Trinity of Magic

With a quiet thud, the last remnants of firewood collapsed, leaving only the embers of the once-roaring fire. Hours had passed since Zeke began his task, and the warm environment of the guest room was slowly cooling.

Zeke was still seated in the exact same spot, not having moved an inch during this entire time. However, his complexion was looking even worse than before. Previously, the poison's blueish color had been limited to his hands and arms. Now, however, his entire skin had taken on the same unhealthy pallor.

He looked like a man close to freezing to death, and his constant shivering and the light blue color of his lips only strengthened that impression. Yet, upon looking at his eyes, that impression of weakness was immediately shattered. Despite his condition, there was no despair in them—only quiet determination and absolute resolve.

Teeth clenched, he endured the freezing sensation that had taken hold of his entire body. Though the dosage was tightly controlled by Akasha, the sensation was still anything but pleasant. Unlike any usual type of cold, this was coming from inside of him, meaning that the usual resistances to such a threat were utterly useless.

His blood flowed at a glacial pace, almost frozen solid, scraping through his veins like a massive worm crawling through his body. Yet, this was an agony of his own making. Anyone else infected by the poison would have died from organ failure long before reaching this point. Only through perfect control over the dosage could one prolong their suffering to this degree.

Yet, Zeke didn't complain.

He would have to stay in this region for a while, and any advantage against the Frostcale Tribe could mean the difference between life and death. Zeke was the type to endure present suffering to avoid future regret.