Low-Fantasy Occultist

Chapter 408

The moon was nearly full, providing enough light on Alluria to make sneaking around more complicated than Nick preferred, especially with all the priests and militia out and about.

It seems like they know just as well as we do that this festival could be their greatest achievement or their biggest failure if it goes wrong.

It was interesting to see that the Duke was finally taking action. The local militia had been notably absent recently, and their sudden return suggested a decision.

Unfortunately, even though he had a pretty good relationship with the man, Nick wasn’t aware of what it might have been, and even One-Ear didn’t know.

On the other hand, the broker managed to obtain the patrol schedule, the specific rotation of the High Priests attending the ceremony, and even rumors that the Tidemaster was bringing a relic of his own to prevent any disturbances.

Getting his hands on all of that had been more costly than he would have liked, especially since he hadn’t given up any of his own information, but that was just the cost of doing business.

A lot was happening beyond his view, but Nick felt prepared. He had the plan, the team, and the spell. He was significantly overleveled for his age, a veteran of multiple dungeons, and a slayer of demons, more than accustomed to the most turbulent energies of the ether. For the first time since returning to Alluria, he felt like the predator rather than the prey.

He stepped into the main lobby, planning to go straight to the seventy-seventh floor and get as much sleep as possible before beginning the first step of his plan, when something shifted around him.

“You certainly are a busy bee, apprentice Crowley,” a voice echoed from the walls, bouncing all around him and making it impossible to determine its origin.

Nick froze, while internally pushing [Empyrean Intuition] hard to parse through the spell he’d been caught in.

Instinctively, he dismissed the first results, too paranoid to believe it was simply that, but after a few seconds of searching and failing to find anything else, he turned around. Sitting on a bench in the center of the lobby, illuminated by a single floating orb of pale light, was Vice Tower Master Politod.

The old man remained as mysterious as ever, impossible to perceive like a mortal, yet undeniably solid in the ether—a rocky presence amidst the eddies. He was also reading a book, his eyes swiftly moving across the pages.

"Vice Master," Nick said, dropping his stealth. There was no point, since he had been so easily caught. "I was just returning from—“

"I don’t care where you were," Politod interrupted, snapping the book shut. "And I don’t care who you were meeting in the rat-infested corners of the city. It is the joy of every talented apprentice to explore and make friends with unsavory characters.”

There was humor in his voice, enough to make Nick want to relax, but he didn’t give himself that right.

The last time Politod intercepted him like this, he’d delivered a cryptic warning, but he was getting the impression that this was different.

"Tholm has given you a long leash, Nicholas. He believes that your... unique experiences... grant you a perspective that the Tower cannot teach, and that it should be nurtured.”

Slowly, he stood up and walked over, and though there was nothing overly threatening about the way he did so, Nick couldn’t help but tense up.

“Far be it from me to tell another Archmage how to manage their apprentices, but I believe I would be doing you a disservice by letting such a misunderstanding persist. You’ve been quite lucky so far and have managed to develop some skill, but it seems my friend has been negligent if he’s allowed you to get this far without a reality check.”

“What does that mean?” Nick asked. He wanted to summon the Shard, to make the old man feel the weight of his existence, but he held back, knowing he was being baited.

“I will teach that to you, should you accept my invitation,” Politod replied, gesturing toward the elevator. “Come. It is time for a lesson.”

Nick knew he should have refused and told Tholm about this meeting right away, but if there was one thing he could never resist, it was his damn curiosity.

So he silently accepted, stepping in after the Archmage and feeling a sense of trepidation as the cage closed around them.

Surprisingly, instead of taking them to the upper levels, the elevator went down. It passed the student labs, the storage vaults, and even the reinforced ritual chambers where Lasazar had once taught Nick to face demons.

The mana in the air grew heavier the deeper they went, and the structure of the Tower’s wards became clearer, pressing against his senses.

Once, he had to turn off [Empyrean Intuition] completely, but because his soul was so solid, he could handle more now, and he felt the full power of the dimensional nexus around him grow.

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When the cage finally stopped, they were in Sub-Level Ten.

Nick stepped into a large, circular chamber. The floor was made of black basalt, spotless despite the vague sense that powerful magic had been used here. The walls were covered with intricate suppression runes that made Nick’s head spin just looking at them, and he knew they were far more advanced than what coated the Tower’s walls in the upper levels.

"This is the Abyssal Arena," Politod said, his voice echoing in the silence. “It's where Archmages come when they need to test magics that would shatter the upper floors. Technically, we’re not even in Alluria anymore.”

The last part was mentioned as an afterthought, but Nick made a point to revisit it later. Movement in the lower levels of the Tower had always felt multidimensional, but he hadn't been able to study it so far, too blinded by the nexus.

“You see, this is a lesson that only a privileged few ever get to learn. I was once where you are now, after personally leading the charge into an enemy stronghold and coming out victorious against all odds,” Politod explained, sounding oddly nostalgic. “Magic is the most wondrous force the universe has to offer, but for those who manage to understand some of its intricacies at a young age, it can also be a powerful addiction. They become confident in their abilities and forget that while they might be sharks, the ocean is vast and full of dangers.”

Politod didn't flare his aura or cast a powerful spell like Nick had expected. Instead, he began to establish a strict pattern with his mana across the room, and Nick felt his connection to the surrounding ether sever.

Such a thing was only possible without preparation because of their location, so far from the emotional ocean released by Alluria, but it was still unsettling.

