Low-Fantasy Occultist

Nick was tired. The battle, the hunt, and the visions all left him weak, even though his mana still thrummed strongly in his veins.

He forced himself to stay on his feet, refusing to show weakness, but the shadows cast by the surrounding rocks seemed to stretch and twist, reaching toward him with impossible movements. He could still hear the faint whispers of the void echoing in the empty air, promising secrets that would shatter his mind.

Rhea’s potion, it seemed, could do only so much.

But they were weaker now, fading. The vision had pushed his soul enough for them to return, but they would find no purchase in him.

He stood there for a while, breathing in and out, grateful that the others gave him the time he needed.

When he finally felt in control of his mind again, he opened his eyes. “We should get out of this place," he declared, more than done with the cold wind and the gloom of the mountains. “Let’s get to Toneburg.”

The final leg of the smuggler's pass was not as fast as he had hoped. Indeed, it was a grueling, multi-day traverse across the roof of the North. With the immediate threat of the undead horde eradicated and the necrotic anchor destroyed, the mountain range slowly began to reclaim its natural, albeit harsh, rhythm.

The journey was challenging, yet it offered moments of stark beauty that stood in sharp contrast to the horror they had just endured.

On the first morning after the battle, they stood on a narrow path as dawn broke. The rising sun painted the snow-capped peaks in brilliant strokes of gold and violet, illuminating the valleys below.

Nick could even see a herd of wooly oxen grazing peacefully, entirely unaware of the dangers all around them.

Or rather, they just don’t care. I can sense their leader’s presence, and it’s strong enough to make even trolls reconsider their chances. Against the natural threats of the North, they are safe.

Later that afternoon, they stumbled upon a clearing where he sensed strangely powerful mana, a reminder that, while not as untamed as the Green Ocean, the mountains had their own apex predators, even without men to forge them.

The massive carcass of a territorial Frost-Wyrm lay slumped against a cliff face. The beast had to have brushed against Prestige, if not already beyond it, and would have been capable of wiping out a town on its own.

It was too old for him to get a proper reading, and he could sense that its core had been removed, sapping it of any mana residue he could have used for a more precise assessment, but it was too majestic for him to think of it as mortal.

Yet, it hadn't died in a prolonged struggle.

Nick inspected the corpse closely. The Wyrm's crystalline scales were unmarred, save for a single puncture wound directly between its eyes and the cut made to carve out the core from its chest.

The fatal strike had bypassed all physical and magical defenses, instantly severing the creature's brainstem.

"A ballista bolt?" Gaelen guessed, looking for signs of a heavy-weapons emplacement.

"No," Nick said quietly, narrowing his eyes. “This was the work of a blade. A very sharp blade wielded by someone with great power and assassination skills. The King's Shadows have been through here.”

It could have been something else, perhaps an adventurer of significant skill hiding among the civilian population, much like Arthur. But Nick’s instincts told him he was right on the money. It was just too clean.

The realization forced them to double their caution. They’d known Crown's executioners were skulking around, but seeing signs that they were actively sweeping the wilderness and eliminating threats with such ease made it clear they were walking into a bubbling mess.

By the third day, the descent finally started in earnest. The treeline reappeared, providing shelter from the cold wind, and the path widened, leading them to a protected viewpoint overlooking the province’s largest inhabited valley.

Spread out before them lay the beating heart of the North.

Toneburg was a walled metropolis, easily the largest settlement Nick had seen outside Alluria in this life. It sat nestled in a deep, defensible valley, surrounded by towering walls of dark, quarried stone. Beyond the walls, the outer lands had been heavily logged and replaced by military encampments where the mercenary bands Ephor Ultimer had hired were staging.

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In the center of the city, rising above the snow-dusted rooftops, stood a magnificent castle, the traditional seat of the Duke of the North. From there, the large, opulent estates of the prominent northern noble houses spread outward. These were mostly second homes, but, as with Alluria, he suspected the vast majority of the local nobility spent more time here than at their actual seats.

Nick scanned them, identifying the heraldry from a distance. One estate in particular caught his eye. It was a sprawling manor, surrounded by high iron fences and currently undergoing major renovations, with scaffolding clinging to its newly reinforced walls.

A suffocating silence fell over his companions.

Nick glanced at Rhea and Gaelen and found both siblings staring fixedly at the renovated building, their expressions twisted into masks of unadulterated fury. Gaelen’s hand was resting instinctively on the hilt of his cursed blade, his knuckles white.

"That was House Elpen’s," Rhea whispered, a shudder rocking her frame before her eyes hardened to steel. "It was our home once. The Ultimers stole it from us after driving us to ruin, and now they seem to be mocking its memory.”

I’m surprised the other nobles allowed it, given how much more influence and power it would grant the Ultimers. They are clearly fortifying it, and I can sense the faint impression of wards being laid.

But then again, if Ephor truly had sunk his claws into the Duke and was ruling Toneburg in all but name, perhaps there hadn't been anything the other nobles could have done. Nothing that wouldn’t make them the next target.

