Low-Fantasy Occultist Isekai

For a moment, Nick felt tempted to do something stupid and ignore the Prelate.

He could pretend he hadn't seen him and just keep flying, hoping the man wouldn't shoot him down from the sky as if he were a particularly fat pheasant.

It wouldn't exactly be easy, given how massive Marthas was. Standing at seven feet tall, clad in bright crimson robes, with dark skin and a fiery gaze, he was hard to miss. Even harder to ignore was the oppressive feeling of Sashara's domain encroaching upon him, only to break on [Blasphemy].

Nick spent a few seconds contemplating the option before sighing heavily and deciding it wouldn't be wise. He might know something important.

Slowly descending until he stopped twenty feet away, Nick inclined his head in greeting. "Good afternoon, Prelate."

"Nicholas," the old man rumbled, unamused. "I hope I haven't caught you trying to sneak into your father's trial."

Feeling a thousand excuses die on his tongue, Nick realized that this might be more serious than he had thought. His mother had done her best to explain it to him, and even now, the phantom sensation of her slap still stung his cheek, but it hadn't set it.

It was just another rule he could skirt his way around. Another law that didn't apply to him.

And yet, faced with Marthas' unyielding gaze, he knew he wouldn't be able to fool him.

It wasn't just about power. [Empyrean Intuition] certainly gave him more insight into the Prelate than he'd ever known before. He could now perceive a boiling pit of dark rage, concealed beneath layers of forced calm and reluctant amusement.

More power than he had ever realized a person could possess was shrouded beneath layers of willpower.

Even during the battle with the Fae Queen, he hadn't truly perceived the monstrous strength of the being before him, only instinctively knowing it was beyond him.

And it was a being, not a human. How could a human ever contain that much fire, that much mana? It simply wasn't possible. The boundaries of his soul should have shattered under the pressure.

Nothing of the sort seemed likely to happen, so he could only conclude that the very structure of Marthas' existence was different. Sturdier, yes, but it didn't end there.

"I understand you must be worried, but even if you managed to catch up to him, you wouldn't be able to interfere. The Shadow is there, and it will stop you long before you can." The demigod continued, as if any of that mattered.

Forcibly pulling his thoughts back to reality, Nick sighed explosively. "I know that. You think I don't know that? But how can I sit still when Dad is in so much danger?"

Amusement flickered more strongly, and Marthas smiled, pleased about something. "Have some faith in your father, Nicholas. He is not as fragile as you make him out to be."

Nick gritted his teeth. The condescension was palpable, and he didn't appreciate it. "This is not a matter of trust. I know what he is capable of. I just do not want him to face impossible odds alone."

"As I said, have some faith. The king's men do not set out to destroy minor nobility without good reason. This is just a test, not a death sentence." Marthas explained, calmer now that he thought he'd seen through Nick's intentions.

The rage was still there. It would always be present. However, it was not aimed at him, which allowed him to breathe easier and speak his mind. "How could facing a Prestige monster be anything but?"

Marthas chuckled, a sound that resonated deeply, as if it should have shaken the earth. It didn't; whatever magic he employed to masquerade as a simple mortal prevented it, but Nick could see the truth of things. He could perceive the fiery being lurking behind.

It was not a demon, no. That would have been very recognizable. If anything, it felt like the exact opposite of a demon, and the more Nick stared, the more he felt he had yet to understand. Again, he wrenched himself away. There was danger even in just looking into the abyss. It could always look back.

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"This is not a simple hunt. Your father is being tested within his means. The Shadow will have chosen something appropriate for him. Perhaps a creature he's familiar with or something vulnerable to his flames, but I have no doubt he will ensure even odds."

Nick grunted. Even odds were just a coin flip—not something he'd take when a life was at stake. "But why? Dad was so close. He could have crossed the boundary on his own. There was no need to push him so hard."

Marthas smiled, and for the first time, Nick saw something akin to affection flash by, as if he were a cute little puppy pawing at something he couldn't hope to understand. "Every time someone crosses into Prestige, they are putting themselves at great risk. It is not something that can be done safely, no matter how prepared you might be."

"What do you mean? I thought earning achievements and mastering your path would be enough. Why would there be more?"

Marthas stared, as if evaluating him. It was grating, but Nick wanted answers more than he cared about his ego.

"I suppose you will reach that point one day, not too far in the future. Sashara willing, you shall do so with the full weight of a god's blessing behind you, but it is possible you will face the great trial on your own, and it would be a pity to lose you." He hummed, closing his eyes as if he were coming to a decision.

"Very well, I shall tell you. Achievements and mastery are essential requirements. Without them, the System will not even grant you the option to rank up. But alone, they are not necessarily sufficient." Nick twitched. Even more hidden requirements that no one has told me about. "The process of ranking up is not the same as a Class ceremony, where you are bestowed a class according to your talent, luck, and location. It is something that originates entirely from within. A shout of defiance against the World, a statement of independence that cannot be taken back. And the World does not take a challenge lying down."

