Low-Fantasy Occultist Isekai

Floria grew livelier as Nick made his way toward the town's eastern entrance. Although he still felt tense from his earlier conversation with Elia, he was distracted by the growing crowd ahead. The townsfolk were gathering in droves, and their anticipation was palpable. Discover stories with empire

It didn't take long for him to realize that the crowd was entirely human. He saw no foxkin tails or wolfkin ears in the throng, and certainly no anxious mothman. His lips pressed into a thin line. This inspection was causing much more trouble than he thought there would be without. Alexander believed it was in good faith, but Nick wasn't so trusting. He would have to assess the Prelate on his own terms.

He moved through the bustling crowd, looking for familiar faces. It wasn't long before he spotted Devon standing near the front. Nick couldn't help but smirk when he realized his brother wasn't alone. A girl stood beside him with her back turned. She had dark chestnut hair, just like the girl he had seen with him yesterday.

Grinning to himself, Nick quickened his pace, already plotting his prank. Devon's recent, almost suspiciously good mood, despite his looming departure, had made Nick wonder if someone special was behind it. It seemed he had found his answer.

As he drew near, he called out with feigned surprise, "Oh, hey! Is this the same girl as last time, or are you meeting someone new?"

Devon turned at the sound of his voice, his eyebrows furrowing in mild irritation. "What are you—?"

The girl turned, revealing her face. Nick's grin froze, the words dying in his throat as he took in the sight. She wasn't who he expected. Her hair was similar, yes, but now that he could see her face, the differences were unmistakable. She was taller, for one, with sharper features and a piercing gaze that made Nick feel scrutinized.

Devon's voice broke through his stunned silence. "Nick. You good?"

Nick blinked rapidly, feeling his confidence evaporate. "Uh, yeah. I—uh—never mind." He nodded dumbly, avoiding the girl's curious stare, and veered sharply away before his brother could press him further.

Smooth, Nick. Real smooth. That was a prank for the ages. I'm sure people will talk about it for years to come.

Shaking off his embarrassment, he headed toward the back, where the crowd was less dense. His relatively short stature made seeing over the sea of heads impossible, and he grew increasingly frustrated. It wasn't his fault he hadn't hit his growth spurt yet—both his parents were tall, as was Devon, so it was bound to happen eventually—but for now, he needed to find another way.

And if it doesn't happen, I'm sure I can find a way to gain those additional inches. There is so much magical blood all around that I wouldn't even need to waste valuable ingredients. A few sessions and I'd be done.

Nick caught sight of a strong tree at the fringe of the crowd. Its branches reached high above the gathering, providing an excellent vantage point. Without delay, he approached its base and started to climb.

The first few branches were easy enough to reach, but he hesitated as the climb grew steeper. Before his Wind Affinity breakthrough, he would have had to rely on a mixture of [Telekinetic Field] and Wind manipulation to bridge the gap to the higher branches. Now, though, he felt he could afford to test his newly increased abilities. Closing his eyes, he focused, channeling his will without the structured confines of a spell.

A rush of wind responded to his call, swirling around his feet and lifting him just enough to reach the next branch. He grinned, exhilarated by how easily he could manipulate the air now. This is amazing. Before, I could only lighten my load; now, I can actually support my weight! No flight yet, but I'll get there.

He quickly reached the upper branches, settling into a sturdy perch with a clear view of the road beyond the gates. The crowd below buzzed with excitement, speculating about the marvels they saw and gossiping about the reasons behind the temple's delegation. Nick leaned forward, his heart racing, as he caught sight of the first signs of the approaching caravan.

The wagons came into view one by one, kicking up dust as they approached. The foremost wagon was especially elaborate, featuring intricate designs painted on its sides that indicated it belonged to the caravan leader. Behind it was a series of simpler ones, with tarps tightly drawn over what Nick assumed were goods from far-off regions. Even from this distance, he could make out the figures of the merchants and guards, who looked weary and alert.

The accelerated trip must have been exhausting. Rhea said they probably used an artifact to speed up their journey, but it seems it has some consequences.

The caravan was larger than he had expected, and his excitement began to grow despite himself. Spellbooks, ingredients, perhaps even obscure artifacts…n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

This is going to be incredible. I would have killed to have had this much choice back on Earth. I'll have to temper my excitement if I don't want to be taken advantage of. I need to remember that these merchants belong to a dedicated class. The last time I tried to buy something, I accepted the price that the guy offered me without even trying to haggle. If I want to acquire as many valuable items as possible, I need to ensure I spend my money wisely.

He couldn't rely on [Blasphemy] to prevent it. At least, as long as there wasn't overt skill usage. Merchants with dedicated classes simply had better CHA than he did, which made every negotiation a losing proposition.

My CHA is much better now, though. At fifty-two, it's above the first tier. I shouldn't be bamboozled again. At least, not by rookies.

The crowd surged forward as the wagons drew closer, barely containing their enthusiasm. They, too, saw the caravan's surprising size and recognized the wealth being brought to Floria.

