"Hello, Zeke.”
A bitter taste filled his mouth at those words. For the first time, Akasha had addressed him as Zeke rather than Host. He understood why. In this moment, he was no longer her host. She possessed a body of her own.
Her earlier hesitation suddenly made sense. She must have foreseen that this path would alter the nature of their relationship in some way.
Zeke pushed the thought aside and forced a smile, directing his full attention to the woman before him. “How do you feel, Akasha?”
She did not answer immediately. She raised one hand, then let it fall. She repeated the motion, lifting and lowering it with quiet concentration. It was like watching a child examine a new toy.
“I feel… strange,” she said at last, almost absently.
Zeke observed her, his expression growing thoughtful. The precision of her movements, the way she studied each result, made it seem less like idle curiosity and more like an experiment. Eventually, he gave in to his own curiosity.
“What are you doing?”
She stilled and met his gaze. “Experiencing gravity,” she replied with complete seriousness.
He blinked. Experiencing gravity? What was there to experience? Had it not always been constant?
Then understanding dawned. For an immaterial entity without physical form, gravity had been nothing more than a concept. Akasha had understood it intellectually, but she had never felt its pull. It was like a blind man seeing color for the first time after only hearing it described.
He watched as she began moving more freely. After testing her arms, she took cautious steps. Within minutes, her awkward motions smoothed into something approaching natural.
Soon, she began jumping, rising, and landing repeatedly, adjusting her balance with each impact. After several dozen attempts, she stopped abruptly. Her breathing had quickened, and a faint crease formed between her brows.
“Zeke,” she said, her tone serious. “My legs hurt.”
He frowned slightly. “How do they feel, exactly?”
She paused, clearly struggling to articulate the sensation.
“They are… burning,” she said at last. “Not on the surface. Inside. As if something within the fibers is consuming itself.”
She pressed her fingers against her thigh. “They grow heavier with each movement. Obedience diminishes. The signal to move remains unchanged, yet the response weakens.”
Her brows knit together further. “There is pressure building. A saturation. As though invisible residue accumulates with every contraction.”
Zeke’s expression softened. “That is normal. You are simply getting tired.”
“I am... tired,” Akasha repeated quietly.
She knew the concept, of course. That did not mean she could immediately recognize the sensation when experiencing it for the first time. In many ways, she resembled a newborn. A newborn equipped with a formidable intellect and vast theoretical knowledge, but a newborn nonetheless.
She stood still, waiting for her breathing to steady, her expression distant as she processed the new input.
Zeke gave her the time she needed. There was no urgency. Still, he had not forgotten the purpose of this experiment. He needed to know whether his theory was viable. If it was not, he would return her to his mind without delay.
“This body is weak,” she said at last. “Much weaker than yours or Khai’zar’s.”
Zeke rolled his eyes. What had she expected? She had chosen this form based purely on aesthetic preference, with little regard for effectiveness. Her body was so curvy that it bordered on impractical...
And while that was harmless while she remained immaterial. In the physical world, however, such decisions carried consequences.
Zeke felt oddly conflicted at the thought. Akasha’s predicament was almost comical. She was like the embodiment of a pubescent boy’s fantasy brought to life, only to discover that imagination did not align with reality.
He might have laughed, had he not known, deep down, that he was that ignorant boy who had shaped her this way, if only subconsciously.
Zeke cleared his throat. “Do not dwell on it. You were never meant for physical labor.”
Akasha nodded, accepting the explanation without protest. Yet something still lingered in her expression.
“...Is there something else?” he asked.
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“I feel trapped,” she said slowly.
Zeke frowned. “Trapped? How?”
She looked down at herself. “This body feels like a prison.”
He hesitated. “We can adjust the form. Make it more practical—”
“No,” she interrupted. “Even an optimized body would only be a more refined cage.”
Zeke struggled to follow her reasoning. Akasha, who had existed within his mind for her entire life, now claimed that possessing her own body diminished her freedom. It seemed contradictory.
“Explain.”
Her gaze fixed on his. She stepped closer, took his hand, and lifted it. Zeke allowed her to guide him, though confusion creased his brow. A moment later, he realized what she had done. His fingers rested lightly against her slender throat.
He looked at her, puzzled.
“You have caught me,” Akasha said in the same even tone. It was an unusual way to put it, yet not entirely inaccurate.
“I cannot escape,” she continued. “You decide where I go. You can deny me air. You can cause me pain.”
Her blue eyes remained steady.
“I am helpless.”
Zeke did not move. His hand remained wrapped around Akasha’s slender throat as they held each other’s gaze. Her words echoed in his mind.
A prison. A trap.
From a human perspective, the statement seemed absurd. But when he shifted his frame of reference, it began to make sense.
Akasha was not human.
As a Mind Spirit, she had never known pain, loneliness, hunger, or thirst. For such a being, even death would carry no suffering. She would not feel fear. Perhaps she would not even comprehend it.
