Chapter 127

Stirring from a deep sleep, Nick felt a tightness in his chest—like he had been holding something heavy all night. Every nerve in his body protested. But he was alive. That alone was enough to push him upright, blinking the sleep from his eyes.The clearing was draped in the predawn gloom. Most of the survivors lay sprawled across the ground, wrapped in half-burned cloaks, breathing with the ragged cadence of the truly exhausted. Silence blanketed everything, broken only by the occasional rustle of someone shifting. Very few animals had left their hiding places, even hours after the last explosion.

Nick propped himself, rubbing at his eyelids. He exhaled slowly, clearing his mind before summoning the System’s interface.

A torrent of notifications flooded his vision at once, each one jostling for prominence in his mind’s eye. The onslaught made him grimace. For a moment, he was tempted to put it off again, but with a sigh, he sorted them in chronological order.

You have resisted a divine possession (Sashara’s Vanguard – partial).

+57,000 Exp

He frowned, remembering the terrifying moment when Marthas had tried to channel Sashara’s power through him. Follow current novels on novelhall.com

Fifty-seven thousand exp wasn’t that much for the danger he’d been in, but it was still a decent chunk.

You participated in a high-tier summoning of a .

Reward: +125,000 Experience

Level up!

Nick’s brow creased. Anything with “lord” in its name was a big deal. It wasn’t surprising that it had been a prestige creature, given that it had defeated an entire flock of wyverns all at once, but he wondered how that was what ended up coming out of the summoning.

Even though it had been botched, the System still recognized it as a “high-tier summoning,” awarding him enough to boost him to Level 38.

The next series of notifications were more puzzling:

You fell under the of an . has negated a portion of that purification.You fell under the of an .

has fully negated the exaltation.

+75,000 EXP

He read them twice, feeling his eyebrows raise.

Nick rubbed the back of his neck, pursing his lips. Part of him marveled at the raw might even an incomplete philosopher stone had. Another part felt uneasy that he had set such a dangerous and unstable artifact off.

The 75,000 EXP from that event was less than he had expected, considering the scale of the cataclysm. He wondered if that was because he wasn’t an Alchemist, which limited his synergy with such achievements, resulting in a smaller reward.

Finally, the last notification demanded his full attention and explained much of the weirdness he’d noticed.

Trait has been upgraded to .

After repeated exposure to divine-tier energies and resisting their effect, the user’s mana channels have evolved into a lattice more attuned to the intangible aspects of mana. This transformation has resulted in an increased capacity and affinity for esoteric spells.

So —the trait he had literally just gained—was now . That explained some things. He still had glowing lines under his skin, but he sensed a deeper complexity now.

It was probably a question that didn’t have an easy answer. Nick doubted many mages went through as many dangerous changes as he had, and even fewer would have come out alive.

, he mused. Testing new abilities under calm conditions was always wise, and he’d had no such luxury in the last day’s frenzy. The mention of “increased capacity and affinity for esoteric spells” sounded promising. But if that increased potential also came with greater strain in more common magic, he’d have to tread carefully.

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NICK CROWLEY

LEVEL

MANA

STR

DEX

CON

INT

WIS

CHA

Occultist/Human

Blinking, he let the notifications fade.

Clicking his fingers, Nick caused a spark through and was gratified to find that it didn’t take much effort to empower it until it became a fist-sized fireball, despite the pain it still caused him.

It wasn’t an improvement on what he’d already been capable of, but considering his current state and the fact that even such a small use of mana was making his channels ache, he decided it was a good enough test to show that he hadn’t lost his ability to use the more common forms of mana.

A rustle of movement drew his gaze. Several men stirred as the faintest shimmer of pale light suggested dawn was near. Nick pushed himself to stand, wincing at the stiffness in his limbs.

He found Eugene near the edge of the clearing, leaning against a glass trunk. A slight slump of his shoulders revealed how badly he needed rest, yet he kept vigilant, scanning the forest for any potential threat.

“Dad,” Nick said softly, stepping up to him. “You should at least sleep an hour. You’ve been up all night.”

Eugene turned, eyes shadowed. “I’m fine,” he rumbled. “We can’t risk ambush, not in this state.” His voice was hoarse, but he didn’t seem about to collapse. “Check on Arthur and Marthas, will you? They still haven’t stirred, last I looked.”

Nick hesitated. He wanted to argue for him to rest, but his father’s posture screamed stubborn resolve. Nick sighed. “Alright.”

Eugene managed a faint smile. “Once we’re home, I’ll rest as long as you like. I imagine your mother will have a few choice words for what I put your through anyway. For now, go.” He waved him away. Nick recognized that expression—it meant no further discussion.

Crossing the short distance, Nick spotted two lumps on a bed of cloaks. Both old men lay motionless in uneasy slumber, pale and covered with dried blood.