Nick gripped the branch tightly, leaning forward to absorb every detail. This event would influence the town's activity for months to come. Prices would fluctuate depending on how much was unloaded, and people would get their hands on a lot of gold.

We'll likely see some localized inflation, at least until more adventurers hear about the stampede and the increased activity in the Green Ocean and come to grab a slice of the pie. Everyone who participated in the defense received some loot, and they wouldn't keep it since they could always acquire more. I wonder if Dad has a plan for that. I might need to hint that it could become a problem.

For now, though, he stayed where he was, content to watch from his perch and adjust his plans as more carts were revealed.

At least a hundred, maybe more, he guessed, squinting to make out the finer details.

The procession was a chaotic mix of bustling footmen, mounted riders, and lumbering wagons. Their advance was slow, but like a landslide, it was inexorably moving toward its destination.

With his keen senses, Nick could see more than most and caught details they would miss. Several carts in the middle of the line showed signs of recent damage—ripped tarps, splintered wood, and dark smudges of dirt. Two even appeared to have been flipped at some point, their sides scarred and dented.

They must've run into something. Monsters, probably. Bandits are unlikely to try their luck when everyone knows there is a Prelate among them. He frowned, letting the thought linger. Encounters on the grasslands were common enough, but whatever they'd faced had clearly been no small threat to cause such disruption.

At last, the first carts reached Floria. The crowd quickly parted to form a path as the town's de facto leader stepped out.

Eugene cut an imposing figure, even without the fanfare of an official uniform or sycophants to open the way. His presence demanded attention. Clad in his casual armor—a set of polished plates over chainmail that bore faint scratches from years of service—he carried himself with the ease of a seasoned warrior. At his hip rested his sword, more threatening than any ceremonial blade in its simplicity.

Nick's father had always been strong, but there was a palpable difference since the stampede. Something about him seemed larger than life. He had yet to reach the monstrous power Arthur could wield, but Eugene had gotten at least five levels if Nick had to guess—and he seemed determined to continue growing. Considering the challenges coming their way, he had to.

Nick adjusted his grip on his wand, enjoying how the cool, silvery length rested comfortably in his hand. Experimenting, he sent out a pulse of wind mana, expanding his air sense to gather more information from the approaching caravan. The unfocused magic performed better than expected; for a brief moment, he captured snippets of conversation among the riders, the creaking of cart wheels, and even the faint jingling of coins.

But before he could focus further, his attention was yanked elsewhere.

From the rear of the caravan, a towering figure detached itself from the procession. Mounted on a pristine white horse, the man galloped through the carts and riders until he reached the front.

Nick froze. Even from a distance, he could tell this man wasn't ordinary. The Prelate. It had to be.

He released the same aura that Arthur had, and now that Nick knew what it was, he could immediately recognize him as a Prestige Class.

The Prelate was immense, easily seven feet tall, with a bald head that shone dully under the sun. His skin was dusky, and his arms were adorned with glowing orange tattoos that pulsed faintly, like embers waiting to ignite. He wore a robe of deep crimson trimmed with gold and a breastplate engraved with runes. His presence radiated authority.

Nick knew this was not a man who could be taken lightly.

He quickly reassessed his plans. He had believed that by keeping his distance, he could avoid notice and proceed with the least conspicuous experiments, but now he was certain even those would draw attention.

Nick's instincts flared, his chest tightening as his air sense recoiled slightly, as if warning him to keep his distance. Something told him he wouldn't enjoy extending his mana through the air surrounding the man.

The Prelate's horse stopped gracefully, unbothered by the people around it. He dismounted with ease and landed on the ground with a solid thud. There was some fat to his frame, but anyone could tell he was mostly solid muscle. His glowing tattoos seemed to brighten momentarily as he straightened to his full height, looking over the gathered crowd with an expression of true indifference.

He moved toward Eugene, casting a shadow over everything around him. Nick leaned forward instinctively, trying to catch their interaction, but the sound of their conversation was lost to the crowd's murmurs. That would be easy to remedy, but he didn't dare bring his mana close to the man.

Still, Nick didn't need to hear the words to feel the tension. His father's stance, usually so relaxed even in the face of danger, was subtly guarded. Eugene's hand rested casually on the hilt of his sword, and Nick could see the minute tightening of his grip.

He feels it too, Nick realized, a chill running down his spine. This man is not to be trifled with.

The Prelate extended a hand, and Eugene took it after a brief pause. Their handshake was firm, but there was no warmth in the gesture. It was a meeting of equals—or at least, that's how Eugene made it look. Nick wasn't sure the Prelate saw it that way.

The crowd started to cheer, oblivious to the underlying tension. Nick remained silent, tightly gripping his wand as he observed the Prelate's every move. The man turned slightly, and for a chilling instant, Nick believed those glowing orange eyes were fixed on him.

But the moment passed, and the Prelate turned back to Eugene.

Nick didn't relax. If anything, the tension in his chest only grew. Whatever this man was, whatever he wanted, Nick knew one thing for sure: he was dangerous.