Low-Fantasy Occultist Isekai

Since carving a rune circle where any of his family members could stumble into it felt like a terrible idea, and salt was a necessary and expensive ingredient for the Crowley household, Nick was reduced to playing around with the more rustic styles of casting he knew about.

Standing alone in the middle of a forest clearing in the darkness before dawn, far enough from the house that he wouldn't be spotted but close enough to be on the pacified edges of the Green Ocean, Nick was finally attempting something beyond the most basic tricks in his repertoire.

"Note to self. Make and then enchant a pen to write down my experiments. I'll never take for granted how nice it is to walk down the street and access almost everything a mage can possibly need." Nick said out loud, pacing as he checked the chosen trees to ensure nothing would go wrong. This body didn't have the benefit of several enhancements to see in the dark, but it was responsive enough he was able to avoid falling on the innumerable roots that choked the clearing.

He still wasn't sure what had led to his transmigration, but he strongly suspected his supplier hadn't just given him subpar ingredients. He might have even accidentally activated some ancient ritual by carelessly choosing a tainted location.

"America was chock full of ancient burial grounds. This place hasn't seen human presence for centuries before this latest push to retake land from the forest. I should be safe." Nonetheless, he checked another time. Paranoia was only a detriment when you weren't playing with the fabric of reality. His senses came up blank for anything but the barest hints of nature spirits.

"Alright. Experiment number one: Druidic magic. Bereft of the usual elements necessary to conduct a modernized ritual and unwilling to risk exposure by resorting to runes, I have decided to check the transferability of my knowledge with one of the simplest rituals I know."

Little Nick would have wondered why he was speaking out loud when there was a real risk of being overheard, but old Nick knew better. Magic, for all that it seemed very canonized in this world, was a phenomenon aided and interpreted by the caster's state of mind. If a mage wanted to achieve a specific result, engaging in behaviors related to that result would significantly increase the odds of the spell being successful. Speaking out loud while going through the motions allowed Nick to enter the necessary flow.

"Nature magic is the most ancient way humanity had to reach beyond mortality's constraints. Druidic magic is simply the first codified form of nature magic. The Welcoming of the Sun is the easiest, most basic ritual passed down from the ancient druids of yore, with the least amount of side-effects—All easily suppressed with some willpower." Which was why Nick had picked it. The ritual was simplistic enough that it pulled on concepts shared among dimensions. Humanity, in its earliest days, should have worshipped the sun here just as it did in his old world. To receive the sun's blessing for a day meant one's steps being surer, one's breath never catching and warding away sickness. It led to some recklessness and gave a strong drive to chase away the darkness with fire that was offset by minor pyrokinetic resistance.

It was no earth-shaking spell. Nick certainly wouldn't use it to face a thunderhoof, not after having seen his mother split the massive carcass in two with her bare hands.

But if it worked, it would show that his old-world knowledge wouldn't simply be a guiding star for his new journey and could actively be employed. It would catapult him from a novice with some familiarity with the arcane to a veteran who simply had to familiarize himself with new schools of casting.

Nick took a deep breath, centering himself as he set up the last steps. The ritual itself was simple, almost meditative, involving little more than precise placements of the items he had gathered the previous day and a focused intent. He pulled out a small pouch from his belt, inside which were several sunstones—glimmering yellow gems that seemed to hold the summer's warmth.

Pretty, but without any market value. At least in this world where magical ingredients could be bought at the Sunday market.

"First things first," Nick muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. He moved with the ease of practice despite having never done this in his current body, and he began placing the sunstones at the base of specific trees. Each stone was carefully positioned to mark the path the sun would take as it ascended, each tree chosen for its age and position relative to the clearing. Their roots intertwined with the land's mana in a way that newer growths couldn't replicate. Nick knew this from years of study—both in his previous life and the hastily gathered knowledge he'd acquired since finding himself here. Old trees like these acted as conduits, amplifying any druidic ritual's effects by tapping into the deep, earthbound leylines.

Finding out that their existence is common knowledge freaked me out for a moment. The damage a decent caster can do with direct access to a leyline doesn't bear thinking about. But luckily, the people here seem to see them as inaccessible as the sea currents or the high winds. It's just something that happens in nature to them.

That the Green Ocean had several running below didn't come as a surprise. That the few powerful casters around didn't kill anyone who wandered too close did. But maybe he was still too used to the ancient families on Earth, who greedily gobbled every drop of magic left for themselves. Here, there was enough for anyone. When simply completing daily tasks and killing a few creatures was enough to grow your reserves, there was no need to risk your life tapping into the world's untamed lifeblood.

