Low-Fantasy Occultist

Chapter 453

The writhing shadow remained pinned to the stone floor, entirely subdued by Nick’s willpower. It made no sound, lacking vocal cords, yet the frantic fluctuations in its signature painted a clear picture of its panic.

Nick stared it down, his mind already shifting gears. The discovery of such a spy within Crowley Manor was a severe security breach, a thread he would have to pull later. For now, however, its presence presented a unique opportunity.

He reached into his ring and withdrew the velvet pouch holding the Crimson Basilisk core. Even through the ghostgrass fabric, the heat was intense, warming his palm and reminding him of the immense danger such an artifact posed.

He ignored the shadow growing even more frantic, even as Talbot licked his chops at the sight.

Under normal circumstances, absorbing an element without a natural affinity required the [Ritual of Elemental Bestowal]. It was a complex process that bypassed the years of dedicated study normally mandated by the System.

He had relied on it twice before, and the mechanics were permanently etched in his memory.

For his Minor Air Affinity, he had gathered wyvern scales, a hatchling’s core, and the life force of two human bandits who had foolishly tried to cross him. He had long theorized that human sacrifice was what truly cemented the affinity as a permanent, systemic trait, forcing the System to recognize his path. Later, he had secured his Minor Lightning Affinity on the same foundation, substituting the humans with the raw electrical vitality of a Thunderhoof Alpha, who at the time had been superior to him in both vitality and might.

The core in his hand, however, belonged to a Prestige-tier beast. The sheer volume of fire mana contained within that small, glowing stone was exponentially greater than anything he had ever tried to absorb.

If he simply crushed it and invited the flames into his body, the heat would instantly incinerate his mana channels, leaving him a hollowed-out husk on the training room floor at best and an unwitting host to some kind of abomination at worst.

He needed a sacrifice to serve as a buffer, something pure enough to coat his internal pathways and shield his body from the initial shock.

With the barest hint of a smile, Nick looked down at the trembling shadow. It was strong enough to slip past his wards by passing through the deepest recesses of the ether, and well-trained enough to know the danger it faced, meaning it was a battery of refined spiritual energy, perfectly suited for the task.

"You were sent here to watch," he murmured, his voice echoing softly off the cold stone walls. “Worry not, you will serve a higher purpose.”

Nick stepped away from the familiar to begin his preparations. The standard [Ritual of Elemental Bestowal] provided a solid framework, but handling a Prestige core required additional layers to maintain control.

He needed something specifically attuned to the flame’s destructive and restorative nature.

I have the feeling that I’m playing right into Marthas hands by doing this, but I’ve already triple-checked the core, and it truly is pure. I’m very familiar with the feeling of divine power, and there is none here.

Drawing on esoteric knowledge from his past life, he spent some time reviewing his options and ultimately chose the ancient traditions of Mayan ritual magic. It was a system built entirely around the currency of blood, spiritual offering, and celestial fire, perfectly attuned to what he needed to do.

It would also help scour any hidden power from within the core, just to be sure he wasn’t inviting Sashara into his soul.

With that settled, he bit the tip of his thumb, drawing a bead of bright red blood. Kneeling on the stone, he began to sketch.

First, he traced the wide, circular boundary of the standard Bestowal ritual, establishing the perimeter that would contain the volatile mana. Then, he moved inward, abandoning the flowing, elegant runes for harsh, geometric step-patterns drawn in his blood, depicting the rigid angles of celestial pyramids and the merciless iconography of the sun.

He took his time, ensuring every line intersected with flawless precision as he drew a perfect square around the shadow, sealing the entity within the array, then marked the four cardinal directions with sigils representing the consumption of the flame.

With the array complete, Nick took a seat at the square's southern edge, crossing his legs and resting his hands on his knees. He opened the velvet pouch, tipping the Crimson Basilisk core into his palm.

The stone glowed with an incandescent orange light. The surface blistered his skin the moment it touched him, sending a sharp spike of pain up his arm, but he ignored it, locking his eyes on the captive shadow and beginning the chant.

“Ix chel yields, the moon bows low,

The jade bleeds crimson, the embers glow.

From Xibalba's depths, this stone was torn,

A heart of fire since the First World's morn.”

Love this novel? Read it on NovelBin to ensure the author gets credit.

The words did not belong to this world. They were guttural, rhythmic syllables forged in the steaming jungles of an ancient Earth, spoken in a relentless cadence.

“K'inich, K’inich, open your eye!

Burn through the veil between earth and sky!”

The chant echoed through the room like the inevitable beat of a war drum, vibrating in the air and resonating against the stone walls, which flared with the blood runes he’d once carved into them.

“K’inich, the Sun-Eyed, accept this offering. Drink the shadow to fuel the new dawn.”

The lines drawn in Nick’s blood suddenly flared, blazing with crimson power.

“We feed the flame with sacred breath,

We offer the gem to devour the death.

The serpent coils at the altar's edge,

The priest speaks the oath, the gods hold the pledge.”

The shadow familiar thrashed violently, sensing its impending destruction. It strained against its bindings, trying to unravel its physical form and flee back through the ether to its master, even at a terrible cost, but the ritual array held it completely captive. The blood-drawn patterns formed an inescapable cage, once used to contain newborn gods.

“K'inich, K’inich, drink deep, drink true!”

