Overpowered Wizard

It would usually take a day and a half to travel safely from the edges of the Old Goblin Forest that bordered the Blood Prairies to the center of the Crossdeath Region. But Wallenberg’s new associates cut the travel down to only half a day while dragging him along.

They arrived with the constant gloom turning from miserable gray to unsettling dark around them.

Will o’ Wisps appeared, some as small as the tip of Wallenberg’s pinkie, others as large as a man’s head. They emitted a purplish-blue light and made soft murmuring sounds from the many crying souls stuck inside them.

Wallenberg had stopped listening closely to every Will o’ Wisp he saw a year ago. He assumed his parents had moved on somehow instead of getting trapped here to fuel the land’s eerie illumination outside of the walls.

Purple-flamed torches and braziers lit up the city’s skyline and fortifications up ahead. Militia men and women patrolled while dressed in fierce armor that had thick metallic plates, spikes, demonic visages, and powerful enchantments.

The Crossdeath Militia Captains had purple plumes on top of their heads, signifying their importance. They also rode on drake raptors, which were the most savage of domesticated mounts.

Wallenberg had seen the captains send their drake raptors forward to eat a man and his family just for a minor offense.

One such captain rode nearby with his squad of hard-edged warriors. They oversaw the procession of travelers heading toward the main western gate. Wallenberg lowered his head while passing the militia before looking back up at the city.

Central Crossdeath was larger than most capital human cities. It was one of the grandest, even while in the shadow of the Grimrock Castle Mountains further east.

Because of Crossdeath’s strategic location, it was a prime trade route with bounties ready for the taking.

Good-aligned paladins from the Stalwart Paladin Kingdom avoided it like the plague unless they were on another doomed crusade. But many other adventurers, such as those from the Windy Strider Kingdom, came through, since it was a large and civilized hub with modern amenities and sophisticated crafts.

Wallenberg could already see new visitors marveling at the sight of the grand towers and castles of black and purple coloration. All the city was made block by block, and featured an impressive and wide surrounding wall that was one hundred feet in height.

The city even had many projectile towers behind the walls that were one hundred fifty feet tall. They served as strategic watchtowers and places for archers and extra siege weapons to shoot from.

The Crossdeath Militia even had grand wizards and infamous war sorcerers, too, since the intelligence boost from the evil alignment led to having the best magicians. It was because of that huge magical advantage on top of having impressive defenses that Crossdeath remained undefeated.

Wallenberg explained to the foreign lords, ladies, and their princess how Central Crossdeath had faced numerous challenges from good-aligned kingdoms. The Stalwart Paladin Kingdom had come across the Stone Sea River and lay sieges on the city plenty of times, and yet Crossdeath stayed standing.

“We are walking on grounds that have feasted on the blood and flesh of hundreds of thousands of paladins. Maybe even millions. Over the centuries, most of their souls make up the Will o’ Wisps you see right now as a price for their failed crusades against us. One of recent histories was led by the Mightiest Child of Good, Prime Archbishop Gladius Maximus, in the Crossdeath and Stalwart War of 1488 D.E.,” Wallenberg said with his best scholarly tone he’d copied from nobles.

“Oh, goodie, this new lore has action and tragedy and siege battle things! You go, Wally, yay!” Princess Bianca clapped and cheered for him.

Wallenberg stifled a shudder.

One shouldn’t be so cheery in Crossdeath.

Instead of scolding her, he reminded himself that she could rip his head from between his shoulders whenever she wanted.

Be careful. She’s trying to soften you up. Don’t give in. It’s all a trap with that one.

Still, he continued with some smugness, his head raised a little higher.

“The Crossdeath and Stalwart War of 1488 D.E. was a minor event during the Sixth Divine War, but it was quite large for us back then. The lords profited greatly from war and success. If you didn’t know, the skull of Prime Archbishop Gladius Maximus is still being used as a goblet by the current Blood Death Lord, who is said to be the strongest Death Lord we ever had. There are even some rumors that the new Ride-or-Die Village is a creation of the Death Lords and that the Blood Death Lord is the true Dark Lord and reason behind the Darkrun Apocalypse.”