As he set the final stone, Nick began to intone a low chant in the most ancient of the Celtic languages, Leopontic. It was a low, nasal tongue that did not distinguish voiced and unvoiced occlusives. Learning it had been a bitch and a half, but once he had gotten hold of the Etruscan translation of a funerary stone, he had been able to work it out. Invoking the dead shade of Metelos Maeśelalos, one of the few intact names left, had helped, though the man had been furious at being pulled from the lulling embrace of Isos.

Now, the words slipped from his tongue like a prayer, asking the sun to bless this day, to grant its favor to the one who honored it. His voice rose and fell with the rhythm of the chant, carrying his intent into the ether. Nick could feel the magic stirring around him, a gentle hum that vibrated in his bones.

This was not the fierce, chaotic power he had to wrangle in his last life, always ready to turn on the caster to punish any mistake. There was something inherently more defined here, less instinctive and more malleable.

Now came the most difficult moment. He had demonstrated he could use his old world's rituals to manipulate the local mana, which was already a significant victory. However, how they would manifest, and more importantly, how the System would affect them, was still up in the air.

The chant ended just as the first rays of dawn broke over the horizon. Nick stood still, his heart beating in time with the the mana gathering in the air. There was no dramatic burst of energy, no dazzling display of light. Instead, the clearing was filled with a quiet, pervasive warmth. The world paused momentarily, acknowledging the ritual's success.

As the sunlight touched his skin, Nick felt a wave of invigoration wash over him. It was initially subtle, almost imperceptible, like the slow dawn of awareness after a deep sleep. But as the minutes passed, he realized just how profound the change was. His body felt lighter, his mind clearer. There was a vitality in his limbs that hadn't been there before, as if he had just awoken from the best sleep of his life and enjoyed the most nourishing meal.

And yet, it lacked the contentment he had expected. There was no urge to yell out his praise, no desire to prostrate himself to thank the power he couldn't hope to understand, no bright fire just below his sternum, ready to burn down all existence in its quest to prove its supremacy.

One part of the ritual had worked seamlessly. Another part had simply failed to manifest.

The trip back home was much faster. Sneaking out required making absolutely no sound lest his parents hear him. He needed to keep to the darkest spots of the streets and emerged into the forest, where monsters could and did wander, no matter the regular cullings, with only a knife for protection.

Now that the early morning chill had been driven away from his bones and his steps were as sure as an elf ranger's, Nick cut the time down in a third and was even able to make a small detour.

When he reached his house, he immediately noticed the wooden shutters were open, and gentle smoke rose from the chimney, which meant his parents were up.

This wasn't ideal, but it also had been a strong possibility. He had prepared for this.

Against every instinct his kid body had left, Nick swaggered in from the main entrance, making no effort to hide his presence. He wouldn't be able to escape a C-rank adventurer's senses anyway.

An unamused eyebrow lift from his mother urged him to explain, but he refrained, knowing that she'd spot any lie. Instead, he dug into his pockets, took out a couple of fat, springy mushrooms, and dropped them on the table, putting on his best smug face.

"What is this?" Elena asked, though she already knew. Since her eyebrow was steadily dropping, Nick felt confident enough to answer.

"It rained yesterday. Today's Copperhead mushroom day, and I wasn't going to let Elia pick them all before I got a chance. No way. Nu-huh." Crossing his arms, Nick gave his best cat that got the canary look.

Elia was a young fox beastman who used her superior nose to find all the delicious mushrooms growing in the fields behind the temple. Nick had made sure to complain about it loudly last week, since he was known to enjoy those.

Rather than the reprimand a normal mother would have given for sneaking out, Elena seemed relieved. The fact was, Nick had changed and couldn't really act his physical age most of the time. A bit of harmless mischief went a long way to reassure her he was still her little boy.

"Go clean up. And you'll do double training today. No complaints!" She finally sentenced, earning an amused huff from his father, who wisely didn't say anything when she turned her gimlet eye on him.

Nick made sure to appear contrite as he trudged out again toward the washroom, but he was already internally reviewing the results of his experiment.

Closing the door behind him, he finally allowed the buzzing notification to appear.

Ah, so that's why I was feeling it a lot more. I thought the ritual got enhanced because of the abundant mana, but no. I went up in level.

It made sense, as one of the first lessons he ever got was how to do precisely that. Different Classes had different methods, but the prevailing wisdom was that achieving results in one's path—which counted setting up and successfully conducting a ritual in Nick's case—was the best way to go about it.

With a grin, he settled down. He'd need some time to go over everything that happened with a fine comb, but he wasn't an Occultist for nothing. No pesky System would hide anything from him!

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