Low-Fantasy Occultist Isekai

Surprisingly, Nick had come to enjoy physical hard work. With his young, energetic body and a lot of time to think about magic, he was almost eager to get to it.

Of course, he would have preferred staying indoors and reading through Roberta's diary, but even just parsing through the protective spells was taking him a long time. Being able to think about what he'd learned without anyone interrupting him while he cleared his neighbor's field of invasive plants worked quite well. It was almost meditative.

That didn't mean he couldn't do some of the work with magic. He was being punished unfairly, after all.

Not that Mum and Dad are wrong. If I was a real kid, this would be more than justified. Honestly, Grandpa punished me more when I lived on Earth. But I'm not a kid. I handled a dangerous situation quite well and even managed to protect Elia. No matter that she was the one to convince the dryad to let us go.

At least, all the hubbub about their mischievousness and danger-seeking had lowered the attention from his practicing magic without a tutor.

The vicar was quite angry about that. He had made it clear that whatever ideas his Class might have given Nick, it wasn't worth blowing himself up by experimenting without a mentor. He had insisted Nick spend his time and energy within the temple if he couldn't help himself.

As could be expected, he didn't follow that order either.

"The problem with nature magic is that I really, really don't want to risk calling the dryad to myself again. But it's also the only kind of magic I have available from this world." Doing another ritual to manipulate the trees was simply out of the question. Even if the fae didn't rattle Nick, he couldn't afford to do anything so over the top now that the eyes of the entire town were on him.

He slowly worked his way through the field, pulling weeds with more force than necessary, his mind a thousand miles away. Nick could feel the rough texture of the earth beneath his hands, the occasional sharp rock or root poking at his fingers, but none of it really registered. His thoughts were consumed by the diary tucked away in his room, waiting for him to dive back in.

The Diary of Roberta, Druid of the Green Ocean. The title itself promised secrets—answers to questions no one else seemed interested in asking. So far, though, there had been no spells, no magical incantations, nothing that would have marked it as a valuable tome to anyone else.

The mystery of why no one had found it was immediately answered by the presence of the secrecy spells. The remaining one, that being why it had been left there in the first place, was now also clear. To the untrained eye, it was just the ramblings of an eccentric druid, filled with musings about leylines, mana flows, and the ever-changing nature of the Green Ocean. Boring, hyper-specific issues that no one but a druid could do much with, and despite what one would think, that class didn't appear any more than the common Mage did here in Floria, which went to show that if the environment affected the probability of a class being assigned, it was an effect noticeable only through generations. It had yet to show up meaningfully in the town.

But Nick knew better.

Firstly, the Green Ocean wasn't just a forest—it was an immense monstrosity that spanned the entire western side of the continent, if the approximative maps he had seen were correct. It was something closer to the Amazon Rainforest in size than any old thicket. In a world of living magic, full of alien creatures and monsters, that kind of environment had to be full of interesting things to discover.

Roberta's notes on the shifting leylines were especially fascinating. Every few decades, the mana-rich veins beneath the forest surfaced, warping the area and everything in it. She reported a significant increase in monsters the two times she had witnessed it with her own eyes and both times, those creatures spilled out of the Green Ocean and made trouble for Floria.

Nothing as world-ending as if it happened right outside their door, but enough to significantly lower the population.

That phenomenon may explain why Floria only saw a resurgence less than a century ago despite being technically much older. If the previous settlement had been faced with a nearby leyline surfacing, it wouldn't have been able to survive. The people probably abandoned their homes, which the green swallowed up, only to be resurfaced by the reclamation efforts.

Nick's thoughts remained on those ancient dungeons as he yanked another stubborn weed free from the soil. He'd yet to hear any hint of that happening from his forays into the village. Despite being a retired adventurer, his mother hadn't spoken of them, and no mention was made in his books either. His last source of reliable information, the vicar, hadn't even hinted at the subject during their lessons. That, of course, made Nick even more curious.

He had a plan to learn more, but that would have to wait until he was done with this stupid punishment.

What little he'd managed to glean from Roberta's writings hadn't satisfied him either. She mentioned dungeons only in the context of leyline surges, describing them as "tumors in the weave of nature." According to her, the local fauna couldn't handle the sudden influx of mana when a leyline shifted, leading to mutations. Animals grew powerful beyond their ability to control, often leading to magic-capable monsters drunk on their power that spilled everywhere.

Sometimes, though, the earth itself seemed to break, forming pockets of chaotic magic—dungeons. Nick could only imagine what lay inside those pockets since Roberta only referred to them as annoyances to her job as guardian of the balance and thought little of those who sought them.

He had momentarily thought about asking the vicar more about them, but he wasn't likely to receive an answer after his recent escapade. The man already suspected Nick was too eager for his own good when it came to magic, and he had no intention of adding fuel to that fire.

"Nicholas," his mother's sharp voice broke through his thoughts.

He jerked, looking up to see Elena watching him from the edge of the field, her arms crossed. "You're daydreaming again," she chided, though her tone was softened compared to the raw fear of a week prior. "Focus. The work won't do itself."

