Low-Fantasy Occultist

The wooden latch on the farmhouse window clicked softly, having been properly oiled for the occasion.

Rose slipped through the gap, landing softly on the damp grass. Dawn was still an hour away, the sky a riot of colors above the growing silhouette of Floria’s southern district.

She paused, listening to her grandfather’s snore echo from his bedroom. He had mentioned a long patrol along the southern plains, hunting a pack of feral hounds that had been harassing the sheep. He would be out as soon as possible and wouldn’t return until twilight.

Admittedly, she was taking a risk by leaving before him, but she’d made a point of going out to buy fresh bread and produce at the market over the past week, so he shouldn’t be too suspicious.

She still nervously checked the straps of her leather armor, running a thumb along the hilt of the steel longsword at her hip. The metal was warm in her grip, reassuring her that she was doing the right thing.

Rose moved quickly through the tall grass, taking pains to avoid any beaten path lest she be seen by the other farmers already out and about.

The air was crisp, and soon the boundary of the Green Ocean loomed ahead, an impenetrable wall of mighty trees and creeping vines that seemed to swallow the morning light.

As promised, Devon and Sonya waited near a stone marker at the edge of the woods.

Devon leaned against the stone, idly tossing a small pebble into the air and catching it. He wore a simple padded gambeson that might have belonged to a watchman rather than the Heir of the Barony, and a bastard sword was strapped to his back, yet he held himself with loose grace she often envied.

Sonya stood beside him, wearing a dark wool dress that looked out of place in the wild, especially given the tiny pearls embroidered on the neck and sleeves. It was, however, reinforced with alchemically hardened leather patches, and her apron pockets bulged with glass vials.

She might not be a martial artist, but she knows how to fight well enough. Not that I expected anything less from the adoptive granddaughter of the Grandmaster of the sword.

"We were beginning to think Arthur had caught you,” Devon noted, tossing the pebble away.

"Grandfather sleeps like a stone," Rose whispered, stepping into the clearing they’d so often used for training. Today, it would be their meeting place. They had other, more intriguing things in mind.

“Try to keep talk of him on the down low," Sonya advised, though a faint smile touched her lips. "The canopy muffles sound, but I’ve often heard of people lingering around to listen in.”

Once they’d all finished their checks and been lectured enough about the safety measures they’d agreed on to recite them in their sleep, Sonya finally fell silent, though not without one last reminder. “No matter what we find, we should go no deeper than five miles. The inner woods are too unpredictable, especially after the almost-wave of a few weeks ago.”

Rose nodded, barely containing her excitement as she drew her sword.

Finally, finally, they stepped past the tree line. The temperature began to drop, and the feeling of being watched grew.

The Green Ocean, Rose had been told far too often, was not merely a forest but a living, breathing entity that resented intruders.

She’d never felt it as much as she did now.

It wasn’t long before their walk was interrupted by the rustling of the underbrush.

A pack of Forest Wolves burst from a thicket of thorn bushes. They were lesser predators in the grand scheme of things, but their eyes gleamed with malicious intent, and the froth gathering at their mouths boded ill for what would happen should one of them get a bite in.

The fur was muddy, thickened with earth mana to give them greater resilience, yet Rose knew they wouldn’t last against her blade.

“The three on the left are mine; the two on the right are yours!" Devon called out. He glided forward, intercepting the first beast with a sweeping cut that severed its front legs.

Sonya reached into her apron, pulled out a small vial filled with volatile orange liquid, and hurled it at the two stalkers trying to flank them.

The glass shattered against a tree trunk, and alchemical fire erupted in a blinding flash, igniting the dry mud covering the beasts.

They shrieked, thrashing wildly as the flames consumed their natural armor, giving Devon a chance to chop off their heads.

On the other side, a large wolf lunged, snapping its jaws at her throat. Rose sidestepped, letting the beast's momentum carry it past her, then brought her longsword up in a rising sweep.

As she swung, a warm energy surged from her heart into her arms. The steel blade glowed with golden light, momentarily burning away the canopy's shadows, and sheared through the armored hide, severing its spine in a clean motion.

This story originates from NovelPhoenix. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Giddiness bubbled within her, as it did every time she dared summon the power of her bloodline. It wasn’t something she’d ever dared to do before, not with her grandfather’s worried eyes watching over her, but it felt freeing like nothing else. Even now, it begged to be used, to turn her enemies to ash at her command.

The remaining beasts hesitated before the golden light and the alchemical fire, but Rose pressed her advantage.

She lunged forward before it could retreat, her sword shimmering like gold in the gloom, then spun around, thrusting the blade's tip through the skull of the final beast and pinning it to the mossy ground.

The fight, if it could be called that, was over in less than a minute.

Satisfied, Rose stepped back, freeing her sword with a squelch. The golden light faded, retreating into her core, and she breathed through the sudden emptiness, focusing on the familiar, satisfying rush of combat settling into her bones.

A soft chime rang in her mind.

CONGRATULATIONS!

You have participated in the defeat of [Forest Wolf - Level 31-39] x5

+51,200 Exp

Level up!

“Hell yes," Rose whispered, a fierce grin spreading across her face. She willed her status screen forward.

