Low-Fantasy Occultist Isekai

The two teenagers jumped apart as if struck by lightning, and the girl let out a high-pitched shriek that could probably be heard from miles away. Devon whipped around, eyes wide with panic. They quickly narrowed into a glare as he realized who was standing there with his arms crossed.

"Nick?!" Devon barked, half in outrage, half in mortification.

The girl clutched her chest, breathing heavily as she tried to regain her composure. "You scared me half to death!" she hissed, cheeks flushed scarlet.

Nick barely kept from growling back. "What in the world are you doing here?" he demanded.

Devon groaned, running a hand through his tousled hair. "What does it look like? And why do you care? Go back to bed!"

Nick's jaw tightened. He couldn't tell Devon the real reason—that his Trait had activated, warning him of spiritual danger. It would raise too many questions that Nick wasn't ready to answer. Instead, he shot back, "I sensed something wrong, and you weren't in your bed; of course I'd care!"

"What? Something wrong? What are you talking about?"

Nick groaned, frustrated, "You know I'm a mage. I'm telling you something weird is going on!"

"Hey!" Devon interrupted, holding up a hand. "Stop. Just stop. I appreciate your…concern, but there is no one here besides us. Nothing is wrong. There are no monsters. Now, go back inside."

Nick opened his mouth to argue, but the sound of a window sliding open behind him cut him off. He turned just in time to see their father drop lightly from the second floor onto the grass. His feet barely made a sound as he landed.

"Enough," Eugene said, silencing the brothers. He strode forward, firmly placing a hand on both Nick's and Devon's shoulders. "I don't need to know more than I can figure out on my own, but you two are going back inside. Now. I'll see to it that this young lady gets home safely. I'm sure her parents will be worried sick if they find her missing."

The girl blushed furiously, shrinking under Eugene's imposing presence. "I'm sorry, sir," she mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

It was easy to forget the man was the town's captain. It was like having the mayor scolding a teenager.

Eugene's expression softened slightly as he looked at her. "No harm done. But it's late, and you shouldn't be wandering around this far from the town alone at night. Let's get you home."

Devon looked like he wanted to protest, but a sharp look from Eugene silenced him. Meanwhile, Nick sighed in relief. At least his father seemed fine, and he would have noticed if Elena had been attacked. Unfortunately, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

"Dad," Nick said hesitantly as Eugene turned to escort the girl away. "Before you go…something woke me up tonight. I don't know where it came from or what it was, but we were in danger. Maybe still are."

Eugene paused, looking back at Nick with a furrowed brow. "Explain."

Nick struggled to put the sensation into words that wouldn't reveal too much. He felt foolish, keeping quiet about something so important, and so he tried his best to warn him. "The ambient mana feels different. Off, maybe. It's like a presence passed through the area and was hostile. I don't know more, but it happened. I swear."

Eugene narrowed his eyes and looked around, trying to sense anything amiss. "That's vague," he said neutrally. "But if you sensed something, I'll keep an eye out. I know better than to ignore a mage's warnings."

Nick nodded, though his unease lingered. He glanced at Devon, who was still sulking but was mercifully quiet, before turning back toward the house.

I have a bad feeling that this problem will keep occurring. I may need to find a better excuse to explain my knowledge, but I'm wary of saying too much with the Prelate's visit so close. If he were to hear about my warnings or worse, that a spirit attacked me, he'd surely take an interest in me. And I really want to avoid that.

Nick felt trapped between a rock and a hard place, but he had made a choice and would follow through.

My instincts also tell me to keep my cover. That might just be paranoia, but it could also be that Occultist, as a class, requires secrecy.

Shaking his head, he followed Devon back into the warmth even as he kept glancing back at his father's retreating back, dreading to see some ghostly being attack him.

The first light of dawn filtered through the room's cracked shutters, painting the wooden floor with streaks of pale gold. Slumped into a chair by the window, Nick rested his chin on one hand as he stared blankly at the fields below. Shadows rimmed his eyes as evidence of the sleepless night he had spent lost in thought.

After his father returned safely from escorting the girl home, Eugene reassured him that there was nothing amiss—at least, nothing he could detect. That should have been enough for Nick to rest. But it wasn't.

The system message still floated at the edges of his mind as a constant reminder of how close danger had come.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

[Trait: Blasphemy] has been activated to protect you from external spiritual influence.

It wasn't the first time the Trait had saved him, but this instance felt different. This wasn't the aftermath of an experiment gone wrong or the unintended backlash from straying too close to divine domains. Someone—or something—had it out for him.

That thought set Nick's blood boiling, and his fear only made the anger burn hotter.

He'd spent his whole life on Earth keeping his head down, aware that he was a tiny fish in a big pond. Nick was proud of how far he'd come in his limited time, but there was only so much he could do with his grandfather's teachings and a dying planet.

