Zeke approached the unconscious Progenitor, his gaze hardening. Even at a glance, it was clear that his condition had worsened over the past three months. What had once been a handsome young man had withered into a shriveled caricature of his former self. The only silver lining was the faint activity still present in his brain—Winter hadn’t lost the fight just yet.
“I’m back, wolf,” Zeke sent telepathically, marveling at his effortless use of the spell. It had barely taken him more than a thought to manifest the Spellform in his Core. He waited for a while, but there was no reply. The only sign that Winter had even heard his words was a slight increase in his brain activity. It seemed he was no longer in a state to talk, even mentally.
“I will try to cleanse the poison now,” Zeke said after it was clear that they wouldn’t be able to have a proper exchange of words. “Just hold on a bit longer.”
Zeke broke the mental connection and sat down beside the Progenitor. The bed was vast, large enough for several people, and he moved closer to Winter's prone form. Oddly, the oppressive pressure he had felt during his last visit was gone and he didn’t need to remove the amulet to alleviate it.
He grasped Winter’s arm and immediately shuddered. The man’s skin wasn’t just cold—it radiated a chill that seeped deep into Zeke’s bones. He recoiled, letting go at once.
Was this the result of the poison, or was Winter’s skin naturally this cold? Both seemed equally plausible. Perhaps it was even a combination of the two. Whatever the case, it appeared direct skin contact was out of the question. There was no way he could focus on his task while simultaneously fighting off this chill.
Zeke focused on the veins in Winter’s wrist. The skin appeared taut and fragile, but Zeke knew better. As a True Mage, he hadn’t even been sure if he could pierce Winter’s skin. Now, it was time to see if that had changed with his advancement.
The question was... how should he go about this?
Advancing hadn’t magically granted him better spells. Sure, he could pour more Mana into the ones he knew, but would that really be enough?
Well, there was only one way to find out.
With a flick of his mind, Zeke urged his Blood to move, feeling a tiny prick as a thin red needle emerged from his index finger. He took a deep breath, gathering as much Mana as he could. But in the next moment, a shudder ran through him, and he abandoned the task on instinct.
What... the... FUCK!
Zeke blinked, looking down at his hand. The blood needle had extended to the length of his forearm, piercing deep into the bedding beneath him. He quickly released the spell, awkwardly retracting the blood into his body. A glance at Snow showed her staring at him, wide-eyed, her face a mix of confusion and doubt.
“I’m still getting used to my powers,” he explained weakly. After a moment of awkward silence, Zeke shifted his focus inward. The power he had drawn on was overwhelming, far beyond what he had ever been capable of before. He couldn’t be certain, but he suspected this was much more than what a newly advanced Grand Mage should be able to gather.
Using his Spatial Awareness, Zeke examined the changes within himself. In his haste, he hadn’t yet taken a proper look. His memories of the advancement were hazy at best. The only thing he remembered clearly was holding on until a sense of saturation filled him. After that, he must have passed out.
What he saw now was nothing like what he remembered...
These weren’t mere seedlings anymore. Three fractal vines extended from his Core, each targeting different areas of his body. The red vine had embedded itself in his heart, weaving through his veins and blossoming into a network that resembled the patterns on a leaf.
The blue vine had traveled to his head, enveloping his skull in a mystical exoskeleton covered with strange, mesmerizing patterns he couldn’t even begin to decipher. It seemed to function primarily as a protective layer—something he was more than grateful for.
Zeke tried to pull at it, willing his blood to purge the taint from Winter’s system. He increased the pressure, tightening his control, but the poison resisted. It slithered through Winter's veins like a serpent, evading Zeke’s grasp. Every time he attempted to draw it out, it pushed back with force.
Zeke’s brow furrowed. This wasn’t normal. It was almost as if the poison had consciousness, an intent to remain where it was. He exerted more force, sending waves of his own blood to envelop it, but still, the poison refused to be swayed.
How is this possible? Zeke thought.
This poison—whatever it was—was unlike anything he had encountered before. He had experienced nothing like this when dealing with the Frostcale poison before, and even the samples directly from the enemy Progenitor had never shown such characteristics.
His mind raced, desperately searching for a way to combat the poison. He attempted to surround it again, pushing harder. But the more he pressed, the stronger the poison resisted, fighting back with a malevolent energy that seemed to surge in response to his efforts. The sheer defiance of the substance shocked him.
It’s alive... he realized with a jolt.
The poison wasn’t just a foreign substance; it was imbued with a will. Some force had bound it to Winter, and it wasn’t going to release its hold willingly.
With a frustrated growl, Zeke withdrew his blood from Winter’s body, retracting the needle. He stared down at his own trembling hand. His breath came in ragged, shallow gasps, and he could feel the strain of the failed attempt weighing on him.
The room was silent, save for the faint rasp of his own breathing. The Progenitor still lay unconscious, locked in his battle with the poison that consumed him. Zeke clenched his fist, anger flaring within him. This poison wasn’t something he could simply remove with brute force.
What now?
Zeke stood up, pacing the room as his mind churned. He wasn’t even paying attention to the worried glances Snow was shooting him. He needed a new approach. Direct removal wasn’t working—if anything, it was making the poison more aggressive. He couldn’t simply cleanse it the way he would any other affliction. This poison was different. It had to be tricked somehow, coaxed out of Winter’s body, but how?
What was he supposed to do if the poison refused to leave Winter's body...?
An idea began to take shape in his mind, one that felt as dangerous as it was clever. If he couldn’t remove the poison directly, maybe he could transfer it somewhere else. Somewhere it would no longer be a threat.
Zeke’s gaze flickered back to Winter’s withered form. He would need a place the poison was willing to go—a temporary one. A construct. Something that could hold it, even for a brief moment, while it was siphoned from Winter.
The thought sent a chill down his spine. [Blood Manifestation]. It was a risky technique, one he hadn’t perfected, but it was his only option. If he could create a new body for Winter, even for a few moments, it might be enough to draw the poison out.
He clenched his jaw. There was no room for hesitation. Winter’s time was running out, and he couldn’t afford to wait any longer.
This had to work.