Low-Fantasy Occultist Isekai-Chapter 119 - 115

Nick flexed his will, and the currents swirled around him, merging, condensing, and tightening at his request. It was becoming easier for him to modify wind spells on the go. He wondered whether it was because he was close to increasing his affinity again or if he had simply become a better mage.

This new [Jet Stream] was unlike anything he had tried before—neither a quick volley nor a piercing round, but a singular, overwhelmingly powerful spear of wind. Adrenaline buzzed in his ears, accompanied by a surge of borrowed vitality from the still-breathing fae knights behind him. It was a good thing he kept expending all the power he received, or he might suffer for his greed.

He hadn't had time to experiment with the spell earlier, only using it for lethal damage. But now that the matrix unfolded in his mind, he realized it didn't even require much prodding. Increasing the wind's volume would mean slightly less piercing power, but he could easily compensate by channeling even more mana into it.

I have plenty now. As long as their souls can hold on, I will continue to drain them.

Across from him, the fae was on the brink of collapse. Her robes had shredded in multiple places; her shoulder was soaked with blood, and her breathing came fast and shallow. Yet, her eyes burned with a ferocious will. She was honestly the most impressive of Nick's enemies so far. The Oni had much more raw power, and Dewdrop's skill might have been trickier, but they couldn't compete in sheer willpower. If he didn't kill her now, he was sure he'd have made a mortal enemy he'd have to be wary of for the rest of his life.

She must have sensed the ridiculous amount of power Nick was gathering, for her lips parted in a feral snarl. Without hesitation, she thrust both arms forward. A dozen mirrors of ice materialized between them, forming a defensive perimeter to keep him at bay.

She probably thinks I'm nearing the end, too. That if she can take this last attack, I'll be defenseless. Well, I'm not, you bint.

This chapt𝒆r is updated by frёewebηovel.cѳm.

Nick didn't pause. If he hesitated for even a second, he wouldn't put it past her to try something else. "It ends now," he muttered, allowing the howling wind to rush forward.

A thunderous boom announced his attack. The spear of churning wind ripped through the distance like cannon fire, shaking the ground beneath his feet.

It met the first ice mirror and shattered it instantly. The second and third, too, fell without resistance. The subsequent mirrors fared no better. Each one exploded upon contact, vaporized in a mist of magical frost. The spell tore through the entire wall of defenses like paper, continuing unimpeded toward its target.

Her eyes went wide as death barreled down. She managed only a strangled gasp. In the next instant, the wind tore into her chest and exited out her back in a burst of swirling air and red mist. The impact was so abrupt, so decisive, that she simply stopped as though frozen in time.

An expression of confusion seemed to flicker across her face as though her mind could not reconcile the gaping cavity where her sternum and heart should have been.

Nick did not wait to see if she would tumble to the ground; he had learned his lesson about the fae's uncanny ability to revive.

He thrust his wand again and flexed the stolen mana, and a dozen more of the normal [Jet Streams] followed. Each one slammed into her limp body and shredded what remained of the robe, flesh, and bone. He kept battering her until she was a barely recognizable ruin, with fragments of flesh and bone scattered across twenty feet. Even the magical frost dissipated with her death, turning to slushy droplets that ran in thin red rivulets.

A series of bright words scrolled across Nick's vision as the System celebrated his victory.

CONGRATULATIONS!

You have defeated [Maea, Blessed of She Who Is To Come, level 38]

+111,111 Exp

The letters of her name radiated a golden sheen that Nick had never seen before. He stood there, chest heaving, battered and bruised, trying to process the strange significance of this message.

What the hell is that? I didn't even know it was possible to have different colors!

Level up!

The System chimed again, reminding Nick that he couldn't get distracted. He was level thirty-three now, which was quite something. She was surprisingly low leveled for how much of a fight she put up. Is that why her name is gold? Was she an elite? No, if that were the case, then the Oni should have had some color too. Ugh, why did the temple never even mention this? A Blessed… I'm going to have to deal with more gods.

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

He half-expected the earth to quake or the sky to rend above him. Yet, when he scanned his surroundings through [Wind God's Third Eye], he felt no immediate consequence of her passing.

The men fought against the fae, and the roars of fierce combat continued without pause. Arthur's duel with the towering Guardian still echoed in the distance, and the weary lines of soldiers struggled desperately to hold back the risen fae knights. Maea's death affected it none at all.

"Alright," Nick murmured quietly. "I'm sure I'll find out anyway." Whatever mysteries lingered, the immediate danger was too urgent to ignore. The stench of ozone and burnt flesh filled the air, accompanied by shouts, roars, and dying screams. He forced himself to refocus, pushing aside his questions.

Drawing a slow breath, he pivoted back to the cluster of fae knights that he'd been draining of vitality. They were still contorted in agony, forced into undeath or half-life by an unfathomable power. And they were still feeding him. Nick had yet to deactivate [Vitality Drain], and despite how harrowing the sight was, he had no intention to stop anytime soon.

His newly refilled reserves of mana made him more ambitious and reckless than he would normally be. The Guardian still loomed, seemingly unstoppable, while the Hunt leader matched his father blow for blow. And countless fae knights, bolstered by repeated resurrection, kept rising across the battlefield. If Nick wanted to truly turn the tide, he'd need more mana. A lot more.