“Oh, really? Isn’t that kind of crazy?” Lord Zarian asked.

Wallenberg nodded. “It doesn’t match up to what is known about the Blood Death Lord. He has no associations with Evil Goddess Shadowfell, and he is not named Darkrun. However, he is the most powerful of the Death Lords and our information on the so-called new evil village and the villains who caused the civil war of the Eternal Garden Kingdom hasn’t been very reliable.”

Wallenberg sighed. “I have my own opinions, which is part of why I want to go see Ride-or-Die Village myself. But if it’s true that it’s a ruse, then between the Blood Death Lord, the Ghost Death Lord, the Poison Death Lord, and the Berserk Death Lord, it could be the Ghost Death Lord who is the true Dark Lord. Nobody knows their identity.”

“Sounds like you need to call someone to deal with the ghost guy, like a buster of ghosts or something.” Lord Zarian chuckled. “Then again, if he is the Dark Lord, good luck with that. Sounds scary, if that’s true.”

“How amusing,” Lady Para said from somewhere within Lord Zarian’s cloak. Wallenberg wasn’t sure where exactly. The foreigners were behind him.

Wallenberg paused when he realized he’d somehow ended up in the front. He tried to fall back behind the foreigners as he continued laying out the lore.

“Well, let’s not speak too much of the Death Lords or they may hear of this and summon us for their wicked amusement. If I may direct your attention beyond the Will o’ Wisps, you may have noticed the unusual darkness in the air and that there is no sky you can see that you’re familiar with, I’m sure. If you look around you even, you can see how the fog and mists surround us and refuse to let us go. Great and evil magic from centuries past still lingers in these lands, and the effects of such remain. Sometimes, we’ll even have acid rain, so always be ready!”

“Oh my. Much evil. Very yes,” Princess Bianca added merrily.

Wallenberg tried not to look annoyed. He kept his bearings. He kept going.

“Well, with our evil magic and our impenetrable fortifications, and our strong connections to Carrowmore and four major Evil Gods, this single evil city could withstand the many other good cities no matter their crusades or the divine boons of their Good Gods,” Wallenberg said resolutely. “Surely, you now understand why we must humble ourselves and tread carefully to avoid being slaughtered. You don’t want to, as you say, ‘fuck around and find out’ against the Death Lords, especially the Blood Death Lord or the Ghost Death Lord.”

Wallenberg looked around, expecting the foreigners to regard his words with the seriousness and gravitas they deserve.

While the information about Ride-or-Die Village was highly incomplete, suppressed, or filled with falsehood, Wallenberg knew his specific evil city very well. He knew its history. He knew its culture. He knew its people.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

He knew his place as an ant crawling around the boots of the Death Lords and their subservient Petty Lords and Crossdeath Militia.

Many had tried to overcome that. Nobody had succeeded. These foreign lords, foreign ladies, and their foreign princess would soon come to realize that.

They would bend their knees and crawl along the floor in fear, just like Wallenberg and his parents, and everyone else who lived to serve here.

That should be the way of things, but then Wallenberg’s heart skipped a beat when he saw Lord Zarian drift off the main gate road.

Lord Zarian walked onto a rarely used trail surrounded by short, gnarled trees and the occasional hedge bush with spiky thorns. Fingers of mist grasped at him with murmuring purple Will o’ Wisps bobbing close.

His cloak fluttered with no wind blowing, as if in defiance of the dead, humid air.

Before Wallenberg lost the exotic lord, he redirected himself and the party to go after him.

“Milord, milord, what are you doing?” Wallenberg asked.

“Going for that side gate that’s way less busy,” Lord Zarian said innocently, striding like a man with no fear, no concerns.

