Chapter 62

From his crouched position in the tall grass, Nick watched as the priests began their purifying rituals. They moved with synchronized precision and were clearly well-practiced. They chanted prayers to Sashara and rhythmically exchanged places in what Nick was surprised to realize was strikingly similar to a Lesser ritual of the pentagram of Earth’s Hermetic Tradition—if only with much more visible mana and less unnecessary invoking of angels that wouldn’t respond.The golden embers of their magic hung in the air, floating like fireflies before coalescing into streams of light that spiraled toward the scorched earth where Morrin had been incinerated.

The air shimmered with heat as the flames consumed the last traces of shadow. A soft hum resonated through the grounds, growing louder as the ritual intensified. The priests pressed their palms together, bowed their heads, and murmured praises to their goddess. Glowing sigils formed around them, spreading outward in concentric circles that pulsed with fiery energy.

Nick flinched as one of the priests raised a hand toward the grass where he was hiding. For a heart-stopping moment, he thought they had seen him. But the gesture was part of the ritual, and a wave of heat radiated outward, washing over him. It wasn’t painful, but it made his skin crawl; it produced a prickling sensation that felt like it was trying to peel away something unseen.

It didn’t seem to do anything, but it certainly wasn’t pleasant.

The ritual ended with a final chant, the priests’ voices rising in unison, “By the light of Sashara, let the impurity be cleansed!” The sigils flared, then faded into nothing, leaving only the faint scent of charred earth.

After a suitably dramatic moment of silence, Marthas stepped forward, scanning the huddled beastmen. He was intimidating, especially since he showed no sign of exhaustion even after the fierce battle. He raised a hand, and the crowd turned as one to face him, waiting to hear what he would say.

“I hope you now understand why I called for this inspection,” he said in the same fatherly tone as before. While it hadn’t resonated much with the crowd before, Nick could now see people relaxing. Saving them from the demon appeared to have cast him in a much better light. “The darkness hides in places we least expect, preying on those who are most vulnerable. What you witnessed today is proof of the danger we face and the reason why Sashara’s light must remain the guiding force in our lives.”

The beastmen murmured their agreement, their earlier skepticism shattered by the display of power and the creature’s demise. Many nodded fervently, and Nick suspected the temple would find a sudden influx of true believers. He couldn’t even complain too much, as the danger had been real, and Marthas had saved them all. His rhetoric was annoying, but that was marginal.

But Nick couldn’t shake his unease. He shifted slightly, keeping his eyes on the Prelate. His words were persuasive, but something about him didn’t sit right. Everything about this situation—the timing and the fiend's discovery—felt too convenient.

Nick didn’t think for a second that the demon had been planted. That level of manipulation was beyond even the most cunning schemers. The hatred in Morrin’s voice had been too raw, too real. But Marthas… Marthas might have known something like this would happen.

The Prelate’s gaze swept the crowd, and for a moment, Nick felt the weight of those fiery eyes passing over his hiding spot. He held his breath, muscles tensed, until the attention moved on.

“Now,” Marthas continued, unrolling the scroll again. “We will resume the inspection. I thank you for your patience.”

Names were called once more, and the golden flames wreathed each beastkin, searing away any lingering doubts with their light. They passed the inspection one by one—almost eagerly throwing themselves at his mercy—and Marthas nodded with approval.

Then, Nick saw something that made his eyebrows raise.

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

Elia and her family had appeared among the group of waiting beastmen.

They stood at the back, quiet and unassuming, their expressions neutral. Elia’s father had his arm around her mother, and they both gazed at the flames without showing any indication that this was the first time they had seen the spectacle. Elia stood beside them, revealing none of the unease Nick knew she must have felt.

Nick was certain they hadn’t been there before. He’d scanned the crowd repeatedly before the fight, and their absence had been glaring. There was no way they could have approached during the chaos—no one in their right mind would willingly come closer to that battle.

And yet, here they were.

Elia’s family stepped forward when their names were called. The flames encased them, swirling around their bodies in a golden halo. They didn’t flinch, didn’t so much as blink, enduring the process in silence. The fire lingered longer than usual, but when it dissipated, Marthas nodded, and they returned to the group without comment.

The inspection continued, and soon every beastkin in Floria had been checked. No other demons were found, which was a genuine relief; however, it made Nick wonder why only they were being checked if the danger was real. He doubted demons were opposed to possessing humans.

