Zephyr muttered under his breath, "Just call and it would respond." He instinctively moved to enter a lotus position but was thwarted by the armrests of the chair. He scowled, shifting uncomfortably before glancing around.
"Hmm... does the position of the body matter?" he asked cautiously.
"Negative," Elden responded. "Staying in a comfortable position will suffice. However, do avoid excessive comfort, like lying on a bed, or you may drift into sleep."
Zephyr nodded, adjusting himself until he found a balance between comfort and alertness. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and focused inward. The soft sounds of the computer, the flickering of holographic screens—all of it faded away as he shut out his senses one by one.
There was silence. True silence.
For a long mont, he simply existed in that void, drifting between awareness and sothing deeper. Doubt flickered at the edge of his mind. Am I doing it right? The thought threatened to pull him back into consciousness, but then—he felt it.
It wasn’t like grasping at sothing physical. No, it was like leaning into a whisper, the soft call of sothing ancient and powerful that had always been there, just beneath the surface. His breath stilled, his heartbeat slowed, and then it happened.
A lullaby. Gentle, ethereal—a rhythm that resonated with his very being. It pulled him deeper, unraveling layers of perception until he slipped, falling—not into sleep, but into another state of awareness entirely.
He was awake. But not in the conventional sense.
He could feel his body, every pulse, every stretch of muscle and vein. His heart thrumd in his chest, each beat sending out waves that resonated with sothing gaseous and ethereal hovering just above his blood. He couldn’t see it, but he knew it was there—an instinctual understanding embedded in his bones.
"My Neutral Aether," he whispered, the words reverberating through his mind. His breath hitched at the realization. He could feel it—weighty, not with burden but with purpose. It was dense and potent, humming with latent power that pressed against his veins, almost like it was knocking, demanding entry.
It wasn’t idle. His Neutral Aether emitted a pressure—a tangible, rhythmic beat that pulsed along his blood vessels, reverberating through his tissues, bones, and organs. The sensation was surreal, as though his very essence was being tempered by its weight. His flesh and bone grew subtly stronger, fortified by each pulse. He felt more real, more connected to the world around him.
Curiosity flared, and he instinctively focused on the gaseous Aether lingering just above his blood. "What happens if you settle upon my blood?" he asked, not expecting an answer.
But the Aether responded—not with words, but with action.
It sank, like mist drawn to the earth, seeping into his veins. And the mont it did, Zephyr’s eyes flew open, though he was still sowhere between waking and dreaming. A flood of power surged through him, hot and electric. His muscles coiled with newfound strength, his senses sharpened to a razor’s edge. He could hear the distant murmur of footsteps beyond the booth, the soft hum of the mall’s generators beneath its foundations. His vision brightened, the edges of his awareness expanding.
"This...this is the power of a Grade 3 Zeta". He didn’t know how but he instinctively knew that when his Neutral Aether settled down on his blood, as long as his Aether doesn’t run out he would temporarily have the sa physical capabilities similar to a grade 3 Zeta.
He felt invincible, each breath filling his lungs with vigor, each heartbeat echoing with raw energy.
But then his brows furrowed. "If this power is relative to everyone, why did Lunethra’s attack feel so.... shallow?" he mused aloud. He could still rember the clash—the way her hand struck him, sending tremors down his arm. His hand had trembled from the impact; she hadn’t gone easy on him.
Or had she?
"Was she holding back?" he whispered, suspicion winding its way through his thoughts. The idea clung to him, stubborn and unyielding. Cealsen had misunderstood him, thinking he was already at Elpison rank and as thus thought highly of his capabilities, but Lunethra...she was a princess. Her clan would have ensured she knew exactly what he was capable of, especially after the allegations. She had to have known his rank before she even touched him.
He also turned his attention to the fight against that Ant, it had all been blurry. The movent of Cealsen, Arden and the Ant, but anyti the Ant faced him, he noticed it was slower and it’s attack were less devestating then when it was colliding with Arden. But now that he thought of it, Magnus was clearly holding the beast back for his own good, they was no way he could have survived any form of interaction with the Ant.
And of course if it wasn’t because of the necklace given to him by Cealsen he couldn’t have been of any use in that fight. Thinking of Cealsen, he thought back to the feeling he got right after he considered him a comrade.
As soon as his thoughts raced they he lost concentration and slipped out of the ditative state.
His face was moody as he reached into his shirt and pull out a necklace, black in colour the sa one Cealsen had given him.
"Tsk I forgot about it". The necklace was the one that connected a bridge between his body and mind, it made his mind clearer and it did sohow remove his mind from the fact that his right leg was beyond move. One mont he couldn’t drop the leg on the fall and the next he was pouncing on a beast.
’Did it help ’. still this wouldn’t be enough for Lunethra not to crush him over if she really wanted. ’Then am guessing she knew the consequences of fighting in the academy and my own self so she deliberately held back not to crush ’. The thought was depressing but that was all he could co up with. For now.
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