Low-Fantasy Occultist Isekai

The battlefield was quieter now, though the air still carried the metallic tang of blood and the acrid stench of burned flesh. As Nick floated above the scene, the sky brightened with the first rays of dawn. Below, defenders milled about, exhaustion evident in every step as they went about the grim work of recovery.

Bodies of monsters—some small and mangled, others massive and more intact—littered the ground. Here and there, glimmers of valuable materials shone among the carnage: lustrous hides, glistening fangs, and claws that shimmered faintly with embedded mana. Nick's gaze lingered on a patch of silvery-green wyvern scales, promising enchantment potential he could only dream of with their sheen.

One scale like that could jumpstart my next project. If I could draw my minor affinity from a hatchling, an adult would surely be enough to boost it—if I didn't blow myself up channeling that much power, of course.

He sighed, knowing he wouldn't get the chance to harvest anything. It was truly a miracle he was still able to linger. Attempting to affect the material world would send him back to his body, and he'd suffer the backlash for days.

Still, the thought nagged at him. There was so much here—enough rare material to incite the most powerful factions on Earth to go to war. The temptation to swoop down and snatch something was nearly overwhelming. But he knew better.

Even if I could do anything, it's time to go. If Mom catches me in an active ritual spell, unresponsive, it's over. All that trust I've built up—gone. No second chances. She's been pretty free with her parenting after the class ceremony, dryad debacle notwithstanding, but I don't want to test her if I don't have to.

Reluctantly, he got ready to fly back home. He had already pushed his luck by staying as long as he did. Just as he was about to take off, something caught his eye.

Old Ogden stood alone on a patch of empty wall. His tall, wiry figure was unmistakable, even when silhouetted by the sunrise. Unlike the other adventurers and defenders, who hurried to gather spoils or attend to the wounded, Ogden was still, arms behind his back, his weathered face tilted toward the sky.

Nick frowned. The old man wasn't the type to waste time standing around. He was an opportunist through and through, and he'd expected to see him darting around to secure the best monster parts before anyone else. The fact that he wasn't currently elbow-deep in wyvern blood was unusual.

What is he waiting for? I can understand trusting the soldiers not to scam him, considering many more would have died tonight without his help, but this still feels strange. He should know that adventurers are rarely as noble.

Hovering closer, Nick observed the old man for a moment. Ogden didn't move or even glance around, but the longer Nick watched, the clearer it became: he was waiting for someone.

A strange certainty settled over him. He's waiting for me. Damn, I was hoping he'd forget in the chaos. Or at least get some time to come up with a plan.

Tentatively, Nick descended, keeping his body away from the sunlight, even though he doubted anyone else could see him. The closer he got, the more surreal the scene became. Ogden remained as still as stone, his posture deceptively casual, as if he had all the time in the world. Meanwhile, greedy adventurers would do their best to tear into valuable corpses. Admittedly, most people were still busy tending to the wounded, passing around Ogden's concoctions, and forming a line for the few local healers. But they would shift their attention soon enough.

Nick stopped a few feet away, unsure of what to say—or if he should say anything at all.

As if sensing his hesitation, Ogden spoke. "You ought to be heading home. Lingering will do you no good."

Nick froze. It wasn't a question, but it wasn't precisely an accusation either.

"I—" He hesitated, then tried again. "Just… making sure everything's settled."

Ogden chuckled, sounding dry and unhurried. "You're not wrong for looking around. Plenty of folks don't realize how much value is left on a field like this, even if they think they do."

The old man kept his gaze away from Nick, yet he still felt like he was being examined under a microscope. Considering that he didn't know if those were even a thing in this world, it was quite something.

"But you know better, don't you?" Ogden continued. "You can see uses for everything. You know what these monsters are worth."

Nick didn't answer, caught between curiosity and unease.

Ogden continued, seemingly unbothered by the silence. "Don't worry. I'll make sure a decent portion of the spoils ends up in the hands of all those who fought tonight. Fair's fair, after all."

The alchemist's tone shifted, a wry edge creeping in. "But not everyone can be out here to have their pick, can they? Some have other priorities. Other responsibilities." He gestured vaguely at the field. "For those folks, well… I'll make sure they have a chance to get what they need."

Nick blinked, caught between disbelief and hilarity. "You're saying you will sell me my share of the spoils out of the goodness of your heart?"

Ogden smirked, the expression as sharp as any blade. "Call it a service. Collecting and preserving monster materials isn't free, you know. And not everyone has the expertise to handle the more fragile bits. They'll all get their portion of the spoils. From my shop, of course. For a fee."

Nick couldn't help it. He laughed. "You're unbelievable."

The old man shrugged. "A business has to survive, and survival's a business, boy. Always has been. But don't worry—I'll set something aside for you. A few choice pieces from the wyvern, perhaps."

Nick stiffened. "That would be lovely," he got out. He should have expected his affinity to be discovered, but it was still jarring to be so transparent after a lifetime spent hiding.

