“Who are you?” the leader of the Frostscale tribe hissed, eying him warily as he and his people took on defensive stances.
Yet, Zeke paid him no mind for the moment as he swept his gaze over the gathered crowd. He recognized several familiar faces—Frost, Elder Fang, Elder Claw, and... Polaris. His eyes narrowed as he focused on Winter’s eldest daughter, standing apart from her tribesmen and next to the man who had just spoken.
“So it was you, after all,” Zeke said.
Polaris visibly shuddered under his gaze but still met it with defiance. “I didn't think you were still alive, human.”
Zeke chuckled. “Sorry to disappoint. I guess that makes us even. But I wonder what your father will think when he finds out about this.”
“…My father,” Polaris started, a strange look crossing her face. However, she caught herself in the next moment. “It doesn’t matter much what a frozen statue thinks, now, does it? Besides, if he hadn’t gotten himself into such a mess, would things have ended up as they did?”
Zeke ignored her words and turned to Frost instead. The commander had certainly seen better days. Physically, he was in better shape than most of the Elders, but mentally, it was a different story. The fire and conviction that once burned within his eyes had dimmed, on the verge of being extinguished. It was a worrying sight.
“How are you holding up, Commander?” Zeke asked, smiling at the young man.
"Fine," Frost replied tersely, though it was clear he was putting on a front. He couldn't afford to show any weakness—not to their enemies, and certainly not to his own men.
"That's good to hear," Zeke said, unfazed by the cold response. His gaze moved over the gathered Elders, pausing briefly on Elder Claw. The young man, once Frost’s rival, looked like he’d matured by a decade in Zeke’s short absence.
“Crazy Chimeroi,” Zeke muttered under his breath before his eyes finally settled on Elder Fang. The old man was in the worst condition by far, and even without his Spatial Awareness, Zeke could tell he didn’t have much time left.
Zeke finally turned his attention to the arrayed enemy Purebloods. Their trembling was even more intense as his gaze landed on each of them. Even their leader couldn’t suppress a shudder as Zeke looked directly at him.
“You were proposing a deal just now?” Zeke asked, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “Let’s hear it.”
The Pureblood briefly frowned at his trembling hands, forcefully steadying his body. “I am Razeth, son of Shassra. I don’t think we’ve met.”
“You can call me Ezekiel,” Zeke said. “Now, about the deal?”
Razeth’s expression grew hard as he looked from Zeke to Frost. “It is an offer for the tribe to consider, not you, outsider.”
Zeke grinned. “Winter himself appointed me as Snow’s guardian, so if the deal involves her, you’ll have to convince me, too.”
Razeth’s gaze flicked to Frost, likely trying to determine the validity of those words. When the Commander nodded, Razeth reluctantly spoke the terms of the deal once more. “I will allow the tribe to leave if Winter and his Pureblood children surrender themselves.”
Zeke shook his head. “Rejected.”
The entire scene froze. Even the members of the Icefang tribe couldn’t believe the decisiveness with which Zeke had spoken. Didn’t the human see the current situation? This might be the last chance for them to live.
“Ezekiel…” Frost began but stopped when Zeke’s gaze found him, unable to say anything else. Zeke returned his attention back to Razeth. “Anything else?”
The Pureblood frowned deeply, studying Zeke in great detail. “You would see the tribe extinguished just to protect one girl?”
Zeke nodded calmly. “I would see the world extinguished to protect those I care about, but that’s neither here nor there. The reason for my refusal is that I don’t believe you will win this war.”
Razeth burst into laughter, and the Purebloods behind him joined in. “Win… this… war?” he gasped, fighting to regain his composure. “Can’t you see that the war is over, outsider? It doesn’t matter whether you agree or not; this will end today—one way or another.”
The members of the Icefang Tribe lowered their eyes in shame. Razeth had abandoned all pretense and gotten straight to the point: the tribe was finished. They all knew it, and there was little reason to maintain appearances if the human continued to complicate matters.
Regardless, the easy expression on Zeke’s face remained unchanged. “Elder Fang,” he called out over his shoulder. “May I borrow your hand for a second?”
Elder Fang looked flustered for a moment, but then a spark of recognition lit up in his eyes, and he willingly extended his arm. Zeke grasped the offered hand firmly and conjured a thin needle that pierced the elder’s skin at the point of contact. Elder Fang’s expression remained unchanged as Zeke’s blood entered his system. Until, a few moments later, his withered face turned rosy, and a soft sigh escaped his lips.
Zeke retracted his hand, now holding a red orb the size of an apple. He returned his focus to the stunned Razeth, who was looking at Elder Fang in shock. With a casual motion Zeke tossed the red orb toward the Pureblood. “I think this belongs to you,” he said.
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All eyes turned to the small red orb arcing toward Razeth. It moved far too slowly to be considered an attack, but then… what was it?
Their questions were answered as the thin film of red peeled back, revealing the orb's contents. A softly glowing, pale blue substance emerged—something everyone recognized immediately. It was the same liquid that coated every spear tip, the same liquid that had infected the bodies of most tribesmen: Frostscale poison.
Deprived of its shell, the liquid splashed on Razeth's clothing and face, drenching the Pureblood. It was shocking to see how much of the stuff Zeke had been able to retrieve from Elder Fang alone.
Razeth's expression shifted between shock and anger as he wiped the liquid from his face. While the poison didn’t harm him, the humiliation of being splashed was undeniable. He struggled to find the right words, still reeling from the implications of what had just happened.
His gaze was fixed on Elder Fang, who appeared rejuvenated. The Elder's tense muscles had relaxed, his posture straightened, and his rasping breath now came smooth. It was hard to believe this was the same withered old man from earlier; he now looked like a steadfast warrior in his prime.
