Low-Fantasy Occultist

Chapter 390

Unlike the frantic dash to the temple or the tough trek through the mud to rejoin his team, the return trip was much faster. The lone Shadow responsible for bringing them back to civilization moved at a pace that sometimes had the tired apprentices running just to keep up, but no one complained.

The dungeon was still teeming with remnants of the monster horde and tried its best to block their way, to make them pay for removing its Guardian, but there was nothing it could feasibly do to stop the Shadow.

A troll, easily twelve feet of muscle and rage, burst out of the foliage, roaring a challenge that would have terrified a seasoned adventurer.

The Shadow didn’t break his stride. There was a blur of gray motion, a flash of something dark, and the Troll fell in four distinct pieces, severed so cleanly the blood took a moment to start gushing out.

Despite his mental exhaustion, Nick kept track of the man’s every move, using the newfound strength of his spirit to push through the dungeon’s interference, and saw just how little effort it took to kill a monster that should have required several spells to bring down, even for him.

It was a humbling reminder. Nick had stopped a god from descending and crystallized his soul, reaching level seventy-eight. It was a height that almost no one as young as he was had ever achieved, and beyond even many of the older mages.

Yet, walking in the wake of the King’s Shadow, he felt very much like a novice again.

They reached the canyon at dawn and pushed through the chaotic insect swarms and the occasional wolf pack without stopping, emerging from the northern edge of the dungeon by midday.

Several times, they had to pass around potions and salves to keep up with the brutal pace the Shadow was setting, but no one dared ask him to slow down.

After the past few days, everyone just wanted to finish this whole ordeal, even if it meant accepting the losses they’d suffered.

They arrived at Long Reach by midnight and found that the town was still under martial law.

House Rohm’s banners snapped from the watchtowers, and more soldiers than Nick could remember seeing when they left patrolled the walls, showing that they hadn’t slacked off even after House Hone’s army was dispersed.

There was a brief moment of confusion when they were spotted by a ranger, and a party of soldiers was quickly assembled to stop them before they could reach the gates. But once the men saw who was leading the procession, their entrance was smooth.

No one dares to impersonate a Shadow. Not only would it require someone of true skill and a Prestige class, but it would also be the last thing they ever do. The entire Kingdom’s might would fall upon them.

The streets were patrolled by armored groups, and the usual bustle of the frontier trade hub was replaced by a tense, waiting silence.

The Shadow guided them to the castle, allowing them to pass the outer perimeter and reach the courtyard.

Standing near the central fountain, looking out of place among the soldiers and the mud, was a figure Nick recognized instantly.

He was an older man, leaning on a polished wooden staff that ended in a gnarled knot. He wore dark green robes, decorated with a blue pin indicating his loyalty to the Tower, embroidered with silver constellations. His beard was long and snow-white, and his eyes were sharp and birdlike.

It was Master Battera, the Prestige-tier druid, who had overseen Nick’s practical entrance exam.

The Shadow halted ten feet from the mage and inclined his head, showing more than mild contempt for the first time. It exceeded even the respect Nick had seen during the ceremony when House Crowley was made Barons.

“My duty ends here,” the Shadow rumbled. “The dungeon has been secured, and all important assets have been removed. I shall leave them in your hands.”

"Excellent work," Battera said in his croaky tone. “Alluria's Tower thanks the Crown for its assistance.”

The Shadow nodded, then disappeared. There was no mana fluctuation and no sound. He just stepped into the fountain's shadow and vanished.

Battera turned his gaze to the students. He looked at their bloodied armor, haunted eyes, and the empty spots in their formation. “You poor children,” he said as his eyes softened. “You look like you’ve been through hell. We’ll see about getting you checked by a proper healer when we’re back at the Tower, but for now, I want you to catch your breath. We’ll be moving soon.”

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"Master Battera," Raphael said, stepping forward and bowing awkwardly. As a pure mage and not one used to physical exertion like Nick, he must have been genuinely exhausted after the long march, but he was doing his best not to show it. “Is Archmage Tholm…"

“Tholm is busy,” Battera replied. “Alluria is a hive of activity these days, and he’s been stuck keeping his old rival there, while doing his best to smooth out the tensions with the priesthoods. He will see you when we are back in the city.”

He then tapped his staff on the cobblestones, causing vines to sprout from the cracks and twist into the benches. “Sit and rest for a moment. The local lord is approaching, and we’ll see about getting you some decent food after.”

A moment later, a group of men emerged from the inner keep.

Leading them was Lord Rohm, who looked like he had aged several years since Nick last saw him, though it was hard to tell whether it was because of what Tholm had put him through or what had been happening in his lands.

He paused in front of them and stilled, noticing the obvious absence. He said nothing, just working his jaw, then gave a brief nod.

“Was he useful?” he asked, and if Nick hadn’t been able to sense his emotional state, he would have thought Lord Rohm was truly heartless, but he could, so he knew this was his way of grieving. He hadn’t loved Terence as he would a son, but there had been some affection there, and even some respect.

“He was. A talented fighter and a better friend,” Raphael replied.

Rohm looked at him, then up at the sky. “How?"

