Chapter 412
Dragging a fully grown teenager through the uneven tunnels of Alluria’s sewers was tiring, especially with Nick’s mana channels aching from the effort needed to taint a divine blessing, and Marius wasn’t making it easier for him, having passed out sometime after they left the docks.
At least he’s not fighting back anymore. I would have had to stun him with a [Spirit Blast] if he did, and given his condition, that might have been enough to kill him.
The feedback from the shattered catalyst, combined with the failed attempt to force his own mana through burnt-out pathways, had fried Marius’ coils. He was currently suffering from severe mana exhaustion—a condition that, if left untreated, could cause permanent damage.
Nick didn't particularly care about Marius's long-term magical prospects, but a dead hostage was a useless hostage.
"Almost there," Nick muttered, his boots splashing through a shallow puddle of runoff.
He navigated easily thanks to the markers One-Ear had set up earlier. Smears of paint that might seem like disgusting waste to others were arranged in a precise pattern he learned from the man, and they resonated with faint mana, making it easy for him to find the next one.
After another ten minutes of navigating through the dark, he finally discovered the heavy oak door reinforced with rusted iron bands that One-Ear had described.
It was embedded deep into a brick alcove that seemed like a dead end, one he suspected had been used by smugglers in the past. But after the Duke’s purges of the underworld, it was now safe enough to use.
Nick knocked three times, paused, and then knocked twice more, sending out a weak pulse of mana with each strike.
The heavy iron viewing slit slid open, and dark eyes peered out, sweeping over Nick and the unconscious boy slung over his shoulder.
A moment later, the locking mechanisms clicked, the stealth wards that kept it hidden lowered, and the door swung inward, revealing that the safe house was a refurbished den, dry and brightly lit by alchemical lamps. The smell of antiseptic herbs hit him immediately upon entering, and Nick didn’t need to ask to know it had once housed illegal drugs.
I bet Mother would have a conniption if she saw what I was doing.
Waiting inside were three people, as he’d expected, but that still didn’t stop his hair from standing on end at being in the presence of such dangerous individuals during a moment of weakness.
If push came to shove, he’d probably be able to blow his way out of the sewers, even if it cost Marius’ life, but he really hoped that wouldn’t happen. He was already pushing his luck, and he’d have to slink back to the Tower once this whole thing was over.
The two men were dressed in dark leather and chainmail, carrying practical weapons and lacking any flashy enchantments, yet Nick’s instincts told him not to underestimate them.
They had a strong presence, indicating advanced martial classes, likely in the upper eighties, though it was often hard to tell with those trained in stealth. They were veterans who had survived many years of dangerous work, and even if they didn't have the talent to reach Prestige, he wouldn’t underestimate them.
"Lord Crowley," the taller guard said in a gravelly voice. He didn't bow but gave a respectful nod. "The Grandmaster said to expect a delivery.”
"He's all yours," Nick said, unceremoniously dumping Marius onto a sturdy wooden cot in the corner of the room.
The third person, a middle-aged woman with a no-nonsense bun of greying hair, immediately took charge. Her hands glowed with a soft light as she began running diagnostic scans over Marius’s chest and head, seemingly unconcerned with greeting him or propriety.
Nick didn’t care much for it either, but it did indicate that these people came from specific backgrounds. He almost wanted to ask about their connection to the Grandmaster, but he refrained.
Xander had done him the favor of agreeing to help without demanding explanations, and he could do the same, at least for now.
"Mana burn," the healer grunted, her eyes narrowing as she read the boy's vitals. “And severe coil degradation. He tried to push himself far beyond his capabilities through some kind of artifact. It’ll take me a few hours to stabilize his condition so he doesn't bleed himself out of any chance at becoming an actual mage.”
"Do what you can," Nick said, leaning against the stone wall to catch his breath. "But keeping him alive, and here are the priorities, anything else is secondary. He's dangerous to us dead, but he's a massive liability if he gets back to his family right now.”
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"He won't leave this room until you or Lord Wolfram say so," the tall guard assured him, resting a hand on the pommel of his broadsword to make it clear that any attempt to escape would be met with immediate violence.
Nick looked at the two warriors in the eye before giving each a nod.
Xander had sent serious muscle to watch over a teenager, which was a testament to how seriously the Grandmaster was taking the shifting political winds. These men could snap Marius's neck before the boy even realized he was awake, but they were disciplined enough to wait for orders.
Some kind of ex-retainers? They are too well-behaved to be mercenaries, though I admit I don’t know enough about that world. It’s possible they come from a high-level group, the kind contracted by nations, rather than the rabble I’m used to.
It wasn’t the kind of people he’d expect someone of the caliber of the Grandmaster to have easy access to, but he was starting to realize that he didn’t know all that much about the old man.
First it was Sonya’s situation, and now this.
"One-Ear knows how to reach me, and he should be here to check on you within the next few hours,” Nick eventually said, pushing himself off the wall once he was sure his legs wouldn’t wobble. "Send word to the Tower the moment he wakes up and is coherent enough to talk. I need names, and I need to know exactly how he got his hands on that crystal.”
"Understood," the guard replied.
Nick gave Marius one last, lingering look. The boy looked pitiful as he shivered in his sleep. He was a pawn who had nearly blown up the board because he couldn't see the hands moving the pieces.