Exasperated, Wallenberg turned to the others.

He disregarded the princess instantly. It was clear that she didn’t think too deeply except for making strange rules for strange games.

She was merely a smiling monstress.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Surely, the last three had more sense.

“The lore is okay. But these walls. These towers. Very small. Very weak. I’m not impressed,” Lady Hannah said, speaking like a primal human woman.

Wallenberg was stunned by her assessment and her choice of words. But the cold and unemotional expression on her face gave him too many chills to challenge her.

“Huh? What? Are you saying I have more of a reason to drink more? Sure. I just finished this one, anyway.” Lord Gilbert tossed away his empty cask and pulled out another cask from his magical satchel, but this cask was twice as big!

Wallenberg nearly gagged at the grotesque littering in the land of the Death Lords. He gaped at the giant man’s disregard for sobriety in the face of death!

Lady Naomi wasn’t even paying much attention, only following along. She kept folding the air weirdly above her palms and shooting out little sparks.

Wallenberg could see she was struggling, maybe even failing. But instead of staying wary of the challenges ahead, she buckled down on whatever manner of magic blade she tried to conjure.

Wallenberg would’ve loved to ask about her abilities. He’d never heard of psychic magic. What could it do? He felt the same curiosity toward the others, but he was deathly afraid. He was focused on survival. He was focused on the strange and eerier leader, Lord Zarian, who was leading them to certain doom!

“Milord, we aren’t allowed. Only nobles of Crossdeath can use this private gate,” Wallenberg insisted, almost to the point of hissing. “Please listen, milord, before you get yourself killed!”

And me! You’ll get me killed!

Lord Zarian laughed. “Things are going to be a-okay. In fact, they’re going to be more than okay. By the time this is all over, you’re going to say to yourself, ‘Wow, I’m so glad I met Lord Zarian and his friends. They’re the most amazing people ever. When I grow gray and old, I will talk fondly about how I became their Wally and even got to go on adventures with them and see them do great things.’ Or something like that. I’m still cooking up ideas for your future story while you’re the POV Character.”

“POV Character?” Wallenberg asked, confused.

He turned to the others, although he half-expected them not to pay much attention. However, he saw they were, which surprised him.

“This Wally replacement is the POV Character?” Lady Hannah asked in disbelief. “What is the basis for that, Zarian? You’ve never talked about that weird side of you very much. I’ve made note of it from time to time, but this case is more blatant.”

“I don’t know. I think it comes with my ultra bloodline,” Lord Zarian said. “But yeah, our Wally here gets to be important for now. So he’s likely to survive this mini arc. So no worries. Just watch the show and enjoy, Wally.”

“What’s that?” Lord Gilbert tossed the second empty cask aside and pulled out another one, which was even bigger than the last two! “It sounds like I’m not drinking enough. Let me hit the harder stuff while I’m at it.”

“We need to talk more about these meta moments of yours, Zarian, after this little ‘mini arc,’ as you say,” Lady Hannah said, with more life, with more sparks of interest and hunger in her eyes. “Now I’m curious if this happened when you gave me control during Operation Library. Does this shift reality so our importance is based on your perception of us? Or is it because we’re important enough that you lay your omnipotence upon us and grant us more presence on your stage? And this has nothing to do with the mind spiders, right? No, Wally doesn’t have one in his head. Interesting. I’m more engaged with this little jaunt now because of our new Wally.”

“I may be drunk, but please never say ‘lay your omnipotence upon us’ in that way ever again, Hannah,” Lord Gilbert drawled.

“I don’t mind,” Lady Naomi muttered. “Lay all of that omnipotence on me instead of Gilbert. He’s a weak punk. I’m the one who’s God’s realest out here. Hit me with that dang!”

“Shut it, Punchy Baddie!” Lord Gilbert roared.

Princess Bianca laughed and laughed, wiping at the corners of her eyes.

