Four weeks.
That was how much time they had been given to prepare for the upcoming offensive. For most of the members of this fledgling alliance, it would likely be a busy time with dozens of things needing their attention.
For Zeke, however, it was almost leisurely.
At this very moment, he found himself sitting at his desk, looking down at the plan for the coming infiltration operation. It was all there. The route was mapped out, eventualities were accounted for, an escape route was prepared, and his troops had been briefed. It had only been a day since the end of the meeting, and yet, there was nothing more to do.
Zeke leaned back, allowing his mind to wander. This would likely be the only tranquil stretch he would have for some time. Now, the question was how best to use it.
Taking it easy never crossed his mind. He considered only how to maximize his gains.
Further development of the Alexandria was one option, but the ship had reached a stage where progress would be minimal. Without the prospect of increasing his manpower in the foreseeable future, advances in that direction would remain marginal.
Should he instead focus on his Concept of Return?
It was tempting, yet he sensed it was not the right choice. He could continue refining it even while pursuing his mission. This aspect of his power did not respond well to forced breakthroughs, only to steady, incremental growth over time. It was a marathon, not a sprint.
Even if he devoted every waking moment to that research, there was no guarantee of meaningful improvement before the next operation began.
No. That would not suffice. He needed something that could significantly strengthen him. Something that would address one of his lingering weaknesses.
Zeke sank into deep thought, replaying the scenes of his recent battles before his mind’s eye. The battle for the sanctuary. The clashes at the prison forts. The struggle for Strattlehold.
The steady tapping of his fingers drew him into a near trance as he methodically dissected his performance. His strengths. His weaknesses. The moments in which he had found himself lacking something.
It did not take him long to identify the greatest weakness in his current approach. In truth, he had been aware of it for some time.
He had shackled himself to the Alexandria.
Without his presence, most of the ship’s systems would cease to function. No. That was not entirely accurate. It wasn't him the ship needed. It was Akasha’s presence that was essential, both to command the battlefield and to operate the vessel.
Zeke himself served primarily as a convenient mana reservoir for his Mind Spirit.
It was a waste, and he knew it. If he could act directly, his unique blend of affinities would allow him to influence events in countless ways. Whether as an assassin, a disruptor, or even a frontline combatant, he could make a tangible difference.
The problem was that none of it could rival the impact of the Alexandria. Even if he advanced to the rank of Archmage at this very moment, he would still contribute more as the overall commander than as a fighter. That was how decisive Akasha’s presence had become.
In a sense, he had become a victim of his own success.
But now his thoughts began to shift.
Perhaps it was greed, but Zeke wanted both. He wanted to retain control of the ship while simultaneously stepping onto the battlefield. If he could achieve that, it would be the single most significant improvement to his overall strength.
The question was whether it was possible.
The moment he committed to the idea, possibilities began to surface in rapid succession.
Could he extend the range of his telekinesis?
No. The Alexandria was shielded against external magical interference.
Could he construct some form of beacon that would allow him to act as though he were inside the ship?
No. He had neither the framework nor the time to attempt something so complex, and more importantly, it would introduce a critical vulnerability into the heart of his vessel.
Could he...
One idea after another arose, only to be dismissed just as quickly.
The obstacle remained the same: For this to work, he needed to be in two places at once. One presence in the command center. Another on the battlefield. It was not a role that could be delegated to a machine or mechanism.
No matter his ingenuity, he could not substitute the presence of a Mage. Akasha required mana to function.
Wait...
A memory surfaced from the distant past. It was from the day he had first met Akasha. The day they had signed their contract. Back then, the Mind Spirit had drifted toward him in her ethereal form, unbound by flesh.
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The recollection sparked an idea.
“Akasha, can you… leave my body?”
I can leave Host’s body, but I will be unable to access any mana if we are too far apart. This approach will not solve Host’s current problem.
Zeke nodded, unperturbed.
He had been thinking about it the wrong way. Even if he could not be in two places at once, he and Akasha might be able to.
“What if you had your own mana source?”
In that scenario, it may be possible.
A slow grin spread across Zeke’s face. An idea had already taken root. In fact, he already possessed every tool required to make this a reality; he simply had not realized it until now.
Zeke could barely contain his excitement as he asked his next question.
“Akasha, can I use Blood Manifestation on you?”
The Spirit did not answer immediately, making Zeke worry. The spell had originally been created to give the restless Khai’zar an outlet, a temporary body to inhabit. At the time, they had developed it almost on a whim, repaying the dragon for its information about the mana purification device.
However, there was no obvious reason it should not function for Akasha as well.
It… might be possible.
It was the first time he had ever heard such uncertainty in her voice. Zeke’s brows drew together. There was more behind that hesitation than simple doubt. It sounded as though she was worried.
"Is there a reason we shouldn't?"
Another pause.
There is none.