The priests began to disperse, weary but satisfied. Marthas offered a final word of reassurance, urging the beastmen to trust in Sashara’s light and report any unusual behavior to the temple.

Nick remained in the grass long after the crowd started to disperse. It took much longer than he had anticipated. Many lingered, clustering around the priests with anxious expressions and quiet voices, seeking reassurance that nothing like this could happen again. The priests, for their part, appeared patient, offering platitudes that the demon had been vanquished by the awesome might of Sashara’s servant and that no further threats remained among them.

When the crowd finally began to thin, Nick cycled his breath through the Stalking Gait. He counted the seconds until the clearing was empty, except for the remaining priests and Marthas, who stood near the center of the scorched ground, with his back to Nick.

It would have been safer to leave now. The further the crowd got, the harder it would be to slip away unnoticed.

But Nick stayed. Something about the whole situation nagged at him, an itch he couldn’t scratch. He needed to know more about what the priests were doing and what Marthas might reveal now that the show was over.

He took a deep breath and, at the apex of the cycle, funneled his mana through the wyvern wand. The air around him responded more eagerly than ever before as the wand amplified his connection. He allowed the mana to seep outward as a gentle stream spreading through the atmosphere, careful to keep the dispersal rate low enough not to be noticed by passive senses.

He marveled at how much easier it was to extend his air sense with the wand, and his range expanded rapidly. A few hundred feet now felt achievable, although maintaining control over the mana at such a distance required intense focus.

While filtering through the sensory input, Nick found himself reflecting on whether Akari’s advanced techniques could make his mana even less detectable during spellcasting. Her presence was completely undetectable, even when standing right next to him, which was something he desperately desired for himself. This world was filled with powerhouses, and he needed to be able to escape their notice if he wanted to keep exploring.

. He pushed the thought aside.

Carried by the breeze, the faint voices of the priests reached him. Their conversation was muted, almost drowned out by the residual hum of lingering magic in the area, but he could make out enough to piece together the context. Latest content publıshed on Nov3lFɪre.ɴet

“…Incredible, wasn’t it?” one priest said, brimming with awe. “I’ve never seen the Grand Exorcist in action before. The way he commanded the flames—it’s no wonder he’s at the head of Alluria’s chapter.”

Grand Exorcist. Nick pursed his lips. He’d heard that title before, but the fight had prevented him from thinking about it.

“He made it look effortless,” another priest added, lowering his voice as if in reverence. “And to think the bishop stationed him here. The main temple must be desperate to send someone of his rank so far from the city.”

“Desperate—or prepared,” the first priest replied. “They must have known a demon was hiding here. Why else would they assign someone with his skills to a border town?”

The confirmation of his suspicions sent his thoughts spinning. The temple knew—if not the exact nature of the threat, then at least that there was one. It explained Marthas’s composure during the fight, his almost theatrical confidence. This wasn’t new to him; he’d faced demons before, and he’d expected to find one here.

But why hadn’t they warned the people? Even the priests sounded surprised by the creature’s appearance. Was it simply protocol to keep such things secret? Or was there something else at play?

Nick shifted his focus, probing further ahead as the young priests kept talking about how cool they found the fight. Their words began to fade as they moved further away.

Marthas, however, remained.

Nick hesitated. Getting closer was out of the question—the prelate’s sensitivity to magic was obvious, and Nick had no doubt he’d sense even the faintest ripple of mana. Still, he let his air sense drift closer, carefully keeping the flow steady and undetectable.

The massive man stood silently, with his hands clasped behind his back. He stared at the scorched ground where the demon had been destroyed while the fiery tattoos on his arms glowed faintly as if still charged with power.

For a moment, Nick thought he might speak or perform some final ritual. But Marthas merely turned on his heel and walked toward the temple, his robes billowing in the faint breeze.

Nick let out a slow breath, relaxing his grip on the wand. His air sense pulled back, retreating to the edges of his control.

He didn’t have all the answers yet, but he had enough to guide his research—both the magical aspect, as he would spend a long time analyzing all the data he’d collected from the fight, and the political angle, as he was now fully on the trail of a conspiracy.

As the gardens fell silent, Nick rose cautiously from the grass and moved away.