If there was one thing Nick had learned from fighting spirits, it was that one approach didn’t work for all of them. Their nature might have been similar, and with enough power at his disposal, he could have brute-forced his way through an exorcism, but while he’d grown in power since arriving in the Sunlands, he could recognize when forcing the issue was too dangerous.
“We need to leave,” he hissed, sending a whisper of wind to alert the others.
Raphael turned to give him a surprised look, but Nick wasn’t affected. Yes, he hadn’t exactly built an image of someone who’d back down from a fight, but with the true nature of the Southern Guardian revealed, he knew that fighting now was just too risky.
Seeing that he stayed firm in his stance, the senior apprentice had no choice but to nod, his face taking a grim cast, and he signaled for the others to retreat.
The sounds of battle continued behind them even as they left the dark lake behind, showing that the raid team from House Hone wasn’t as willing to go, but Nick remained firm in his decision.
Only after they had put some distance between them and he could no longer feel the oppressive presence of the Guardian did he start to slow down.
The others waited patiently for him to speak, and Nick knew the “curse” excuse was running thin. After a long moment, during which he tried and failed to find a simple explanation, he decided the truth would have to suffice.
We’re already too deep into this. That thing isn’t going to fall anytime soon, so we’ll get another chance at it.
“Nick?” Willow asked, sounding worried.
He sighed but turned to face them. “Alright, here’s the deal. The Southern Guardian is a completely different beast from the others. Whether it’s because the mana we’ve disturbed in the other locations has gathered here and given it enough power to manifest more of itself, or because it was always like that, I don’t know. But what I sensed back there tells me we can’t just approach it recklessly.”
Malik reacted with surprise. “I’m all for taking things slow, but that looked like a good opportunity. With it occupied by the Hones, we could have set up and swooped in at the last minute to finish it.”
But Nick was already shaking his head. “No, that wouldn’t have worked.”
Trees creaked around them, rustling in an unseen wind, and the swamp's atmosphere, which had already been oppressive, now felt genuinely threatening.
Pursing his lips, he searched for any sign of something watching them through the ether, aware that someone had been monitoring them from the start, but he couldn’t find any. For once, he appreciated the dungeon’s heavy presence, as it gave them some privacy.
“The other Guardians served as focal points in a large ritual,” he started, raising his hand to cancel questions. “I initially thought it was a setup to spread a curse, yes, but considering recent events, that assessment feels too narrow. I believe we’re facing something much more dangerous.”
Nobody spoke, but their expressions made it clear they were unhappy. Still, none of them had the sharp senses needed to challenge him. Only Raphael knew the real truth, and for now, he kept silent, trusting him to handle things.
“The anchors we destroyed so far could have seemed like natural pooling points of the leyline, and in some ways, they are. But what I saw back there makes it clear there is a much larger plan behind this entire thing,” he tried again, still unsure how much to share.
“Can you just say it?” Surprisingly, it was Terence who spoke first. He looked genuinely fed up, but whether it was with him or the situation overall, Nick didn’t know. Nor did he care enough to find out.
A bit annoyed, but aware that he was dragging it out too long, he gave a curt nod. “The Southern Guardian is an embodied spirit, probably the result of a great massacre in the past. Killing it will require a much larger setup, and from what I saw, the pylons the Hones used won't do anything but make it angrier. In fact, I’d wager they are just feeding it with their lives. It will not fall to regular magic, not the kind we can summon, at least.”
“So we can’t do anything?” Yvonne asked.
“I didn’t say that,” Nick corrected. “But it will need careful study and preparation. Going in without major adjustments to our tactics and a clear plan will only result in our deaths.”
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That, luckily, seemed to do the trick. The others would take some time to digest his words and probably have more questions once they finished, but the fact that he was hitting the brakes after being the one who pushed the hardest was enough to make them think.
The return to their temporary camp was eerily peaceful. Whereas before they’d been attacked at every turn, it almost felt like they were no longer in the dungeon.
If it wasn’t for the constant oppression of my senses, of course.
Nick used the break to review options for handling the Guardian, and while he wasn’t yet sure if any one would be enough, he felt he was making progress.
His skill with exorcism rituals was nothing to scoff at after his sessions with Lasazar. Not having Worldcraft to rely on would likely reduce his raw power, but that was less of an issue if he had enough time to craft a specialized ritual.
For now, he was leaning toward an Irvinic ritual, based on an inverted Thalamic evocation. It might have been a bit complex, especially since not all concepts could be translated into single words, but the Irvinic language’s resistance to external corruption was too valuable to ignore, especially since he was increasingly certain that this Guardian represented the Soul of the ritual. This could give it significant leeway in disrupting any ethereal binding he might try to impose.
