Low-Fantasy Occultist Isekai

The expedition resumed its march at first light. Despite the wild speculations and ominous portents that had circulated the night before, they found the dungeon's depths to be oddly empty.

Only a handful of scraggly monsters dared to emerge from their shadowy nests, launching futile attacks on the scouts sent ahead to clear the way. All of them were easily dealt with because Nick kept [Wind God's Third Eye] active at all times, effortlessly locating them before they could get close enough to cause any harm. In a flurry of coordinated movements, the soldiers swiftly eliminated any creature that dared to oppose them.

As they kept advancing far faster than expected, Arthur, Eugene, and Marthas discussed the oddness, "It's too quiet," Arthur murmured, narrowing his eyes. "There should be more resistance. I will eat my sword if the fae have withdrawn."

Eugene nodded slowly. "I don't think they've left. They're simply biding their time, probably gathering strength for another attack when we least expect it."

Marthas merely remained silent, but Nick understood he was just waiting for his opportunity to eliminate the infidels. He doubted the Prelate cared whether that happened now or later on.

In a surprising turn, the oppressive gloom that had shrouded their journey began to dissipate the deeper they went. The atmosphere shifted into something almost otherworldly. The thick tree cover gave way to passages lined with vibrant, flowering bushes that released a delicate aroma. Green vines had grown to form natural seats along the pathway, while gnarled roots, twisted into intricate patterns, clearly delineated well-trodden paths.

"We must have reached the Court," he murmured. The scene was enchanting and completely unexpected. The fae's magic seemed to have twisted nature, constructing mundane infrastructure from living vegetation. It reminded him that beauty could emerge in the most unlikely places, even in places rife with conflict and peril.

The wonder of the moment, however, was abruptly interrupted by a subtle, disconcerting change in the air. Nick's instincts tingled with unease, and he knew better by now than to ignore them. He paused, closing his eyes to focus on the sensation and try to explore it further. A faint, almost imperceptible hum began to resonate the deeper he looked into it. It wasn't music, nor was there something physical in the air causing it, but whatever its source, Nick decided not to take any unnecessary risk.

Extending his mana outward and creating a protective bubble around the main force, he reached out with a wind current, sending urgent messages to the scouts venturing ahead and ordering them to return immediately.

"Everyone, fall back!" he called out, making sure his words would reach even Morris, who had gone the furthest.

"Are we under attack?" His father asked, summoning flames around his sword as he looked around.

"We're under a wide-area illusion!" Marthas growled.

Soon, Nick's fears were realized: within the safety of the bubble, several soldiers and scouts began to groan, clutching at their chests and faces, as if they were fighting an unseen enemy.

Chaos erupted in an instant. Men who had been marching in orderly ranks now turned on one another, raising their voices as they attempted to defend themselves. Bodies collided, and the force devolved into a melee of confusion and fear.

"Don't attack! There are no enemies among us!" Eugene shouted, jumping into the crowd to keep the men from tearing each other apart. Unfortunately, even their hearing was affected because no one reacted.

Arthur followed him quickly, going so far as to use electric shocks to paralyze the more belligerent ones.

Marthas coordinated with the other priests and the few soldiers blessed with high CON who could withstand whatever was causing the psychosis. They hurriedly formed a line, each man struggling to pull his compatriots apart before real harm could be done.

The priests began chanting once the first row of men had gathered. Golden flames were summoned before them, and their cleansing energy spread through the bubble. The chaotic melee began to subside slowly, leaving behind a battered force.

Nick decided they could handle the mess and shifted his attention outside the protective bubble, trying to find the caster. His stomach sank as he beheld a ghastly sight—those who had been outside the bubble were not fighting phantom assailants; they had turned on each other.

For once, Nick hated the level of detail his spell provided him, as he could feel the scenes of soldiers attacking one another in blind rage with all its gruesome details. His eyes widened in horror as he recognized Morris lying motionless amidst the fallen.

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His head had been chopped off, and his legs… Nick forcefully suppressed the information.

With a roar of rage, he grabbed every man who was still outside his bubble, ripping them apart from each other and smashing them into the ground, making sure they would move by softening the earth and encasing their limbs into it.

Fuck! Damnit! I knew we should have kept together!

It was too late to save everyone, as no potion they had on hand could heal Morris, but it would prevent any further death.

Unfortunately, the oppressive madness that had gripped the men outside showed no signs of abating. They trashed in his hold, screaming bloody murder.

"Lord Prelate," Nick yelled, "the illusions are still active outside."

Martha left his priests and approached Nicholas. "Keep your barrier steady, Nicholas," he instructed. I'm going to try something." He took a deep breath, channeling an impressive amount of power within his gut. When he reached his limit, he exhaled a long, unbroken stream of golden flames. They surged like liquid gold, washing over the area in a brilliant wave, touching every man, bush, vine, and root.

The cleansing continued for nearly an entire minute, and Nick could feel the men finally ceasing their struggle. The flames moved with an almost sentient grace, caressing the landscape and driving away the creeping distortions that had clouded the men's minds.