But now?
She had assumed a human form, and with it came sensations and instincts she had never encountered before. And what she was experiencing in this moment was unmistakable.
“Are you afraid?”
Akasha’s expression did not change. She regarded him with the same detached gaze. “I do not know. I merely perceive that my abilities are insufficient to defend myself against potential threats.”
Zeke nodded solemnly. “Welcome to the club.”
A ripple passed through her eyes. Her gaze turned vacant, as if she had withdrawn entirely inward. Nearly a full minute passed before clarity returned.
“This is not a pleasant sensation,” she said.
Zeke smiled faintly. “Why do you think I work so hard to grow stronger?”
She studied him in silence. This time, unlike when she had appeared only as a projection, her thoughts were visible in the subtle changes of her expression.
Surprise. Understanding. Fear. Intrigue.
It was quite ironic, really. Akasha had practiced so hard to mimic human emotions without much success, but now, they were written all over her face without even trying. If she chose to inhabit a body in the future, she would have to practice her pokerface instead.
“It appears I have underestimated humans,” Akasha said at last.
Zeke inclined his head. He understood her meaning. Until now, she had observed humanity from a distance, judging their decisions from the safety of abstraction. Wise or foolish. Brave or cowardly.
It was easy to criticize from the audience, to imagine one would act better in the same situation. Reality was different. Living was difficult. Endurance was difficult. Courage was difficult. Knowing the correct choice did not guarantee the strength to follow through.
For the first time, Akasha was no longer a detached observer. She had stepped down from her ivory tower. She stood within the same constraints as the rest of humanity.
That was the true meaning behind her words.
Zeke was already satisfied. Whatever else this experiment might yield, the insights she had gained alone made it worthwhile.
He released her throat and rested his hands lightly on her shoulders. “Do not worry,” he said gently. “It does not matter how weak you are at this moment. As long as you remain near me, nothing will happen to you."
A faint smile touched her usually impassive features, though she gave no verbal reply. Even so, he sensed that his reassurance had eased her tension somewhat.
Before the silence could grow uncomfortable, Zeke stepped back and let his hands fall.
“Now,” he said, his tone turning serious, “tell me what you are capable of in this body.”
Akasha flexed her fingers and studied them. “My combat capability is minimal. Likely only slightly above that of an ordinary human. My cognition is significantly reduced. Thoughts occur sequentially rather than in parallel. I cannot divide my mind. I cannot access mana. I cannot cast magic.”
Zeke’s expression hardened. “So you are… an average human?”
She lifted her gaze. “Not entirely. According to my assessment, my physical appearance ranks well above average.”
His expression shifted. Above average in appearance? What practical value did that hold? He needed her to command the ship in his absence, not captivate the enemies with her beauty.
He cleared his throat. “An average human with exceptional looks, then?”
Akasha nodded with complete seriousness. “That would be accurate.” A faint glimmer touched her eyes.
He could only shake his head. Even as a newborn, Akasha already knew how to be vain about her looks. Women were truly frightening in that regard.
However, Zeke grew serious the next moment. The current situation was far from optimal. If Akasha could not access any Mana, she could not use her abilities either. That made her entirely unsuitable for the task he had in mind.
Fortunately, he knew exactly who to ask.
“Any Solutions?”
Akasha did not respond immediately. She remained silent for more than ten minutes. Only then did Zeke fully grasp what she had meant by her mind becoming sluggish. In her usual state, such a delay would have been inconceivable.
“...I will need to return to my normal state before I can confirm,” she said at last, “but I believe we can adjust the spell form to improve the result.”
Zeke waited, certain she had more to add.
“As for the primary issue, I suspect the problem lies in the lack of suitable mana. I can sense a significant amount condensed within the blood composing this body. However, it is incompatible with me.”
“Because it is all Blood Mana?” Zeke asked.
Akasha inclined her head. “This form lacks a proper Core. That alone is not a critical issue, as I do not require one. However, without a Core, I cannot process ambient mana or mana of incompatible types.”
Zeke fell silent. So the core issue was that Akasha lacked access to Mind Mana while inhabiting this temporary body. In this state, their connection was partially severed. They no longer shared a mind, nor did they share a Core.
In itself, that was not entirely negative. It meant his plan was theoretically sound. He could leave the ship while she remained behind. The remaining task was to provide her with the resources necessary to function independently.
Several possibilities already formed in his mind. After all, this was not the first time he had worked with mixed affinities. Nor would it be the first spell to combine Mind and Blood.
[Sanguine Clarity] had been a remarkable success and remained one of his most reliable trump cards.
Now, the challenge was to integrate Mind Mana into [Blood Manifestation] in a similar fashion.
It would not be simple. But it was nothing he had not attempted before. In fact, it seemed like the ideal project to occupy the coming weeks.
And once he succeeded...
Zeke grinned. Another qualitative leap in power felt within reach.