Low-Fantasy Occultist Isekai

Having established a contact within Alluria's underworld and secured a promise to get his name to those who could boost him far beyond what acing an exam ever could, Nick took the next morning to reflect.

His plan had always depended on gaining a certain level of notoriety, and he'd counted on that to build his persona.

Anonymity would have been preferable. He could see it now, a hooded figure sneaking around the Tower after just scraping by a pass, stealing arcane secrets and raiding vaults all across Alluria, all under the cover of darkness.

But that would only have been possible if he hadn't faced such a tight deadline. A year to defeat a Prestige artificer, old enough to have developed many ways to counter mages, and with the help of a demon to boot… He couldn't take the long road. No matter how much it grated on his instincts, he had to step into the light and reap the benefits.

Of course, that didn't mean actually revealing what he was. No, that was never in the cards. But taking on the role of a magical prodigy would open doors that would otherwise stay closed for far too long.

Time to get up.

Nick had woken up later than usual, with morning light already shining through the tall windows of his room at Wolfram Manor. He quickly got dressed, running a hand through his hair instead of using a comb, and then headed out.

Following the faint smell of frying meat, he descended the main staircase and turned toward the back of the manor. It led him into a warm, tiled corridor and finally into the kitchen, which was much cozier and more lived-in compared to the formality of the previous evening's meal.

The hearth was roaring, and the long preparation tables were covered with platters of eggs, fried bread, and sliced fruit. Sonya worked at the stove with her sleeves rolled up, a lock of brown hair slipping from her bun. She looked up when he entered, offering a small smile before returning to her pan.

"You're late," Devon's voice called from the long, scrubbed pine table pushed against the far wall. His older brother sat there with a plate already half-empty, leaning forward on his elbows.

The moment Sonya reached for a pot, however, Devon half-rose from his seat, eyes lighting up in a way that was anything but subtle.

"Need a hand with that?" he asked, already stepping toward her.

"No," Sonya said without looking, her tone one of long suffering, telling Nick this wasn't his brother's first attempt to help her. "Sit down before you burn yourself."

Devon hesitated, caught somewhere between obedience and insistence. He gave her a charming, if somewhat sheepish, grin and slid back into his chair. Nick took the seat opposite him, suppressing a smirk.

The only other household member filtered in shortly after.

Grandmaster Xander said nothing as he crossed the room, simply nodded to Sonya, and took a seat at the head of the table. His plate was filled without ceremony, and he began to eat.

When Devon once again made to stand, this time because Sonya leaned a little too far toward a high shelf, Xander's gaze flicked to him. Devon froze in place and sank back into his chair.

Nick decided not to comment, though the corner of his mouth tugged upward. His face is perfectly impassive, but he's actually amused. Who knew an old monster would find bumbling teenage romance fun to watch?

Breakfast unfolded in a quiet, comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional scrape of a plate or the clink of a cup. When the last bites were finished, Xander set down his fork and tapped a calloused finger against the table loud enough to draw the room's full attention.

"The Tower exam is coming up," he said. "The city is full of hopeful mages. Most will fail, but some are competent. A rare few are dangerous. Devon, you will probably meet some before the exam, and not all of them will be friendly."

Devon nodded. Nick knew that his brother often visited the public training grounds, so meeting a prospective mage there was all but guaranteed.

"That is why," Xander continued, "you and your brother will spar this morning."

Nick shifted slightly in his chair, not expecting that. They hadn't clearly established his role within the manor, especially with him leaving in the next few days, but he didn't mind being told what to do this once. I actually wanted to duel with Devon anyway.

"I want you," Xander said, now turning to him, "to play the part of an unknown attacker. I will provide safeguards against lethal damage, so feel free to put your brother through the paces. In return, I will offer you a few tips of my own."

Nick considered the offer. The old man's presence still felt intimidating, but the chance to learn from him was too valuable to pass up.

"I'll do it," he said at last.

"Good." Xander's nod was as much approval as he was ever likely to show.

