Low-Fantasy Occultist Isekai

"Found what you were looking for?" Sonya asked teasingly.

Devon huffed. "You know I didn't. Every one of these guys is a scammer."

In Floria, merchants trying to sell their wares as magical when they clearly weren't would have been grounds for a fine.

Imprisonment, even, if the lie was big enough. Here in Alluria, however, no one seemed to care. Shops sold swords with only a slight sharpening enchantment as if they were legendary weapons, and when he tried to complain to the guards, they just laughed at him.

"I would have thought you'd have learned by now," she smiled, eyes crinkling.

Devon would have taken offense, but the girl was honestly too beautiful for him to. If only she hadn't picked up this bad habit of teasing me. It's like she knows the power she wields. I almost miss when she was shy.

"Yes, well. This guy seemed more trustworthy. He even had a sigil to show he did business with the Tower."

Alluria had a Magic Tower that could be seen from everywhere in the city, with how high it reached in the sky. Hundreds of mages, both apprentices and masters, lived and researched inside it, so really, who could blame him for thinking the local shops might get access to enchanted weaponry?

Even now, Devon could see the crystalline spire despite being on the opposite end of the city.

Sonya shook her head, chuckling. They were in the heart of Alluria's merchant district, where people from all over the kingdom gathered to sell their goods. One would think that finding a decent enchanted sword wouldn't be so difficult, but Devon was starting to realize that unless you knew exactly where to look, having so many options wasn't very helpful.

"He probably bought that sigil. Practically every shop with enough coin buys one, since it's a good way to attract foresters who don't know better." She replied, skipping ahead of him.

Devon grumbled, quickly catching up. Though she might not look like it, Sonya was quite fast, having trained with Master Xander for years.

She wasn't an apprentice and had little interest in the sword beyond the basics, but her physical stats probably matched those of a D-rank adventurer.

I am better, of course, but then again, she got there without having to train every day from dawn to sunset, so maybe I shouldn't be bragging about this.

Today was one of those rare free days his mentor allowed him to have for himself. Devon had tried following him a couple of times, but the old knight could move much faster than he could, and didn't seem to have any trouble doing so in the middle of a crowd.

Devon had been forced to give up on spy work and began to truly explore Alluria.

At first, the city felt too big. Uncomfortably so. He didn't know where anything was, people kept trying to scam him, and even the food was different.

Hell, he'd gotten into no less than three different feuds with other apprentices, all because he didn't recognize their families and they took it as an insult!

Sonya had eventually taken pity on him and agreed to accompany him after she finished her daily chores.

The first few times they went out, he tried his best to come across as a refined and confident young man. Unfortunately, that only seemed to backfire, as he was taken advantage of more than once, all while she watched.

Ultimately, he had to abandon his desire to impress her and let her take control. "Are you sure this one blacksmith is different from the others? I'm pretty sure I've visited every open shop by now."

Sonya looked back with a smirk. "That was your first mistake. Any blacksmith worth their salt doesn't need to advertise their goods. People with the power and money to buy them already know where to go."

She then made a sudden turn off the main road, leading them onto a narrower path. The transition from the lively, colorful market—packed with enough people to resemble Floria during a festival—to the dingy alley caught Devon by surprise.

He opened his mouth to ask again whether this was the right path, but Sonya suddenly stopped in front of a sturdy wooden door he hadn't even noticed.

An iron sign swung above it, with an image of an anvil carved into it. No bombastic advertisements lined its windows, nor were shiny, polished weapons visible inside the shop.

Sonya didn't bother knocking; instead, she pushed the door open and walked in confidently. Devon followed after her hesitantly. He'd been burned more than once, and if it weren't for the training Master Xander had given him, he would have blown through his entire savings.

Fortunately, he now had [Sword Sense], a skill that allowed him to handle any sword with much greater ease, transitioning through the forms he was learning as smoothly as if he had trained for years, and also to understand what any sword he was holding was capable of.

Master Xander called it a Capstone skill, the kind that was absolutely necessary to achieve a specific class evolution upon Prestige.

Devon was still a long way from that point, but he had recently reached level thirty-five, which was already well above what his peers were at.