At last, Marthas stopped. The light gradually faded, leaving behind a strangely pure air. Nick still maintained his wind shield until the very last second, before cautiously dropping the barrier once he sensed the absence of any suspicious energy. A collective sigh of relief rippled through the force as they moved to tend to the fallen.

However, the fae weren't done with them because Nick felt multiple distortions rippling across the air, converging around them like dark ripples in a still pond. "Everyone, stop!" he bellowed. "We're surrounded!"

The men had barely started to get back into a defensive formation, no matter that doing so would mean leaving the dead and wounded bodies of their comrades alone, that the shimmering portals finished materializing at the edge of the clearing. One by one, hundreds of fae knights emerged, wearing ornate armor and brandishing gleaming weapons. Behind them, unarmored fae followed in silent procession. Surprisingly, they did not immediately charge and regarded the human force in silence, waiting for something.

A few of the more hotheaded adventurers, fueled by adrenaline and desperation, made to launch a premature attack. Their swords began to glow with accumulated power, but they were immediately stopped by Eugene, who roared, "Wait! Hold your fire!" His command resonated with mana, freezing the impulsive idiots before they could be slain.

Extremely thin lines of silvery wire extended from one portal to the next, protecting the fae as they fully emerged. Nick couldn't really tell what they were, but he knew in his gut that touching them would be very painful and likely fatal.

They also stop the fae from advancing, but that's a small sacrifice when they can pull them back after they've finished amassing.

At the forefront of their ranks stood two imposing figures. The first was the Hunt leader, still adorned with his antlered helm. His face was now ghostly pale, and his frame was visibly weakened. Whether that was because of his duel with Arthur or because of the price he paid to summon the feral Servant, Nick didn't know, but it was obvious that he wasn't as strong as before.

Beside him loomed a second figure, an armored giant standing nearly ten feet tall, whose presence overshadowed all others. He wielded a magnificent silver glaive, complemented by baleful purple eyes that glowed with an otherworldly light. The protective lines all converged on his weapon, making it clear where they came from.

It was a terrifying sight, and Nick knew without a shadow of a doubt that this, too, was a Prestige-level enemy.

The colossal figure stepped forward, and his voice boomed across the clearing. "I am the Guardian of She Who Sees," he declared. "Your fate has been read, mortals. You will all die here, and your spirits will be sacrificed to Her." The words reverberated like a death knell.

The Guardian then raised his mighty glaive and brought it crashing down with a force that shook the earth beneath their feet. The tremors shattered the uneasy stillness and signified the beginning of the battle they had all been waiting for.

A boom of thunder followed, and Nick barely had time to process it before Arthur reached the guardian. He smashed his black sword into the silver glaive, causing the ground to rupture when they made contact. Anyone close enough was thrown away.

Nick grabbed the unfortunate few men caught up in the blast mid-air, righting them so they could rejoin the formation.

Arthur flashed back as he parried the Guardian's retaliatory strikes, sending shockwaves through the air with each impact. The force of their duel created a vast, empty zone. Stray bolts of lightning occasionally escaped, zapping any unlucky fae, while the silver threads connected to the glaive converged on them, forcing Arthur to abandon any definitive attacks.

At the same time, Eugene bull-rushed the Hunt leader. The fae appeared surprised but didn't back down from the challenge. They exchanged blows in a high-speed dance, flitting across the clearing, never staying still.

Behind them stood a solid wall of soldiers, unwavering in the face of the advancing ranks of fae knights. Skills and spells began to envelop them, and soon, they faced the first charge, grunting in pain but holding the line.

In the midst of the chaos, Nick resumed his role as coordinator. Thanks to [Wind God's Third Eye], he unleashed precise gusts of wind to disrupt the enemy's formations. The air around him whipped and swirled, carrying sharp, cutting [Jet Streams] that battered those foolish enough to leave themselves open.

Gradually, Nick began to notice several of the weaker fae—those whose weapons and demeanor lacked the lethality of their comrades—drifting closer to him as the flow of battle forced the enemy to reinforce the front line. Nick skillfully maneuvered along the periphery, spotting an opportunity to thin the enemy ranks. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned a series of [Jet Streams] that pummeled these lesser foes, knocking them off balance.

Once they had been nudged into vulnerable proximity and confident that none were watching, Nick struck. He encircled the disoriented fae with a cyclone of wind, keeping it tightly focused while preparing a series of [Wind Blasts]. The vortex twisted around them, taking their attention away from him and allowing his other spells to reach their legs. One after another, they fell as their legs broke, and Nick tapped into his newest skill—siphoning their vitality to replenish his own mana reserves. He felt a surge of energy flow into him and barely contained a moan.

But before Nick could fully relish his hard-won replenishment, a thunderous crack rent the air, descending upon his vulnerable captives. They were turned to cinders in a flash, and their ashes scattered on the wind.

"I wasn't done with them!" Nick yelled, earning a startled laugh from Arthur, who dodged a mighty swing and retaliated by stepping into the guardian's range and punching his chest with a crackling fist.

Now, I need to find more test subjects. And Marthas has disappeared. And I still haven't figured out who the bastard that cast the illusion is.

"I'll find you," He promised, turning his fury on the closest fae with a snarl.