Despite Zeke’s concerns, Akasha’s precautions proved unnecessary. The scouts patrolling the corridor encountered no enemy forces, and even Ash, who dared venture further than anyone, found no signs of ambushes or enemy movement.

    The night passed peacefully, with Zeke treating the poisoned while the tribe celebrated their victory. The atmosphere grew even more lively whenever one of the injured rose from their sickbed to join the festivities. It was as if the dead were returning, one by one. The tribe’s reversal of fortune had come so swiftly and completely that many could hardly believe it. They had gone from a defeated people on the brink of extinction to a victorious army, their numbers swelling by the minute.

    Zeke rubbed the sweat from his brow as he looked down the rows of empty cots. Now, only a few still had patients lying in them—those who could not be cured simply by removing the poison. Vulcanos was one of them, but many more had suffered injuries that wouldn’t heal in a matter of days. However, those he could help were all back on their feet.

    Zeke shook his head, a wry smile on his face. He had greatly underestimated his new capabilities. He turned his focus inward, inspecting his Core. The Orb still pulsed with power, as bright and vibrant as when he had started.

    As a True Mage, he had never fully grasped the significance of having a perfect Affinity. In the past, he could deplete his Core and had to monitor his Mana usage. But now? He doubted he could drain his Core, even if he cast spells nonstop for the entire day.

    At least, if he used Blood Mana.

    Converting Ambient Mana to Blood-attuned Mana was almost effortless for him now. His Core recovered faster than he could deplete it with any regular spell. If he truly wanted to test his limits, he’d need to attempt something bigger—something much bigger.

    With a satisfied smile, Zeke returned to Vulcanos’ side and sat down on the empty cot next to the Chimeroi, closing his eyes in meditation. Now that he finally had a moment to himself, it was time to do something he had wanted to try ever since his advancement.

    From his visit to the Bloodsword mansion, he had gained knowledge over the most commonly used Blood Magics of their house: [Blood Generation] and [Blood Compression].

    The first spell helped him quickly recover his reserves, while the second expanded his internal storage. He had often relied on both of these fundamental spells, and now it was time to push his new limits. For the next few hours, he alternated between [Blood Generation] to replenish his supply and [Blood Compression] to increase his storage capacity.

    It was utterly thrilling.

    When the sound of approaching footsteps finally snapped him out of his trance, he realized he''d lost track of time. He quickly gauged his progress and was utterly baffled by what he found. Even a rough estimate put the amount of Blood in his body at fifty times the natural human limit. It was bizarre—he felt more like a storage tank than a person.

    “Are you rested?” a voice asked.

    Zeke looked up to see three familiar faces: Frost, Ash, and Gravitas, watching him closely. He quickly got to his feet but immediately staggered. Frowning, he began moving his arms and legs, trying to pinpoint the issue. A moment later, the cause became clear—his body had gained significant weight over the past few hours, and he was significantly heavier than ever before.

    "Are you alright, Master?" Ash asked, concerned, as he watched Zeke flail his arms and legs unsteadily.

    Zeke paused, offering an awkward smile as he realized how ridiculous he must have looked—especially for the tribe''s commander. Thankfully, no one else was around to witness his clumsiness. He quickly straightened up, doing his best to mask his awkward movements.

    “...I''ve just been sitting too long,” he said. “My limbs feel a little stiff.”

    Fortunately, the Chimeroi seemed to accept his explanation, and Frost didn’t press further about his condition either. Instead, the Pureblood spoke up, “We expect their next attack any moment now... and the men are eager for it," he added with a slight smile.

    Zeke returned the smile and began walking toward the exit, the others falling in step behind him. If the Frostscale tribe decided to use the same tactic as they had up till now, then they would be in for a rude awakening. Not only could he counter their poison, but their basic battle strategies were no match for Akasha either.

    It would be a slaughter.

    It took them only a short while to reach the battle lines, a testament to how far the tribe had been pushed back. Still, Zeke remained optimistic. Today, they would reclaim some of that lost ground.

    As they emerged from the cave, the troops'' atmosphere shifted. The excited bustle from a moment ago stilled, and all eyes trailed their small group in absolute silence. Zeke took the gazes in stride, his gait already much more accustomed to his new weight. He approached the familiar spot atop the improvised stage, the frozen ground creaking under his heavy footfalls.