Here, he felt stronger and more settled. Mana was readily available, allowing him to expand his repertoire significantly with just a little effort. While the stampede had been a sobering reminder of how far he had to go, it felt more like a natural disaster. This attack was entirely different.

He drummed his fingers on the windowsill, his mind racing in restless circles. He needed to be proactive and prepared. For too long, he had leaned into pretending to be someone he wasn't—a proper mage with proper studies and spells. That masquerade helped him avoid suspicion, but it made him vulnerable in moments like this.

I have allowed myself to grow comfortable wearing the mask. I acted like a mage and forgot where my strength came from. Yes, Wind Affinity is a powerful tool, and I will continue to develop it. However, I'm not fighting a battle of equals here. There is a gigantic forest teeming with monsters, fae, and who knows what else slowly inching my way. If that weren't enough, today the temple's delegation will arrive, adding to the potential enemies. I can't keep playing with magic as if this world were a game. It's not. There is real danger.

Nick straightened, feeling the faint stirrings of resolve cutting through the fog of his exhaustion. It was time to embrace his true path. Even if he couldn't reveal the full extent of his class without drawing unwanted attention, he could still leverage its strengths in other ways.

The first step was protection. Charms. Wards. Whatever it took to shield himself, his family, and his friends from anything—or anyone—that might come for them. He had neglected this aspect of his craft for too long, focusing instead on direct spells and utility—that which he had lacked on Earth. But even the strongest offense meant little when he could have been sniped in the middle of the night, unaware he was even being targeted.

"Grandpa, you must be ashamed of me." He murmured. Indeed, his grandfather had redefined the meaning of the word paranoid, which was the only reason he had lived so long. If he had access to as much mana as Nick had, he would have built himself an impenetrable fortress.

His eyes drifted to the closed chest he kept near his bed. There were still several monster cores, both from his expedition in the forest and as payment for helping with the butchering of the monsters. He had intended to use them to fuel future rituals, but it was now obvious he couldn't afford to wait.

The second step was understanding.

Nick's thoughts drifted back to the events of the previous night, replaying them in his mind like a puzzle he couldn't quite figure out. The most obvious suspect appeared to be a fae from the forest. His father's tale about Aleister Crowley and the blood oath sworn on the ashes of slain dryads persisted in his mind. If the oath had finally been acknowledged after all this time, and it was the cause of the attack, why was he targeted specifically? Didn't the family's connection to Aleister mark them all, or was it something else entirely?

Nick wasn't so arrogant as to assume he had all the answers. There were other possibilities.

The temple clergy, perhaps? They had always been wary of anyone dabbling in magic that didn't conform to their strict doctrines. And while Nick had been careful to avoid direct conflict with them, he knew they wouldn't hesitate to strike if they saw him as a threat. He couldn't think of anything that might have revealed his ruse, but it would be foolish to dismiss them outright.

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Or it could be someone with a grudge.

Nick clenched his fists. He believed he had covered his tracks after dealing with Short and Scar. However, revenge had a long memory; someone might have noticed their absence and connected the dots.

I have no idea how this could have happened, as I was very careful. If anyone had seen the fight, they would have either intervened or fled before I could harm them. However, I can't account for every piece of magic. I'm sure someone, somewhere, has the ability to view past events. In fact, if I keep making this kind of progress, I might be able to do that myself. Postviewing isn't the most outrageous idea I can think of; I'd just need to use the rest of my Dream Spider venom and then some…

Regardless, Nick needed answers. Once the wand was completed, he resolved to scry the town thoroughly. The lingering changes in the ambient mana could serve as a trail—if he moved quickly enough to follow it.

A faint knock at the door broke his reverie.

"Nick?" came Eugene's voice. "Breakfast is ready."

"I'll be right there," Nick called back, his voice hoarse.

As he rose from the chair, he stretched out his stiff limbs and splashed cold water on his face from the basin. The day ahead was too important for him to be distracted. He needed to focus on crafting the wand with Rhea and Elia. If they succeeded, it would be a leap forward for him.

He shoved his feet into his boots and grabbed the satchel he had prepared the night before. The wyvern bone rested safely inside, alongside several other materials he'd need for the crafting.

The sun had fully risen by the time he stepped outside. The crisp morning air did little to lift the weight in his chest, but at least it helped clear his mind.

But when the shop came into view, he stopped in his tracks.

Ogden stood outside, evidently waiting for him. The old alchemist's gaze met Nick's, and something unspoken passed between them.

Rhea and Elia were nowhere to be seen. This was serious, then.

"Ogden?" Nick called, his voice uncertain.

The alchemist straightened, his scaly face unreadable as he beckoned Nick closer.

"We need to talk," Ogden said.

Nick hesitated, then nodded. He supposed he'd put it off more than was reasonable. Sharing his knowledge about the dungeons probably won him some leeway, but it also made the weird silent entente between them more fragile.