Low-Fantasy Occultist Isekai-Chapter 130 - 125

A heartbeat after the announcement, something shifted within the orb, and a white pillar of light shot skyward, dazzling and so intense that Nick’s eyes watered even if he had his back to it. Men who dared to look back found themselves clutching at their eyes, groaning in pain. The pillar shot higher and higher until it surpassed the distant clouds, illuminating the afternoon sky.

Arthur was the first to break from the stupor and raised an arm to shield his face. Everyone else followed suit, turning around. Not that it will help much. We have no idea what that damn thing is doing.

They might have stood gaping in place, but Eugene bellowed, "Move! Run, damn it!"

His roar jolted the expedition from its stupor. Running without sight was a complex task, but that was what Dex was for, helping them navigate as they stumbled over debris and the remnants of charred trees that had yet to decay.

Nick followed, pushing hard to keep pace despite the protests from his sore ribs and pulsing head. Soon, however, a new symptom presented itself, drawing shouts of surprise.

No matter what he did to try to stop it, thin smoke escaped his flesh. The same thing happened to everyone around him, though some looked like they were escaping a house fire while others barely emitted any.

The feeling was unlike any Nick had ever experienced before. It was like the light was drawing something out of him despite never actually interacting with his mana. Whatever the smoke was, his senses told him he did not want it inside himself, as it felt oily and dirty. Albedo is the purification. Does that mean it’s drawing out impurities?

He was half tempted to stop to understand how it affected him when [Blasphemy] should have protected him, but even Nick wasn’t that reckless.

Apparently, he still wasn’t fast enough because Eugene snarled, grabbing his arm and pushing him forward. "Keep moving!"

Once teeming with dense foliage, the Green Ocean was now scarred by the earlier meltdown, filled with wispy, leftover smoke from the repeated explosions, which mixed with the residue they left wherever they passed.

Then, a few minutes later, a familiar chime-like tone echoed across the forest as if it were coming from a few feet away. That mechanical, feminine voice spoke again, sounding unnervingly close: "Stage Two: Albedo complete. Commencing Stage Three: Citrinitas."

Nick’s heart jolted. The men around him stumbled at the announcement, and while Eugene barked an order to keep moving, the sudden change nearly knocked them off their feet as the smoke abruptly stopped pouring, leaving them all feeling drained.

The blinding white glow deepened into a golden hue that spilled across the forest, turning the blackened trunks and ashen ground into a surreal sight. Gone was the harsh brilliance; in its place, a soft, molten gold suffused every crevice like sunlight at dusk.

Nick’s entire body tingled in response. Something stirred from deep within him as though the light resonated with the same place that magic did. Citrinitas is the finding of the inherent solar light. Now that it’s done purifying us, it must be trying to draw something out.

A hush fell over the men as they tried to adjust to the changes. Some stumbled, while others swayed as if hammered by an invisible wave. Alarmed, Nick activated [Wind God’s Third Eye] briefly, ignoring the stinging dryness in his coils. Immediately, he felt the thrumming hum of the orb’s new energy swirling across the area. It was not an attack—more of an expansive presence that probed everything it touched.

A familiar message appeared at the edge of his vision:

[Blasphemy] has negated a high-tier alchemical transmutation attempt.

His eyes widened, and he turned to his companions, half expecting they’d be twisted into abominations if the orb’s metamorphic energies found them lacking, but… it didn’t happen. They staggered, momentarily disoriented, but then resumed moving with no sign of change.

In a surprising turn of events, the two most powerful among them—Arthur and Marthas—faced the worst backlash. The old swordsman coughed violently, droplets of blood spattering the ground as the Prelate sagged. His eyes rolled back in his skull, bleeding from every orifice. They looked shocked, as if they had been hammered internally by some unstoppable force.

Eugene caught Arthur mid-fall and hoisted him over a shoulder. Nearby, two soldiers hurried to Marthas’ side, propping him up. The Prelate could barely keep his feet under him as blood dribbled down his chin, and he mumbled something about "divine rewriting," though it was evident he wasn’t fully present.

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"Help anyone who slows down!" Eugene roared, ignoring his own exhaustion. "We have to get away!"

By now, the golden light was so intense that it had consumed the horizon. Nick was not under the illusion that merely outrunning it was feasible, but perhaps the effect might diminish with distance.

So they pressed on, running through the half-burnt underbrush and the blackened remains of the forest, guided only by Eugene’s instincts, as they had no more rangers, and the forest was so different from what it had been that no landmark would help them. No one dared stop, not even to address bleeding wounds that had reopened.

Finally, after a harrowing hour, they arrived at the old campsite from the previous night, where the trees started to look green again and the forest lost some of its otherworldly glow. Over half the men collapsed, gasping for air or scrambling for leftover water. Some rummaged through their meager packs for potions, hoping for a stroke of luck, though Nick doubted that even if they had any left, the vials would have withstood the rough treatment.

Eugene gave them a couple minutes before standing back up, grim-faced. "We can’t stop here." He cast a wary look over his shoulder, where the golden light still bathed the sky. "It’s still affecting us, I can feel it."

No one argued, but the men’s stamina was low after the numerous battles. Nick’s limbs quivered, and he was more than half sure that if he pushed himself further, he would collapse and never rise again.

