Low-Fantasy Occultist

Chapter 389

It would take some time for Nick to get used to the feeling of his soul being so powerful compared to the weak flesh it was contained in, but for now, he was more than happy to use it as a counterbalance to finish unraveling the threads of the Greater Ritual.

He didn’t even need to force them, just guided them, using his newfound sturdiness to channel the excess mana into the earth and disperse it through the ley lines. It was similar to what he had done for the Anchors, but on a much larger scale, and the harmony between the various buds of the Tree of Life helped, allowing him to mimic the natural flow of the World without as much trouble as he’d once had.

The Well roared with power one last time before the geyser collapsed, and the blinding violet light was pulled back into the depths of the World, cutting off the alien presence of the Feral God and sending it fully back across the Veil.

The pressure suddenly disappeared, leaving the ritual chamber in perfect stillness.

Then the Guardian fell backward as the power that maintained his unnatural state faded, leaving a mess of burnt fur and cracked flesh. He hit the platform with a loud thud, his limbs sprawling awkwardly.

For a moment, Nick thought he was dead, that the backlash alone had been enough to destroy him. Considering that it had tried and failed to manifest a god within his soul, to rise beyond the limits of Prestige, it wouldn’t have been too shocking. But as Nick swayed, his mana channels burning with the phantom heat of the divine energy he had just grounded, he noticed that his eyes were still moving.

Slowly, painfully, Nick dragged himself over to the beast, using the Shard as a walking stick.

"You..." The Guardian rasped, his voice small and mortal, lacking the booming resonance of the Avatar. “How did you…?”

Nick met his gaze, wondering how much of this was the maddened werewolf and how much was the ancient healer, before deciding that it didn’t really matter. The Guardian had to be burned out from within beyond any hope of healing, and would die soon anyway.

“The World does not take kindly to intruders, no matter their origin,” he explained, barely suppressing a smile at the unintended double entendre. It was a simplified way to view what happened, and it overlooked his own contributions, but he felt those details wouldn’t matter much to the wolf. What use was to explain the madness he’d wrought upon himself?

A wheezing sound escaped the beast; a laugh and a death rattle all at once. "Good. The healer... had been right about you.”

The eye finally closed, and his chest stopped moving. The man who had become a monster to save his people, only to be enslaved by his own sacrifice, finally found the peace he had sought for centuries.

What the hell does that mean? Did the healer’s personality resist all this time, trapped but in communication with the wolf? Did he foresee all this?

FEAT ACCOMPLISHED!

Divine Invasion repealed.

The participating party has successfully disrupted the

Avatar's divine ascension. Threat to local civilization neutralized.

Your path has been altered.

+4,950,000 Exp

+5 to all base stats

Level up!

Level up!

MINOR FEAT ACCOMPLISHED!

You played a key role in defeating a Prestige-tier enemy. [Sanris, the Anchor of Izumah] [Lv. 142]

+1,855,888 Exp

+2 to all base stats

Level up!

CONGRATULATIONS!

Your Trait [Pact of Harmony] has ranked up to [Proficient]!

+100,000 Exp

The flood of notifications brought a surge of energy that helped relieve Nick’s mental fatigue, and he felt his body grow and adjust to the new stats the repeated Feats had granted him.

He vaguely noted that twice in the past few minutes, his path had been changed, but that it hadn’t happened again after Sanris, the Inner Guardian, was defeated.

Maybe it was because those feats were already part of his records, or for some other reason. Whatever the case, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t need to worry too much about his rank-up.

He doubted there were many aspiring Prestige-rank individuals who had accomplished as much as he had in the past year.

The Tree of Life, on its own, should be more than enough. The mere fact that I was able to establish a sympathetic connection between it and the Greater Ritual, using that to establish harmony, and thus Tipheret, between the Steps, is magic beyond what most mages ever achieve in their life.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Once the rush faded and he regained full control, he looked over at where Captain Vane lay crumpled against the dwarven contraptions.

The man was still alive, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths, but his eyes were glassy. Nick’s senses brushed against his signature, and he found only broken emotions. The backlash from the singularity scroll failing and the Guardian’s response had seemingly fried his higher functions.

That might be a fate worse than death, but then again, considering the level of healing in this world, he might still be helped. I doubt it will be cheap or easy, though, and House Hone will take on that burden only after obtaining concessions and debts from whichever branch he belongs to.

In fact, it was entirely possible that Vane would be used as a scapegoat, and all the blame for the criminal operations in the dungeon would be placed on him. He wasn’t in a position to defend himself anyway.

The heavy thud of the temple doors opening drew his attention away from the man who had once almost killed him.

Nick tensed, preparing to use the Shard against more enemies, but lowered it when he saw the familiar silhouette of a tower shield.

Malik limped into the chamber, his chainmail torn and bloodstained. Behind him, Yvonne supported a limping Raphael. Monte and the apprentices followed, looking like they had seen better days. Still, they were alive, which was more than he dared hope, considering how things had gone in the past days.

They stopped at the edge of the platform, taking in the scene. The dead Guardian. The broken Captain. And Nick, standing alone before the dull Well.

"Is it..." Willow whispered, her voice shaking with emotion.

"It's over," Nick confirmed.

They spent the next few hours regaining their strength, passing around potions and taking turns to rest, but even when they were close to a fighting form again, they didn't leave. They couldn’t, really.

