Before the officers could disperse, Zeke’s voice cut through the air.

  “Zelkara.”

  The woman straightened as if struck by lightning. “Yes, Progenitor.”

  Her eyes shone with a mix of excitement and surprise. It was clear she hadn’t expected him to call on her—not after he had ignored her for so long.

  “After you round up your men, I want you to bring them to the top deck.”

  “…All of them?” she asked.

  Zeke nodded. He understood her confusion. His personal quarters on the top deck were far smaller than the crew deck, and fitting the entire Bloodguard there seemed impossible—under normal circumstances, at least.

  Zelkara didn’t question him further. With a quick bow, she turned and sprinted off to carry out his order.

  Ash followed after her, though at a far more relaxed pace. He had been placed in charge of the few dozen warriors from Winter’s tribe—a much more manageable number.

  “Linus,” Zeke called next.

  “Yes, young lord?”

  “You’re to bring your men to the cockpit. Captain Morris will instruct you on everything there. From now on, your unit and his will work in four-hour shifts to keep the ship running.”

  Linus frowned. “Are we to keep that rotation all the way until we reach Rukia?”

  Zeke shook his head. “Not quite. You’ll maintain that rotation indefinitely.”

  “I—indefinitely?”

  Zeke nodded, fixing him with a serious look. “Let me put it this way, Captain—this ship only touches the ground if it’s about to crash and burn. Understood?”

  Linus swallowed hard, then straightened with a salute. “I’ll instruct my men accordingly.”

  Zeke nodded, satisfied.

  Linus left with a somewhat dazed look on his face.

  Elder Tiger and Elder Dragon had already gone to rally their followers, leaving behind only the officers without direct commands.

  “Any instructions for me, young lord?” David asked.

  “None. You’re free to spend your time however you wish.” Zeke paused, then gestured toward a particular corridor. “You’ll find more of Maximilian’s collection in the west wing.”

  David’s lips curved into a soft smile. “I’ll be taking my leave, then.”

  “The same goes for you, Raileh,” Zeke added, turning to the elf. “Though I suggest you familiarize yourself with the medical station before we reach Rukia.”

  With a nod—far more respectful than he remembered—the elf made for the stairway, presumably to do just that.

  That left only Gravitas and Vulcanos.

  “Am I correct in assuming I’m relieved of my command?” Gravitas asked.

  Zeke studied her expression, trying to gauge her mood. As always, Gravitas was difficult to read. “Are you displeased?”

  She shook her head. “I did as you asked, Master. But it’s clear to me now that I’m not suited for leadership. Not the way Zelkara is.”

  Zeke nodded. “Your talents would be wasted in that role anyway. Even so, you carried out my orders faithfully—exceeded expectations even. I believe a reward is in order, don’t you think?”

  He smirked as he caught the faint flicker of excitement in her eyes. No matter how stoic she pretended to be, Zeke still knew how to spark her interest.

  He gestured toward the deeper shelves of the library. “There’s a set of books near the end of that row that might interest you. They outline the theoretical framework behind the Wraith’s engine design. I’m sure you’ll find them… illuminating.”

  Before he had even finished speaking, Gravitas was already striding past him toward the indicated section.

  That left only one.

  Vulcanos looked at Zeke, and Zeke looked back.

  “Well?” the Chimeroi asked.

  “Well, what?”

  “What about me?”

  Zeke shrugged. “You could spend some time in the training facilities on the third floor.”

  Vulcanos nodded, though it was clear he wasn’t entirely satisfied. “I wish we could get there sooner. My body’s itching for a fight—I’ve got all this pent-up energy.”

  “You’ll get your fight soon enough,” Zeke said. “And you won’t lack for strong opponents.”

  “Say, Master… do you think we’ll encounter an Archmage again?”

  Zeke’s expression turned somber. “Most certainly.”

  “I hope it’s soon,” Vulcanos said, his eyes gleaming. “I have a feeling I could take one now.”

  Zeke shook his head. “You’d most certainly die.”

  Vulcanos waved him off. “I’m much stronger now than I was in Undercity. We wouldn’t even need tricks anymore.”

