Low-Fantasy Occultist

Hiding in the stable block offered a brief respite, but Nick knew time was running short.

Dusk was settling over the desecrated estate, casting wavering silhouettes across the muddy courtyard. The clash of steel from the city streets was still a distant roar, but within the walls of the Elpen manor, a tense quiet held.

"The shift change is happening," Gaelen whispered, peering around the edge of a timber stack. “It seems the day laborers are moving to the barracks, and the guards are rotating to go eat.”

"We should move now, then," Nick decided. Once more, he wove [Mire] around them, pulling the ambient humidity tight.

They slipped out of the stables, crossing the open ground toward a seemingly unremarkable stretch of the manor’s eastern wall.

"There," Gaelen pointed to a section of stonework partially obscured by thick ivy. "It looks like a solid wall, but it’s a servant's passage. My grandfather built it so the household staff could move between the kitchens and the upper floors without disturbing guests. Everything was locked down when we realized we had lost, but we can still access them.”

Rhea approached it, drawing a small silver dagger from her belt. She dragged the blade's flat across her palm, applying just enough pressure to draw a single drop of blood, then pressed her palm against the stone.

The masonry shifted without a sound, revealing a narrow, pitch-black stairwell that led upward.

I guess there are benefits to being a family of Artificers. It’d be more surprising if the building were entirely mundane, really.

“I see," Nick murmured, sensing the muted echo of blood magic, as he stepped into the passage. The stone seamlessly reappeared behind them, sealing them in darkness. “Even if they had known about them, the Ultimers couldn't dismantle it without triggering a structural collapse.”

"They don't know it exists," Gaelen corrected in a sad tone, moving in the dark without trouble. "Only the Elpen line and the most trusted retainers did, and you saw how far they are willing to go to keep our secrets. This leads directly to the residential wings.”

"Lead the way," Nick said.

As they ascended the narrow, winding stairs, he pushed [Empyrean Intuition] outward, mapping the etheric signatures on the floors above them.

As he’d already determined, the keep was crawling with high-level combatants. Knights were stationed at the intersections of the main corridors, and several highly structured auras—which he assumed were Artificers—were moving between rooms.

“Our final goal is to reach the deeper levels," Nick said, keeping his voice low. “But we also need experience. Every target we remove now is one less blade aimed at our backs when we finally confront Nestor.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem if we attack while they are resting in their quarters," Gaelen observed as they paused at a hidden landing on the second floor. "The officers usually take the rooms in the west wing.”

Nick pressed his palm flat against the stone wall separating them from the main corridor. He could feel the presence of two Knights standing guard outside a door a dozen feet away.

Unlike the guards they’d dealt with to get to the cart or the ones keeping watch in the manor’s gardens, these two were quite strong, comparable to the mercenaries who had watched over Opal.

He knew that Rhea had more of her containment balls, and he was pretty sure he could overwhelm them in single combat without much trouble, but there was no need to roll the dice.

After all, he didn't need to step into the hallway to kill them.

Ambushing them from the shadows without their awareness might not be entirely honorable, but given the circumstances, I think I won’t feel too bad. And I was never one to worry much about such things.

A small part of him, the one he recognized as the remnants of Young Nick, rebelled at the thought, but it was easy to suppress. He might be the son of a Noble House steeped in Knighthood, but he was an Occultist first and foremost.

He took his time, channeling a thread of [Conceptual Steam] through the microscopic gaps in the mortar. As he funneled the superheated vapor, he took care not to let even a single iota of mana escape his iron grip, and he slowly reached the enclosed space beneath the guards' helmets.

Once he was there, he ramped up his output, turning the invisible threads into something much more solid.

The two knights didn't even have time to gasp. The sudden heat flash-boiled the moisture in their lungs and pierced their brainstems. They collapsed against the door in unison, their bodies sliding to the carpet with a soft, muted thud.

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