BOOK 7: CHAPTER 3: APPREHENSION

The storm of flying objects had become a constant companion over the past few weeks.

With the expanded range of his Sphere of Awareness, Akasha’s influence had grown in kind. Zeke no longer saw her as just the dainty woman across from him, but as a formless entity with a thousand hands and a thousand minds—always working, always creating. She effortlessly completed the workload of dozens without pause.

At that very moment, as Zeke sat in his workshop, lost in idle thought, Akasha was simultaneously finishing a batch of enchantments, replying to lesser correspondence, operating the smelter, and carving a delicate gear at the workbench.

In truth, it almost felt as though she had benefited more from his recent advancement than he had. Though Zeke himself had grown incomparably stronger upon reaching the rank of Grandmage, Akasha could make even greater use of the new resources at their disposal.

That didn’t mean her spells had grown stronger than his—Zeke still held the edge in sheer power—but Akasha had one distinct advantage. She could cast a dozen spells at once, dividing her mind into smaller, yet still fully capable, units.

Zeke had heard of spells that allowed Mind Mages to achieve similar feats, but he doubted any human could ever match Akasha’s proficiency. Their species simply wasn’t built for it. Not even Augustus Geistreich, for all his brilliance, would rival her in that regard.

Truthfully, if Akasha weren’t bound to him, he might have been deeply envious. Infinite memory, a mind that could reshape itself at will, capabilities that adapted to any task: the list of her talents seemed endless.

The day he bound her as his familiar might have been the luckiest moment of his life.

It was almost laughable, remembering how hesitant he’d been back then.

The thought brought a quiet smile to his lips. He glanced around his expanded workshop, a space built to house a team of dozens but now operated by a single, unseen legion. If only his past self could see this, see what had become of that pale, fragile Spirit from that day.

And what she would still become.

If there was ever an entity capable of threatening the existence of the human race, it was Akasha. Should he one day reach the level of Exarch—or even Monarch—she would likely possess the ability and reach to observe every single human simultaneously. A silent sentinel, watching and recording, judging every action with tireless precision.

A disturbing thought.

He would need to speak with her about boundaries… someday. Certainly before he reached that level of power.

For now, though, he was content to enjoy the benefits of having an infinitely capable assistant—one who could intuitively act on his thoughts and whims, often executing his plans better than he could have himself.

Speaking of which...

His gaze shifted to the crystalline sphere at the center of the room. It spanned only a few paces in diameter and housed nothing but a raised mattress.

Atop the dome, two containers sat opposite one another. One held a black liquid that seemed to drink in the light; the other, a glowing serum that pulsed with inner radiance. Two opposites which, if treated and combined correctly, could produce the purest and most gentle form of Mana he had ever encountered.

This, of course, was the latest version of the Mana Purifying Device.

Zeke had not used it since his ascent to Grandmage. Partly because he didn’t feel the need to push himself again so soon after putting his body through the strain of such a rushed advancement. There was wisdom in letting the changes settle, in adapting to his new capabilities before striving further.

But the greater reason was one he couldn’t ignore: he still hadn’t found a way to counter the device’s dangerously addictive side effects.

It had nearly killed him the last time he used it. Months spent inside the device had left his body barely functional outside of it. Without Akasha monitoring him and modulating his state, he likely wouldn’t have survived at all. Even with that support, she had been forced to place him in suspended animation just to ease his transition back to normal air.

The memory alone made him shudder.

It wasn’t just unpleasant. It was traumatic, so much so that the thought of returning to the device triggered a visceral reaction, leaving him nauseous and faint.

If he was being honest, it had taken a tremendous amount of willpower just to resume work on the project. His aversion to it was so intense that his subconscious kept feeding him excuses, reasons why the timing wasn’t quite right, why it could wait.

Unfortunately, Akasha hadn’t been fooled. She had dismantled his arguments one by one, pointing out the logical fallacies faster than he could invent them.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

In the end, Zeke had run out of excuses. The project had to continue.

That didn’t mean he was eager to use the device again.

The risks he had taken last time, driven by the desperate need to save Winter and his tribe, were not something he could afford to repeat. While the path to Grandmage had been a sprint, the road to Archmage was a marathon. If he approached it the same way, he would burn out long before reaching the finish line.

This time, his progress had to be sustainable. Careful. Measured.

That didn’t mean Zeke was content to go slow, either.

It took the best and brightest nearly a century to reach that level.

A timeframe he simply could not afford.

Even with the most generous estimates, he had only a few decades before a full-scale war for control of the continent would erupt.

And Zeke didn’t like the Alliance’s odds. The Empire always seemed to be a few steps ahead: striking before anyone else even grasped the shape of the board.

He had no doubt the invasion of Rukia wasn’t some ill-conceived tantrum. More likely, the true motive would only become clear once it was too late to stop it.