Nick wandered home in a daze, barely remembering to sneak into his room. His mother was cooking something, likely trying to distract herself from the very real possibility of her husband dying.

But the only thing Nick could think about was what Marthas had told him.

"We call it Prestige, not out of a simple need to describe a concept, but because whoever manages to get there deserves all the respect and admiration coming their way. Climbing the ranks is a challenge in itself, something that can either be chosen, just like in your father's case, or bestowed by the System itself. No matter what, it will come."

Apparently, the System didn't limit itself to acknowledging the increase in level and granting the related power. It only did so for those it deemed worthy.

And it actively challenges people who think they deserve it.

Lying back down on his bed, Nick sighed and instinctively reached to pet Talbot, who had padded onto his chest, plopping down and closing his eyes. A brief flash of contentment and sleepiness passed through him, but he batted the cat's feelings away.

"Arthur must know. Why didn't he tell me?" he exclaimed, frustrated with the old adventurer, Marthas, the king, and even himself.

Of course, it wasn't so simple. Everything had been too neat, too linear. Why would the System simply grant incredible power to anyone who spent a few years honing their skills?

It needed more. He'd gotten a glimpse of that after the dungeon raid. It had rewarded them for surviving the destruction, yes, but mostly, it had acknowledged their efforts. How difficult it had been to achieve. What it meant for their personal growth.

Back then, it was Marthas who dealt the final blow to the Fae Queen. Marthas, who destroyed the core. They had just been battling weaker fae who, despite their appearance, were no more dangerous than people at the same level.

Nick had fallen into the trap of thinking he had all the pieces of the puzzle and only needed to assemble them for a clear understanding. Aleister's journal certainly contained a wealth of information about classes, but it was entirely focused on the first step, the Class ceremony, not Prestige.

Arthur explained that merely reaching level one hundred was not sufficient. However, he only mentioned paths, discussing how one must remain true to their class in order to advance, rather than focusing on any final challenge.

Does he not know? No, that's impossible. Then why wouldn't he say anything?

Pursing his lips, Nick decided that it probably had to do with his appearance. He might have grown over the past few months, enough to potentially pass as a slightly older teenager, but Arthur knew him.

Although he might not like it, to someone like that, he was little more than a child. In his mind, it would likely take years before he was close to Prestige. Decades, even. Why would he tell a reckless kid that he needed to risk his life even more?

Sighing explosively, Nick decided that moping wouldn't provide him with any answers. While he couldn't exactly seek out his father, not with Marthas standing in his way and the King's Shadow there to prevent any intervention, he was still free to move through Floria.

A glance out the window revealed that by the time he reached Arthur's, the sun would probably have already set.

He was about to shrug that off and get moving anyway when his mother called from downstairs. "Dinner's ready!"

Talbot jumped off the bed, meowing happily, while Nick hung his head. I guess I can ask tomorrow if Dad hasn't come back yet.

Eugene had not returned by the time dawn arrived. Nick was wide awake, sitting on the porch with his eyes closed, using [Empyrean Intuition] to try and catch a glimpse of his presence, but nothing of the sort appeared within his range.

"Have some faith in him," Elena said from the entryway, emerging with two warm cups of herbal tea, unknowingly echoing Marthas' words. "Your father is strong. That the King chose him for this quest should only make you proud."

Though her tone was firm and her expression calm, her attempt was undermined by the worry simmering beneath the surface. Still, Nick said nothing about it, not wanting to make things worse.

"I still don't get how this whole thing came to be," he grumbled. He'd grill Arthur as soon as it was socially acceptable to visit, but that didn't mean he expected to get clear answers. There seemed to be a peculiar taboo surrounding this topic that prevented people from speaking openly, sharing only the information that was absolutely necessary.

Hmm, maybe it's not so strange. It was like this on Earth, even though the amount of power being fought over was much more insignificant. Considering how everyone speaks of Prestige as the line between mortal life and something greater, it makes sense that its secrets aren't shared so openly. But that just means I have to work harder to discover them.

"Have I ever told you about your grandmother's death?" Elena asked abruptly, and Nick turned around in surprise. He had not expected that.

"No. No, you have not. I thought she died of natural causes, since no one said anything," he replied. It was a way to distract him, he knew, but he couldn't help it. This was not something he'd expected to hear about.

"No one said anything because her death still pains us, to this day," Elena replied, taking a sip of tea and sighing. Longing, grief, and a fair bit of anger were all visible within her, alongside a good measure of pride and understanding. "It happened just as she was about to cross into Prestige," she began, and Nick was hooked.