Low-Fantasy Occultist

The dimensional vortex spat Nick out and collapsed behind him as soon as he was free. As much as he wanted an escape route, he couldn’t let anything get into the city just yet.

Evacuation will have to wait. I just need to trust that my friends can hold on a little longer.

He hadn’t forgotten that everyone, from Eona to Raphael and even Osmod, was trapped inside the Tower with the demons, but there were times when emotions had to be set aside.

Once he had adapted to the sudden spatial change, he extended [Empyrean Intuition] again and discovered, as expected, that he was in the sub-levels.

It was hard to recognize, since the bright luminosity of the Tower’s wards now felt like sulfur against his senses, but it was the right place.

Emergency lumen-crystals flickered unpredictably along the dark stone walls, causing the shadows to flicker, and he could tell that much blood had already been spilled from the chaos of the ether.

Demons alone are already a problem, but traitors add another layer. I’ll have to be careful with my spiritual magic, lest I get affected by drawing in too much.

Straightening up, Nick pulled the conceptual armor of the [Mire] tighter around his body to hopefully shield himself from the caustic environment.

In his left hand, the Shard shimmered with restrained power, supporting the weight of the Mundus array. It was far more than anything he could have summoned alone, resembling the power of a strong ritual condensed into a single point.

Essentially, he was holding a live bomb, and he had one shot with it. I’ll just have to make it count.

His initial assessment complete, he started to move, careful to make sure his boots made no sound on the scorched flagstones.

It wasn’t long before Nick encountered the first signs of battle. First, he passed by the bodies of minor demonic creatures—twisted hounds with obsidian teeth and bloated, multi-limbed fiends—but it wasn’t long before they were mixed with the corpses of Tower mages.

In a way, he was relieved to find that there were no students. These were full professors and senior researchers who had been caught in the initial breach and had fought back as hard as possible for people with no training handling their mana before the corrupting field the abominations released with their mere presence.

He saw a Master of Geomancy half-embedded in the stone wall, surrounded by the shattered remains of a dozen demons. A spellblade had fallen after charging into a horde, likely to create a path for others to escape.

It was a testament to the Tower's faculty's power that they had killed so many demons, yet the overwhelming numbers of the Abyss ultimately defeated them.

Similar scenes repeated on the lower floors until, on the fourth sub-level, as he rounded another corner, Nick was forced to stop.

The corridor opened into a spacious, vaulted testing chamber, and in the ether, he could sense the lingering residue of high-tier Light magic, the kind that only a Prestige mage could have cast.

In the center of the ruined room lay a massive Lesser Demon, and he could tell it was different from anything else he’d ever seen before because even its corpse still emitted more corruption than any demonic creature he’d encountered.

It was a savage, hulking creature, looking like a skinned minotaur, but the upper half of its torso had been almost completely destroyed by a pillar of light, by the looks of its cauterized flesh.

Slumped against a shattered pillar a few yards away was Mistress Simeona Angel.

Nick recognized her instantly, despite the blood covering her face. The Mistress of Light Magics was famous for her robes, which were woven with constantly shifting, psychedelic fractal patterns. Now, those same fractals were fading, coming apart at the edges.

He hurried over and dropped to one knee. "Mistress Angel," he said, keeping his voice low.

Simeona’s eyes fluttered open. Her pupils were dilated and unfocused, but they sharpened slightly as she recognized who was speaking.

"Tholm’s... prodigy," she coughed, a wet, rattling sound. Blood bubbled past her lips. “You're a little late, I’m afraid.”

“I had to find alternative ways to enter the Tower," Nick said, pulling his last high-level healing elixir from his spatial ring. It would hurt, but having a Prestige mage with him was worth it.

Simeona weakly pushed his hand away. "Don't waste it. My soul is shattered. I burned myself out to take down that brute, and unfortunately, someone took advantage of that.” She gestured faintly toward the Lesser Demon.

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Nick followed her hand and realized what he had overlooked in his initial sweep. Lying face down just a few feet behind the Mistress was a younger man wearing gray robes, typical of a teaching assistant. A muted light spear extended from his back, pinning him to the floor.

"My apprentice," Simeona whispered, the bitterness in her voice overwhelming the pain. "We fought back the tide together, and when the demon finally fell, I dropped my guard, and he drove a poisoned dagger through my spine. Apparently, the Archmage promised him my seat.”

Nick pressed his lips together, unable to think of anything to improve the situation.

“Oh, don’t look like that. I had the last laugh, at least. He was never talented enough to reach Prestige, much less attain a seat within the Tower.”

Inclining his head to show he appreciated the revenge, he moved the discussion along. As much as he wanted to stay with the woman for her last moments, he was short on time. “What can you tell me about who awaits me on the way to the ward room?”

"A few traitors," she said with a rattling breath. “But mostly demons. There is a strong one guarding the wardroom, holding the door, so be wary.”

It was interesting, in a detached way, to notice that she didn’t even try to talk him out of going. He could see respect in her eyes, even as her light dimmed. She understands it is my duty, just as it was hers, to fight to the end.

Unfortunately, he didn’t get the chance to reassure her that he wasn’t charging in recklessly. The fractal patterns on her robes slowed, freezing into a dull, static grey as the life finally left her eyes, and Mistress Simeona Angel, one of the most talented mages in the Tower, slumped sideways.

Nick closed her eyes and muttered a prayer for her soul, hoping its next journey would be a good one. When he stood up, his grip tightened on his staff, and any lingering hesitation he had about doing whatever was needed to retake the Tower disappeared.

Leaving the chamber, he followed the demonic power trails deeper into the sublevels, instinctively sensing the echoes of the Lesser Demon.

He faced resistance several times. The first was a pack of abyssal hounds led by a teaching assistant. Seeing a human and demons working together was unexpected, given how wrong they seemed to anyone with magical senses, but it was too late to bother asking why.

Nick didn't announce himself, stepping around a column to release a mighty [Windburst] that pinned the hounds to the floor, followed instantly by a [Bolt of Wrath] that punched straight through the traitor mage's hasty shield, and then his chest.