They left the kitchen together, with Sonya shooing them out so she could clean. Nick caught Devon throwing one last look over his shoulder as they stepped out, hope and excitement mixing in his signature.

The training yard was situated behind the manor, surrounded on three sides by low stone walls and on the fourth side by a row of weapon racks. The ground was packed dirt, worn and scarred from years of use.

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Xander positioned himself at the edge, arms crossed. "The first round," he said, "will simulate you meeting each other on the road, with no extra rules. If a lethal blow is possible, take it."

Nick opened his mouth to ask what would happen if one of them actually hit with such a strike, but stopped abruptly. The ether had shifted.

It was a ripple at first that grew into a tide, flowing through the yard until it covered every inch. [Empyrean Intuition] blazed as a warning, telling him that any intent to kill would fall apart before making contact.

He swallowed once at the overwhelming display of power, but let the tension build into readiness. Xander isn't my opponent. Not yet, at least. I doubt he'll let us go without a "lesson".

The brothers faced each other. Nick started layering his protections, feeling them settle over him with a satisfying firmness. He hesitated, then added [Sky Step]; speed would be everything against a swordsman.

Devon, meanwhile, drew his blade. The steel's edge caught the light as it hummed with power, and the connection between sword and wielder prickled along Nick's skin.

Xander's voice cut through the morning air. "Begin."

Nick moved first.

The ground where he had been standing erupted under Devon's first slash, gouging a deep furrow into the dirt. But Nick was already gone, crossing the yard in a blur of motion, [Sky Step] lifting him through the air and replacing his weak physical form with his magical prowess.

Devon pivoted, sword rising, but Nick was already channeling the rumbling power that was now forever a part of him. [One with the Storm] amplified his magic, and a [Windburst] formed in an instant and crashed down from above, striking Devon and sending him spinning away until he drove his sword into the ground and stopped, kneeling.

Nick didn't hesitate. He cast [Jet Stream], and a dozen spirals of wind compressed into shrieking arrows. He twisted them into their final form and sent them screaming toward his brother.

The air was filled with the hiss of their passing until they struck, and the world went dark with dust as Devon's silhouette vanished into it.

Nick's instincts told him to move, to capitalize on the weakness and knock his opponent into submission, but he held his ground, scanning through the haze with his senses.

Devon burst out of the smoke, blade flashing, the hum in the ether swelling into a roar. Nick vaulted back using [Sky Step], feeling the blade pass through the space where his chest had been.

The haze still hung thick in the air, curling around the edges of the training yard in ragged wisps. Nick kept his breathing steady, eyes half-lidded as he searched the ether for Devon's presence. His brother was quick, faster than he'd been the last time they fought seriously by an order of magnitude, but not subtle.

In a fight like this, his presence always carried a sharp edge, making it easy to detect against the background noise.

Except now it was gone.

Nick's eyes narrowed, taking the moment to seed the field with an electrical charge, just in case.

Devon had been in that smoke just a second ago. He hadn't backed away, nor was he circling, and there was nothing in the air to suggest an ambush. It was as if he'd simply vanished. A new skill? No, this feels like the Stalking Gait. But it's not exactly the same.

But Nick wasn't limited to his mortal senses, and he soon sensed an echo of movement to the left. Turning toward it, he started taking shots, and soon Devon was backpedaling, giving ground.

No, that wasn't his brother.

The moment the thought formed, Nick recognized the trick. The "Devon" in the haze was nothing but a projection, with the blade's hum faint enough to blend into the ambient ether.

His brother was muting his presence so effectively it might have fooled someone who didn't know him, draping his aura in stillness and then shaping what was left into the mimicry of an illusion spell that somehow covered multiple senses.

Clever. Very clever. And not something he'd believed a swordsman to be capable of.

The real Devon burst from the middle of the cloud, sprinting low with his blade tucked in to land the strike. For anyone else, it might have been the end. But Nick was ready.

