Low-Fantasy Occultist Isekai

Nick struggled to regain control over the surging flames. The golden fire had initially been bright but relatively weak, meant more to awe than to harm. Even the minor fireball he'd created had cost him much, as the intricate runic circle consumed a substantial portion of the power siphoned by [Vitality Drain], leaving him with very little to use.

But even as he directed every ounce of his focus to halt its flow before it could escape his control, the flames only grew stronger, transforming into a majestic corona that rolled and expanded before his eyes.

He strained every muscle in my body, hands trembling as he summoned what little power he could safely use. It was a gamble to interfere this much, but he couldn't allow a foreign spirit to possess him. Not again. No, I won't!

He briefly cut off the runaway flow, but despite a minor hitch, his efforts only resulted in another surge. The gentle glow deepened into a fierce, almost unbearable brilliance that radiated power.

Nick could see even the most skeptical of the mob slowly sinking to their knees under its weight. Before them, Alexander's form became obscured as the fire closed in, engulfing him within a halo that reminded him uncomfortably of the Servant.

Wide-eyed, Nick could do nothing but watch as more and more flames converged around the Vicar until a humanoid figure emerged. Such was the luminosity that he couldn't distinguish any features, but somehow, he knew it was a She.

Then, as if the heavens themselves had decided to speak, a deep, resonant feminine voice boomed across the air, carrying sorrow and awe, and powerful enough to silence everyone in its wake.

Nick felt a chill run down his spine as the voice declared its message in a tone that was both great and terrible.

"My children, do not fill your hearts with rage.

Forsake your violent ambitions.

Know this.

Even the brightest flame must one day fade, nourishing the soil with its ashes so that new life might bloom.

Your loved ones are never truly gone."

For a few long seconds, Nick stood transfixed. The golden corona pulsated with sorrow and benevolence, and its message reverberated within him. Any pretense of control he might have had over the fire was gone, and he knew that should he try anything, he'd be overwhelmed.

Then, the presence turned its gaze toward him. Nick felt utterly powerless as a small, luminous flame shot from its palm. It streaked through the air with such velocity that he had no time to react; it slammed into him, knocking him off balance and sending him skidding backward across the uneven ground.

A cry of surprise escaped his lips as the searing impact rattled him. He lay there, heart hammering, expecting intense pain. Yet, after a few agonizing seconds, he realized he was unharmed, and only a patch of his jacket was singed.

He scrambled to his feet, disoriented, and looked up again. The divine presence had faded into the ether, leaving behind a surreal silence. To his astonishment, Vicar Alexander had reappeared in his rightful place. He was on his knees, weeping tears of unbridled joy and relief.

Nick stood still, utterly confused. Around him, people were gradually beginning to disperse, crying and murmuring prayers. It felt as though a huge weight had been lifted, yet he found himself strangely longing for it, as if the world wasn't whole without it.

Everything had happened in the span of a couple of minutes, but the town would never be the same. This, Nick knew without a doubt.

After a moment, he moved toward Alexander, eager to ask exactly what had happened, but a heavy hand on his shoulder stopped him. Nick turned to see that it was his father, who wore a stern expression that clearly rebuked the reckless, uncontrolled magic he had just used.

I might be in trouble.

Later that day, Nick found himself back inside the Town Hall, sitting in the cramped captain's office, while his father paced before a narrow window, his brow furrowed in silent vexation.

Nick sat on an uncomfortable chair, still processing the bizarre events and the inexplicable divine intervention that had just unfolded, before finally giving in to his curiosity and pulling up the system messages he'd received.

CONGRATULATIONS

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

You have created [Ritual of Fake Divinity]

+12,000 Exp

It was a small token compared to the chaos that had unfolded, but Nick would take any sign of progress nonetheless. The second notification, however, was much odder.

You have participated in a [Divine Summoning]

+ 1 Exp

It was baffling—a pittance, almost insultingly so—but Nick knew that the System never did anything without a reason.

If it gave me a single exp, it means that either it wasn't caused by anything I did, which now that I think of it makes sense, as my ritual was extremely specific and even had it failed, it shouldn't have caused anything of the sort… Or Sashara has the ability to interfere with the System.

That possibility was far more unsettling. He knew that the temple viewed the System as an extension of the gods' divinity, but he had always considered it as a distinct construct, particularly considering what he had glimpsed that time he first used [Wind God's Third Eye].

Now I wonder what I would have seen if I had used it on her…

Before he could lose himself further in reflection, the office door swung open again. A soldier ushered in Ogden, who entered with a brisk gait. He exchanged his usual gruff greetings with Eugene, and without missing a beat, his father directed Ogden to check on him.

"Make sure he hasn't crippled himself further," Eugene instructed, running a hand down his face. "Nick is a special case; the healer's methods just won't do. He won't listen to anyone he doesn't personally respect."

Ogden's eyes narrowed slightly as he regarded him with a mixture of exasperation and expectation. "Explain what happened," he demanded in his gravelly tone.