Razeth’s eyes flashed, as his gaze once again landed on Zeke. It wasn’t hard to determine what he was thinking, and Zeke wondered if he would act on his thoughts. A moment later, he got his answer as a black knife hurtled toward his throat. Predictable.
Despite the incoming attack, Zeke remained still, treating the Voidiron weapon as if it were nothing. Frost and the other Elders tried to intervene, but they were already too late, just out of reach to help.
Just before the knife could hit him, a metallic clang rang out as metal met bone. The projectile was swiftly knocked from the air, landing a few steps away.
“Master,” Ash greeted as he fully materialized. An instant later, another figure landed beside him—a human-shaped blur that came to a gentle stop as she touched down next to her companion.
“Master,” Gravitas greeted with a light bow of the head.
Zeke smiled warmly as he looked at his followers. It was obvious that they had gone through quite a bit during his absence. The mere control Gravitas had just displayed was far above what she had been capable of before. However, now was not the right time to catch up.
Zeke’s eyes once again went to Razeth, his lips curling up slightly at the edges. “I assume this is the end of our negotiations?”
Razeth’s eyes flashed dangerously, but with Ash and Gravitas standing at his side, and with Frost and the other Elders on high alert, there was no chance to take Zeke out anymore. “You will regret your choice, outsider,” he hissed, all cordiality gone from his face.
“We will see,” Zeke replied, completely unfazed by the implied threat. “I think I like my chances.”
Razeth glared at Zeke one last time before retreating with his siblings and Polaris in tow. Zeke and his group followed suit, returning to their own factions. The battle would resume momentarily, and Zeke seized this brief moment to voice the question that had been gnawing at him since he arrived.
“Where is Vulcanos?” he asked, his brow furrowing. It was the first time worry had crossed his face since his arrival. Ash and Gravitas exchanged a glance, and Zeke's heart sank. Could it be…?
“That fool got himself injured on the very first day pulling one of his stunts,” Gravitas spat. “We’ve been looking after him ever since.”
A wave of relief swept over Zeke. He didn’t know what he would have done if the lovable giant had died. However, the knowledge that he was alive and recovering was all that he needed to know for now.
He placed a hand on each of their shoulders, stopping them in their tracks. “I’m sorry for being so late,” he said sincerely. It was clear that his followers had endured a great deal in his absence, and he genuinely felt remorseful. This wasn’t their fight, yet they had followed him here with the promise that he would keep them safe—a promise he had failed to uphold.
Gravitas eyes flickered for a moment, but then she brushed his hand off gently. “There is no need to apologize, Master. You have not yet broken your promise.”
Zeke studied her for a moment, realizing she wasn’t wearing her veil. Gravitas’ blue skin and razor-sharp teeth were fully visible, leaving him to wonder what had caused this change. Clearly, a lot had happened while he was away. He nodded sharply, acknowledging her words for what they were, before turning to Ash.
"I never wanted to abandon them anyway," the wolfkin said with a shrug. However, Zeke sensed that there was more to his words than just an attempt to comfort him. It seemed Ash had grown quite attached to this place.
Zeke squeezed Ash's shoulder once before letting go. He noticed that Frost and the Elder were waiting a few steps away, and he definitely owed them an explanation after derailing their negotiation. It was already commendable that they had given him that much space.
“We’ll talk later,” he said.
When the Chimeroi followed his gaze, they nodded in understanding. Zeke stepped in front of the small gathering of Elders, feeling like a criminal standing before a judge. They had every right to feel betrayed, but he knew they would soon realize their fears were unjustified.
“Frost,” Zeke greeted once more as he met the commander’s eyes.
Frost nodded curtly, finally dropping the mask he had been wearing throughout the negotiation. “That was unwise, Ezekiel. You might have just doomed us all.”
The declaration was met with nods from the other Elders, most of whom seemed way too young for their positions, and Zeke could see the fear brewing beneath their hardened fronts. He had to remind himself that he was likely one of the oldest people here, judging by the fact that most Chimeroi already reached adulthood after only a few years.
Zeke smiled disarmingly. “My earlier words…” he said, making eye contact with every single Elder. “They were not a bluff or tactic. I truly believe that we can win this battle.”
“Impossible,” one of the young Elders countered with a heated voice. “Can’t you see the state we are in? What gives you the right to run your mouth when you haven’t ever stood beside us.”
“Elder Howl,” Ash warned in a steely voice, “control your tongue when addressing my Master.”
The young man fell silent immediately, clearly holding a great deal of admiration and respect for Ash. However, his words lingered, and Zeke noticed that many of the younger Elders shared the same sentiment.
“You’re right,” Zeke said, looking directly at the man who had spoken. “I haven’t fought alongside you on the battlefield—I haven’t shed blood with you or shared in your suffering.” He scanned their faces as he spoke, gauging their reactions. “But have I not given you my most trusted soldiers? Have you not felt my presence through Gravitas, through Ash… through Vulcanos?”
He emphasized the last name, knowing the giant had likely done something heroically reckless. As expected, no one was willing to meet his gaze after that mention. It was far too easy to soothe these children. However, Elder Fang was clearly not so easily swayed.
“No one denies your contributions,” the old man said. “Yet, the fact remains that we are on the verge of losing, and you just destroyed our very last chance to save even a few lives.”
Zeke’s expression hardened. Elder Fang didn’t care for pretty words, being a practical man. He would need a different approach to win the old warrior over to his side.
“I have a way,” he said, meeting the old man’s gaze directly. “A way for you to save more than just a few lives by fleeing in fear—homeless and unprotected. I can show you a true path to win this war. The question is, will you give me the chance to lead you there?”