Nick amplified the chanting, his voice taking on a resonant dual tone. He reached out with his soul, sinking his spiritual claws into the familiar's core.

“Blood of the maize, smoke of copal rise,

The stone awakens beneath the jaguar skies.

Its core ignites with a thousand suns,

The power flows where the ritual runs.”

With a mighty exertion of will, Nick expanded his [Territory] until it became unbearable, crushing the entity.

“K'inich, K’inich, the vessel is ready!

Hold the light steady, hold the light steady!”

The shadow shattered. Its physical form collapsed, instantly breaking the construct's cohesion, but Nick was careful. He did not sever the sympathetic tether—the invisible, spiritual cord linking the spy to its distant creator. Instead, he anchored that thread to the array's edge, leaving the connection wide open.

He could vaguely hear screaming from the other side. He suppressed a smile.

What remained of the entity dissolved into a swirling cloud of raw, compliant spiritual energy.

Nick inhaled sharply, drawing the sacrificed energy directly into his chest. He pushed the pure ether outward, weaving it tightly along the inner linings of his mana channels. The energy settled into a thick, protective buffer, insulating his soul and physical organs.

The moment the shield was in place, Nick clenched his fist and shattered the physical shell of the Crimson Basilisk's core.

“From the House of the Sun, descend your grace,

Seal this power in time and place.

The gem is bound, the chant is done.

The shadow is swallowed. The new dawn has come.”

A torrent of pure fire surged up Nick’s arm and slammed into his chest, seeking to consume everything it touched.

The pain was blinding. It felt as though he had swallowed molten iron, and the searing heat tore through his veins with no regard for his physical limits.

A moment later, the fire crashed into the spiritual buffer created by the sacrificed shadow. The protective layer hissed and boiled, slowly burning away under immense pressure, but it held long enough for Nick to establish his primary defense.

Nick did not fight the fire with an opposing element, knowing he lacked the power to resist it.

But his soul was a geode, a crystallized fortress of immutable willpower. He projected that density inward, encasing the invading volcanic mana and pressing down on it from all sides. The fire thrashed, trying to expand and incinerate everything he was, but Nick forced it into the rigid, crystalline facets of his soul.

He squeezed down on the heat, demanding obedience as he asserted his authority over the flame. Rather than ordering it to cool, however, he commanded it to burn for him, trusting it would follow its nature rather than defy him.

The struggle pushed him to the brink. Sweat poured down his face, instantly turning to steam in the superheated air of the training room. The blood-drawn runes on the floor burned away, leaving permanent scorch marks etched deep into the stone. Every breath felt like inhaling razor blades, and the spiritual buffer was thinning rapidly, unable to withstand the relentless assault of a Prestige-tier element forever.

The pressure within his coils built to a critical threshold. The excess energy had nowhere to go, threatening to detonate his soul.

I need a valve.

With some effort, Nick opened his eyes, glaring at the sympathetic tether he had anchored to the edge of the array, then grabbed it with his mind.

Instead of letting the excess heat and the agonizing feedback from the integration tear his own body apart, Nick weaponized the pain. He funneled the overflowing volcanic ether and the ritual's raw psychic agony directly down the tether.

It served as a perfect conduit, channeling the searing heat of the basilisk core and the pain straight into the mind of whoever sat on the other end.

The invisible cord hummed violently for a fraction of a second before snapping completely, severed by the sheer force of the energy surging through it, most likely because whoever the poor spiritualist had been was gone from the world of the living.

With the excess pressure vented, the violent resistance in Nick's chest finally broke.

The aggressive heat folded into and seamlessly integrated with the crystallized structure of his soul. The pain vanished, replaced by a profound warmth that settled deep within him, until it felt as much a part of him as his other affinities.

Nick exhaled a long, shaky breath, releasing a puff of fire, then opened his eyes fully.

The world looked much the same, yet different at the same time. The ambient temperature was no longer a background detail he was vaguely aware of. He could feel the thermal currents shifting around him, letting him read the heat as easily as he read the wind.

Curious, he raised his right hand, palm facing the ceiling.

For once, he didn't need to struggle to grasp the concept of zeal to ignite a crude spark. He simply desired a flame.

A vibrant orange fire ignited above his palm. It danced effortlessly, requiring almost no mana to sustain. The connection was seamless, an instinctive reflex that required no conscious thought.

System Notification!

You have successfully assimilated the core of a [Crimson Basilisk]!

You have acquired: [Fire Affinity] [Proficient]!

+1,900,000 Exp

Level up!

Level up!

Nick curled his hand, extinguishing the flame with a quiet thought. The process was complete. The grueling gamble had paid off, broadening his arsenal and increasing his overall power.

He let his head fall back, relishing the refreshing surge of the double level-up as it cleared the lingering fatigue from his muscles and repaired the minor burns along his mana channels that the shadow coating had failed to prevent.

For a long moment, he sat at the center of the scorched array, savoring the silence of the underground room. His preparations were finally coming together. He almost had the strength, political backing, and elemental versatility needed to survive the impending march into House Ultimer’s territory.

A low growl broke his concentration.

Nick looked up and saw Talbot standing near the door, his posture rigid. His fur bristled, and his eyes were fixed on the stone ceiling, staring at something high above them. The Guardian Beast let out a hiss, baring his fangs at the empty air, even as his form rippled, shedding its physical limitations to assume his full might.

The hair on the back of Nick’s neck stood up.