"Show me," Politod commanded. "Show me the teeth that you bared to a God. Do not hold back. If you do, I will break a bone for every wasted attempt.”

Despite numerous questions swirling in his mind, Nick didn't hesitate. If the old man wanted a fight, he was ready to give him one.

The Shard materialized in his hand a moment later, and a [Lightning Bolt] erupted into existence, crossing the distance before he even finished the thrusting gesture.

He didn’t hold back, knowing he was vastly outclassed in raw power, so he poured a significant amount of mana into it. Enough to make a graduate mage’s shield buckle, if they had been quick enough to summon it in time.

Politod didn’t bother to dodge, merely drawing a line in the air with his hand.

Nick’s spell hit an invisible wall, but he quickly reconsidered his initial judgment. It’s not a barrier; he affected the magic itself.

The bolt’s momentum disappeared immediately, and the electricity safely grounded itself into the air, fizzing away.

Did he cancel the spatial vector? What the hell?

Still, he wasn’t ready to quit. If straight attacks didn’t work, he just had to switch strategies.

Water surged in large amounts from his storage ring, roaring fiercely as he grasped it and transformed the chaotic wave into something more powerful.

Slamming the butt of his staff down, he roared his defiance. “[Tidal Wave!]”

It wasn’t anything he had tried before, at least not in this way, but his experience with the thunderhoof herd had taught him that the power of the elements sometimes just needed a nudge. So, he limited himself to guiding it with his will, lending the sheer mass his mana to turn it into a truly deadly magic.

Politod sighed. “Sloppy. You are wasting far too much mana.”

A plane of translucent force sliced through Nick’s wave, and upon making contact, the mana holding it together faltered.

For the first time in a long while, Nick felt his control over his spells weaken, as something greater than him took over, turning the tsunami into a mere trickle and causing the water to harmlessly disperse in every direction, robbed of its kinetic energy.

Again, Nick didn’t give up. Although Politod had managed to overpower his spells twice in a row, he had also allowed him to disperse his favorite elements throughout the room, so with a firm resolve, he brought all three together.

Great gales howled all around him, gaining strength until the water was fully absorbed. The electrical charge that had dispersed into the ground surged again, causing lightning to crackle from one end to the other, and Nick thrust the Shard forward, shouting as he fed more power into the construct. “[Maelstrom!]”

Politod stood before the hurricane and gave a slow, ponderous nod. “Better, you managed to make use of your previous attempts, but improvising new spells in the middle of such a duel is still a sign that you are immature. The structure needs work, and it’s being held together through sheer willpower. That alone should tell you it’s not ready for battle.”

Once he finished speaking, he raised his hand, and a perfect, glowing dodecahedron formed around him. “[Axiom of Silence.]”

The geometric shape expanded. As it moved through the storm, the wind gradually subsided. The lightning flickered and disappeared, while the turbulent water splashed to the ground.

Nick panted, sweat stinging his eyes. He was giving it his all without using a spiritual spell—which would be more exhausting without access to the ether—and Politod still looked as fresh as when they started.

Of course, he hadn’t expected to win, but he had made Battera work for it during the entrance exam, and that was when he was much weaker!

"Is that all?" Politod asked, sounding disappointed. "I expected more from Tholm’s prodigy.”

Nick clenched his teeth, feeling his pride sting. Fine, you want something different? I’ll give you something different.

He reached for the dark, cold powers of his Occultist class and let the [Mire of Avarice] seep from his pores, pouring all his negativity into it. A black, oily sludge spread across the basalt floor, hungry and grasping, and through it, Nick channeled another spell, one he hadn’t shown to anyone he didn’t intend to kill until now.

“[Call of the Void.]”

Shadowy tentacles erupted from the mire, lashing out at Politod. Because they were composed entirely of his own emotions, with no trace of external energies, disrupting them would not be easy.

For the first time, Politod’s eyes slightly widened. “That is better,” he murmured.

The tentacles slammed into the dodecahedron, and the shield flickered, its perfect lines warping under the corrosive influence of Nick’s greed.

“But still," Politod continued, his voice growing harsher. "Unrefined." A wave of bright white light exploded from him, crashing into Nick like a freight train.

The [Mire] was blown away, its tentacles disintegrated, and Nick was lifted off his feet and slammed into the far wall with enough force to crack stone.

He collapsed to the ground, gasping. His vision swam. His coils were exhausted, aching from the strain, and when he tried to stand, his legs wouldn't cooperate. Every nerve in his body throbbed with pain.

Politod walked across the room, and although he didn't gloat, he looked down at Nick with the detached gaze of a coroner.

"You are about to interfere with the Festival, where you intend to disrupt their blessings. It is a risky game, the one you are playing, even if at the behest of the Shadows.”

Nick froze. He knows.

"Do not look so surprised," Politod scoffed. “They might think they are being subtle, using you as a proxy, even with the silent agreement of Tholm, but I have been Vice Master for a hundred and forty years. I know when the wind changes direction.”

"Why..." Nick wheezed, coughing up a little blood. "Why do all this?”

Because I don’t like waste," Politod said simply. "And it would be a waste if the most interesting student we’ve had in a century died because he thought he was invincible.”

The old man turned and walked toward the elevator. "The Festival is not a walk in the park, Nicholas. There are forces at work that do not care about your level or titles. If you go in there thinking you are the smartest person in the room, you will die.”

He paused at the gate. “Recover your mana and get some sleep. Do not be late for class.”