Low-Fantasy Occultist Isekai

Nick's first instinct was to start blasting. While he hadn't been exactly as low-profile as he would have liked, no one had gotten close to figuring out what his class was. That this spirit could see him for what he was…

"Oh, don't you look so dangerous now," the fox hid a smile behind its fan. Its eyes closed into crescents, and suddenly, Nick became aware that he was alone. It had been a long time since he'd felt scared of anything, but somehow, this spirit had managed to unsettle him.

Mana began to churn in his channels as he prepared to unleash his wrath at the first sign of aggression. "What do you mean?" he asked without blinking.

"You didn't think I'd be able to notice you've escaped the effects of the temple's domain, did you? Inari-okami is not like any of those young gods of men. Her sight doesn't stop at what is, but at what could be, and more importantly, in your case, what isn't." This was all said with glee, and Nick had the impression that the fox was truly enjoying speaking in riddles. Given its nature as a trickster spirit, it made sense, but he didn't appreciate it.

"And what am I not?"

It flapped the fan as if it were a scandalous question. It acted very theatrically, almost as if its words were innocuous, but Nick sensed something that didn't fit. It wasn't just trying to elicit a reaction from him. It was testing him even now.

"I occasionally check on the foxes of the surrounding communities with my scrying, and when I sensed one with potential, I knew I had to keep an eye out for her. You, however, were an empty void. An unknown variant that trailed after the kit. By scrying her position, I was able to avoid your notice, but now I can see that you are just a little heretic despite your power. You probably stumbled upon a relic, because I can't smell the stink of demons on you. The wards on this place, feeble they might be after its destruction, should still be able to learn if you had a message that needed to be sent. You came up blank."

Nick relaxed ever so slightly, though he didn't release the mass of mana he'd prepared. In his opinion, a [Vacuum Sphere] to the face would make the spirit a lot less smug. "So what you are saying is that neither you nor the wards could scry me, and you have decided that means I'm some sort of heretic?"

The spirit tilted its head, losing some of its amusement. "Do not think you can talk your way out of this. Humans have plenty of ways of appearing innocent right up until they attack you in the middle of the night. I might not know what you are, but I can tell you aren't anything natural. And your presence here doesn't inspire confidence."

Its teeth, Nick noticed, were exceptionally sharp. It would probably take very little force for it to bite through flesh and bone.

"Is it a crime to be invisible to your scrying?" he asked instead. He still didn't know where this was going, but he was less out of balance now. [Blasphemy] had protected him once again, if indirectly.

"It is not, no. But I doubt your intentions are pure," it replied, coming to a stop just above the trapdoor. It almost stood there protectively, and Nick wondered whether it thought he might harm the girls. No, it's acting too weird.

"What do you think I'm here to do, exactly? I shielded them from harm, led them here, and now am supposed to want to hurt them?" The mere thought felt preposterous, but he could understand how, if the spirit had seen only their path through the grassland and was unaware of their previous friendship, it might perceive him as violent. It probably didn't help that he still looked young, even though he'd recently grown a couple of inches. That dichotomy, alongside being invisible, explained some of its wariness.

"I do not know your intentions, but I'm not foolish enough to give you free rein. You have entered sacred land under false pretenses and are trying to interfere with the trial. Do not think, even for a moment, that just because the gods have been pushed out of these lands and cannot help, that I am incapable of protecting the shrine!"

The apparition straightened, its tail flaring behind it like a war fan. Gone was the teasing smile. Tension mounted as things were coming to a head. There was an eagerness to its expression that reminded Nick of a predator about to attack.

"You are no innocent," it hissed, voice now an echoing snarl that rattled the rubble. "You used the little priestess as a key to slip past the ward. I will not allow you to desecrate what remains of the sacred shrine. Not when I am so close."

Nick allowed a thin stream of mana to seep outward from his coils, sharpening every sense. Well, that's not good. I should have known it was too good to be true to find the right shrine the first time.

Muffled sounds from below informed them that the "trial" was still ongoing, although Nick sincerely doubted it would lead to the desired outcome at this point.

The spirit's right ear twitched at the sound, and its muzzle softened for a heartbeat, but the feral glimmer returned at once. "She really has potential," it crooned. "She will reconsecrate these stones. And once the bond is forged, the gods shall name her priestess in truth."

If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

So the thing was truly half-mad. A century of standing sentinel over a ruin, without a master or worship, only rot and loneliness… It still possessed intellect, yet its edges were frayed. Really, this is embarrassing. I have gotten too used to this world, with its overly abundant mana. Half-starved spirits were much more common on Earth.

That experience made it clear to him that reasoning with the creature was futile. It had likely clung to the material plane by dedicating its entire being to this purpose. Anything that came between it and the restoration of the temple would be met with feral anger. And I doubt this restoration is simply a matter of praying.

Nick flexed the fingers of his casting hand and forced calm over the spike of anger. [Vacuum Sphere] would pancake the whole ruin and bury the girls alive. I need something cleaner.

"All will celebrate her sacrifice," it whispered, and Nick had enough.

He snapped his wrist. "[Spark]."

A blue-white bolt shot from his palm, faster than the eye could see. It struck the fox between the eyes with a wet pop of ionized air. The spirit yelped and tumbled backward through a curtain of dust.

Rule number one of fighting spirits within their territory: take away the initiative.