"Who's this?" A gruff voice rumbled from the back as soon as the door swung closed behind him.

Devon eyed it nervously before straightening his shoulders and stepping forward. "I'm here for a sword. A magic sword, to be precise. And not one with a flimsy little enchantment!"

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

A chuckle echoed from the backroom, and soon enough, a short, squat man stepped out.

Based on his voice alone, Devon would have thought he was much bigger, but something about how he carried himself told him this dwarf shouldn't be underestimated.

"Well, ain't cha Xander's kids?"

"Indeed, Master Shatterstone," Sonya interjected. "My friend here is looking for a quality weapon, and has found the shops in the market to be unsuitable."

"Shatterstone?" Devon mouthed at her, and she shrugged. Apparently, dwarven naming conventions weren't to be questioned.

"I would think so. If he'd been happy with the crap they sell to kids playing at adventurers, I'd wager the old man would have thrown him out." The blacksmith roared with laughter.

Devon decided to put his preconceptions aside. If this dwarf could sell him a quality sword, he'd finally be able to take the next step in his training. Master Xander said that the one his father had given him wasn't suitable for the style he was developing, which was quite the bummer, but the old man knew his stuff.

And then he said it would be a good test for me to find a good sword on my own. The fact that the man had an armory so large it could outfit an army didn't seem to influence his decision to send Devon off.

But he was a diligent student, and so he went. And now, finally, he would get his sword. "I'm developing a style that's mostly speed-based, but the sword needs to be very resilient. I don't even need it to be particularly sharp. It just has to take all I put it through without strain."

Shatterstone hummed as he scratched his beard-covered chin. "I guess I might have something like that. No need for sharpness, you say? What's the old man teaching you..." That last part was more of a murmur, and since it wasn't a direct question, Devon didn't respond.

Developing the Trait [Oneness with the Sword] would grant him all the cutting potential he desired. However, to get it, he first had to reach maturity in his style.

It was something called the Ouroboros problem. Master Xander explained how most classes had Traits that, once achieved, dramatically increased a person's power beyond what their level should permit, but also required an already established base that was nearly impossible to build without that same power.

Soon, Shatterstone returned with several swords, each wrapped in leather.

Now, Devon wouldn't say he was one for mystical experiences. That was more his brother's thing. But the moment he laid eyes on the furthest sword on the right, he knew it was the one.

He didn't even wait for approval before walking up to it. The moment he grabbed its hilt, he felt a screech of approval ripple through him. His bones rattled, his teeth chattered, and his eyes watered.

And yet, as he watched the leather wrappings fall to the ground, sliced in half by the blade's edge without him moving a muscle, he knew he had it.

"This. This is mine," he murmured, staring with awe at the griffin-like pommel.

The next two weeks of Devon's life were some of the most exhausting yet satisfying he'd ever experienced.

Talon, his new sword, proved to be everything he wanted and more. It had exceptional durability, apparently forged to resemble a griffin's claw. It felt as light as a feather in his hand, yet he could swing it with considerable power behind it.

Moreover, it was perfectly synchronized with him. He could feel his mana flowing through it with great ease, and his [Aura], however budding it might be, was able to significantly boost the power of his attacks.

Master Xander had immediately noticed the giddy look in his eyes when he and Sonya returned from their day out and put him on an even stricter regimen, wanting to squeeze out everything he could out of his "epiphany."

And now, finally, he was considered acceptable enough to take Talon with him when he left the manor.

That might not have sounded like much of an honor, but to Devon, it was as good a sign of approval from his master as any. Squires weren't allowed to carry arms within the city without their master's permission.

Having his sword strapped to his belt indicated he was recognized as capable of defending himself.

Of course, beyond praise, it also drew a lot of attention. He was just walking through the public training grounds after a quick spar with a friendly knight, who hadn't minded slowing down enough to give him a chance, when he was stopped.

"Oh, look. It's the country bumpkin!" An annoyingly familiar voice sneered.

"He has a sword! Do you think he stole it? Maybe he doesn't know how coins work." Another replied, somehow even more snidely.

