Low-Fantasy Occultist Isekai

Despite his initial success in conjuring a guiding wind and finally feeling some accomplishment in his attempts, Nick had yet to receive official confirmation from the System that he had learned the Stalking Gait, which forced him to sit down and reflect on his mother's instructions.

"It's not about speed, Nick," she had said countless times. "Not entirely. It's about control. You must breathe with intent, fully aware of what you are doing. You must guide the mana like a river, and you're the dam. Let it flow too fast or too slow, and the technique falls apart."

Her voice was always calm, and she seemed to expect him to figure it out based on just a few simple instructions, which never ceased to frustrate him. Still, she insisted that this was how everyone she knew had learned it, which somehow meant he had to do the same.

Nick had heard stories of how she and his grandmother had used the Stalking Gait to outmaneuver faster, stronger foes, compensating for their physical limitations with impeccable timing and a sudden burst of strength when it mattered.

Internally, he often grumbled that it took them just a few suggestions and some practice to earn the skill—much like he had with [Minor Elemental Manipulation]— only because they were martial classes. However, with the aid of his new affinity, he felt he might break through, even though he was increasingly sure the ritual hadn't gone exactly as planned.

Later. I can unpack everything later. Fucking keep it together, Crowley.

Closing his eyes, he drew in a long, measured breath, allowing the fresh air to fill his lungs.

The first pattern of the Stalking Gait is deceptively simple. Breathe in for five counts, hold for three, and exhale for five. Repeat. Match the rhythm to your movements. Let the mana follow the flow of your breath, coursing through your veins and spreading evenly throughout your body.

Nick began slowly, focusing entirely on his breathing. The inhale was deep and steady, drawing mana inward, though it immediately resisted his attempts to shape it. Instead of following the desired paths, the energy pooled indiscriminately across his body, dispersing evenly in a way he now recognized as characteristic of magies.

He frowned but didn't falter. He'd experienced this before—every time he'd tried to learn the Stalking Gait in the past, his mana had defied him, stubbornly refusing to adhere to the technique's requirements despite his nominally great control. Without the air affinity, he hadn't been able to sense why it failed. Now, though, the issue was glaringly obvious.

Mana wasn't naturally inclined to flow like blood for those with a magical class. It sought to diffuse, spreading throughout the body as an unshaped resource to fuel his spells. For a technique like the Stalking Gait, this approach was useless. It demanded a mana circulation system superimposed on the body's arteries and veins. Only then could it enhance his physical abilities, temporarily bolstering his speed, agility, and mana recovery.

No wonder I couldn't use it. Its basic requirements are antithetical to the way my body works. That makes me wonder how Mum's friend learned it if he was a mage…

He let out a frustrated sigh, breaking the pattern as he rubbed his temples. The one time he encountered anything to do with the shape of one's internal system was during a conversation with Old Ogden.

"Be careful about shaping your mana system, boy," he had warned in his gravelly tone. "It's tempting to carve pathways for control, but once you do, you're committing. Your spells will follow those channels whether you want them to or not. You limit yourself in ways you might not understand until it's too late."

Nick had nodded along at the time, thinking the advice sound, but not relevant—a problem for future him. Now, it was coming back to bite him. He needed a way to channel the mana through his veins for the technique to work, but he had to do so without creating permanent conduits that could interfere with his spellcasting.

After a moment of thought, he began again. This time, as he breathed, he tightened his focus. Instead of allowing the mana to flow naturally, he gripped it tightly, visualizing it as threads of light caught in his grasp. His new affinity came into play as he was able to follow the natural energy within the air that filled his lungs.

Carefully, deliberately, he guided the mana through his arteries, envisioning it as a second bloodstream synchronized with his breathing pattern. The sensation was strange—almost unnatural—as if his body was fighting against the foreign flow. His muscles tensed faintly in response, but he pushed through, keeping his grip firm.

Don't let it carve pathways. Guide it, but don't let it linger.

The effort was significant. Every breath felt like a battle as he worked to maintain control over the energy without letting it settle for too long. Sweat beaded on his forehead, but he didn't stop. Gradually, the process became smoother. The mana flowed more freely, obeying his will as it cycled through his body, following the natural dispersal of the oxygen he inhaled.

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours, and the world around him faded as he finally worked through the technique. His body felt lighter, and his senses sharper. The aches from his earlier injuries dulled, replaced by a tingling warmth that spread through his limbs. His breathing deepened further, and the rhythm became second nature as he fell into a trance-like state.

A faint breeze stirred the air around him. The wind felt like an extension of his movements, responding to the rhythm of his breaths. His affinity for the air was beginning to harmonize with his Stalking Gait, the two working together in a way that felt… right.

Nick's lips curled into a small smile, though his focus didn't waver. For the first time, he felt like he was making real progress.

Feeling bolder, Nick rose to his feet and took a tentative step, matching the movement to his breathing. The mana adjusted with him, flowing almost seamlessly through his veins as he stepped lightly across the clearing.