Ogden didn't answer directly. "Let's just say I have an eye for talent. You've been doing great work, even if it's been secret. Keep it up. The world always has room for a clever mind."

Nick swallowed, unsure how to respond. Ogden's words felt like a challenge and an acknowledgment all at once.

"I'll stop by," he said finally.

"Good," Ogden replied, his voice laced with dry amusement. "Wouldn't want all this to go to waste on people who'll sell their share as soon as the caravan gets here."

Without another word, Nick turned and took off, blurring into the sky as he flew toward home.

The world below shimmered in the fresh light of dawn, and Nick felt bone-tired. Although he couldn't feel adrenaline, as he didn't have a physical body, he had been on high alert for hours. Now that the emergency had passed and he had a tentative agreement with Ogden, he simply wanted to slip back into his body and go to sleep.

Below him, the citizens of Floria were awake and moving about, clearly roused by the terrible duel. They seemed unsure whether to approach the wall or wait for someone to inform them of what had happened.

Nick knew his father would reassure them soon. Despite the losses, tonight would be remembered as a great victory for Floria.

I would love to believe our troubles end here, but I'm not that naive. The haze is still there, and I'll eat my hat if this is the last "unprecedented" threat coming from the Green Ocean.

However, that was a problem for later.

Nick slipped inside his home through the front wall and stopped short when he saw his mother.

She sat by the living room window, staring straight ahead, yet her posture was relaxed, suggesting hard-won relief. Her hands cradled a delicate ceramic cup whose contents were untouched and cold.

Nick hesitated, feeling an unfamiliar pang in his chest. Kid Nick had always viewed his mother as unshakable—a warrior whose strength and courage were unmatched. Yet, as he observed her now, he realized how much this night must have cost her.

The slight slump of her shoulders and the faint lines around her eyes suggested a profound exhaustion that couldn't be merely physical. She had been ready to act, to step into the fray if necessary, but was forced to stay behind.

Nick had wondered why. It was unlike her to sit out a fight, especially one as crucial as this. But now, seeing her here, he understood. She would have been the town's last hope if the wall had fallen. In that case, Elena would have gathered as many civilians as she could and led them away, ensuring their survival even in the face of utter defeat.

She was their contingency plan, he realized. She had stayed behind, knowing that although she had the power to support her husband, her duty was to let him go.

His respect for her deepened, and he felt a flicker of guilt. He had risked so much tonight, skirting the edges of danger in ways she would never have allowed had she known. Yet, she had trusted him not to make the situation any harder.

What would have happened if the monsters had breached the wall and she had tried to evacuate us, only to find me stuck in a ritual?

Nick lingered for a moment longer, then floated silently toward the stairs, allowing his mother her peace. He suspected he knew the answer but didn't want to face it.

Halfway up, he paused.

Devon sat on the staircase, his arms resting on his knees, his eyes fixed vacantly ahead. The sight startled Nick; his brother had been soundly asleep when he left. But now, he looked as if he hadn't slept at all.

For a moment, panic prickled at Nick's thoughts. Did he find out? Did he go into my room?

However, a glance at his bedroom door showed it was untouched. The line of stoneroot he had placed beneath it before leaving was still intact, meaning no one had entered. Devon also didn't seem to be there to investigate anything.

Instead, he looked lost.

Nick hovered closer, noticing the faint shadows under his brother's eyes and the tightness in his jaw. His expression was unreadable, but the vacant stare and occasional twitch of his fingers indicated that he had spent the night in anxious anticipation.

He kept watch too, Nick realized. He must've been just as worried.

As a knight in training and his parents' son, Nick understood that Devon felt a strong sense of responsibility toward the town. Although it wasn't anything concrete yet, with their father in his prime and perfectly capable of handling Floria's needs, Devon knew that one day the responsibility of being town Captain would fall to him.

It's more surprising that he didn't sneak off too. But I suppose Mom would have stopped him right away. He must have felt very frustrated, being forced to stay.

A lump formed in his throat. He hadn't given much thought to how the night would affect his family. He'd been so focused on his own role that he'd overlooked how much they all cared in their individual ways.

Guilt tugged at him again, but he pushed it aside. He wouldn't change what had happened tonight even if he could, and his presence had saved the lives of several men who would have otherwise fallen prey to the monsters.

Carefully, Nick floated past Devon, leaving his brother to his thoughts. He reached his room and slipped inside, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw everything was as he had left it.

He moved to the center of the circle and concentrated as he readied himself to return to his body. A sharp, almost physical tearing severed his connection to the ritual, and Nick was drawn back into himself.

His eyes snapped open, and the dim light of his room seemed strangely harsh after the surreal clarity of the astral plane. His body felt heavy and stiff from lying motionless for so long. He sat up slowly, shaking off the lingering disorientation.

A gentle chime resonated in his mind, and a flurry of system messages materialized before him.

Oh, yeah. I did kill a few monsters myself, huh? I guess I deserve a little reward.