Before they could get up, however, the voice returned, echoing across the forest with a surprising hint of uncertainty: "Stage Three: Citrinitas, complete. Attempting Stage Four: Rubedo."

Rubedo is the final phase of classical alchemy, the realization of the magnum opus. Something that should technically lead to enlightenment. Given how intense the previous phases had been, however, it didn’t bode well. He still had no idea what Albedo and Citrinitas had done to them, but he knew that if it had been positive, Ogden wouldn’t have cautioned him.

A few seconds later, the mechanical voice crackled again, "Rubedo…failing. Beginning to self-destruct to prevent Negation."

Nick spun around, eyes wide with alarm. His father’s face turned ashen, even under the golden glow. A single, dreadful beat of silence settled over them.

Then, a cataclysmic explosion bloomed from the direction of the battlefield. There was no buildup, just an immediate and devastating flash of colors. For half a second, Nick saw a kaleidoscope of swirling arcs, unnatural shades of green, red, and gold intermingling in an eruption that tore the horizon as if by some cosmic hand. A thunderous roar followed, swallowing every lesser sound.

Miles away as they were, the shockwave raced toward them with terrifying speed. The ground beneath Nick’s boots rolled as if it were in the grip of an earthquake, and he felt his mouth hang open in shock.

Adrenaline jolted him into action a moment later. He forced mana into his battered arms, ignoring the pain of his overused channels. If he didn’t shield them, he was pretty sure they would be atomized by the wave of alchemical fire.

Gritting his teeth, he cast [Force Barrier], though he had no illusions—he didn’t have nearly enough mana to mount a barrier strong enough for an explosion of this magnitude, but it was his only hope. Thus, Nick poured everything he had managed to recover in the past hour into it. A translucent dome shimmered around them.

The men stared at the approaching swirl of rainbow-like flames in silent terror. Eugene, still holding Arthur, braced against the edge of the barrier, pulling the old man behind him. Marthas’ supporters dragged him closer to the center. The soldiers and adventurers huddled together, none deluded enough to think they could outrun such a blast.

Then it hit.

The world vanished in a blaze of alchemical fire, and a torrent of prismatic colors battered the [Force Barrier]. Nick screamed as the strain on his channels soared. Red lines flashed under his skin, feeling like they’d tear him apart from the inside. The dome flickered, cracks spreading like spiderwebs, threatening to collapse at any moment. Gusts of scalding wind roared all around, snapping branches and toppling trees.

Nick saw glimpses of molten bark flying through the conflagration. Then, earsplitting thunder nearly deafened him. Spots danced across his vision, and an acrid stench of magical burn assaulted his senses.

Hold it. He clung to that single thought, pouring every last ounce of willpower into the barrier. No higher power would come to their aid—only the battered remnants of his magical reserves. He braced for the dome’s collapse, expecting that any second now, the unstoppable wave of meltdown would tear them apart.

But it didn’t give way—at least not immediately. Nick balanced on the knife edge of meltdown for a frozen eternity, his mind a swirl of agony. The multicolored fires hammered the outer edges of the barrier, each new wave threatening to carve another chunk out of its integrity. He heard men crying out, though the roar made it almost impossible to parse words. And yet, he kept feeding the barrier mana, somehow dragging more up.

It should have been over. He knew for certain he didn’t have enough power, and yet, it kept coming from somewhere deep within.

Each breath hurt. Just… hold… Nick repeated in his mind, not letting himself linger on the impossibility of it all, afraid that it would all vanish if he did.

A few seconds later, another prismatic wave battered them, somehow more intense than the last. Nick’s vision started blackening at the edges, and he fought to remain conscious.

He felt the dome buckle, cracks forming from top to bottom, and pressed his will into a final reinforcement, conjuring Algiz runes around the barrier’s perimeter to give it all just a bit more stability. It bought them a few seconds.

Eugene let out a roar, pushing through the crowd to plant the tip of his sword on the ground beside him. At first, Nick didn’t understand; then he heard him mouth some words, felt a rush of heat, and realized he was creating a secondary barrier around them. A wave of orange-red flames erupted to surround the flickering barrier, absorbing part of the onslaught. Nick exhaled a ragged breath—any relief at this point was welcome.

Then, from behind, more men surged in, lifting what was left of their shields. They fitted the metal edges together, and their combined mana wove a new perimeter; the lines of shimmering light they created integrated seamlessly with Eugene’s flames.

Nick could feel the structure reinforcing his battered shield.

Bit by bit, that union gave him a small window to breathe. His arms still quivered from the strain, but the crushing pressure had significantly diminished with the men’s help.

The alchemical fires roared for a full minute. Nick’s frantic heartbeat counted each second, each feeling like a year. He saw the dome above crack and mend repeatedly.

Finally, Nick felt the unnatural strength leave him. He tasted blood in his mouth, and he knew he couldn’t go on.

"Stand down!" Eugene’s voice boomed, half-lost in the torrent. "Let us hold it."

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Nick nodded dazedly, feeling the [Force Barrier] unravel. The translucent shell broke apart, leaving only Eugene’s blazing ring of fire and the golden shield lattice behind. He nearly collapsed onto his knees but managed to stagger, leaning on his father’s back.

Finally, the meltdown wave slowed. One last sizzling swirl battered the shield’s exterior, but after a heartbeat of tense stillness, the storm faded, leaving only silence behind.