Despite her words, he was certain that there was something there. However, he would not force her to speak if she didn't want to. If there really was a problem, then he would figure it out during the attempt.
“Let’s give it a try,” he said decisively.
Moments later, he felt Akasha constructing the Spellform within his Core. Patterns unfolded like an endless tapestry of intricate strokes. He had almost forgotten. The spell, born from a fusion of a full ritual and several other sources, was a wicked amalgamation. Its complexity far surpassed anything he could cast alone. Even with Akasha’s assistance, it took minutes for the structure to fully take shape.
He found himself astonished once more by what he had accomplished in his youth. The younger Ezekiel had been truly ambitious to create something of this magnitude.
When the spell reached its final configuration, Zeke infused it with his intent. He sought to shape a vessel for Akasha. He did not dictate its form, only that it be guided by her own self image. This was not a conscious preference, but something deeper, a fundamental belief every being carried within.
The image they held of themselves at their core.
For Khai’zar, that image had been a dragon. For Akasha, he couldn't say.
Zeke sliced open his palm and let the blood run freely down his wrist onto the polished surface of the desk.
The moment the first drops fell, the spell reacted.
His blood did not splatter. It halted midair, trembling as though caught in an invisible web. Threads of crimson light shot outward from each droplet, weaving into a delicate lattice. The air grew heavy with the scent of iron as mana flooded the construct, saturating it until the liquid shimmered with an inner glow.
Each drop of blood was drawn upward, defying gravity as if answering a silent summons. Veins formed first, fine lines sketching themselves into existence. They branched and intertwined, creating an intricate framework. Around it, deeper currents gathered, thickening into arteries, then coiling into the suggestion of organs. Muscle followed, needle-thin threads layered to form thicker strands, every strand braided from hardened crimson light.
Bone crystallized next, pale structures emerging within the red lattice. They extended from a forming spine, shaping ribs, shoulders, and hips.
The skin came last. Its crimson hue softened, darkened, then gradually lightened until it resembled pale flesh. The metallic scent faded, replaced by the faint, sterile clarity that always accompanied Akasha’s presence.
White hair manifested in a single cascade, like strands of moonlight spilling down her back. It settled naturally across slender shoulders.
Her body settled into unmistakable curves, balanced and proportionate. A narrow waist. Full hips. A generous chest rising with a first measured breath. It was the form of a woman made from perfect symmetry rather than biology, a kind of perfection that felt almost unnatural, as though some unspoken evolutionary boundary had been crossed.
Then her eyes opened. Blue as the sea, cold and boundless. No confusion stirred within them.
Her face was composed, smooth, and emotionless. High cheekbones. A straight nose. Rosy lips resting in a neutral line. Even without expression, her features were striking enough to steal the breath from his lungs.
For a brief moment, she continued to hover above the floor, sustained by the final threads of mana anchoring her to the fading spell. Then gravity claimed her, and her bare feet touched the ground.
The instant the spell ended, Zeke felt something strange. It was as if a part of himself had been torn away. Something he had never consciously noticed, yet now, in its absence, the void was unmistakable.
It did not take long to understand.
Akasha was no longer within him. Though their contract still bound them, her presence no longer resided inside his body. Their connection had shifted. He could not define how, only that a distance now existed where none had before.
Zeke shook his head and forced the thought aside. There were more pressing matters now. He could not leave her standing there unclothed. Even if she felt no discomfort, he certainly did.
She regarded him with the same emotionless gaze, offering no reaction as he approached.
Stopping before her, he extended his hand toward the coat hanging on the rack in the corner. It would suffice as a temporary covering. Yet even after a moment, nothing happened. The coat remained still, untouched by his silent command. Zeke stared at his hand as though it had betrayed him.
Why had it not moved?
Then he realized the truth. He had not cast a spell at all. He had simply lifted his hand.
The oversight felt absurd, yet he could hardly fault himself. For years, especially with Mind spells such as Telekinesis and Telepathy, he had relied on Akasha. A single thought had always been enough. The effect would follow automatically.
Well. That was embarrassing.
His ears warmed as he found himself standing before a naked woman, one hand raised as if to draw her into an embrace. It was an undeniably awkward sight. Most would have recoiled or cried out, but she merely observed him with calm blue eyes.
Their emptiness did nothing to ease his discomfort.
He hastily formed the spell structure, summoned the coat, and guided it through the air. It settled around her shoulders. Only then did he step back.
The room fell silent as they studied one another.
Finally, Zeke spoke.
“Akasha?” he called out.
Though this was definitely the form she had chosen, one he had glimpsed before within his Mind’s Library, that alone did not guarantee the spell had succeeded.
At his voice, a faint light flickered in her eyes, fading almost immediately. Then she parted her lips and spoke in a clear, crystalline tone.
“Hello, Zeke.”
It was the first time he had heard her voice aloud. No illusion. No telepathic projection. Only the sound of a human throat forming words in the air.