Low-Fantasy Occultist Isekai

Nick stood still, savoring the sunlight after the chill of the night. Under the glow of the [Welcoming of the Sun], he felt a peculiar emotion as the rays touched him. There was no manic energy, but the warmth flowing through his veins was distinctly unique.

He could hear Elia’s hurried footsteps, uneven and quick, like someone who hadn’t completely made up her mind about coming here but had decided at the last second to push forward anyway.

When she finally came into sight, he noticed she looked very disheveled. Her ears were pinned flat against her head, and her tail was tucked tight against her side. Her breath came fast, though not from exertion—more from nerves.

She didn’t greet him. She didn’t even try to put on a facade of normalcy. She couldn’t know I was listening at her house, but it doesn’t take a genius to realize that something changed after the inspection. She never showed up for the lessons again, and even outside the temple, she has been absent.

Nick crossed his arms and waited, but as the seconds stretched and she continued to just stand there, biting her lip and making for a sorry sight, he sighed. "Alright," he muttered and sat down on the grass, stretching his legs out and gesturing for her to join him. "Let’s not make this awkward. Have a seat."

Elia paused before finally settling beside him, pulling her knees up to her chest, fixing her gaze on the dirt between them.

Nick watched her for a few seconds before speaking. "You know, I don’t have a lot of time," he said, breaking the silence. "The expedition is set to leave in a few hours."

She flinched slightly but still said nothing.

Nick sighed through his nose and looked up at the sky. "You ever hear the story of the Three Kings of Ash?" he asked, his voice casual. He doubted she had. It came from another planet, after all.

Elia blinked, finally looking at him. "What?"

He smiled faintly. "It’s an old story. A chronicle, actually. It’s about three kings, each ruling a different land, who were so afraid of time changing things that they tried to stop it. One of them built a city where clocks were banned, and where the sun rose and set by his decree. The second buried his kingdom beneath the earth, believing they would never realize the years were passing if they never saw the sky. And the third… well, he was the most ambitious. He extracted the very concept of time from his citizens’ minds and locked the formless emotion in a vault beneath his throne."

Elia’s ears twitched. "And?" she prompted softly.

Nick shrugged. "And time passed anyway." He plucked a blade of grass, twirling it between his fingers. "The first king’s people rebelled when they realized their own bodies were still aging. The second king’s children dug their way to the surface as soon as he died, desperate to see the sky once more. And the third? He didn’t even notice when time ignored all his efforts. He turned to dust on his throne, never realizing the years had passed."

Elia let out a shaky breath.

Nick turned his head slightly. "My point is… no matter what people do—no matter how hard they try to keep things the same—change happens."

At those words, Elia collapsed on her back, throwing an arm over her eyes and silently crying.

Nick didn’t say anything. He sat beside her, resting his hand on her thigh in silent support.

He waited. Yes, he had a tight schedule to keep, but Elia was his first friend in this world. He could afford to rush later if it meant being there for her.

Minutes passed, and the only sound was the rustling of leaves in the gentle wind and the chirps of distant birds.

Finally, as she began to calm down, Elia summoned her strength and explained herself. "There are… people in my community," she said, still avoiding his gaze, "who aren’t satisfied with how things have been managed. And after what happened at the temple, their voices are growing louder."

Nick already knew that. He’d overheard as much in her home. But he didn’t say anything—just hummed to show he was listening.

Elia took a deep breath. "They’re not wrong to be angry," she admitted, her ears drooping further. "We’ve lived here for generations, but we’re still treated as if we don’t belong. And if we wait too long, if we let things settle again… we might never get another chance to change things."

Nick remained quiet, letting her speak at her own pace.

Elia swallowed. "I understand that things are dangerous right now. I know we should be coming together instead of fighting amongst ourselves. But I also know that if we just endure again, if we just wait again… nothing will ever change."

Nick considered that. Then, he asked, "So what do you want to do?"

She blinked as if confused by the question. "I just told you—"

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"No." He shook his head. "Not what ’we’ should do. Not what your people want. What do you want, Elia?"

Elia froze, staring in confusion, as if the idea that her own desires mattered had never occurred to her. As the last in a long line of Occultists, Old Nick understood the burden of expectations. He loved his grandfather and the small part of his extended family that he knew, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed being the one upon whom the responsibility to continue the lineage rested. The situation wasn’t exactly the same, but he had a sense of what Elia was feeling.

Nick didn’t let up. "If it was just you—if you weren’t worrying about duty or obligations—what would you want?"

She bit her lip hard, curling her tail around her midriff.

Finally, a tear slipped down her cheek, and she whispered, "I want us to be at peace." She sniffed. "I want us to be safe. I want to walk through the streets of Floria without feeling like I need to prove that I belong there. But I don’t see how that’s possible if things stay the same."

Nick stared at her for a long moment. Then, he asked, "How much time do we have?"

Elia blinked, startled. "What?"

"For things to come to a head," he clarified. "How much time before something gives?"

Elia hesitated. "A week. Maybe two. People got spooked with the demon, but this has been a long time coming."

Nick exhaled through his nose. Then he nodded, standing up and offering her a hand. "Alright."

She took it hesitantly. "What do you mean, ’alright’?"

Nick gave her a small, tired smile. "I’ll have something ready by then."

Elia’s eyes widened slightly, but when he stared resolutely, she nodded, gripping his hand tightly.

Floria felt emptier than it had in years.