Nick took a moment before deciding that honesty would be best. "I tried to fake divine intervention to calm the mob," he began slowly, recounting how he had set up his magic so that only a tiny portion of his own energy was needed to initiate the effect. He didn't go into the details of the ritual, as he was still hesitant to admit to knowledge he shouldn't possess, but it seemed he'd done enough strange things that they didn't question it.

"Alexander was doing great, but the presence appeared as soon as he started to get into it." Nick paused, recalling the sensation of it taking over his magic. It had been far too close to when he'd almost gotten possessed, and he'd freaked out.

"She was overwhelming, but rather than do anything with all that power, she simply spent some time calming the crowd."

"And that was all?" Eugene asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No," Nick admitted. With some hesitation, he took out his wand from his jacket, pursing his lips at the sight. "She sent a fireball at me. I don't think she meant to hurt me because it was way too fast for me to avoid it, and it only burned my wand."

Ogden's slitted eyes flicked to the wand in his hand. He picked it up gingerly, turning it over. "You were lucky that Sashara only punished you lightly," he murmured, almost to himself. "The wand's ability to channel mana is ruined, but being burned by holy fire… This is probably worth a lot, even if not as a focus. I know the temple would be interested in it, as would any alchemist worth their salt."

Nick felt a surge of frustration. "Isn't there anything that can be done to restore it?"

Eugene groaned, shaking his head in exasperation. "What have I done to deserve such a reckless child, who doesn't understand the message to stop meddling with powers beyond his understanding?" he lamented.

Ogden grunted, setting the wand back into Nick's hand. "For now, you're stuck with this 'holy charcoal.' Perhaps in time, there may be a way to restore it, but that's beyond your current means, and I won't mess with it. She Who Burns saw it fit to punish you. Trying to avoid penance might draw her attention, and it's not often that gods are merciful twice."

Nick slumped in his chair. He stared at the ruined wand for a long moment, though his mind was far away.

I hate that she destroyed my greatest possession. I understand that gods usually can do whatever they want, but… No, don't be stupid. I was trying to impersonate her in a town she considers her territory. I'm lucky she didn't do worse.

The bigger mystery was how exactly the goddess, if it really was her and not another Servant, had managed to appear. Nick doubted she could do such a thing without a price, or the world would be much different. Gods were real, yes, but they didn't walk among men and certainly not to quell minor rebellions on the frontier.

If she had been able to appear so easily, she would have come to Marthas' aid. Though maybe that was different, given that we were within the Feral Gods' Domain… Ugh, I hate that all this stuff is so cryptic. If the temple had been a serious institution, they would have primers to explain all this stuff.

"Is the situation resolved, aside from the light show?" Ogden asked, drawing him from his thoughts.

Eugene scratched his beard. He had yet to find the time to shave it off, and Nick suspected his father thought it made him look rugged. "It looks like it. Fortunately, there is no one quite stupid enough to try their luck after Sashara herself descended to deliver a message of peace. The underlying problems are still there, but we should have gained a few days of grace."

"What about the beastmen?" Nick didn't expect them to attack soon, either, but the impact of Sashara's intervention wouldn't be as profound with them. I had hoped to mimic their ancestors' disapproval in the same way, but I now think that might not be the best approach. Given how easily Sashara appeared, I'd rather not know what would happen if I had Elia do what Alexander did.

"Luckily, they have dispersed without needing the soldiers to force them. I would like to go and speak with their elders myself, but not before I have a more solid plan." Eugene answered.

"We could probably leverage Elia—"

"Nicholas!" Eugene interrupted. "You've already done enough for today! I'd like to think you're smart enough to recognize when something is beyond your authority. I've granted you plenty of freedom and even took you with me into the dungeon—which I don't regret, to be clear—but this is a very sensitive matter, and despite how skilled you may be with magic, you're still a child. Your thirteenth birthday is coming up in a couple of weeks, for heaven's sake!"

There wasn't much anyone could say after that, and the room fell into a heavy silence. Eugene breathed deeply for a moment and finally spoke, his voice soft and weary. "We'll need to act soon, and I will speak with you before I do, but the town is in mourning, and I must hold the ceremony to ensure the peace isn't broken again. Nick, I want you to go back home and actually rest for once. If you still wish to be included in future plans, I won't allow you to be a liability to yourself."

He nodded, swallowing hard. "I understand." It was very annoying, but Nick was self-aware enough to realize his approach wasn't working. Yes, Sashara had solved the crisis, but he couldn't rely on luck forever. And I don't want to put Elia in danger. I still don't know what happened to Alexander after he got possessed, but I can't risk it happening to her, too.

The door creaked open again, and a soldier stomped in. "Mord, please take Nicholas out of the hall and ensure he gets home safely," Eugene said, meeting the man's eyes.

The soldier nodded resolutely, and his expression indicated that he would not hesitate to escort Nick out of the Town Hall by force if necessary.

"Nick," Eugene stopped him as he rose, "consider this a lesson. The powers you meddled with are not toys. You must understand that you, too, have limits."