Low-Fantasy Occultist

The ethereal space was beyond mortal comprehension, filled only with the presence of the Almighty Star.

To stand before the Sun was to be laid bare. It was a force of cosmic truth, an unforgiving light that did not burn flesh but incinerated falsehoods, secrets, and imperfections.

Nick alone was untouched by the brightness. The star’s mysterious force washed over him, but [Blasphemy] flared and deflected the divine light around him, declaring his existence beyond the reach of the heavens' judgment.

The homunculi were not so fortunate.

They were creations of human artifice, hollow vessels animated by the tortured, fragmented souls of Toneburg’s missing citizens. In the material world, they were mighty weapons. Here, under the Sun’s gaze, they were merely lies.

Nick watched dispassionately as the four constructs began to dissolve. There was no fire, only a rapid unspooling of their existence. The trapped soul-fragments shrieked in chorus as the Sun burned away the runic bindings that held them in torment, reducing their spiritual anchors to drifting ash.

Once they were gone, he turned his attention to Nestor.

His armor, despite being heavily warded against esoteric intrusion, could not exist in this space; thus, his soul was bathed in the blinding light, shivering and naked, stripped of every defense he had spent years perfecting.

Unencumbered, Nick surged forward, driving [Stream of Consciousness] directly into the Artificer's exposed essence.

For once, he didn't strike to obliterate. Killing Nestor here would be easy, but Nick needed to know more.

Plunging deep into the unprotected mind, he ruthlessly bypassed the natural defenses and dove into the memories, which he found organized like a library.

At another time, he might have stopped to peruse it, but the clock was ticking, so Nick tore through the shelves without much care.

Within moments, he found what he’d been looking for.

Images flooded his mind, and he saw a massive construct within the depths of the Elpen estate, bathed in profane flames, only to resist them. He saw the intricate, multi-layered ciphers needed to unlock the primary lift. He saw the null-glass cage, a sprawling containment unit being built all around the forge. Most importantly, he saw the nature of the wards that guarded the lower levels.

With a grim smile, Nick ripped the cluster of memories from Nestor’s soul, locking the knowledge in his own mind.

Such a violation had severe consequences. Nestor’s soul let out a silent scream. The trauma of losing a core piece of his intellect violently sent a shockwave through the tether linking his spirit to his body, which could have been fatal if he were weaker. It still might be, given the sheer trauma.

In the material world, Nestor’s physical heart stuttered, missing several beats.

That turned out to be a miscalculation on Nick's part.

The moment the vital signs faltered, the laboratory’s emergency protocols registered a lethal threat to their master. The failsafes, wired directly into Nestor's life force, engaged at once, ripping the connection to the ether apart and breaking the ritual.

Reality crashed back over them like a tidal wave. The Sun's blinding light vanished, replaced by the flashing red glow of emergency lumen-stones embedded in the walls.

Nick stumbled as his boots hit the marble floor, groaning in pain as the backlash from the broken ritual hit him.

Around him, the four elite homunculi collapsed into heaps of inert metal and stitched flesh. Without the soul fragments to animate them, they were mere puppets.