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"Right," Nick muttered, pulling another weed with renewed vigor if only to appease her.

She lingered for a moment longer, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You're doing a good job, but don't think that'll get you out of extra chores. I'll check on you again in a bit."

Nick nodded, waiting until she turned and walked back toward their house before sighing. His hands moved mechanically as he continued to clear the field, but his mind slipped back to the diary.

Beyond the dungeons—by far the most exciting discovery so far—Nick was also working his way through the three spells laid on it.

He brought out his status screen with a thought, smiling in satisfaction at what he saw.

The first thing that popped out was that he had earned another level. That was directly connected to his study of Roberta's magic, which made sense since, as far as he could tell, his class was supposed to grow from magical research and obscure spell usage.

That didn't mean he couldn't earn levels from fighting, as shown by his defeat of the wolf granting him 200 experience, but that was a whopping fifty percent less than his first use of the basic Hoplite's Help gave him. The more complex [Eye for an Eye] gave him six times as much.

Considering that those were all complete spells he had come into this world already knowing, he was willing to bet that creating an entirely new one, or even reverse-engineering a complex bit of local magic, would have even better results.

To be fair, not every novice can start working on high-difficulty spells from the beginning. I bet a normal Occultist here has to rely entirely on having a mentor. Well, it's more than balanced by the fact that I don't earn experience by working out or training with mum, no matter how much she tells me it will still be helpful one day.

It was a good thing that his stat increases also affected charisma. He doubted he'd be able to affect remorse so well otherwise.

Floria was a genuinely lovely town, especially for being on the border of an untamed wilderness. It had just a couple thousand permanent residents, which allowed it to keep its charm without being a hamlet.

The streets were properly cobbled and clean, thanks to the hard work of the local militia's recruits, who were put to the task whenever one messed up. There were artisan shops of all kinds servicing everyone, from the housewife looking to buy fresh produce to the adventurer itching to try their luck at the Green Ocean and wanting to stock up on potions and antidotes.

There were only two taverns. The nicer establishment was at the town's eastern entrance. It was meant to service the kingdom's merchants and the occasional visitor with enough money to afford a room and board.

The other, which was Nick's target for the day, was on the opposite side. Much closer to the wall that technically protected them from the forest's denizens—which Nick strongly suspected had once been an anchor for wards and was now merely used as physical protection for the soldiers to hide behind in case a beast who could fly or climb decided to try its luck— it was entirely dedicated to one type of customer: adventurers.

The recent escapade with Elia was still fresh on everyone's lips. Passing villagers shot him looks, some amused, others concerned, and it didn't help that a few of the older women would tsk and shake their heads as he walked by. Nick wasn't too worried about being recognized since his father worked on the wall most days, and a child visiting their parent was quite normal, but if anyone saw him at the tavern, they'd tell, and his mother might ground him for a month.

That was why he darted down a side alley as soon as he reached the denser part of town. He passed a few men unloading crates and a pair of older teens locked in a kiss, but no one paid him much attention. His path was deliberate, though it took longer this way. Better take a few more minutes than risk one of the more annoying elders asking questions.

After some more sneaking, he finally reached the tavern. It was rougher around the edges than the polished inn on the other side of town. This place, after all, catered to those who lived dangerously, the adventurers who ventured into the Green Ocean and sometimes didn't return. The smell of ale, sweat, and the faint tinge of steel oil hung in the air, though it wasn't quite lunchtime yet. Most of the regulars wouldn't arrive until later after they finished dealing with whatever beasts lurked on the edges of the forest that morning.

Nick pressed himself into the shadows of a narrow passage beside the tavern, peering out from behind a stack of empty barrels. He waited. The tavern's back door creaked open just as he expected. A girl—just a few years older than him but already weighed down by adulthood—stepped outside. Her apron was stained with old food and drink, and she looked tired.

That was Theresa. She was a server at the tavern, but she was also a mother and wife. Her equally young husband worked as a guard on the wall under Nick's father, who had also been the one to laughingly tell the family that this was the time of day when the girl usually snuck away for a moment to talk to her beloved. It was the only moment when the tavern's back door would be unwatched.

Nick waited, crouching low as Theresa crossed the street and disappeared into the main streets. Once she was out of sight, he darted from his hiding place and slipped through the back door after a quick kinetic push to lift the lock.

Inside, the tavern was quiet. Few adventurers sat in the common room, nursing their drinks or chatting in low voices.

Nick found a cupboard near the far corner of the room that served his purpose. It was just big enough for him to squeeze inside but was dusty, empty, and unlikely to be needed anytime soon. After glancing around to ensure no one was watching, he slipped inside and pulled the door shut, leaving it just ajar enough to let sound filter through.

The sounds of mugs clinking and the low murmur of voices slowly filled the tavern as more people came in. Nick crouched in the cramped space, his knees pressed against his chest. He was careful not to move too much, as any noise might give him away. Information flowed freely in places like this, and Nick was keen to soak it up.