Rose

LEVEL

MANA

STR

DEX

CON

INT

WIS

CHA

Scion of the Golden Path/Human

74

221

151

160

188

80

92

210

“Another one?” Devon asked incredulously, and she rolled her eyes. She didn’t exactly know why her leveling-up speed was so much faster than almost anyone else's, requiring fewer kills even now than someone ten levels below her would need, but she wasn’t complaining.

And it’s not like Devon can either. He’s still quite a bit stronger than me, and from what I’ve heard, his little brother is even more of a monster.

“I need it to get stronger,” she replied. "There is a whole world out there, Devon. I am tired of hiding from it. I want to see the capital. I want to fight in the arenas. I want to explore my potential to the fullest.”

Sonya walked over, carefully stepping around the burning remains. "Ambition is a dangerous thing for a lone girl, and the capital is not Floria. There are people there who would look at your power and see a threat to eliminate, rather than a warrior to celebrate."

"I can protect myself," Rose insisted.

Devon shook his head softly. "You can fight beasts. Men wielding poison and politics are tougher to defeat. But we will train you until you’re prepared. That is a promise.”

Rose disliked it, but knew they were right. The urge to leave, to carve her own path, burned brighter with each level. For now, the Green Ocean offered enough blood and experience to satisfy her blade.

“Come on, I’m not leaving this place until we meet a troll.”

The scent of burning sage and dried lavender filled the small wooden shrine dedicated to the Lady of the Earth. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the shingled roof, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air.

Elia knelt before a simple wooden altar, her hands resting flat on her thighs. The orange fur of her tails twitched occasionally, a subconscious response to the lingering tension from the morning.

She had spent the last two hours mediating a bitter dispute between a family of foxkin merchants and a human tanner over the price of a ruined shipment of pelts. It was tedious, exhausting work, something she doubted she’d ever come to like, but at the very least, she’d earned some respect from all her efforts, so people didn’t try to walk over her quite as often.

The carefree girl who used to race Nick through the muddy streets of Floria was gone. Elia now wore the mantle of leadership. She wore a simple, unadorned robe of spun white wool, marking her as the beastmen’s spiritual guide. Her people’s future rested squarely on her shoulders.

She was the one who had renegotiated the treaties with Baron Eugene Crowley. She was the one who had secured their right to own land within the town walls. In return, she had promised blood, sending young beastmen to train with the town militia.

It was a fair trade, but it left her feeling responsible for every life lost. While it didn’t happen often, just the previous day they’d gotten word that a patrol through the Green Ocean had gone missing, one that had contained a bearkin.

"Spirits of the root and stone, who sit at Her court,” Elia murmured, closing her amber eyes. "Grant me the patience to guide them and the strength to protect them. Grant them luck to escape and the might to make their way back.”

She breathed in, drawing the shrine’s ambient mana into herself, letting it replenish her strength.

As the meditation deepened, the scent of sage faded. The air grew cold, and she caught hints of blood and acrid smoke.

The vision struck her without warning.

She saw the familiar stone walls of Floria, bathed in the pale light of a full moon. Near the northern gate stood a giant. The figure was shrouded in midnight silk, its face obscured, yet it radiated terrible power that Elia recognized instantly. It was a Prestige entity. More importantly, it was clearly meant to represent Nick.

The vision shifted before she could process what it meant.

A shadow detached itself from the town wall. It was a humanoid figure wearing a porcelain mask and a coat the color of a starless sky. Above the mask, a faint, spectral crown hovered.

It moved through the town with predatory grace, searching for something. It crept past the Crowley manor, bypassing the wards, sifting through the lingering etheric echoes, questioning people and making them forget.

Then, when it had exhausted its options, the Shadow turned its porcelain mask toward the southern fields.

Elia saw a bright, burning star of golden light trailing in the high grass.

The Shadow paused, watching the girl wield her golden mana. The porcelain mask tilted, calculating lineage, threat, and value. Then it moved, wrapping a cloak of darkness around the golden star and spiriting her away into the night before a single scream could be heard.

Elia gasped, her eyes snapping open.

She fell forward, catching herself on her hands as the vision shattered. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and a cold sweat slicked her hair.

Soon, within a month, given that the full moon had just passed, a Shadow would be hunting for information about Nick’s sudden ascension and, in the process, would find Rose.

A royal bastard wielding a lineage class, hidden by the ruling family of the western border. The political fallout, she knew, would be catastrophic.

Arthur would be broken, House Crowley would be accused of harboring treason, and Rose would disappear into the black cells of the capital.

Elia scrambled to her feet, not even bothering to adjust her robes. She burst through the shrine’s wooden doors and sprinted down the dirt path toward the town center.

She wove through the crowded market stalls, ignoring the startled shouts of the merchants she had just mediated for, her mind racing faster than her feet could keep up.

She couldn't fight a Shadow. A Level sixty-one beastman versus a Prestige assassin was a ridiculous joke. But she knew who could.

Elia reached the grand stone steps of the Temple of Sashara, feeling Her warmth greet her with the usual fierce invitation and rejection, though there was now a strange hint of gratitude.

Marthas was already there, awaiting her before the mighty doors. “The sun will set before long, and the shadows will lengthen. Come, we have much to talk about.”

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!