Considering the fall of House Elpen and how thoroughly its descendants had been hunted down and scattered, no one would want a repeat.

Deciding he could make better use of this time than by staring at his brooding companions, Nick expanded [Empyrean Intuition], pushing his senses across the vast distance to map Toneburg's etheric landscape.

In truth, he almost expected to see the city burning under the Circle of Pure Souls’ profane magic. For a corrupted pillar of energy to mark Alexander's presence, signaling to the world that his plan—and there had to be a plan, for all the madness he’d seen in the man’s eyes—was coming to fruition.

Or perhaps the Greater Demon contracted to the Ultimers would have staked its claim, expanding its fell energies throughout the city, much as had been the case in Alluria.

But the ether was surprisingly quiet.

There was no overt sign of demonic or cult activity. The ambient mana flowed cleanly through the city, undisturbed by any ritual or necrotic anchor. The citizens moving through the streets below seemed to be going about their daily lives—trading in the markets, tending the fires—as if they were entirely unaware of the rebellion brewing within the walls or of the holy war hiding in the shadows.

"The Circle is here," Nick said quietly, more to himself than to his companions. "But Alexander seems to have learned from his mistakes in Alluria. He isn't broadcasting his presence. If I can't sense it from here, the Shadows won't find it easily either.”

But Nick did notice something else.

For a brief, fleeting moment, a featureless void slipped through the etheric currents above the city’s merchant district. It was an anomaly so subtle that a lesser mage would have dismissed it as a trick of the mind, but Nick recognized it for what it was, even as his mind insisted he’d imagined it.

"The Shadows are already inside the walls," he told them, stepping back from the ledge. "At least one of them. It seems the hunt is already on.”

"Then we need to get inside before they trigger whatever trap Ultimer has set," Gaelen grunted, forcing his gaze away from his stolen family home. “The old bastard must have known someone would come looking for him after he pulled back from the war effort. I do not believe he will let them have free rein for long.”

That was likely true. The mercenaries alone wouldn’t stand up to a Shadow, let alone more than one. In Nick’s opinion, they were there more to make any noble think twice about going against him.

"Our route leads directly above the eastern wall," he pointed out, tracing the path down the mountain. "We can bypass the mercenary camps entirely. But the city walls are laced with detection wards. They will trigger the moment foreign mana crosses the threshold without passing through the gates.”

"I have something for that," Rhea said as a dangerous light returned to her eyes.

She reached into her spatial pouch and pulled out a small crystal vial. The liquid inside was a pale, glowing green, slowly eroding the inner lining despite its non-reactive nature.

“It’s the conceptual solvent," Rhea explained, handing it carefully to Nick. "I brewed several batches from the Behemoth core. This is one of the weaker variants. It won't melt physical stone, but it will rapidly dissolve even complex magical matrices.”

Nick held the vial up to the light, admiring the volatile liquid. It was the perfect tool for the job, which told him just how much thought the siblings had put into the whole operation.

Its nature was such that it probably wouldn’t last long, even in stasis, but he suspected the vial he held could have been sold at Alluria’s auction for a significant gain.

That it was being handed over before they’d even entered the city told him he hadn’t seen half of their preparations yet.

"I will use my [Territory] over a small section of the wall," Nick planned, already visualizing the breach. "The spiritual pressure will contain the alchemical reaction and muffle the ward's destruction. If this works as you said, the solvent should eat a hole large enough for us to slip through before the matrix repairs itself. Once we are inside Toneburg, we’ll have to move quickly to get away before anyone notices.”

Gaelen grunted in approval. His skin had not yet regained its color after the last battle with the orc Shaman, and Nick was growing concerned for his health, as even Rhea’s brews seemed to have lost their efficacy. But the determined light in his eyes told him that bringing the matter up now would not go well.

We’re almost out of time. We’ll need to do some serious scouting to learn how things really are inside the walls, since even One-Ear only had outdated information. I’ll have to do something once we find a place to stay. It’s too big a weakness to ignore.

Having decided on his path, Nick took a moment to familiarize himself with the solvent. He’d need to work quickly and, more importantly, keep his spell out of its reach, lest it unravel as well, announcing their presence for all to sense.

Even now, he could feel the liquid trying to break through its prison, seeking any energy to feed on, much like the Behemoth had drained the crystal forest dry.

It was a fascinating study that reminded him that alchemy, while very similar to potion-making, operated on entirely different principles. It took an element and transformed it into something wholly new, while still retaining elements of the true self.

His examination complete, he momentarily handed the vial back to Rhea and moved down the icy path, keeping his senses peeled for any patrol that might be in the vicinity.

Fortunately, it seemed the mercenaries were mostly focused on the main thoroughfares, confirming his assumption that they were there as a show of force.

The wards, on the other hand, were much more attentive, and even as he drew closer, he could sense a stirring in their energies.

Not enough to send an alert yet, but the mere act of approaching was waking them.

Hmm. This might require a delicate touch.

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