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  Zeke’s expression hardened. That kind of overconfidence was dangerous—and it needed to be crushed immediately.

  “Listen to me, Vulcanos, and listen closely.” His tone turned sharp, his gaze cold. “If you meet an Archmage in Rukia, you do not fight. You run. Unless I order it, you do not engage. Understand?”

  Vulcanos’ face twisted into a pout. “But why? Do you doubt my strength, Master?”

  “It’s because I know your strength that I’m saying this.”

  “But—”

  “Enough.” Zeke’s voice cut through his protest. “It’s not I who’s ignorant, Vulcanos—it’s you.”

  The Chimeroi fell silent, though his defiant expression made it clear he wasn’t convinced.

  “You think you understand the strength of Archmages because of the ones we fought in Undercity?” Zeke asked. “Let me tell you something—they were trash. Utter garbage for their level. If you take them as a measure of what the Ehrenlegion can do, you’ll find your head separated from your neck before you can even blink.”

  Vulcanos’ pout faded, replaced by a more serious look.

  “They weren’t in Undercity by choice,” Zeke continued. “They were there because they weren’t good enough to be anywhere else. Even in Korrovan, they were weak. Now, try to imagine how they compare to the top elites of the Empire—the strongest military power on the continent.”

  He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in.

  “Even David, trained by one of the foremost experts in the world and on the same level himself, would only have about an even chance of victory in a fair fight, I’d wager.”

  Vulcanos’ expression shifted, though it was hard to say what he felt. It was a look Zeke had never seen on the usually so easygoing Chimeroi’s face.

  “…It’s frustrating,” Vulcanos said after a pause, his voice low. Zeke could see the effort it took for him not to clench his fists. “I’ve done so much—risked life and limb, even my sanity with the Bloodboil technique—and I’m still so lacking…”

  Zeke remained silent. He had no good answer. In many ways, the world truly was unfair. Yet Vulcanos was already stronger than most humans could ever dream of being. It was just that he would likely never reach the very highest peaks of power.

  Finally, Vulcanos lost the struggle against himself. His fist tightened until thin streams of blood trailed down his knuckles. When the drops hit the floor, they sizzled, burning into the wood.

  Vulcanos didn’t even seem to notice. His gaze locked onto Zeke. “…Is there a way?”

  Even with the question so vague, Zeke knew exactly what he meant. Still, the words didn’t come easily. He needed to weigh the implications before speaking.

  He hadn’t planned for Vulcanos to be here at all, and now he was faced with a decision he hadn’t prepared for. But looking at the Chimeroi’s earnest expression, Zeke couldn’t bring himself to crush that hope outright.

  “…There’s a way for everything,” he said slowly. “But as always, there’s a price to be paid.”

  Vulcanos nodded solemnly. “I am prepared, Master. Whatever the price, I’ll pay it.”

  “Is strength really that important to you?”

  Vulcanos’ expression turned wistful. “What else do I have?”

  Zeke held his gaze for a long moment. He could have tried to convince him—tried to say that a person’s worth wasn’t defined by their strength alone—but he knew better. The words would have rung hollow coming from him. Morning to night, day after day, he lived for power. He had no right to say otherwise.

  “Very well,” Zeke said after a pause. “When Zelkara returns, follow her to my quarters.”

  He turned, intending to head for the top deck ahead of time. He would need the remaining minutes before launch to prepare for this new variable. But before he reached the stairway, Vulcanos called out once more.

  “Thank you, Master!”

  Zeke turned his head halfway, a complicated expression flickering across his face. Instead of replying, he simply nodded once.

  Time passed in a blur, and before Zeke realized it, there was a knock at his door.

  The top floor was off-limits, nearly impossible to enter without brute force. It had to be that way—too many secrets were kept here, secrets that couldn’t be shared even with his closest allies.

  At his command, Akasha unsealed the entrance. Zelkara entered first, followed by Vulcanos and then the rest of the Bloodguard. They moved in disciplined pairs, their serpentine bodies gliding in eerie synchronization. Yet after only a few dozen had entered, the room already felt cramped.

