Low-Fantasy Occultist

Chapter 422

The Tower Plaza was a dead zone.

Usually the beating heart of Alluria’s magical community, the stretch of white cobblestones was entirely deserted. The ambient mana was filled with the harsh hum of the corrupted wards, and the energy dome around the Tower had shifted into a purple hue, veined with black, making it difficult to see through the ether for entirely different reasons than its usual brightness.

Nick landed heavily near the middle of the plaza, ignoring the various roadblocks that had been set up.

The moment he entered the immediate area of the ward, the demonic pressure slammed down on him, attempting to suffocate his soul and overpower his magic.

Considering that the breach was still entirely contained within the Tower, the fact that this level of oppression was being emitted outside didn’t bode well, but he didn’t have the luxury of giving in to despair.

The World responded loudly to his call, flooding his channels with its power and pushing back the demonic influence. You’ll need to do more than that to stop me.

Once he was sure the corrupting field wouldn’t suddenly grow stronger and that he still had complete control over his mana, Nick fully opened his senses, searching for the ‘dust bunnies’ he and his brother had scattered around the city.

Some had been found and gathered around the temples, but most were still out there. Things had changed too quickly for the priests to finish their search, after all, and the appearance of real demonic power within the Tower had taken priority over everything else.

That meant he had a very handy set of anchors scattered throughout the city. On their own, they wouldn't supply nearly enough power for the ritual he wanted to perform, but luckily, the World was there to help.

The beads would act as fulcrums to extend his reach, and once the ritual was complete, to hold the magic a little longer than he could manage alone.

Closing his eyes, he exhaled slowly and extended his reach, weaving his mana through the city in delicate threads until he encountered the first bead.

It responded to his call easily, still technically part of his magic, and from there, he began the process again and again, until he could feel himself reaching the edges of his sensory range.

But now was not the time to worry about such things. Filtering out much of the data he usually received from [Empyrean Intuition], sacrificing detail for broader reach, until the next bead came within his range, and he did the same in another direction.

Eventually, all fifty beads were once again connected to him. He breathed slowly, taking full advantage of the increased clarity and control the [Stalking Gait] gave him to maintain the network.

Once he was sure the whole thing wouldn’t collapse the moment he looked away, he raised his staff and slammed it into the center of the cobblestones, sealing the magical superstructure.

He had to work quickly from that point and started dragging the butt of his staff across the stone, channeling raw mana to burn deep, glowing trenches into the plaza.

Subtlety was not the name of the game here. He’d have a lot to answer for once this whole thing was over, but that was for future Nick to worry about. For now, he needed to stack the deck in his favor as much as possible.

To combat the demonic contamination, he’d decided to recreate the Mundus Cerialis, an ancient array designed to establish the clear boundary between the upper world and the underworld. To break Elias Hone’s hold on the Tower, Nick couldn't just smash the wards with elemental fury, nor would any direct spiritual manipulation be effective.

He had to conceptually pry the door off its hinges and squeeze himself inside. Considering the enormous power the Tower possessed, even if it was tainted and unable to harness its full strength, he had to choose the more subtle approach.

The rhythmic clang of steel announced the arrival of the Duke’s knights shortly after he finished tracing the last line.

Hundreds of heavily armored men flooded into the plaza, creating a solid wall of steel and blocking all exits. Duke Anton led the charge, his face a mask of resolve as he observed the corrupted form of the Tower.

The man glanced at him, clearly curious about what he was doing, but Nick was relieved from having to answer any questions as the priests started filtering in as well.

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From the eastern avenue, a flood of crimson and gold poured into the streets as Bishop Umlaut led the holy men of Sashara. From the west, the blue-robed priests of Ulter arrived, led by a furious-looking Tidemaster.

The moment the two faiths spotted each other across the plaza, the silence was shattered by angry shouts.

"Heretics!" an Ulterite priest roared, raising a glowing mace.

"Hold your ground!" a Sasharan Paladin shouted back, leveling his spear.

“Silence!" Duke Anton’s voice echoed through the plaza like a hammer strike. He urged his armored warhorse forward, positioning himself directly between the two religious armies, and drew his broadsword, the enchanted steel ringing sharply in the tense air. "Look at the Tower!" Anton roared, pointing his blade at it.

"The Abyss is at our doorstep! I do not care about your doctrines, pride, or squabbles. You are citizens of Berea first, and you have a duty to fight our enemies! You will form a perimeter around this plaza, and you will follow Lord Crowley's commands exactly, or by the laws of the Crown, I will have my men cut you down as traitors to the realm!”

Under normal circumstances, no one, even a Duke, could have spoken that way to holy men, especially in the presence of such high-ranking priests as the Bishop and the Tidemaster.

However, the situation was so severe that no one doubted the Duke’s promise, which helped calm the angry spirits.

Bishop Umlaut slightly bowed his head, signaling his men to advance and take positions on the eastern flank. The Tidemaster narrowed his eyes, clearly sensing the same kind of taint that had disrupted his magic somewhere in the plaza. Seeing the knights’ halberds lowering toward his priests, he barked an order, and the blue robes moved to secure the west.