That was the most infuriating part.

And yet, Zeke found himself helpless to do anything about it.

Augustus Geistreich seemed to possess an endless arsenal of tricks, each one carefully honed through centuries of silence. The mere fact that he was making bold moves now spoke volumes about his confidence. When the smartest man on the continent took action, it was safe to assume he had already accounted for every possible outcome—and had contingencies in place for each one.

The only way to disrupt such a plan was through a variable even he could not predict.

Zeke intended to be that variable.

But to make an impact powerful enough to shake the emperor’s designs, he would need more—more of everything.

More allies. More troops. More influence. More resources.

And above all else, more power.

Zeke’s gaze shifted back to the sphere of panels, suppressing the shudder that rippled through him at the sight. He couldn’t afford to remain squeamish forever—especially not if Akasha’s assurances held any weight.

“My words are always truthful,” her voice echoed in his mind at that exact moment.

He turned his head to find her projected form watching him.

He shook his head, wearing a wry expression. “I’m not accusing you of lying. But there haven’t been any other test subjects. That means all your certainty is based on projections.”

Akasha tilted her head slightly, thoughtful.

“Correct,” she admitted after a pause. “But I still stand by my prediction. The side effects observed in the previous model have less than a 0.05% chance of persisting in the current iteration: assuming daily usage does not exceed a few hours.”

Zeke shrugged, having heard those same assurances more times than he could count. It wasn’t that he doubted her. Rationally, his mind was fully convinced. But when had reason ever silenced the deep, instinctive dread?

It was like being told that cutting into your own flesh wouldn’t hurt. Even if you believed it, overcoming the natural aversion to such an act was another matter entirely.

“How is the progress?” he asked, more to distract himself than out of any real curiosity.

“It will be ready soon.”

That caught him off guard. Until now, the talk had always been about someday. When had someday become soon?

“How soon?” he asked, doing his best to keep the tremor from his voice.

“Tonight,” Akasha replied, meeting his eyes.

Zeke did his best to hold her gaze, refusing to look away, refusing to let the fear win.

"Okay," he managed.

So this was it. Tonight, he would return to the Mana Purifying Device—testing Akasha’s calculations with his own body.

For a moment, his mind wandered, considering alternatives.

There were options. He could, for instance, use another Grandmage as a test subject. But that would mean exposing the device's existence. And afterward, he would have to ensure their silence.

Was he willing to kill or enslave someone just to avoid this himself?

The answer came without hesitation. No.

Still, his thoughts kept searching, chasing some ethically sound solution that would spare him the ordeal.

It was pointless, and he knew it.

Even if someone else tested the device and declared it safe, the hesitation would remain. Logic and evidence had never been the issue.

The fear lived deeper than that.

While his mind raced, Akasha continued to watch him.

She said nothing, but Zeke knew she was fully aware of his inner turmoil, his spiraling thoughts. It felt shameful to have her bear witness to such raw vulnerability: his hesitation, his dread.

For a being like her, untouched by the concept of fear, his emotions must seem utterly alien.

Akasha shook her head. "That is not how I see it."

Zeke frowned, wishing for once that he could have a sliver of privacy inside his own mind. Still, the subject piqued his curiosity enough to overlook the intrusion.

"How do my thoughts appear to you?" he asked.

"Any living organism possesses a set of instincts designed to ensure its survival," she said. "Humans, in particular, appear to have especially keen and adaptable senses in that regard. Host currently perceives this device as a threat to Host's life."

Zeke gave a silent nod.

"I believe," the Spirit continued, her tone as flat and analytical as ever, "that overcoming one's instincts through sheer force of will is among the most difficult challenges a living being can face..."

She tilted her head, as if rapidly sorting through an internal ledger of trials and ranking them by severity. After a moment, she met his gaze again, evidently satisfied with the conclusion she had reached.

"I would not make light of such a feat."

Zeke held her gaze, then drew a long, shuddering breath. For once, he allowed himself to be vulnerable. His body trembled at the thought of using the device again. And yet, ironically, embracing that weakness gave him strength.

He had grown so accustomed to wearing a mask, always composed, always controlled, that he had forgotten what it felt like to simply be. Even within his own thoughts, he maintained discipline, shielding Akasha from the burden of his fears.

But repression came at a cost.

Letting go felt like a release, a quiet blessing, a wave washing over the tension wound tight in his chest.

It was exactly what he needed.

So, for a while, he let himself drift. Let his thoughts unravel, his fears flare, his vulnerability pour out without judgment. He dropped the iron grip on his mind, letting it breathe, letting it speak.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, he was spent: drained in both body and mind.

But the weight had lessened.

When Akasha silently opened the hatch of the Mana Purifying Device, Zeke only had to summon a bit of will to step forward and lie down on the cushioned mattress within.

He was ready.