however, already stood among them. Her technique approached perfection, her focus remained absolute, and her memory exceeded most libraries—primarily because it consisted of countless libraries merged together.
All of this had culminated in his current position, where he stood ready to unveil a marvel so extraordinary that even battle-hardened commanders, men and women who could traverse fields of corpses without flinching, stared at him with mouths agape.
The sight proved truly remarkable.
Zeke clapped his hands once more, reclaiming everyone's attention while signaling the Wraith to descend.
"I have spoken at length and made numerous claims," he began, as reluctant gazes finally returned to him. "For this next portion, I prefer to remain silent and allow my creation to speak for itself. Would my honored guests care for a demonstration?"
He didn't need to await their response. The blazing intensity in their eyes provided answer enough. The ship touched down mere steps behind him, its landing silent save for the whisper of autumn leaves crushed beneath its weight.
"Please follow me," he announced with a confident smile before turning toward the vessel.
The craft had landed with its stern facing them, exactly as planned, since this provided the sole means of entry and exit. As if responding to an unspoken command, the rear panel unfolded, transforming into a ramp engineered for seamless access across any terrain.
The loading bay's generous dimensions, combined with the ramp's design, enabled immediate boarding without delays or supplementary equipment. Though a minor detail, Zeke had insisted upon it. The ship served a specific purpose: swift, efficient transportation between locations. Every element had been optimized to support that core function.
As Zeke ascended the ramp, he caught Tristan and Lara exchanging meaningful glances while they followed. The others missed this subtle fact entirely, revealing who among them had actually experienced battlefield conditions and understood the logistical nightmares that plagued loading and unloading operations.
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Such details often proved most crucial in the end.
To address this, Akasha had simulated thousands of scenarios, analyzing real-world data from actual military and civilian convoys to derive the optimal solution. The design embodied years of freight captain experience distilled into a single configuration—or as close an approximation as possible without having lived that life.
Captain Morris greeted him with a crisp salute as they entered. Behind him stood Jettero and his senior engineers, who had insisted on remaining aboard for the presentation, even if they couldn't be part of the main event.
Zeke smiled and threw Jett a subtle wink—his signal that the presentation was proceeding smoothly. Then he returned the salute wordlessly. At this gesture, the previous occupants began disembarking, leaving his guests to glance between him and the departing crew with evident confusion.
"…Were you not planning to provide a demonstration?" Kaveen Raja, the Korrovan ambassador, inquired.
Ahh. A misunderstanding. They must have taken the exiting engineers as the crew needed to pilot the vessel. No matter, it would only make the reveal more grand.
Zeke smiled in response and led the way deeper into the vessel. Tristan and Lara followed immediately, while the remaining delegates trailed after a moment's hesitation.
They arrived at the cockpit, which was, without exaggeration, the ship's crowning achievement. Though invisible from the outside, the entire forward section was made of see-through panels that offered panoramic visibility. An intricate mirror system even projected the rear view onto backward-facing panels, granting complete 360-degree awareness with no blind spots.
The setup provided the closest possible approximation to unobstructed vision without actually standing exposed. It was hard to believe that it relied purely on natural laws—no Mana, no Magic—just angles and lenses.
Zeke let the group marvel at the sight for a moment and only continued once their gazes had returned to him, eager to see the ship in action. Contrary to expectations, he didn't claim the captain's seat. Instead, he flashed a mischievous smile at one particular guest and beckoned her forward.
Lara Sonnenstrahl returned his look with mild surprise, though she stepped behind the controls without hesitation.
"Don't blame me if I break your precious toy," she warned with a sidelong glance.
Zeke's smile widened, but his mouth remained sealed.
"…Where's the crew?" she asked after a moment.
A valid question. While the ship's controls were remarkably intuitive, they weren't so simple that anyone could operate them without instruction. This was an airship, after all, not a paper plane. That was why Zeke immediately began transmitting mental instructions and explanations, the telepathic exchange occurring at speeds impossible for spoken communication.
Lara, as an Archmage, possessed comprehension and processing capabilities far beyond any ordinary person. After mere seconds of silent dialogue, she had grasped the fundamentals of the ship's operation.
Yet believing his words proved more difficult. "That's… it?"
Zeke shrugged, maintaining his silence.
Lara studied him a moment longer before her hands found the steering mechanism. She wasted no time channeling substantial Mana into the system. Most would dissipate through overflow, but that posed no concern. As an Archmage, depleting her reserves while piloting a craft designed for a single Grand Mage was virtually impossible.
The ship responded instantly, coming alive around them. Indicators and displays illuminated the dim interior with soft light that informed without distracting.
"By the Storm Father..." someone breathed behind them, but Zeke paid no attention. His focus remained entirely on Lara, prepared to intervene if she encountered difficulty.
To his satisfaction, she executed his instructions flawlessly: a casual flick engaged the lever, retracting the ramp; a gentle pull on the wheel lifted them skyward; a button's press activated the camouflage systems.
Moments later, they soared through the air.
Everything had transpired in perfect silence, even breathing suspended as everyone unconsciously held their breath.
"I'll be damned," Lara murmured into the stillness as she brought the ship around, the city now a distant cluster below. "How is this thing so fast?"
Zeke's smile deepened. He could have explained that the ship wasn't technically fast; it wasn't even moving in the conventional sense. It folded space, gliding between dimensional creases while the world rushed past. But he held his tongue. A magician's tricks retained their power through mystery.
Besides, explanation would prove futile. This principle, gleaned from the World Anchor, would confound all but the most accomplished Space Mages. Even Akasha couldn't grasp it.
She could verify its functionality, but the underlying principle defied her understanding of physics, Mana, and spatial mechanics.
Zeke faced the same limitation. He knew it worked, and the concept had come to him after extensive exposure to the World Anchor, but articulating how it functioned or how he'd conceived it would leave him stammering incoherently.
Knowledge absorbed from the Cube resembled instinct more than structured understanding—like salivation triggered by delicious aromas. It had simply taken root within him, absent clear logic or reason.
"May I try?" Tristan asked after watching Lara pilot for several minutes, envy coloring his expression.
Zeke nodded and provided the same mental instruction he'd given earlier. Tristan wore an identical puzzled expression, as if asking, 'Surely there's more?' But Zeke merely met his gaze with stoic composure.
Soon after, Tristan and Lara exchanged positions, and again Zeke found himself impressed by the speed of mastery. These two weren't merely labeled as their generation's prodigies: they genuinely deserved the title. Their comprehension speed proved almost frightening. Captain Morris had required an hour of practice to achieve what they grasped instinctively.
Subsequently, each guest received an opportunity to pilot the craft. Though none matched Lara and Tristan's immediate proficiency, all eventually found their rhythm. The experience left everyone visibly awed.
Once everyone had taken their turn, Zeke assumed control and showcased the more advanced features of the ship: diving beneath water, ramming boulders, hovering motionless, and others. At one point, he even stalked a transport vessel departing Tradespire, flying close enough to discern the captain's features as he barked orders, yet the other ship remained completely oblivious to their presence.
This last demonstration, above all others, seemed to impress his guests the most. Even Elder Reed's typically composed expression betrayed shock.
Satisfied with the presentation's impact, Zeke guided the ship back to his courtyard, allowing everyone to disembark.
True to his promise, he had maintained complete silence throughout the demonstration, letting the craft's capabilities speak for themselves. Only now, with everyone's feet firmly planted on solid ground once more, did he finally break that silence.
"So," he said, his grin carrying just the right hint of mischief. "First come, first served, I suppose?"
With that simple declaration, the negotiations burst open like a dam.