Low-Fantasy Occultist Isekai

Chapter 127 - 122

So that was a failure.

It should have been dispiriting. One of his strongest spells countered just like that. But Nick was made of sterner stuff. Yes, he knew he was in mortal danger. Yes, his options were extremely limited. But that didn't mean it was over. It's not over till it's over.

I could try to heat the air, he thought after swallowing down his disappointment. If he heated the construct of cold air, he might disrupt the delicate pressure difference they needed for maximum destructive power.

The problem was as obvious as it was frustrating: one wyvern outclassed him in raw magical might. Eight working in unison, at full strength, dwarfed anything he could muster. He suspected they'd swat aside any further attempt at subversion the moment he tried it. Raw manipulation certainly wouldn't overwhelm them if the [Vacuum Sphere] hadn't been enough.

A shuffle of footsteps on his right startled Nick out of his grim reverie. Pivoting, he saw two battered priests hovering around a third figure between them, Marthas. The Prelate was walking under his own power, albeit barely. He looked gaunt, with hunched shoulders that made even someone his size look small and eyes half-lidded with fatigue. Yet a fervent energy still lingered behind them, like embers refusing to die.

They halted beside Nick, and one of the priests pressed a trembling hand against Marthas' shoulder to keep him balanced, who wasted no time with pleasantries. "We must disrupt that spell," he said urgently.

Nick nodded. "I know," he replied quietly, gaze flicking skyward. "But I don't have enough power." The admission was frustrating, but it was the truth.

Marthas almost smiled, though lines of pain creased his forehead. "You're not alone, son," he said. "If I had even just half a day to rest, I'd be able to do much more, but that doesn't mean we are completely helpless." His breath rattled as he gestured at the two priests.

"What do you mean?" Nick asked.

"I have a way to stop them. Sashara's glory can smite them from the sky. But to call upon such power, one must serve as the channel. I am too depleted to carry it myself, and these two have not the stamina to funnel the necessary energies." He paused, letting the implication sink in before continuing. "That leaves you."

"You want me to channel divine power?" Nick was hardly ignorant of how the temple operated. While the notion of summoning a celestial entity might be standard for high-level priests, Nick had never placed his faith in gods, not in his old life nor in this strange new one. He valued the privacy of his mind and had never entertained the idea of selling himself to a higher power.

The older man coughed, wincing in pain. "Not precisely. I will shape and guide the calling. You need only act as a conduit—I need your mana and your body. You are gifted enough to handle this even without training." His gaze flicked down to Nick's forearms, where the network of azure lines glowed under his skin. "It will have to suffice."

Nick hesitated. He loathed the idea of letting some divine presence flow through him. Whether or not Sashara was truly a goddess, Nick's entire life—both the old one and this new iteration—had taught him to value independence from higher powers. He had no illusions that such an act could be safe.

Yet the swirling storm above threatened to annihilate them all, and the black box Ogden had given him remained a last resort he would use only if every other option was exhausted first.

"Are you sure I can handle it?" Nick asked,

More power gathered. Nick's teeth clacked together—he felt near to bursting. The priests behind Marthas groaned, clearly funneling their own meager dregs to sustain the incantation, but the real engine of it all came from Marthas himself, or rather from his connection to the goddess.

It wasn't anything like Nick's usual style of casting. There was no conceptual rigor, no directing of the energy. This was Faith, blind and pure. The prayers and chants were merely a way to open a conduit with Her.

He gasped as the lines along his forearms flared brighter, painfully so. The ground beneath him quivered. This is madness, a corner of his mind. I could have tried to craft a ritual. Done something rather than trust the power of a Goddess I don't believe in.

Up above, the wyverns' roars spiked into a unified, resonant cry. They had reached the final stage, and the swirling cold air was condensing.

Marthas' voice rose in a final chant.

"Blessed be Sashara, Ever-Burning Goddess of the Ash and the Light. Let your flame sear the wicked from the sky. Show them your glory!"

With that, he shoved the entire weight of that scorching presence into Nick.

A wave of power slammed into his consciousness. The impact was so intense that for a heartbeat, he forgot how to breathe. He felt the divine essence brushing against the edges of his mind, seeking a foothold, a vessel. Behind the starbursts of pain, a honey-warm voice seemed to beckon him to let go, to yield his identity so the goddess might act unimpeded.

In the same instant, the wyverns completed their own work, and the hair on Nick's arms and neck rose.

Then, the air overhead collapsed inward, and a massive column of punishing wind dived from the skies like a spearing tornado. Dust and debris whirled madly, and the ground began to quake. Men screamed, and the wyverns they had been fighting screeched. Nick could only see glimpses through the ash storm. An unstoppable force of compressed wind was about to smash everything flat.

There is no time! The voice roared. He felt the divine presence begin to seize his limbs. If he let it, it might fling some blazing miracle upward, but he also felt a primal revulsion.

No, he thought. We'll do it my way. That was the moment [Blasphemy] stirred, a reflex hammered into his soul by a lifetime of independence from higher powers. The trait flared, attacking the creeping infiltration. Not to destroy it, though. He had no intention of halting the assault on the wyverns—just the attempt at possession.

What followed was an indescribable sensation. With so much of the invocation complete, Nick couldn't exactly shove the power outside his body, and so it was forced into his [Mana Channels]. The intangible power snaked from his chest along his limbs, flowing through his hands and feet into the ash-laden ground. Each grain of ash trembled and danced, drawn into swirling patterns around him.

Marthas and the priests gasped. They had clearly expected a searing beacon of divine flame to shoot from Nick's body—and something like the righteous Servant they'd summoned before to have taken over. Instead, the ash around them coalesced, swirling faster and faster. Embers ignited in midair, drawn from the remnants of heat in the scorched battlefield. Within seconds, those embers multiplied, forming a shape out of superheated dust and swirling soot.

Nick shuddered, somewhere between horror and fascination. The presence was forcibly expelled from his body, shaping not a pillar of cleansing light but a terrifying figure made entirely of swirling cinders and flickering embers—a cloud of ash that glowed red-hot from within. It towered a good ten or twelve feet in front of them, Where the arms should have been, stumps of swirling, ember-laden ash formed blade-like protrusions. Sparks dripped from its molten eyes.

The priests staggered, jaws slack. Marthas inhaled sharply, something beyond shock flickering in his eyes. The chanting died in his throat. Nick felt the last vestiges of that cosmic presence slip away from his mind, leaving behind only the surging headache of overdrawn mana usage. Then, at the edge of his vision, the System displayed a new message:

System Notification:

You have resisted a High-tier Divine Possession.

[Blasphemy] triggered.

He clenched his teeth, trying not to collapse from exhaustion. So I was right. The Servant truly had tried to seize direct control.

Another wave of dizziness crashed over him, but he forced himself upright. Now, I just have to hope that whatever this is, it will still help us.

A bellow from above jarred him: the monstrous column of wind was descending. The swirling funnel roared, an unstoppable avalanche of pressurized air aimed straight at their location. Nick braced for the worst, but the newly formed ember colossus reacted first. With a roar that came as a deep rumbling in the air, it raised an ashen arm, wreathed in swirling coals, and thrust it skyward.

A massive wave of dark flames soared upward, colliding with the incoming wind. A thunderous explosion shook the battlefield, sending ash and dust flying in all directions. Nick's hair whipped around his face, and he had to rely on his senses to know what was happening. The two forces were clashing in the sky, pushing and nullifying the other, until the balance cracked, and the sky went white.