Low-Fantasy Occultist

Given all that had happened upon their return, Nick felt that a thunderstorm would have been more fitting, yet the morning sun filtering through the high windows of the seventy-seventh floor was bright and cheerful, completely at odds with the gloomy mood of the dining hall.

Raphael sat at the long mahogany table, pushing a plate of eggs around with his fork. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, with dark circles shading the skin under his eyes, and his hand trembled slightly each time metal clinked against china.

“They must have found the body to move so quickly,” he whispered, breaking the silence. "They’re going to argue it was a summary execution.”

"It was, and it was the right thing to do,” Nick said calmly, taking a sip of the harsh, black tea Tholm favored. "He was a traitor in the middle of a combat zone. You didn't murder a student, Raphael. You neutralized an enemy combatant. If you hadn’t done that, Lina and Mikel would have died instead, and we might not have managed to overcome the Hones.”

"The Tribunal is known to be harsh with its methods, but it is fair,” Willow murmured, her hand resting on Raphael’s. “Even with House Illismonde pushing hard, claiming that Joran was not given his rights as a noble scion, when the facts are laid out, they won’t be able to punish you.”

"They can claim the moon is made of cheese," Nick said, setting his cup down. “But everyone knows that isn’t the case. We will defend you, and ourselves, and we will win. You saw how mad Tholm was. He’s not going to let anything happen.”

He stood up, scraping his chair against the floor. "Don't waste your time thinking about the worst-case scenario. Eat. We’ll need our strength, because all they have on their side is influence. They’ll try to break us. Do not make their life easy.”

"Where are you going?" Raphael asked, looking up. He was still clearly affected by the quick turnaround, having suppressed most of his emotions in the field. But now that he was under the spotlight, being called a murderer, the weight of his actions was making itself known.

Nick wished he had a secret weapon to solve the entire problem, like he often did, but sadly, the reality was that they would have to face the trial and endure all the abuse House Illismonde was bound to throw at them.

Once that was over, though… Well, there were some things he could do then.

“I’m going to clear my head. The dungeon didn’t only bring bad things, and it’s important to keep that in mind.”

Tholm’s laboratories were a marvel of enchantment. The walls were lined with mana-dampening lead, and the air scrubbers were efficient enough to handle even the most volatile alchemical fumes.

Nick locked the door and sat in the middle of the room, trusting that everyone else would be too busy to bother him.

In the chaos of the past day, he hadn’t yet found the time to go over his gains, but now that he had a moment for himself, he wouldn’t waste it.

Closing his eyes, he turned his gaze inward.

Before the dungeon, his soul had been bright, yes, but also somewhat formless. It had been powerful enough to withstand the eddies of the ether and had grown to accommodate his greater strength, and yet it was only now that he realized just how vulnerable it had been.

Blasphemy was the only reason he had managed to survive all the dangerous situations he kept getting into. Some were his fault, like his personal experiments with demonic summoning and etheric crafting, but others weren’t. Everything from being exposed to the will of a hostile god to facing off against a Greater Demon should have been enough to damage him.

Achieving Soul Crystallization had transformed everything. The Tree of Life was now a physical structure fused into his spirit, providing the entire system with remarkable strength that it lacked before. He could even see the pathways—the Sephirot—glowing like a circuit embedded in a diamond.

Pulling up his status screen made that even clearer.