Shaking his head, Nick turned and quietly slipped back into the tunnels, the heavy oak door thudding shut behind him.
By the time Nick sneaked back into the Tower, navigating the dark alleys to avoid the main streets, the news had already outpaced him.
He dismissed his stealth suit, straightened his robes, and nodded to the Spellblades before entering the lobby. It was busy with people coming and going, so he hurried to catch the first elevator that didn’t make him feel like a packed sardine.
Despite the late hour, the student lounge was crowded, and unlike other times when gossip had centered on internal issues and power struggles, this time the topic was entirely external—at least as far as people knew—and everyone felt free to speculate wildly.
Students from different years and power blocks mingled, sharing their limited insights and bouncing ideas off each other as they tried to develop viable theories.
Nick saw his friends occupying a large circular booth toward the back. Tim was sipping a cup of tea, trying to hide his nervousness. Eona sat straight, scanning the room like a hawk, while Bellamy leaned back, exuding an air of casual indifference that Nick knew took effort to maintain.
Ignoring the chatter around him, Nick slid into the booth next to Bellamy.
"You missed the fireworks," the young noble said smoothly, though his eyes darted to Nick’s face, searching for confirmation that the extraction had gone smoothly.
"I was feeling unwell," Nick replied, patting his stomach. "Too much fried food doesn’t sit well with me. What happened?”
Tim’s lips twitched, but he managed to compose himself into an expression of genuine eagerness. “Oh, so much happened. The Tidemaster pulled up a huge amount of water from the Valis and was blessing the gathered people when something went wrong, and it all turned into sewer water.”
“Oh wow,” Nick feigned surprise. "Did he lose control of the spell?”
"That’s what everyone is arguing about," Eona said, gesturing subtly toward a group of senior students arguing passionately near the fireplace. "Half the lounge thinks the Tidemaster lost favor with Ulter, that the god rejected the offering because the priests have grown too arrogant.”
"A comforting thought for the Tower, but unlikely," Bellamy mused, tapping his chin. "Gods don't usually embarrass their High Priests in front of ten thousand potential converts. It's bad for business.”
"The other rumor is worse," Tim added, and this time there was an undercurrent of seriousness in his tone. "Some people are saying someone interfered. That a rival faction, or maybe even someone from the Tower, poisoned the water to humiliate the temples.”
Nick kept his face perfectly neutral. "That’s a dangerous accusation.”
“It's the one the priests are going to run with," Bellamy said grimly. “My family’s retainers stayed back long after it was over. They said the Tidemaster ordered the area evacuated, and the priests swept the crowd out with extreme prejudice, bringing in dozens of acolytes to start cleansing the stage.”
“Do you think they’ll try again?” Nick asked. He doubted his tainted waters would last long against such a combined assault, especially without him there to fuel them, but he hoped the damage done to the priests’ image would be enough to push them back, at least for a while.
“It’s possible, but not anytime soon. They will prioritize finding whoever did it first,” Bellamy added with a meaningful look.
“That’s probably for the best. You guys should get some rest," Nick advised, standing up. He had confirmed they were safe and that the narrative in the Tower was sufficiently muddled. "I'm going to head up. My stomach is still killing me.”
"Drink some ginger root tea," Eona said with a wave.
Nick gave them a subtle nod of thanks, a gesture charged with more meaning than a simple courtesy warranted, and then headed for the elevators.
The ride to the seventy-seventh floor was quiet, giving Nick a moment to absorb the magnitude of what he had just done.
As far as the magical side is concerned, it couldn’t have gone better. Tholm had to intervene to help me, sure, but considering that I was up against a Prestige priest, I held up pretty well. The consequences, however…
The elevator chimed, and the doors opened to reveal that only Tholm was in the library, clearly having been waiting for him. He stood and gestured for Nick to follow, and they stepped out onto the balcony.
Spread out below them, Alluria resembled a hive of agitated ants. The festival lights at the docks, which had burned with a calm hue just a day earlier, were now moving unpredictably. Lines of torches danced through the streets as the city militia and temple guards mobilized.
“Busy night,” Nick commented.
"It is," Tholm agreed, his pale eyes reflecting the distant fires. "The Tidemaster is a proud man. Having his blessing publicly tarnished... it is a humiliation that will be recorded in the annals of his Temple.”
Nick started to speak, but Tholm silenced him with a look. “It is truly remarkable that such an accident could happen to a man as skilled as he, but I suppose it’s a sign. Everyone, even the greatest, must never rest easy.”
A ghost of a smile touched Tholm's lips, and they exchanged an amused look.
"However," he continued, his tone darkening as he looked back at the city. "You must understand the nature of the beast that was wounded. A predator denied its meal does not simply go to sleep.”
Pointing down at the docks, Tholm warned, "They are currently cleansing the physical corruption, but by tomorrow, they will begin searching for the spiritual source. The Tidemaster is not a fool, Nicholas. He knows a mortal hand interfered.”
"They have no proof it was anyone from the Tower," Nick said.
"They do not need any to cast suspicion," Tholm countered. "And they will not look for definitive proof anyway. Just a trace of that signature will be enough for them to come down on anyone with the wrath of a wronged god.”
“I guess it will be an interesting few days,” Nick replied, as his mind started working through his options.