Lady Hannah ignored her party members and looked at Wallenberg like she was going to dissect him.

Wallenberg was completely lost. The wild turn of conversation took him out of his focus on survival. He kept failing to convince the foreigners to act appropriately because everything about them exuded inappropriateness.

Then he realized too late they had arrived at the private gate for nobles.

Everything that could go wrong happened, because they had come up behind some nobles on their way inside the private gate. A Crossdeath Militia Captain and a dozen men and women guarding the gate were there. They all turned to see Wallenberg and his new associates.

Wallenberg nearly pissed himself.

“Is that Stinky Wallen?!” shouted the son of the Petty Lord who Wallenberg must pay his game to. The Petty Lord’s son, Johnathan.

“Ew, Stinky Wallen. What’s he doing here? My maids tell me how he grew up trashier than the trashiest commoner,” said the daughter of the Petty Lord. Jessica wore a bright purple dress that matched her deep layers of makeup.

“Wallenberg,” said Petty Lord Julius, a foreboding man as tall as Lord Zarian.

Petty Lord Julius had steely gray hair and hard dark eyes, with a powerful frame dressed in a noble suit. Despite his commanding appearance, he was a servant of the Death Lords like all others. He had done nothing when Wallenberg’s parents died a horrible death for the amusement of the Death Lords.

In fact, the Petty Lord charged Wallenberg to maintain the same amount of hunting output as his parents. Or he would be sacrificed just the same to the Death Lords.

“Milord,” Wallenberg said with a whimper that was half real, half fake. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“Stinky Wallen’s trying to get some coins on the side from these foreigners!” Young Lord Jonathan pointed and laughed. “You really think you can get past us like that, Stinky Wallen? My father has connections with everyone important on this side of the city. These guards would’ve told him everything even if you bribed them, idiot! Now you’re going to die just like your stupid, piss-poor parents!”

“No, no, I swear that’s not it,” Wallenberg mumbled.

“Oh, Father-dearest, look at that half giant man! And look! Those two are so dark, they could be cavern monsters! Maybe they’re half breeds! We should take them to the Death Lord Ball tonight and show them off to everyone! I bet the other ladies will get so mad!” Jessica tugged on the sleeve of her father’s coat.

“Hm. Perhaps this can lead to a fruitful opportunity.” Petty Lord Julius drank in the sight of Princess Bianca, which made Wallenberg’s chest feel tight and itchy. Of course, the Petty Lord didn’t care. “You, oh beautiful miss, and the other four. As newcomers, you are most likely unaware of the culture and customs in our great city. I can provide you some aid for the right price. After this cretin is removed.”

Wallenberg figured he would get a quick death from this. Someone else had different ideas.

“Hit him,” a disattached voice that sounded like Lord Zarian whispered into Wallenberg’s ear. “Do it now. What else do you have to lose? Go get your hit back.”

Wallenberg knew he shouldn’t. He knew he couldn’t. He was a cretin. He would soon be removed.

Jonathan blabbered on. “Father, when you’re done with that tall, pretty woman, let me have her! I bet Stinky Wallen was hoping for some! But he’s just another stupid dead bug like his parents!”

Jessica shrieked with laughter.

The militia men and women smirked.

Petty Lord Julius kept looking lecherously at the princess.

And Lord Zarian pushed Wallenberg over the edge with another disattached whisper in his ear. “Are you really going to let them treat Bianca that way?”

Wallenberg broke.

He knew he was going to die. He also knew Lord Zarian was making everything worse. But Wallenberg didn’t care anymore. Lord Zarian’s words were too compelling to deny, and Princess Bianca deserved more respect.

Wallenberg reached into his alchemy belt and quickly chucked a vial with the topper removed.

It burst at Petty Lord Julius’s feet and released a bright flash. The mixture came from insects that used powerful light to defend against predators.