Nick surged after it, first casting the translucent sphere of Force Barrier, then layering the shimmering ripple of Wind Armor.

That decision proved wise as heat rippled off his skin when the fox recovered and exhaled a sheet of white-hot flames. The fire splashed over his protections, guttered, and swirled harmlessly around him.

That's good. I was afraid it might be hiding its power, but it should be near the Alpha thunderhoof. If I can keep the pressure high, I can drive it out of the temple.

He peppered the spirit with rapid sparks, forcing it to retreat past shattered columns and half-buried lintels. Each hit sizzled on astral flesh, not enough to kill but sufficient to annoy.

The clearing provided the space that Nick sorely needed to use his more destructive magic without harming the girls. He stopped casting when they left the stone behind and watched the fox skid over the moss, its paws digging grooves into the turf.

"A spirit of rage needs innate calm to be counteracted. A Taoist ritual should work, then," he muttered, letting the fox think he was catching his breath. In truth, his mind ran ahead, plotting sigils in the soil. A complete binding array…thirty-six nodes minimum. Yin aligned, which should be made easy given the general destruction of this place.

The fox circled, hackles up, smoke leaking from its jaws. "Tired already? How fragile humans are…"

It lunged. Nick hopped aside—one step, two, dragging a heel through the moss as though bracing himself. In reality, the scuffed line formed the first arc of his hidden circle. The spirit slammed into his Force Barrier, rebounded, and spat another torrent of flame. Nick ducked, flung a [Spark], skidded, and drew the next segment with the toe of his boot.

Damn Taoist rituals. It's so much easier to draw circles with wind magic, but I don't have time to change my spells and make them neutrally charged, so my feet will have to do.

Minutes passed in that deadly dance—lightning bolts, foxfire geysers, loops and feints that always ended with Nick leading the spirit a little farther… a little farther… while his boots carved deep into the greenery.

Suddenly, the ground began to shake, and Nick felt his owl totem unfurl deep below. He had to summon a gust of wind to pull himself from the fox's jaws, and it cackled. "Don't get distracted, little man. Things are just starting to get fun."

A crack opened in the soil behind them, and Nick could feel air rush in; his senses immediately started flooding the underground. "Nick!" he heard distantly and sent a whisper back, "Stay down! Let the owl protect you, but do not leave the ground!"

The fox seized that moment of distraction and lunged again, jaws snapping shut a hair's breadth from his throat. Pain blossomed across his ribs as claws raked against the barrier. The inner shield shivered; cracks of pale force spiderwebbed and then sealed. Nick retaliated with a short-range [Spark] straight into the beast's gullet. The taste of burnt ozone filled the air; the fox shrieked, staggering.

Almost there—three nodes left. He pivoted, carved another line by sliding his boot sideways, and flung a handful of dirt to conceal the motion, enforcing it with [Push].

The fox's eyes blazed incandescent. Patches of its silver coat now smoked and melted, revealing flickering embers beneath. "Enough games, parasite! You shall not stop me!" It inhaled, and its tail ignited, turning it into a comet of white-hot plasma that lanced toward him.

Nick clenched both fists and braced. [Force Barrier] flared, [Wind Armor] churned, and yet the blast hammered him like a runaway cart. His defensive spells shrieked, while the grass behind him vaporized.

The fox panted, dimmer now but triumphant—until its ears flicked at the harsh scrape behind Nick. He had intentionally taken that impact, allowing it to knock him the final ten feet to the exact spot that closed the circle.

Nick stabbed his dagger point-down, slicing his thumb on the way. Blood hit the earth, completing the last missing node.

"Align the focus and direct the heart," he whispered, invoking the most basic Taoist sacrifice.

Red luminescence surged along every scuffed line, knitting them into a perfect ring. Chains of garnet light erupted, whipping around the fox's limbs, neck, and tail. It howled, attempting to jump away, but the circle consumed its mana, transforming it into tighter coils.

"What—what devilry—!"

Nick stepped forward, silver dagger slick with his blood. "Foxes should know not to get too greedy."

The chains yanked, dragging the spirit toward the focus at the center. "It was foolish of you to attempt this when you already suspected who I am. What I am. I would have left you to your devices if you had kept your mouth shut, but now I have no other choice."

The spirit thrashed, boiling flame leaking through chain-links and hissing against the swooping lines. "She is chosen! I am chosen! Together we will mend—"

"Mend? You'd hollow her out, suckle the marrow out of her bones for a scrap of divine power and still fail." Nick placed one hand on the fox's chest where ethereal ribs glowed beneath fur. The blade hovered. "I should just kill you. It'd be cleaner. But I wonder…"

The fox snapped at him, glowing fire churning in its bones. It failed, of course. Nick's decision was made.

"Yes, you can become useful," he finished, and drove the dagger home.

Steel, blood, and spellwork met astral flesh. The spirit convulsed once, then the chains yanked it down into the waiting ritual. Black and white, yin and yang clamped shut like jaws.

"Now let's see what you are worth." Nick let his lips pull back, and he twisted his dagger, drawing a howl of pain from the spirit as its essence was torn apart.

A maddened creature like this could survive for a relatively long time, but Nick doubted it would have resisted for a century, much less have the power to battle him. No, there had to be something else hiding beneath the spectral flesh.

A spark of pure white appeared before his eyes, and his feral expression transformed into one of greed.