The field snapped into place as Devon crossed the final yard, a thin haze of charged mana flowing invisibly through the air. When Devon's foot touched the ground inside it, the entire area erupted into a net of crackling lightning.

Devon's sword came up reflexively, but the discharge was meant to bypass steel entirely, to arc through the air and pin him where he stood—

—and then the lightning died down, snuffed out like a candle. The ether went still.

Xander's aura spread across the yard, breaking the spell as if it had never been there, dismissing the charge into nothing. Nick stumbled back, unaccustomed to such overwhelming power.

"Victory to Nicholas," Xander said flatly.

Devon exhaled through his nose, shaking his head in denial. "I would have stopped it before—"

"I said he's won." That was the end of that argument. "Now, back to your starting points," the Grandmaster ordered.

They went back to opposite ends of the yard. Xander moved to the side, crossing his arms.

"This time," he said, "you'll listen to my words and adjust your flow. Devon, you need to sharpen your intent. Don't let the blade go dull in your mind. Never stop moving. Every step, every shift of the foot, must flow into the next. There can be no hesitation."

"Yes, Master."

"Nicholas, stop letting your senses decide your next step. If you always wait for them to tell you what's happening, you'll only ever react. A good fighter leads."

Nick tilted his head. "Thank you for the suggestion." He doesn't know how far I can see.

Xander's eyes narrowed a fraction, but he didn't argue further. "Begin."

Devon lunged forward immediately, and this time, something felt different. It wasn't just that Devon was more aggressive, though that put him on the backfoot, but Nick's instincts tingled as if danger lurked in every direction.

He shifted to the right, then had to twist away from a diagonal slash that came from the opposite side entirely. A beat later, a lunge from the front forced him to raise a shield.

It kept happening, with one attack seamlessly flowing into the next, each threatening angle collapsing into another before Nick could counter. He backpedaled hard, [Sky Step] snapping him out of range just in time for a sword to slice through the space he was about to occupy.

He fully shifted to defense, weaving barriers of compressed air and kinetic shields, feeling each one shudder under Devon's strikes. Twice, his older brother's blade cut deep enough to crack the construct before it sealed itself again.

Then Nick felt the ether coalescing in a way that made the hair on his arms stand up. It gathered around Devon's sword, forming a shape that felt heavier than the steel could possibly hold. The hum turned into a growl, and in the blink of an eye, he was charging at him, eyes hard as flint.

[Wind Armor] formed around him, but he knew it wouldn't be enough. His defensive spells simply couldn't contain the raw power he could now unleash, and he was too dependent on layering them.

"Enough."

Xander's voice cut through the tension, and Devon stopped mid-strike, allowing the gathered power to dissipate harmlessly into the air.

Nick exhaled, lowering his defenses. "Nice trick." There wasn't any clear reason why he lost this spar. He should have won, really. Still, his reaction time was terrible, and he was on the back foot from the start.

Devon only smirked faintly and walked back to his starting point.

The next match proceeded at a more controlled pace. Both brothers paid close attention to Xander's advice, resulting in a shift in rhythm where attacks and counters exchanged consistently.

Minutes went by. Steel and magic clashed, neither able to secure a lasting advantage. Nick pushed the boundaries of his movement spells; Devon took advantage of every small mistake in his guard.

The fight lasted much longer than it should have, with both pushing each other but neither giving in. Nick knew he could have ended it. A full display of his arsenal would crush his brother.

But those spells weren't designed for the rhythm of a melee. More than that, he had no wish to see his brother dead, even within the safety of Xander's ward.

Still, he had to admit that Devon had really grown. A lot.

At last, Xander lifted a hand. "Stop."

They separated, both breathing heavily. Sweat dotted the edges of Devon's hairline; Nick's shoulders ached from the strain of holding layered wards against repeated impacts.

They rested for a few moments, drinking from their waterskins. The morning sun was higher now, and the heat was beginning to creep into the yard.

Then Xander stepped forward, boots scuffing the dirt.

"Now," he said, voice calm, "you will fight together. Against me."