"Crowley!" Anton shouted, dismounting and walking toward the center of the array where Nick was finishing his last safety checks. Even in this kind of situation, he knew better than to try something he had only ever done on Earth without being sure everything was just right. "The ring is formed. What now?”

“Now we can start taking the Tower back,” Nick replied, taking his eyes away from the masterpiece of [Emakimonos] and Latin.

"Hone has sealed the wards using the natural repellent ability of demonic power, which has become embedded in the foundation of the building," Nick explained quickly, pointing to the center glyph. "To bypass it, I will perform an array to separate the concept of the 'Tower' from the concept of the 'Land' it sits on, while the priests weaken the demonic power enough for my magic to affect it. But for that, I need a fulcrum.”

Nick locked eyes with the Duke, trying his best to show how serious this was. "I need your claim, Your Grace. Hone might have taken control of the magic, but you are the Duke. By secular right, by blood, and by the King's decree, you own the land beneath these stones. I need you to assert that ownership publicly and give me permission.”

Anton didn't hesitate or question the esoteric logic and stepped directly onto the center glyph he was pointing at. "What do I need to do?”

"Give the array your blood, and declare your claim to this land to the World," Nick instructed.

This was ancient magic, the kind that relied more on conceptual understanding than strict geometry, and while his circle would help determine the outcome, it would be little more than a piece of art if the right metaphysical support wasn’t added.

Anton pulled a dagger from his belt and cut the palm of his hand without flinching, letting a stream of bright red blood dribble onto the carved lines.

"I am Anton of House Alluria," his voice thundered, resonating through the silent plaza, amplified by his commanding Aura. "Duke of the Western Marches, Shield of the Realm. I claim absolute control over the land beneath my feet. This land is mine, and I reject the Abyss's claim upon it!”

The blood struck the runes, and the array erupted with a blinding, golden-white light. The power of secular ownership—the belief and structure of a million citizens across the kingdom recognizing Anton's rule—pushed into the array, acting as a massive, immovable wedge.

Nick moved forward and placed the Shard of Human Ambition directly into the bloody center of the glyph.

"Priests!" Nick roared, his voice amplified by the ritual’s own magic. “Now is the time to cleanse the taint!”

A chorus of hundreds of voices surged into the night. Chants of purifying fire collided and merged with hymns of cleansing water. A wave of divine magic crashed into the plaza, flowing directly into the paths Nick had drawn.

Surprise rang through the ether clearly enough that Nick knew the men hadn’t truly expected the magic to be able to intertwine with theirs, but even with that success, he knew it wasn’t enough power.

I need more, Nick thought, his coils burning as he fought to keep the massive array's structure intact. To get to the foundation itself, we must bypass the initial layers entirely.

Reaching deep into his soul, he tapped into the Tree of Life and, through it, into the fundamental connection he had forged with the World when it first sprouted, to summon even more of its power.

[Worldcraft] activated as his will resonated in unison with the planet, allowing him to delve much deeper into the stream of power it emitted, reaching down into Alluria’s bedrock until his mind touched the leyline that ran beneath it.

Reject the abomination, Nick commanded.

The World, a vast semi-conscious entity that fundamentally despised the alien corruption of the Abyss, eagerly answered its champion’s call.

A surge of pure energy rushed up through the cobblestones and flowed directly through Nick and the Shard.

Multiple notifications rang in the back of his mind, but he had no time to pay attention to them, because the separate threads of power were merging into one, and he would only have one chance to do this.

Throwing his head back with a shout, Nick slammed his staff into the array one last time, unleashing the combined forces of Secular Ownership, Divine Purity, Latin ritualism, and the World's own wrath directly at the corrupted wards.

Several priests fainted as the power manifested, but by then their input was no longer needed, and Nick concentrated on manifesting it correctly.

The fabric of space at the base of the Tower tore open over several seconds, during which the purple wards warped inward, screeching like dying metal, until a ten-foot-wide fissure ripped through the ether.

Unlike what he would have preferred, he couldn’t use it to immediately reach the seventy-seventh floor, where Hone was with Tholm and the Tower Master. No, the ritual’s conceptual power was incredible, but it also came with a cost.

It led straight down into the lowest sub-levels of the Tower, the domain of the genius loci, the one place where he could genuinely claim a connection.

It was also where the demonic taint was strongest, as evidenced by the terrible weight that began to press down on everyone in the plaza.

Knowing he couldn’t keep the portal open much longer, Nick yanked the Shard from the pavement, taking what was left of the ritual’s power with him, and started running for it.

“Kill them all, Crowley!" Anton yelled, struggling to stand against the overwhelming force of the magic.

Nick didn't look back. Wrapping the conceptual armor of the [Mire] tightly around his soul, he stepped into the swirling vortex, leaving the night sky behind as he plunged into the heart of the corruption.