I can feel it. I'm almost there. Just a little bit more, and I'll underst—no, it's not coming. Ok, concentrate on the Stalking Gait. I can work on that later.

He began to move faster, going through the movements his mother taught him and finding a new appreciation for them. She had said that the Stalking Gait was about efficiency multiple times, but only now did he understand how true that was. Each movement wasted no energy, and he glided across the ground like a predator stalking its prey.

Pushing harder, Nick sprinted the length of the clearing and back, leaping over tall grass and weaving between rocks. The wind seemed to carry him, making his body feel almost weightless as the technique reached its peak.

When he finally stopped, his chest heaved, but his smile had grown wider. He felt incredible. His body was alive with energy, his mana replenishing itself faster than ever before.

The System chimed softly, and a new notification appeared in his vision.

Ah, no prize for overcoming the barrier. I guess it would have been different if I had managed to get through that moment, but I didn't. I knew there was a penalty for learning martial skills; I should have expected it to reflect on the experience, too.

Nick exhaled a deep breath, trembling slightly from exertion. He had done it. The technique was his, and it worked better than he could have hoped. He would still need to refine it and practice until it became second nature, but it was more than enough for now.

The clearing grew still once more. Nick closed his eyes and allowed himself a moment of peace. He let go of the momentary disappointment of not achieving his desired enlightenment, deciding that the basic version of the skill would do for now.

That done, he began removing the traces of what happened. Despite not feeling any guilt, especially about what his decision allowed him to do, he still knew better than to let anyone learn of what he had done.

Smoothing out the soil took a couple of minutes. He channeled the residual vitality that still clung to him from the ritual, letting it flow into the ground. The earth responded eagerly, softening under his touch as it absorbed the excess energy.

Blades of grass sprouted where his fingers passed, bright and verdant under the fading sunlight. Wildflowers began to bloom, their delicate petals unfurling in a kaleidoscope of colors. The field seemed to come alive, the scars of the battle fading as nature reclaimed its dominion. Nick allowed himself a small smile at the sight.

He waited a moment to see if he'd be rewarded for his actions but didn't feel too bad when the system didn't appear again.

With one last glance at the revitalized field, he turned and made his way toward home.

The walk back to town was uneventful, though the weight of his actions began to settle over him. His body ached from exertion, and his mind teetered between exhaustion and elation.

"Missed lunch, almost missed dinner," Nick grumbled as he approached his family home. "No amount of mana makes up for an empty stomach."

When he arrived, he could hear the rhythmic clang of wood against wood and the feeling of air currents moving around two figures. Pushing the gate open, Nick stopped to watch the scene before him.

Devon stood in the center of the yard, swinging his training sword through an intricate sequence of steps. Every step was careful, showing that he had yet to master this skill. Sweat glistened on his brow, but his expression was one of fierce determination.

Their mother stood a few paces away, arms crossed, observing with a critical eye. She offered occasional corrections, her tone equal parts stern and encouraging.

Nick leaned against the fence, tilting his head. "What's he doing? Looks a little fancier than your usual."

Elena turned, smiling warmly when she saw him. "Ah, you're back. Your brother decided that plain swordsmanship wasn't exciting enough. He wanted something with flair." She gestured toward Devon, who continued to work through the sequence, seemingly oblivious to the conversation.

Nick raised an eyebrow, watching as he executed a particularly intricate spin, producing a faint whistle with the tip of his blade, and what felt to his new sense like a duplicate followed. "I didn't know I just needed to ask to learn something flashy."

Elena chuckled. "It will take him more than just an afternoon of practice to get it. That's the First Step of the Serene Path. It's a skill I picked up from a Paladin who passed through town when I was younger."

Nick blinked, surprised. "A Paladin taught you that? I thought they were notoriously stingy with their skills."

"They are," Elena admitted, her smile taking on a mischievous edge. "But you're too young to hear the story of how I convinced him."

Nick groaned, pushing himself off the frame. "Ugh, never mind. Forget I asked." He turned toward the washroom, waving a hand dismissively. "I don't want to hear about your glory days."

"It was just a bit of flirting!" She laughed as he retreated.

The washroom was a welcome refuge. Nick splashed cool water on his face, grounding his thoughts. Staring at his reflection in the mirror, he studied himself critically. He looked the same—the same tousled hair and slowly emerging features—but he felt different.

"It's still there," he muttered, summoning his status. The implications of that were staggering. Rituals weren't supposed to yield permanent results without carrying some immense cost. The fact that he'd succeeded with relatively modest components meant there was more to be uncovered about how they interacted with the System's rules.

I can think of two dozen rituals meant to create a temporary effect that would be crazy good to keep as a permanent one, but I shouldn't get ahead of myself. I have two data points—the other being the [Welcoming of the Sun], which worked as intended—that tell an entirely different story from one another. I should try to learn what exactly happened this time that is different from last time before I go on a murder spree… Ah, that might be it. Was that the reason?

It was possible. This world's humans were much richer in mana than Earth's. It stood to reason that their sacrifice was more potent.

No, I cannot assume that was it. I need to tackle this properly; the implications are too significant to do otherwise.

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