His eyes narrowed. "If they can keep resurrecting, I can keep draining them," he muttered, stepping closer to the writhing knights. Their half-lidded eyes peered up at him in mute terror. He took no satisfaction in their suffering, but this was war. If the roles were reversed, they would do far worse to him.

He sank to one knee, pressing his palm firmly over a knight's chest. The moment his flesh made contact, he focused [Vitality Drain] to extract only from him, pulling ribbons of invisible essence. An anguished hiss escaped the knight's mouth, fingers clenching reflexively around broken pieces of armor. Yet still, even under a much more focused draw, he did not die.

Nick exhaled sharply. "Unreal," he whispered, shaking his head. He turned to see half a dozen other fae bodies scattered around, some stirring, some seemingly gone.

No, they can't all be gone. A flutter of savage glee ignited in him—dark and opportunistic. More corpses meant more power. More power might mean more successes like the one he'd just had, or maybe enough to turn the tide.

A ritual would be difficult to cast here. Too many targets, and I still have no idea how they are getting resurrected… No, a more direct approach might be the way.

With a dangerous gleam in his eyes, Nick pulled away from the cluster of knights he was currently draining—he had learned as much from them as possible for now. "I can't rely solely on them if I want to turn the tide," he murmured. "I need even more mana."

Turning in a slow circle, he let his [Wind God's Third Eye] guide his attention. Mixed in with the chaos, he located pockets of the fallen. He ignored the humans, not letting his attention focus enough to learn who they were, and selected the closest fae. Many were so thoroughly destroyed that no real essence would remain, but others lay in that strange near-death state or still showed up faintly in the spectrum of life force.

Nick almost licked his lips. I must have them. It didn't matter if the notion was ghoulish; survival took priority.

He had to be within twenty feet to perform [Vitality Drain], so he had to pull the corpses close.

He concentrated on a combination of telekinetic manipulation and wind currents. "Come to me." He gestured, pulling with his wand.

Bodies slid across the ground under his guidance, joining the improvised ring of sacrificial energy sources. The entire battlefield lay open to him through his [Wind God's Third Eye], and each fallen foe was a potential reservoir of power.

Even as he gathered them, they began to stir. Some slid slowly across the dirt, leaving smears of blood in their wake. Others half-rolled, limp arms flopping. Nick's stomach twisted a fraction, but he couldn't allow sentiment to dissuade him now.

If they can keep resurrecting, they will eventually overwhelm us. No matter how well the men are fighting now, it's just a matter of time before the shield wall is breached. If it's the Guardian casting this field, he will have to stop once he sees how much power they are giving me. If it's not, then I guess I'll have to absorb every bit of vitality they have to offer until their souls give out.

Nick guided the bodies toward him, forming a small ring of the dead and nearly dead. The quiet whimpering of a few who still had regained consciousness wasn't pleasant, but he locked away any protest from his mind.

Nick began the next phase, thrusting his hand toward the nearest corpse. Tendrils of stolen energy flared along his arm as [Vitality Drain] started again. He couldn't help but notice how each new spark of life energy soothed his fraying nerves.

This might be dangerous in the long run. Getting this much power without effort almost feels like cheating, and while [Blasphemy] protects me from external corruption, nothing stops me from becoming addicted to the rush.

Nick clenched a fist. "Alright," he murmured, letting the siphoned essence fill him to the brim. "Enough stalling. Let's do some real damage."

The wind began churning with ominous purpose, swirling dust and debris around the circle of corpses. Nick began pulling and pushing, trying for something truly big. With a seemingly infinite power source at hand, he could afford to be wasteful, meaning he could make up for a lack of specific spell forms by empowering his will with tons of mana.

Just beyond his line of sight, the Guardian's colossal glaive carved the earth, and Arthur's distinctive crackling sword clashed with it in a resounding crash. Their epic duel reverberated like a furious drumbeat, urging him to be quick about it.

A dust devil began to form, but Nick didn't let it take shape. He had already tried for a tornado before, and it hadn't done nearly enough damage. It could move faster than any regular human could escape, but even the weaker fae knights were above level twenty-five. They had long since grown beyond such limits.

That just means I have to be creative. Before coming here, I never had a problem with too much power.

Fortunately, Nick had a very active imagination. Given that he couldn't move away without losing his link to his living battery, it didn't take much to decide what he would do.

The winds began to compress, and Nick made a circle with the tip of his wand, guiding the process. The result was similar to [Wind Blast], despite how much stronger than that spell it was, but the principle was the same. He just took all the power and air that would have been enough to form a tornado and pushed it down into something the size of his torso.

Such was the churning within the spell that even though his control was iron-tight, dust kept being absorbed into it as if a powerful suction was being exerted. It felt like a wild thing, ready to explode at the smallest disturbance, until finally, Nick felt something click, and the matrix stabilized.

"I guess [Vacuum Sphere] is a good name for now," he murmured, starting the process of casting several more. By the time he finished, the hum was so loud that he couldn't even hear the groans of his victims.

"Now, let's see how much damage one of these can do."