Low-Fantasy Occultist Isekai

Melding elemental and spiritual magic was becoming easier for Nick. He didn't even need to actively modify spellforms anymore, not since the ritual. The mana simply followed his will, charged with intent and understanding so profound that it didn't require structure to influence the world.

He would have been more worried about being changed so fundamentally if he hadn't been an active participant in the entire Greater Ritual. He knew what it had done to him, had intentionally sought it out, and now he was reaping the consequences with a smile.

I brought the Mystery of my Occultist class closer to the forefront. That means I can add obscure and esoteric effects to my magic with greater ease than a mage of my level normally could.

It also meant, as he could now see clearly thanks to the strong winds that had scoured the ring, that he knew exactly what he was up against.

Emile hadn't done anything especially impressive in the previous duels, but it was obvious the gloves were off now, and that the prospect of losing the duel was unacceptable to him.

"[Blade of the First Wanderer]"

The words echoed strangely, tugging at the ether in a way Nick was coming to associate with spatial magic, yet also very different from anything he'd seen so far.

This isn't utility magic. He's trying to defeat me with a single strike.

[Vacuum Sphere] had accomplished its purpose, forcing Emile to flee and use a significant amount of his mana to defend against the howling gales, but it wasn't enough to defeat him.

Which meant that Nick just needed to up the ante even more.

Space distorted before his eyes, taking on a strange, shimmering form that his senses urged him to steer clear of. But since it somehow possessed the Tower's omnipresent quality, Nick knew that evading it wasn't an option.

The spatial blade couldn't be avoided by moving away. It was a fixed point in space, with a target—him—that it would reach no matter what he did.

The only option he had was to put something between them that it couldn't mow through, and for all that his shield was very powerful, he wasn't yet confident enough in it to risk everything on it.

No, a better idea was to learn a lesson from Emile and take advantage of their location.

Just as spatial magic was easier to cast inside the Tower, since it acted as both a permanent nexus and a prime example of the school's greatest achievements, Nick could also benefit from being the center of attention and emotions for three dozen people.

Thin blades of wind quietly traced lines in the broken ground, and an inverted Raidho formed around him, and an unseen wind picked up.

Many months ago, Nick had faced someone else who could control space at will. Dewdrop, the Smiling Death, had used her fae powers to create a separate dimension to trap the raiders. Although this was somewhat different from what Emile was attempting, it had a similar level of complexity and relied on the same principle of spatial separation.

Back then, he needed five people to serve as anchors, to give his mana the weight necessary to face the magic of someone who vastly outclassed him.

Now, Nick could do the entire ritual inside his mind and could draw on the emotions of every spectator to feed it, without having to rely on his own reserves.

It was a testament to how far he'd come that a simple rune was enough to give his magic structure, but Nick didn't let that thought distract him. Instead, he focused entirely on the Ritual of Norse Homecoming, visualizing his return home after the dungeon raid and feeling anchored in one place as he crafted new protections around the Town Hall.

An inverted Raidho rune took shape, signifying a return from a journey, and marking the end of space.

And so it was. The spatial blade Emile had conjured shot toward him, swift and unstoppable. If he had attempted to confront it with a simple [Wind Armor], it would have cut through the layers effortlessly, and his life would have only been saved by the Tower's intervention.

Instead, space distorted as it approached. What Emile did was create an unstoppable object, something that would forever seek to reach its intended destination. To challenge it would have been foolish without almost unlimited reserves to crush it.

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That was why Nick didn't. He only made sure that the principle behind the blade itself was satisfied, as the magic of the ritual told the blade it had completed its journey. The moment it entered the distortion field he had created, it disappeared.

A beat of silence followed as everyone tried to understand what had just happened, and Nick didn't let the chance go by.

A hail of [Jet Streams] slammed into the shimmering blue barrier of the Tower's wards around Emile, who stood frozen and wide-eyed, and the match was over.

"Winner, Nicholas Crowley!"

Noise erupted from all sides. Even though there were only three dozen people in the arena, it felt like a hundred. The first-year students went wild, screaming with joy at his victory, while the second-year students shouted in shock, confusion, and happiness.

Not everyone liked him as much as it first seemed, I guess. Nick thought as he marched up to his opponent, who was just now shaking off the shock.

He almost worried Emile wouldn't accept his loss, but they shook hands without any issue. "Good match," Nick said.

He got a long look from the other, who then shook his head, his blonde hair swaying. "I guess it's true that the sky never ends. The higher you climb, the farther you realize you still have to go."

"Wonderful! Just wonderful!" Master Lasazar shouted as he joined, putting his hands around Nick's shoulders. "We have a champion!"

The cheers echoed again, and Nick allowed the man to pull him away with a grin, despite the curious glint in his eyes. He'd let him enjoy his fun before he started talking about claiming his big prize.