Devon closed his eyes for a moment before deciding that if they wanted to provoke a reaction, he might as well give them what they wanted.

He'd wanted to practice against a mage, but they only rarely visited the training yards, preferring to practice in their private spaces.

Turning around and abandoning any hope of uncovering the Tower's secrets, he set his sights on three teenagers he'd unfortunately come to know well over the past few months.

Theo Pulls, the son of a knight of high standing within the Duke's court, Emmett Borel, an apprentice to the Master at Arms of the castle, and their shadow Oleander, a young man of humble birth who was a proven talent with a short sword, often tasked with watching the two squires and cleaning up after them, as they frequently liked to throw their weight around with their peers.

Most of the time, Devon ignored them. They were both pretty good with a sword, but they couldn't hold a candle to him after his master's training.

But today, he felt like giving them a lesson. Sonya wasn't around, so he didn't have to worry about acting mature, and after weeks of being trashed by Master Xander, these two were just what he needed.

The moment they made eye contact, both stiffened. Despite their annoying behavior, they were trained enough to recognize danger when they saw it.

Nevertheless, their bluster was too strong, and it overcame that instinctive fear. "Why, would you look at that. The feral beast is baring his teeth." Theo grinned with bravado, trying to boost his confidence.

"That won't do. In polite society, beasts are kept on a leash," Emmett added, as always the nastier of the two, despite never being the instigator.

Devon eyed Oleander briefly, trying to estimate how much damage he could do before the man stepped in. Even with his sudden increase in strength, he doubted he could beat him unless he went all out, and Master Xander had made it clear he wasn't to use the special skills he'd learned unless his life was in danger.

"Alright, you two, come on," he grunted, motioning with his head toward the empty ring nearby.

For a moment, it seemed like they might reconsider their actions, but then both flashed the same nasty grin. "Oho, he's challenging us both at once."

"He is. Everyone heard him, right, Oleander?"

The young man hesitated, looking at Devon, who merely shrugged. He wasn't worried. "Indeed," Oleander murmured.

Releasing Talon from its sheath felt as exhilarating as the very first time, and the screech of excitement it released in his mind only made him smile wider.

All three squires positioned themselves in the ring, with Oleander naturally taking on the role of judge. He counted down from three, and as soon as he gave the signal, Devon was upon them.

Emmett barely had time to lift his sword before Talon slammed into it, knocking him back several steps.

Devon took advantage of that to pivot on his heel, using the momentum to swing at Theo, who was coming in from the side, intending to attack from his blind spot.

That turned out to be a poor decision on the boy's part, as Devon didn't hold back nearly as much as he usually did in regular spars, overpowering his hasty block and stepping into his space. He then slammed his gloved hand into his diaphragm, causing him to crash down and gasp for air.

Not satisfied, Devon turned, eyes gleaming with success as he saw that Emmett wasn't down yet. Two more steps brought him closer, and he lunged, forcing his opponent to jump aside.

The gravel crunched as Emmett slid. He was smart enough to use a skill to propel himself forward, in a move that would have once caught Devon off guard.

That was no longer the case because he slapped the blade to the side and drove Talon's pommel into Emmett's sternum, grinning as he felt it creak.

An instinct he'd almost forgotten about prompted him to move, and he didn't think, dipping and pirouetting away as a stone flew where his head had been, with enough force to crack his skull.

Devon's eyes landed on Theo, whose hand was still outstretched. He was gasping, clearly not fully recovered, but had still tried one last sneaky move.

Devon advanced on him, eyes blazing. "I'm going to show you why you shouldn't provoke a feral beast."

"That's enough," a voice boomed.

Devon immediately stopped. There was enough power in those words to turn him into paste. He looked up and saw that it was a man in full livery, a real knight.

"Father!" Emmett croaked from the ground, struggling to lift himself up. "He cheated!"

Firming his grip on Talon, Devon prepared to defend his honor.

That wasn't necessary, however, as the Master at Arms barely glanced at his son, clearly disgusted by his dirty appearance. "Devon Crowley. A message has come for you. Congratulations, you are now heir to a Barony."