    Together with his small entourage, Zeke stepped onto the stage, his gaze slowly sweeping over the army. Thanks to his nightly efforts, the number of warriors had grown significantly since the previous day, and he noticed many looks of gratitude directed at him. This didn’t come as a surprise. For many, he was now a benefactor who had saved them from the brink of death.

    Zeke took it all in quietly, allowing the silence to linger a moment longer. This was not the time for a grand speech; that would come after the battle. For now, he needed the tribesmen alert and focused.

    “Wolves...” he said, his voice echoing through the cavern. “It is time to hunt.”

    Zeke focused his mind and sent a message back to the sanctum. It was the only thing he could still do to avoid catastrophe. Now, it was out of his hands.

    “Continue forward,” Zeke instructed, though he could feel his heart racing. “We’ll approach the exit.”

    When they reached the mouth of the cavern, the sight that greeted them was just as Zeke had witnessed. The tunnel opened up to reveal the bright morning sky and a fresh breeze tickled his nose. They had arrived at their former home, the stronghold they had defended for years.

    The atmosphere shifted from anticipation to a chilling realization as they saw the enemy encircling the area. They wore gleeful expressions, a smugness that set Zeke’s teeth on edge.

    “What the—” Frost started, but his voice faltered as he spotted the figure standing defiantly at the front of the Frostscale troops.

    An old man, clad in ornate robes that billowed around him, stood relaxed yet commanding. The light flickered against his pale features, revealing a face marked by deep lines and a sinister smile. He held an air of authority that demanded attention, even amid the throng of soldiers behind him.

    “Ah, the Icefang tribe finally arrives,” the old man called out. “I’ve been eagerly awaiting your presence. It seems your little victory has inflated your spirits rather nicely.”

    Zeke clenched his jaw at the overwhelming presence radiating from the old man. He struggled to shield the men behind him with his own aura, but he felt like a candle flickering in a storm, barely able to hold on.

    “Shassra...” he muttered, his voice strained.

    “Indeed, I am Shassra, and I’ve heard quite a few things about you, little human,” the progenitor said leisurely as he watched Zeke struggle with an amused look on his face.

    Zeke’s face distorted even further as he felt the strength of the aura slowly increase. Was this Blood Suppression? Why did he feel it so keenly now? Had his recent advancement brought him further away from his human side?

    Many questions raced through his mind, but Zeke had no time to ponder. He could barely maintain his consciousness while facing this old man. The entire army stood frozen, and even the bravest among them didn’t dare raise their heads. If even Zeke felt this level of suppression, there was no telling how bad it must have been for the members of the Icefang tribe.

    Suddenly, a disdainful snort echoed in his mind as a massive wave of aura surged from him. In an instant, the oppressive atmosphere lifted, causing Shassra to take a half step back, his expression turning stern.

    “It seems my foolish children spoke the truth this time,” the progenitor said, his gaze solely focused on Zeke now. “...There really was a Dragon among the sheep.”

    Zeke took a steadying breath, trying to calm his racing heart, but it was no use. His entire body felt primed for a fight, acutely aware of the danger surrounding him. He mustered his willpower and took a step forward, meeting the Progenitor''s gaze head-on.

    “Quite brave, halfling,” Shassra praised, though his words felt more like mockery. “But it would be foolish to think you can stand up to me with what little power you possess.”

    Zeke shook his head. “I’ve never thought of fighting you, Progenitor.”

    Shassra narrowed his eyes, as if trying to peer into Zeke''s soul. “No?” he asked, not averting his piercing stare. “But you were happy to fight my children—kill my descendants. Didn’t you fear my ire then? Or did you think I would just let you go after you showed off your ancestry?”

    Zeke shook his head. “I never intended to fight you, but I also never feared your wrath. Not with the seasons changing...”

    The Progenitor frowned, clearly not understanding what Zeke meant. “I tire of your games,” he hissed. “Speak clearly, halfling, or die where you stand!”

    Zeke lifted his gaze to the sky, following a solitary snowflake as it floated toward him. Moments later, it landed on the tip of his nose, bringing a refreshing chill to his warm skin. He could barely suppress his mouth from curling upwards as he returned his attention to the irate Progenitor.

    “Autumn is over, old man,” he said, far more confident than before.

    “What is that supposed to mean?” Shassra asked, clearly picking up on his changed demeanor.

    “It means,” Zeke said, finally allowing the smile to touch his face, “that Winter has arrived.”