Nick crouched beside Arthur first, noticing how his chest rose and fell in shallow but steady rhythms. He was shirtless from the earlier battles, his torso marked with new cuts and bruises, not to mention the dozens of old scars from decades of adventures. All in all, he made for a sorry sight.

Carefully, Nick extended a single tendril of mana toward him, mimicking an old technique his grandfather liked to use to check if he was really as sick as he claimed to be when he wanted to skip practice. It wasn’t a true spell, more like an intangible “ping” of magical resonance to gauge the stability of someone’s life force.

Any other time, he would have used better, more structured magic, but even just this much effort required all his concentration, such was the ache in his coils.

He flinched at how drained Arthur felt, but he pressed on, letting the mana thread swirl just beneath his skin. The feedback was faint, probably weakened by the man’s natural resilience, but it was enough to glean that his vital signs were stable. Nick sensed a dire emptiness, though—like a dried well. But it wasn’t lethal. Once Arthur had proper rest or healing, he’d bounce back.

He then repeated the same technique on Marthas. It was even harder this time, as he could barely feel any mana within him, but even that minuscule amount was dense enough for him to struggle.

Still, Nick pushed through and eventually managed to get far enough that he sensed a tangle of scarring within the man’s chest. It almost felt like he had been burned from the inside.

Nick’s knowledge wasn’t sufficient to elaborate further, but he could tell that the injury was deeper than Arthur’s. Still, the Prelate didn’t feel like he was in immediate danger of dying. He exhaled in relief, allowing the mana thread to slip away, grimacing at the emptiness in his own coils.

He turned to see Eugene standing a short distance away, gaze expectant. “Arthur’s stable,” Nick murmured. “He’s just drained of energy. He should recover with rest. Marthas is a bit worse. I sense scarring inside—like a burn on his heart or something. But it’s not immediately fatal. Anything else is beyond me.”

Eugene nodded. “That’s enough. Once we get back, maybe I’ll have a real healer check everyone if the priests don’t swarm us to take Marthas away.”

“Yeah, I bet they won’t be happy. Every other priest is dead.”

“No one will be happy, but we’ve done our duty. That’s all we can aim for.” And with that, Eugene turned around, making the rounds to see if anyone needed help.

The men had formed small clusters, either scrounging for food or rummaging in those few tattered packs that had survived. A pair of adventurers tried to conjure a mild cantrip to warm water for tea, failing comically.

Nick guessed their mana reserves were even more depleted than his own, given that none of them were mage classes. Another adventurer tested the glassy shards he’d pocketed earlier, tapping them together. They made a brittle clink, not especially encouraging. He saw the man sigh, evidently giving up on the dream of immediate fortune.

Nick sighed too, resting his palm on the ground, still tired enough to sleep for hours. If events had gone any worse, he might be comatose like Arthur and Marthas.

He’d always been cautious about forging pacts with higher powers or summoning forces beyond mortal ken, but yesterday’s events reinforced that caution tenfold.

Eventually, orange rays broke through the crystal canopy, bathing the clearing in golden light. They reflected off the obsidian, creating a spectacular display of colors. It was truly beautiful, though it didn’t last long, as the sun was soon obscured by a passing cloud.

The men stirred more purposefully, gathering their gear and checking one another’s injuries. Nick rose, ignoring the complaints from his legs. He walked over to Eugene, who stood with stiff shoulders at the edge of the clearing, waiting for the others to leave this hell behind.

A groan grabbed his attention, and turning around, Nick found that a man had propped Arthur upright. The old swordsman’s face was ashen, but his eyes were fluttering.

Hurrying over, Nick repeated the trick from before, finding that everything was as it should be. He shrugged, “He’s fine, probably just very sore.”

Eugene sighed in relief. “Good enough. We need to move.” His voice sounded flat with exhaustion. He glanced down, then nodded to the man who’d been preparing to shoulder Arthur. “Do what you can to carry them.”

Before Nick could respond, he heard another soft groan that made both of them jump. The old swordsman’s eyelashes fluttered, and his eyebrows furrowed. Another groan escaped him, followed by a rattling inhale.

Eugene crouched. “Arthur?” he whispered. “Are you with us?”

For a tense moment, the swordsman’s eyes remained half-lidded, unfocused. Then, they began to flick around. Nick glimpsed a flicker of recognition. Arthur’s lips parted, but no words emerged at first, only a pained hiss.

“He’s awake,” someone whispered in relief.

“Of course he is. The man is invincible!” Another replied.

Nick briefly glanced at Eugene, who gave a worn but genuine smile, pulling off a battered gauntlet to rest a hand gently on Arthur’s shoulder.

“You old bastard, I thought you were a goner.”

“Ha!” Arthur grinned, showing his bloody teeth, “it takes a lot more than this to put me down. I made a promise I’d go down swinging, kid. I intend on keeping it.”