Low-Fantasy Occultist

Chapter 459

He had wanted to test his new fire affinity, to see how it would flow in a live exchange, but the element’s sheer destructive power was a double-edged sword. To truly push his mother, he would have to unleash a level of heat that would permanently scar the training yard and risk genuine injury.

Furthermore, Elena’s swordsmanship was perfectly suited to dispersing volatile spell structures like fire, thanks to her spars with his father, which gave her far more experience with the element than Nick had.

She thrived on speed and momentum. To defeat her, he needed to overwhelm her completely.

Nick shifted his stance, grounding his boots into the packed earth. He dismissed the remaining sparks dancing around his staff and reached for another element.

Elena didn't wait for him to finish adjusting. She breathed in, her core muscles tightening in perfect unison as she lowered her center of gravity.

“[Predator's Lunge],” she murmured, then vanished from her position, the air cracking as she covered the ten paces separating them in a literal blink.

Her blade, glowing with that intense golden-green mana, thrust directly at his sternum, carrying enough force to punch cleanly through a steel breastplate.

Nick didn't try to dodge as a wall of kinetic force materialized inches from his chest. The blade struck with a resounding thud.

While the shield buckled and spider-webbed with cracks, it held just long enough for Nick to finish casting.

A torrential spiral of water erupted from the ground beneath Elena's feet.

It wasn't a standard water whip or a simple blast to create distance, as he’d once have done. Drawing on the harsh lessons he’d learned from Xander during their journey to Floria, Nick wrapped it around her limbs like a set of liquid chains.

Chains seem to be a very stable construct for me. I wonder whether it is because of all my experience with binding rituals, or the opposite. I might have leaned so heavily on them because of a natural propensity.

Elena’s forward momentum was suddenly arrested. She grunted as her boots sank into the sudden mud, fighting against the crushing pressure of the water.

“[Crescent Sever!]” she commanded, violently twisting her torso.

As she swung, the golden-green mana flared, completely disrupting the magical matrix that held the water together. The liquid chains burst into a harmless spray of ordinary rain, freeing her legs.

But Nick was already casting again.

As far as he could tell, he had more than twice her mana capacity, and his Traits allowed him to cycle it at a speed no mortal warrior could ever hope to match.

Before Elena could take another step, the air around her thickened into molasses. Nick layered dozens of overlapping kinetic pressure fields, pressing down on her from every conceivable angle. As she fought to push through the invisible weight, Nick summoned another deluge of water, this one falling from above like a waterfall, constantly shifting and re-forming whenever her blade tried to disperse it.

Elena was a master of the blade, a warrior capable of fighting the vast majority of local monsters with nary a sweat. But against a mage who refused to give her even a single inch of dry ground or a fraction of unimpeded air, her martial superiority was slowly, inevitably smothered.

She slashed through a [Force Barrier] only to find three more waiting behind it. She dispersed a wave of water, only for it to gather at her ankles, dragging at her boots. She tried to use her blistering speed, but the environment itself was actively hostile, turning every step into a grueling endurance test.

Nick stood perfectly still as he controlled the battlefield, weaving water and force into an inescapable net.

For two full minutes, the training yard echoed with the hiss of dispersing water and the shattering of kinetic shields. Elena fought with the ferocity of a cornered lioness, her golden-green aura blazing as she tried to carve a path through the deluge.

This isn’t how I would fight in the field, given how much mana conservation is necessary there, but then again, I’m not using any of my greater spells either.

Eventually, the sheer volume and flawless control of his magic proved insurmountable. Every time it looked like she’d overcome an obstacle, three more sprang up, forcing her to reposition as he adjusted to the many skills she kept throwing at him.

When it became clear she’d bottom out long before he did, Elena stopped, her chest heaving as she lowered her blunted sword. The golden-green glow faded from the steel, and she stood in the center of a muddy crater, drenched and exhausted, a bittersweet smile touching her lips.

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"I yield," she said, her voice breathy yet brimming with unmistakable pride. "You have outgrown my reach, Nicholas.”

Nick instantly released the spells. The oppressive pressure lifted from the yard, and the remaining water sank harmlessly into the earth.

"You made me work for it," he replied respectfully. "If you had closed the distance before I anchored the kinetic fields, I would have been in serious trouble.”

Of course, he would have resorted to more destructive magic in that case, but there was no need to say as much.

"A duel is won in the margins," Elena shrugged, walking to the wooden bench at the yard's edge to grab a towel. She dried her face, her fierce demeanor slowly fading, replaced by something far more solemn and heavy.

Devon, who had been watching the spar from the elevated stone walkway, hopped down into the yard. "That was incredible to watch. The control you have over the battlefield has become terrifying, Nick.”

"It is a very effective fighting style," Elena said quietly, tossing the damp towel onto the bench. She looked at her two sons, and something in her eyes hardened. "Follow me, both of you. It is time we had a conversation.”

The two brothers exchanged a surprised look but didn’t complain as she led them out of the training yard and back into the manor.

Surprisingly, they did not head for her study or the receiving hall. Instead, Elena guided them through the quiet, carpeted corridors of the east wing, eventually stopping before a nondescript wooden door that looked exactly like the entrances to the servant closets or linen storage rooms.

She pressed her hand flat against the center of the wood.

Nick felt a sudden surge of mana. His mother was not a mage, but she had enough skill to interact with the hidden runic array, which he could now see was woven into the manor's foundation.