  Zeke pointed toward a side door. “In there.”

  At once, the line of soldiers shifted course, flowing toward the indicated room.

  Zelkara approached silently and dropped to one knee, her head bowed in wordless obedience. Vulcanos stood beside her, watching her posture with faint curiosity.

  “I’m here, Master,” he said. “What do you need me to do?”

  Zeke motioned for patience. His gaze followed the stream of warriors disappearing through the doorway.

  Vulcanos watched as well, frowning slightly as more and more vanished from sight. “Bigger than it looked from the outside,” he muttered.

  Zeke smiled faintly but chose not to comment.

  When the last of the Bloodguard had passed through, Akasha sealed the door behind them without waiting for instruction.

  Zeke turned to Vulcanos, his expression turning serious once more. “Last chance. It’s not too late to walk away—but after this, there’s no going back.”

  Vulcanos didn’t hesitate. “I won’t change my mind.”

  Zeke sighed. “For what I’m about to show you, I have no choice but to induct you into the Bloodguard.”

  Vulcanos glanced at Zelkara’s kneeling form. “…Will I end up like that too?”

  “It’s possible,” Zeke admitted. “Second thoughts?”

  Vulcanos studied her for another moment before relaxing, a faint grin crossing his face. “Not really. Maybe I’ll finally find out what it feels like to follow a Progenitor, eh?”

  Zeke watched him for a moment longer, ensuring his resolve was genuine. When Vulcanos’ easy stance didn’t waver, he nodded.

  “Come with me—both of you.”

  He led them into the adjoining chamber. It was small, barely large enough to fit a dozen people. Every inch of its surface was etched with runes and enchantments. This was one of his ritual rooms: an optimized version of the Honor Guard ritual.

  “Stand over there.”

  Vulcanos obeyed without a word, stepping into the center of the formation.

  Zeke’s brow furrowed slightly. The Chimeroi had already undergone the Enslavement Ritual and later had his Soul Shard returned, so Zeke wasn’t entirely sure this would work. He gave it even odds at best—but none of that uncertainty showed on his face.

  “Do you swear to live and die by my will, to submit in body and mind, and to carry out my instructions faithfully until death or release from this bond?”

  “I swear.”

  There was no hesitation.

  Zeke began circulating his mana, initiating the ritual. The room flared with light as the runes and pathways carved into the floor ignited one by one.

  For a breathless moment, Zeke thought it might fail—but then he felt it: a faint tingle, the spark of a new connection. Allowing the link to solidify, he sensed the imprint forming. Minutes later, the ritual concluded.

  Vulcanos looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers as though seeing them for the first time.

  Zeke frowned. “How do you feel?”

  The question seemed to jolt Vulcanos. His startled eyes snapped to Zeke, and he stared for a long moment before answering.

  “What is it?” Zeke pressed.

  Vulcanos blinked, confusion flickering across his face. It was as if he wasn’t looking at Zeke at all—but at someone entirely new.

  Just as Zeke began to suspect something had gone wrong, Vulcanos finally spoke.

  “…Weird.”

  Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face—the same familiar grin as always. “I guess this will take some getting used to.”

  “How is it?” Zeke asked again.

  Vulcanos tilted his head, searching for the right words. Finally, he shrugged. “I don’t think I can describe it… It’s kind of like—you’re the sun.”

  “The sun?” Zeke repeated, frowning slightly.

  Vulcanos nodded, clearly satisfied with his own explanation. “Warm. Comforting. Omnipresent.”

  Zeke glanced toward Zelkara, gauging her reaction. To his surprise, she was nodding, as if Vulcanos’ words made perfect sense.

  That confirmed it.

  The sun…

  He was the sun…

  Before he could dwell on the thought, he felt it—not through his body, but through his Spatial Awareness. The ship had begun to move. The Alexandria had taken flight and was already on course for Rukia.

  Which meant…

  They had no time to waste.

  Zeke turned back to Vulcanos. “Now that you’re part of the Bloodguard, it’s time I showed you a few things…”