With the caravan long gone and most civilians holed up in their homes, the streets had taken on an eerie stillness. Yet, as Nick approached the wall, that silence gave way to a low, rumbling murmur—the sound of hundreds gathered in a tight mass.

Given how empty the rest of town had been, Nick hadn’t expected this many people.

The expedition members stood at the front, checking their gear and going over last-minute preparations, but the real surprise was the sheer number of townsfolk who had come to see them off. Men, women, and even children stood clustered in groups, buzzing with worry, excitement, and hope. Some clutched small talismans, whispering prayers to Sashara, while others simply watched in silence, attempting to support the expedition through their presence alone.

As Nick made his way through the crowd, he grimaced when a strong hand slapped him on the shoulder. He had sensed it coming, but he couldn’t react. Or rather, he could have prevented it, but that would have meant using magic or suddenly jumping away, and in such a tight space, he chose to just take it.

"Be careful out there, baby Crowley," said a broad-shouldered blacksmith, nodding in approval. His bulging muscles and tall frame suggested that, although he was a civilian, the man likely had twice, if not more, the physical stats that Nick did.

Before he could respond, another hand landed on his other shoulder—this time from an older woman, a weaver who had sold his family blankets in the past. "Bring our people home safe, lad," she said, thick with emotion.

Nick blinked, momentarily thrown.

He had known that people recognized him—being the Captain’s son and one of Floria’s resident mages made that inevitable. But he hadn’t expected this. Genuine well wishes. Gratitude. The kind of respect reserved for seasoned warriors, not some snot-nosed kid.

A farmer he barely knew gripped his forearm briefly. "Show those monsters what Floria’s made of."

More words of encouragement followed. More pats on the back. More nods of approval.

Nick forced a small smile and nodded back, but inside, he felt a little out of place. This wasn’t normal.

I’m not a hero, he thought, though he kept the words to himself.

He had killed, yes. He had fought and survived things that should have ended him. But this? This was a level of expectation he wasn’t entirely comfortable with. There is a reason why I try to keep away from people…

Still, he accepted the words gracefully and pressed forward, leaving the warm murmurs of the crowd behind as he neared the wall.

At its base, he found his parents engaged in deep discussion with Darien.

Nick noticed his father’s brow crease in thought and saw his mother’s arms crossed, as they always were when she was in the middle of an argument. Darien, standing a bit too stiffly, looked like he was moments away from sighing in frustration.

Nick approached, clearing his throat.

Elena turned first, softening her expression into a smile. "There you are."

"Everything going well?" Nick asked, noting the slightly exasperated look on Darien’s face.

Elena exhaled, shifting her weight. "Just dealing with some last-minute adjustments. You’ll be leaving soon. In the meantime—" she tilted her head toward a group of people dressed in earthy tones and greens, perfectly camouflaged in the forest, about twenty feet away. "You should check in with the other scouts. We’re dividing you into strike groups."

"Officially, you’ll be placed wherever you’re needed most. Unofficially, you’re coming with me." Eugene winked at him. Experience tales with novelbuddy

Nick snorted. "Of course."

"You should still check in, though," Elena added. "Appearances and all that."

Nick nodded, turning toward the scout group but keeping his air sense trained on his parents. Just as he expected, his parents and Darien resumed their discussion as soon as he was out of earshot.

"You’re in charge while I’m away," Eugene said plainly to his wife. "You need to be here to coordinate the defense."

Darien nodded, glancing sideways at Elena. "That’s what I was saying. I’ll be too busy training the new recruits and preventing them from causing trouble. Maintaining order in town is going to be a nightmare with all the paranoia in the air. The lady is much more capable than me in that regard."

Elena shook her head. "I’m the Captain’s wife. If Eugene isn’t here, it’s up to me to keep the border secure. I’ll patrol personally and ensure nothing creeps in while you focus on the town."

Nick bit back a chuckle. Both of them were trying to shove responsibility onto the other.

Clearly enjoying himself, Eugene finally cut in, "Elena is in charge. Darien, you will handle the soldiers, which also means coordinating patrols. And if any problems arise, I expect the two of you to work them out like reasonable adults."

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Darien grumbled under his breath. "Fine."

Nick shook his head, chuckling quietly to himself as he approached the other scouts. He was only a few steps away when his air sense flared—someone moving fast.

He pivoted instinctively, narrowly avoiding a collision. A tall, broad-shouldered young man strode by, radiating confidence that approached arrogance. His long strides carried him past where Nick had just been just a bit too forcefully.

Nick immediately recognized the look on his face—the sneer of someone who thought he was better.

The young man—blond, sharp-jawed, and exuding the demeanor of a trained warrior—tilted his head. "Oh? I almost didn’t see you there." His tone was dismissive, but the smirk on his face indicated otherwise.

Nick studied him for a moment, mentally cataloging the details. Given his dark green light armor and the short sword strapped to his back, he appeared to be a scout, but something about his demeanor suggested he was accustomed to commanding attention.

Nick simply raised an eyebrow. "Then maybe you should pay more attention. Scouts are supposed to be good at that."

The blond boy let out a low chuckle. "Cute."

Nick didn’t bother responding. People like him weren’t worth engaging with unless absolutely necessary.

Still, as the young man walked away, Nick could already tell this wasn’t the last time they’d cross paths.

Gah, I don’t have time for schoolyard rivalries! People are insane. They still find time to pick fights, even with a monster tide on the horizon and an internal rebellion brewing.