While that went off, Wallenberg drank the contents of another bug-based potion made from certain beetles known for their Strength. He ran in and punched Petty Lord Julius, who was blinded by the flash along with his children and the militia at the private gate. The hit knocked the Petty Lord to the ground and bruised Wallenberg’s hand, but he didn’t care.

Wallenberg turned and punched Johnathan even when the militia had their weapons and magic raised now. Wallenberg knew his death was coming, but he got the satisfaction of smashing Jonathan’s lower face into bloody smithereens, teeth and spittle flying.

Jonathan dropped hard.

Wallenberg closed his eyes and smiled.

He could die happy and be with his parents in their special place in Hidden Hell.

After some time passed, Wallenberg felt no further pain and realized he remained unharmed. He opened his eyes and looked around.

The militia men and women lay strewn across the ground of the noble gate. They convulsed and struggled to get up.

The few who staggered to their feet had wide-open eyes filled with absolute fright. They screamed like terrified animals and fell back to the ground again. Their eyes rolled up into their heads. They squirmed about, all of them pissing and shitting themselves.

“What’s happening?! Johnathan?! Father?!” Jessica screamed. “Father, you must stop them! They’re making you look bad! And that’s making me look bad!”

Wallenberg looked down and saw that Pretty Lord Julius was incapacitated. The noble man had pissed and shat his expensive trousers, too.

Wallenberg looked up and blinked at Jessica.

Jessica had tears of anger on her face. She looked hatefully at Wallenberg, raised her arms, and charged up some wicked magic that lit her hands with purple flames.

“You sniveling ingrate!” Jessica screamed. “Loser! Worthless garbage! Scum of the world! You are nothing compared to my bloodline, yet you dare stand up to us?! Know your place, you bug! Suffer and die!”

She thrust her purple-flaming hands toward Wallenberg with all her evil power.

Wallenberg expected pain and death. He expected to find his parents in Hidden Hell. He didn’t expect Princess Bianca to stride in and punch Jessica’s face with a shining fist.

Jessica’s head exploded in a burst of forceful light and flying chunks of gore. The purple flames sputtered out before they touched Wallenberg, leaving him alive and gobsmacked.

Jessica’s headless body hit the ground in front of her jaw-broken brother and shit-covered father. Seeing the death of his sister, Jonathan screamed hoarsely and scrambled to get away.

The young lord ran through the undefended noble gate and into the city.

“Whoopsies!” Princess Bianca turned to Wallenberg, her eyes gleaming with golden delight. She seemed mightier, deadlier, and scarier while standing as a glamorous and statuesque demigoddess over Wallenberg and the corpse of a noble lady. “I might’ve bopped her too hard. But she was going to hurt our Wally! And we won’t let that happen ever again!”

Reality hit Wallenberg hard, snapping him out of his fugue in the presence of the monstrous princess.

Young Lord Jonathan had gotten away. The damn noble son would alarm the militia and the Death Lords. They would know of Wallenberg’s transgression.

Wallenberg turned to run, but Lord Gilbert scooped him up with one massive arm. In the other arm of the bear-sized lord, he held his giant beer cask and kept draining from it.

“Doopity, doopity, doop! Spreading freedom and finding out! Doopity, doopity, doop!” Lord Zarian sang as he swaggered into the city. His cloak fluttered merrily behind him.

Princess Bianca pranced behind the black lord, twirled around, and shot a smile at Wallenberg’s precarious situation of being a human sack on Lord Gilbert’s shoulder. Lady Hannah kept studying Wallenberg with great intensity. And Lady Naomi still hadn’t looked away from her attempts to forge a blade with her psychic magic.

Wallenberg looked back at Jessica’s headless corpse amid puddles of piss, shit, and traumatized men and women. The foreigners gave it no second consideration, as if they’d merely stepped on bugs while on a casual walk.

Once again, Wallenberg prayed to Hisscreep. His god sent him no response. Wallenberg was still on his own, and his sense of doom and gloom was mounting.