Something they added after I was gone.

She traced a complex pattern against the grain of the wood, and the door clicked open.

Genuinely curious, they stepped inside. It was a modest, windowless room with a simple round table, three chairs, and a single iron lantern hanging from the ceiling.

Once they crossed the threshold, Elena closed the door behind them and turned a dial built directly into the iron hinges.

A low hiss echoed through the small space, and the air pressure shifted uncomfortably in Nick's ears. He expanded his soul sight, marveling at how efficiently such subtle warding worked.

The room had been hermetically and magically sealed.

It was entirely cut off from the physical world and the astral plane. Not even the shadow familiar Talbot had caught earlier could have pierced this barrier, not without making enough of a fuss to be noticed.

It was a level of paranoia that Nick had never seen his mother display, and he would normally have thought was reserved for himself.

Elena sat at the round table, gesturing for her sons to do the same. She folded her hands on the wood, even as the lantern’s flickering light cast deep shadows across her face, giving her a grave countenance.

Clearly, this was to be an important talk.

"You have both proven yourselves," Elena began in a murmur. Securing this town against mercenaries, outmaneuvering the merchants, and earning the respect of the militia. If your father had been here, he would have been proud of you.”

She looked at Devon, then at Nick. "But the world does not end at Floria's borders. Eventually, your paths will lead you to the capital. And when they do, you will be walking into a snake pit wearing the name Crowley.”

"We know the high nobles view us as upstarts, Mother," Devon said. “I have dealt with their disdain in Alluria.”

“You are prepared for envy, Devon, not for a blood feud," Elena corrected gently. "You do not know why the original Crowley family fell a century ago, nor do you know the price our line paid to survive in this faraway land.”

Nick leaned forward, aware that their family had long harbored secrets, from the clues about their founding ancestor to the relic in Duke Alluria's possession bearing their name.

Looks like I might finally get some answers.

“You already know that a hundred years ago, House Crowley was not merely a knightly house," Elena explained, her eyes darkening with memory. “Rather, they were among the premier powers in the capital. The Family Head at the time, your great-great-grandfather, was a powerful mage. He possessed a mind that eclipsed the royal scholars and an arsenal that made the High Nobility tremble.”

Elena took a slow breath. She looked as if she would have dearly liked Eugene to be here to have this talk in her stead, but that wasn’t possible, so she forged on.

“Simply put, he was too powerful," she continued. "And he used that power to reject the established hierarchy. The High Nobility feared what he was building and suspected he harbored greater ambitions than the establishment of his House, so they orchestrated a lie. They accused the Crowley Head of plotting high treason against the Crown and claimed he was building his power to usurp the throne.”

"And the Crown believed them?" Devon asked incredulously. There were many ways to determine the truth, especially when the stakes were so high.

"The Crown’s prerogative is to preserve the balance of power, and House Crowley was indeed breaking it, despite having no intention of going that far,” Elena said coldly. "The King eventually sanctioned the purge after being petitioned by too many. With that, the other noble houses descended like starving vultures, ripping the Crowley estates apart, burning the libraries, and slaughtering the retainers. They sought to wipe the bloodline from the face of Berea.”

"But they failed," Nick noted. She’s always been very careful about how she speaks of the King. Is this why?

"They failed because of my grandfather," Elena said. "He was the last loyal retainer of the House. When the main house was finally attacked, he smuggled the youngest scion of the family—a boy named Aleister—out of the city. He fled into the wild borders, bringing the boy here, to the edge of the Green Ocean, where the High Nobility rarely looked. Only later was he granted mercy by the King, who deemed the punishment sufficient and allowed the establishment of a branch House here, if only a knightly one.”

Elena reached up, touching a simple silver pendant resting against her collarbone.

"My mother was that retainer's granddaughter," Elena revealed, her voice thick with a suppressed grief. "She grew up on the run, even after they reached the frontier, because their enemies never stopped looking for them. When her parents were killed in a supposed accident, she left in hopes of growing stronger, and even then, she suffered greatly traveling through Berea. Assassins, bounty hunters, and ambitious lords seeking favor with High Nobles hounded their every step. She bled to ensure Aleister’s line survived, and when she failed to achieve Prestige, it became too much.”

Elena looked at her sons as the flickering lantern light caught the cold fury in her eyes.

"House Crowley is on the rise again," she said. "Your father’s ascension to Prestige, your victories here... the world is watching us once more. I tell you this so you understand the true nature of the High Nobility. They do not forgive, and they do not forget. When you start moving, and eventually when you visit the capital, you must assume that every smiling lord is holding a dagger behind his back.”

Devon absorbed the warning. Once, he would have exploded in anger, but he showed his maturity by merely gritting his teeth.

Nick, however, stayed completely silent as he combined the new information with what he’d pieced together in the past.

"Mom," Nick asked, his voice carefully controlled to hide the sudden pounding of his heart. "This ancestor... the Family Head who was purged. What exactly made the Crown so terrified of him? Powerful mages exist in every generation. Why was he different?”

Elena frowned, clearly searching her memory for the fragmented lore her mother had passed down.

"He was... a strange man," Elena said slowly. "According to the journals they managed to save, he was an unremarkable young man until he suffered a terrible hunting accident. He nearly died, and when he recovered, he seemed entirely different, with a new purpose and far greater talent. His ambition grew just as much, which eventually led to clashes with High Nobles.”

Nick’s blood turned to ice in his veins.