“Subterfuge and treason," Raphael said quietly. “Captain Vane of House Hone laid a trap for us, with multiple traitors among us. Terence didn’t suffer.”

Rohm nodded slowly, then signaled to his men, who stepped forward to receive the small urn containing his nephew’s ashes. “Captain Vane, huh?” he rumbled, narrowing his eyes.

“He paid a heavy price,” Nick finally spoke up. “I made sure of it. The Shadows have his body, but his mind is shattered.”

Rohm looked at him, then at the battered group, and grunted. "House Rohm remembers its debts. And its enemies. You have the gratitude of Long Reach.”

They watched as Terence’s ashes were carried toward the inner keep, where the rest of his family probably waited, hopeful that he’d come back. It was a quiet, somber procession, marking the end of a journey that started as a simple field trip.

"I need to check on something," Nick murmured to Raphael after they were released from their duties to their host. He vaguely noticed Osmod being helped out of the castle by Epistula but didn’t stop for a chat.

He slipped away for a few minutes, heading straight to a small house on the outskirts of the town. Now that he was outside the dungeon, his metaphysical senses were fully restored, perhaps even improved, so he found his target quickly.

Mara, the old caretaker, answered the door with worry in her eyes until she recognized him. Behind her, several children peeked out—the survivors of the werewolf curse Nick had broken weeks ago.

They looked healthy, if a bit pale, but she probably didn't want them to play in the streets, given how tense Long Reach still was.

“The danger has passed,” he said, handing Mara a small pouch of silver coins. “The dungeon is now under royal control, and the main source of the curse is gone.”

The woman tried to refuse his charity, but he ignored her. “It’s just a fraction of the loot. We’ll be earning a lot more than this from the monsters we’ve hunted, and I think you deserve a new beginning.”

Nick didn’t stay to hear her thanks, nor did he check on the state of their souls. He could already tell that she was no longer under constant pressure from the curse, although it might flare up again under the full moon, and he didn’t particularly want to build connections with the children.

They lived in very different worlds. Even if their paths had crossed by chance, it would be better for them to go their separate ways.

When he returned to the castle, it was early afternoon. Master Battera was drawing a complex circle on the cobblestones with the tip of his staff, the chalk glowing a pale green.

“It’s a teleportation array," Raphael noted, tilting his chin toward the old druid. “A long-range one, at that. Only a few people bother doing it the old way, but it’s supposed to be more reliable, especially over great distances.”

“It seems like he’s almost done,” Nick noted.

“Yeah, he wants us to be back at the Tower as soon as possible. Say your goodbyes while you have the chance," Raphael replied, giving him a meaningful look.

Yeah, I noticed.

Nick looked around to see that most of the team was still distributing the loot, but Monte was standing apart, talking to a man in House Rohm’s finery.

He walked over. "You're not packing.”

Monte turned around. He looked at the circle, then back at him. The usual glint of amusement in his eyes was gone, replaced by a calculating resolve. "I'm not going back to my family, not yet, at least.”

Nick blinked in surprise. “I see. Are you hoping to learn more about the current situation here?”

“Yes,” Monte nodded. “The greatest danger has passed, and with the Shadows claiming control over the dungeon, even House Hone won’t be able to do anything, especially after one of their valued Captains was caught in the act. But the situation is not over.”

“Ah,” Nick hummed. “Yes, I can see that. The army they’d assembled was dispersed, but their men are probably still all across the countryside. I’d be surprised if they just gave up their ambitions.”

“That’s right,” Monte agreed. “Once enough time has passed, they’ll lash out here at the backwater nobles who dared to defy them. House Rohm is not weak, but they need support if they want to stand up to a power like the Hones.”

“You'll be a target," Nick warned.

"I'm already a target," Monte grinned, a flash of his old self returning. “But at least here, I can act before things snowball beyond control.” He then extended a hand. "Watch your back in the Tower, Crowley. The bulk of the House will focus here, but Archmage Hone will be in Alluria with you. I’d expect some retaliation, sooner or later.”

Nick gripped his hand. "Give them hell, Monte.”

“Always."

Saying his goodbyes to Yvonne and Malik was less dramatic. Technically, he should have shared a deeper bond with these two, having witnessed some of their most intimate, foundational moments, but it was clear to him they just wanted to escape anything that reminded them of the cursed dungeon and what happened inside.

So he didn’t push; he just clasped hands with them, exchanged nods, and left them to handle things on their own.

"Apprentices," Battera’s voice boomed, commanding attention. "Step inside. Do not leave the circle until we reach the Tower, no matter how uncomfortable it gets. We won’t be coming back for any missing limbs.”

Nick, Raphael, Osmod, Epistula, Willow, Mikel, and Lina stepped into the glowing ring. The magic came alive with a hum, its pitch rising and vibrating in their teeth as the world outside the circle began to blur.

Much had happened during his time in the south. He’d made friends and lost them. Pushed himself past his limits and discovered new ones.

There would be time, in the coming days, to go over everything that had happened. To see just how much he had grown, and where he needed to improve. But for now, he could only feel that the world had grown larger once again, as had the chessboard.

The world twisted, and Long Reach vanished.