The valley outside still teemed with the remnants of the monster horde, and although the immediate threat of the Guardian was gone, thousands of frenzied beasts were too much for an exhausted team of apprentices to fight through, especially since the dungeon core was still very much alive and active, having spent the time gathering even more of its creations.

Nick and Line secured the temple doors, while the others bound Vane with his own Sunsteel cuffs. Once they finished, and with nowhere to go but sit and wait for rescue, they laid Senris out with as much dignity as a nine-foot wolf could be given.

Malik even led a brief prayer, hoping that the monster’s soul would be judged fairly.

Personally, Nick wasn’t sure if such a thing was even possible. Having come so close to Ascension, only to fail to fully channel the Feral God, Izumah, if the System was any indication, couldn’t have been good for the integrity of his soul. Even if he had entered the flow of reincarnation, the weight of his sins was unlikely to lead to a peaceful end.

Hours passed. The temple's ambient mana, once suffocating enough to make casting simple spells impossible, slowly diminished to a manageable hum.

Nick sat against the cool obsidian wall, meditating to soothe his coils and listening to the soft breathing of his sleeping teammates.

It was mid-afternoon when the cavalry finally arrived, though they didn’t make their entrance as a typical company of knights would have.

One moment, the distant sound of monsters howling outside echoed through the empty temple. The next, everything fell silent.

Nick vaguely sensed that someone was working to secure the perimeter, and wards were raised above the obsidian building before a sword smoothly sliced through the fortifications they had erected around the doors, cutting through stone and magic alike like a hot knife through butter.

The doors slid open silently, and five figures walked through.

They wore dark gray cloaks that seemed to blend into the background, making it hard to distinguish their outlines. Their faces were uncovered, but the hoods they wore shadowed their features enough to make them unrecognizable. They moved with a fluid grace that Nick remembered all too well, and their mighty, if contained, signatures screamed they were no mere mortals.

The King’s Shadows had arrived.

Considering that dispatching a single one was usually seen as overkill, and Nick had seen firsthand how much change they could bring, having five together made it clear just how vital seizing the dungeon was.

Malik scrambled to his feet, reaching for his shield, but a Shadow simply raised a hand, causing him to freeze.

"Secure the target," the lead Shadow said flatly.

Two shadows blurred past the team, heading straight for Vane. They checked his pulse, examined his bindings, and then one of them pulled out a black sack, pulling it over the Captain's head, and lifted him like a sack of grain.

Another Shadow approached the Well, pulling strange instruments from their cloak to examine it.

The Leader stopped in front of Nick, having somehow guessed he was the only one who knew the full story.

It wasn’t the same one that had awarded House Crowley the title of Barons, but Nick still felt the same trepidation he had back then when meeting his eyes.

“Explain what has happened. Leave no detail out,” the Shadow ordered.

Nick slowly stood up, making sure his hands were visible. “Agents of House Hone attempted to take over the dungeon. There was a ritual being performed by the Inner Guardian, and they aimed to capture the four Guardians’ cores to create a key. Captain Vane planned to use the Inner Guardian as a filter to extract the Well’s essence for consumption.”

"And the result?”

"The containment failed," Nick summarized, skipping over the specifics of his own contributions. "The Guardian broke free and attempted to proceed with the ritual he was preparing. Vane distracted him, and that’s when I stepped in."

“How?”

This was the tricky part. He didn’t really want to share details about his skill set, but they had already gone beyond what courtesy usually allowed. He needed to give a clear explanation, or his actions might raise problems.

“You might be able to confirm this by talking with Prelate Marthas and Bishop Umlaut of the Temple of Sashara, but I’ve developed a certain ability to handle spirits. The ritual the Guardian was conducting was vulnerable to that kind of interference, and as you might know, a cascade failure of such a magical construct, especially when powered by an artifact like that,” he gestured toward the Well, where another Shadow had joined the first to poke around, “well, the results can be fatal even for Prestige-class individuals.”

He didn’t understand why he wasn’t mentioning the Feral God, but some instinct told him that if it came out, he’d be forced to explain exactly how he interfered, and he didn’t want it known that he had used the whole situation as a springboard to speed up his soul’s crystallization.

The Shadow stared at him for so long that Nick almost expected to feel some kind of psychic probe into his mind. [Blasphemy] would have shattered any such attempt, but it would have put him in a tough spot.

"The Well is contaminated by a ritual failure," the Shadow at the console confirmed. "The mana's purity has fallen below forty percent, and the output is extremely low. It will take at least ten years to return to safe levels.”

The person who had been interrogating him gave a curt nod, clearly waiting for such confirmation before believing him. “And the core?” the man asked.

Another minute of silence passed as they all waited for the Shadow to speak. Eventually, he nodded, “It’s intact. A bit weakened by the loss of the Guardians and the magical backlash that traveled through the leylines, but it should recover in much less time.”

The leader finally dropped his scowl, his expression easing. "Then the Edict still stands. From this moment, the dungeon fully belongs to the Crown.”

He then turned back to Nick and gave him a brief nod. “You have done the Kingdom a service, Nicholas Crowley. That shall not be forgotten.”

“Thank you," Nick said, sounding a bit awkward. Did that mean he would personally receive a reward? Or would his family? The fact that the Shadow knew who he was, even though they never asked for his name, suggested they’d been watching the situation, even if they weren’t fully up to date. But it didn’t seem like the right moment to ask for details.

"Gather your people," the Shadow finally ordered, gesturing toward the door. “We will be leading you out now.”