Simple restrictions made by ofudas won’t be enough. I should still try to incorporate [Emakimono] into it, if only for its sheer versatility, but it will be a bit of a struggle to make it fit Irvinic. In this way, [Chesed] would actually give the whole thing more structure.
Just as he was finally settling on something resembling a proper ritual and the picture he needed to draw was coming together, he finally sensed movement.
“We’ve got company,” he warned, gesturing toward a pool of dark mud to their left, where a large presence was starting to emerge.
Unsurprisingly, it was another salamander, as large as the first one they’d handled, but strangely enough, it didn’t seem intent on attacking. In fact, it kept its distance, watching them with milky white eyes.
“Something’s wrong,” Joran muttered. He had been mostly silent, clearly thinking deeply about what Nick had said. As the only one in the group with experience in alchemy and an understanding of energy balances, he was probably closest to realizing how dangerous their situation truly was, but he hadn’t voiced his concerns yet.
He probably wouldn’t get the chance if what Nick was gradually picking up from their surroundings was correct.
“Ignore the salamander,” he hissed. It was big and dangerous, yes, but they had much worse problems to deal with, and he was pretty sure it was being puppeted by something anyway.
[Crest of the Thunderbird] burst into being with golden sparks, as the divine bird spread its wings to their fullest extent to shield them.
It was just quick enough to stop the hail of darts from plunging into their flesh, though given the massive cracks that spread through the shield spell, that probably wouldn’t last for long.
“Nick?” Raphael asked, even as spatial mana began to form around him and he prepared for battle.
But there was not much he could say. A presence was stalking them, but it was concealed under several layers of stealth magic, and the dungeon had apparently decided that now was a perfect time to increase its interference, making it very hard for Nick to sense anything beyond twenty feet.
“Get ready,” he said instead of answering, as he patched up the cracks, and Willow reinforced his barrier with her own. “This one is strong.”
The next hail of bolts came not a second later, cracking against his magic from all directions. Sparks responded to the attack, and he fed them, transforming them into smaller [Lightning Bolts] in an effort to lure out their hunter, but once again, they vanished back into the fog.
Behind them, the salamander watched in eerie silence, though he never lost track of it. Having a high INT stat helped with that.
“Is it a person?” Malik asked, which just went to show how out of their depth they were. Without being able to identify the source of the attacks, it was impossible to determine who was behind them, but Nick had no hesitation in nodding.
“It is. And a strong one, at that.”
Whether it was the Hones, a random adventurer who decided they made an easy target, or someone else, he didn’t know. However, as things stood, they would get whittled down because the sheer force behind those bolts was just enough to crack his shield—not an easy feat given its nature—and barely shy of breaking through.
That level of consistency was simply not achievable unless the person possessed immense control and had been observing long enough to understand Nick’s power levels.
Which meant…
“You are the one who has been spying on us!” Nick called out.
For a moment, only the low groan of the swamp was his reply, before a chuckle resonated from all around.
“Indeed. I suspected you might have known, but it’s good to know my expectations were met.”
The others shifted, bristling at the sheer casualness with which the man—and it was a man—spoke.
“You’ve been watching us for some time. At least since we dealt with Calder,” Nick pressed. He didn’t like the picture being drawn, but it was better to know than live in blissful ignorance. That would lead to a quick death in his line of work.
“I have,” the voice admitted. “I saw how you dealt with the Guardians so far. Very impressive, for a bunch of apprentices.”
The complete dismissal of the adventurers as relevant to those victories was perhaps too blunt, but it wasn’t necessarily wrong. Nick was well aware that, at this point, the four were little more than magnets to draw monsters away from the casters long enough for them to unleash their magic, something that could have been accomplished with a bit more preparation.
“Out with it,” Raphael growled, his eyes darting in every direction as he searched for the voice’s source. “What do you want?”
Another chuckle echoed, this one more indulgent, but nothing else happened for a few seconds.
Then, several shapes emerged from the swamp’s fog. All masked individuals, with no clear insignia, but Nick easily identified them as House Hone members, mainly because of their weapons, which all featured the distinctive hue of psychic magic.
“Get ready,” he said, pumping even more mana through the Shard to reinforce the shield.
This could get messy. That guy's tough to read, but from what I can tell, he’s significantly stronger than me. I don’t like our chances if we face off openly.
Everything happened very quickly after that. Another hail of bolts was unleashed, and he prepared to empower the sparks that would be released to attack the masked people, only for the power imparted to them this time to significantly surpass the previous rounds.
They punched straight through the Crest, ripping a gasp from Nick as his defense was breached for the first time.
Then, the men descended on them, and he had no more time to think.
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