Low-Fantasy Occultist Isekai

Nick wasted no time. He wasn't likely to get a better opportunity, and he was long past being squeamish at the sight of death, especially such a clean one. He descended, halting atop the sticky pool of blood spreading beneath the lifeless body. He felt a pang of sadness that such a young life would be cut off, but there was no room for sentiment. Every second counted.

Carefully, he guided the air currents under his control to lift the blood from the ground. Thick and sluggish, it resisted him, but he pressed harder, gritting his metaphorical teeth. Slowly, tendrils of crimson rose into the air, coming together under his command. The mana coursing through him burned like fire, but Nick pushed through the sensation, focusing on repeating his earlier feat. New ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄhapters are published on novel✦fire.net

The battle continued to rage around him. A thunderous crash nearby made him flinch. He glanced up in time to see the bifurcated remains of a forest lizard land mere feet away. Nick's gaze darted to the wall, where Eugene stood atop the battlements, his blade dripping with ichor. His father's expression was hard, but he didn't seem harried as he easily kept any monster from scaling the wall.

Nick allowed himself a brief moment of relief but soon returned to his task. He used the blood to draw another hexagram with great care, trying his best to avoid spilling even a single drop. What he was attempting was already complicated enough; adding even imperfections would make it impossible.

It took far longer than he would have liked, but Nick had to remind himself that he was already breaking new ground here. It was possible that this world had a much better method to do what he was doing—indeed, it was likely—but as far as he knew, affecting the world through another layer of reality was a feat only spoken of for extraplanar entities.

It helps to keep me grounded that I'm metaphorically sweating like a pig to push a few ounces of blood around. To anyone who doesn't know astral magic, it's probably not very impressive.

Once the basic hexagram was complete, Nick began methodically carving intricate symbols into the surrounding dirt, reinforcing the ritual's structure. Each symbol felt like dragging a boulder uphill, and his mana reserves were dwindling alarmingly fast. Unfortunately, they were necessary. Trying to complete an astral ritual without the proper anchoring would just as likely send him careening through the layers.

Fuck, I'm going to be left with little mana once I'm done. I could probably speed things up if I were less careful, but that sounds like a terrible idea. Also, if I tried to power the ritual with my own mana, I'd be snapped back to my body before I could even get its benefits, much less take part in the battle. Being parsimonious is good here. Heh.

The moment he completed the circle, he breathed a sigh of relief.

He pressed his will into the blood, infusing it with a spark of mana. The response was immediate. The liquid ignited into a crimson light, illuminating the symbols. This was the hardest part. He now needed to guide the ritual through intent alone to achieve his desired result. That was never a good idea and was especially dangerous when attempting to cross the astral layer. Beyond his willpower, he could only rely on the mass presence of death in the area. That might be enough to weaken the boundaries of reality just enough for him to slip in.

Nick closed his eyes, focusing on the sensations that most resembled his need to reach through. The feeling of breaching the sea, the shock of stepping out of a warm house into the cold air, and the sticky warmth of blood staining his hands. He poured those memories into the ritual, weaving them together through his intent.

A snap echoed in his mind, like a taut rope breaking free.

The hexagram flared brightly, and Nick felt a strange duality for a moment as his astral form and the physical place he occupied became one. His connection to the material plane solidified, not enough for him to materialize—he had nowhere near the power for that—but enough to sense the air again.

He opened his eyes and tested his newfound presence. With a flick of his will, the wind stirred around his form, creating a faint but discernible breeze. It was far easier than before, and the strain significantly lessened.