Overpowered Wizard

Chapter 184: B2: C84: Evil City Sky

Wallenberg and many other young men had once gone through selection tests as children. The Crossdeath Captains would call them out of their shanty homes and have them report their stats and conduct some exercises.

These events would usually happen for those between the ages of eight and twelve, who were usually Level 1s. Anyone who was a Level 2 at that early age would’ve already ended up in the militia’s young cadet program.

One time, there had been a Level 3 ten-year-old, and he ended up as a direct servant to a Death Lord’s child. But such cases were rare exceptions to the norm.

For the most part, the lowest of commoners stayed at Level 1 and might rise as far as Level 9 over their lifetime before dying.

Joining the Crossdeath Militia would usually guarantee them a chance at more levels, stats, power, and status. Having all of that would lead to better treatment and having their needs met more consistently.

Thus, those occasional visits from the Crossdeath Captains turned a bunch of poor Level 1 children into animals.

Wallenberg always hated seeing that, which was why he’d taken advantage of his parents’ decent work as hunters when they were still alive. They were among the few commoners who were in the Level 20s.

Because of them, he’d once had a measure of safety that he wouldn’t get drawn into the militia. But he’d still ended up in those vicious exercises as a practice partner even though they always turned into brutal fist fights, sometimes to the death.

Wallenberg was still Level 1 when he’d nearly had his head caved in by a rock from a bigger and beefier boy who had more points in Strength. Missing the rock blow, Big Piggy Pete had jumped on Wallenberg and went for the neck choke as they grappled in the mud.

The children with more physical stats back then had the biggest advantage, since nobody had skills or magic while under Level 10.

The other three stats that weren’t physical – Willpower, Wonder, and Mysticism – had seemed useless in those times, especially in wild melees and grapples amid desperate children

Wallenberg himself had low Strength but an abnormally high Wonder stat back then, which he’d lied about just like his parents told him to. The lie hadn’t protected him much from nearly dying to Big Piggy Pete.

The hammy boy had locked a neck choke while staying heavy on Wallenberg’s chest. When everything had nearly gone black, the situation changed drastically.

The Destruction Wizard, Commander of the Crossdeath Militia, War Lord Isaac Dementes had appeared from nowhere. He’d sent a magic bolt into Big Piggy Pete’s head and blasted it open like a hammer hitting a melon.

The commander had paid Wallenberg no mind after the death of a child. Instead, he’d turned to scolding his captains.

Nobody had helped Wallenberg as he struggled to keep from crying and pissing and drowning in mud, not when his parents were busy hunting outside the wall. He’d pushed and squirmed and pushed and squirmed to get from under Peter’s bulky body.

When Wallenberg had finally gotten free of the dead child, he looked up and up into the sky as it rained on a rare day where it wasn’t acidic. He’d beheld the same gloomy and darkened sky that had covered his home for countless years.

He’d wondered if there would ever come a day when he would see the suns, the moons, the stars, and such instead of hearing about it from passing travelers. He’d wondered for the first time what it would be like to escape Crossdeath and become a new person.

Finally, he’d looked down at the dead child at his feet for a few seconds before glancing across the mud pit and over the brawling between desperate children. He’d paid proper attention to the War Lord’s appearance for the first time.

Nearly a decade later, Wallenberg still felt like he was that shaken child who had mud, blood, and the brain bits of Big Piggy Pete all over him.

He still felt like a child who wondered about the world outside of Crossdeath and what the real sky looked like. Then he crushed those wandering thoughts and reminded himself of the true nature of old and harsh reality.

He ignored the fact that he was held in a princess’s caring arms. He looked straight ahead at the scarecrow of an old and harsh man who ran the Crossdeath Militia with a cold iron fist for the past two hundred years.

The commander hadn’t killed Peter to save Wallenberg. He’d only killed Peter to make an example of any child who disregarded his rules.

Peter hadn’t stopped when he should’ve. Peter had wanted to impress the captains and elevate his family to a higher status like most common children and was desperate to do so.

Wallenberg was pretty sure all of Peter’s family was dead now.

Wallenberg was also sure that the War Lord had remained the same since ten years ago, like a fossilized relic of the past who refused to die because of blood magic or pure and utter spite.

The War Lord was older than the current Death Lords. The War Lord had so many myths and fables surrounding him that Wallenberg could barely believe himself capable of describing the overall mountain of lore representing the War Lord.

It was easier to say that War Lord Isaac was unbeatable.

“He’s unbeatable,” Wallenberg got out with a strangled cry. “We cannot win this!”

“Indeed,” said the War Lord, his voice a raspy, hard thing, like steel sharpening steel.

He walked with a black wooden staff that was as hard as metal and struck the street with a ghoulish and echoing clack. He had on a heavy black and purple robe with leather shoulder pads that curved at sharp angles with his boney frame.

On his chest dangled numerous rows of medals that overlapped each other tightly, barely finding space to fit. On his head was a grand, sharp, and conical wizard hat with dark bird feathers circling around the wide brim.

From under the darkness of his wizard hat, the War Lord’s eyes glowed a murderous red. The faint light of a nearby fire from Lady Hannah’s explosive barrages revealed his scarred, thin, and corpse-like visage that was surrounded by shadows.

He was a walking nightmare. He was too old, too powerful, too deadly.

Wallenberg thought about breaking free of the princess and escaping. But he knew there was no point.

They were doomed.

Yet, there was one man and his talking cloak who hadn’t realized that.

“Wow, I have to admit, the guy has that scary old man swagger on lock,” Lord Zarian said, still speaking utter madness in the face of certain destruction. “He’s just staring me down, wizard fingers twitching like it’s a standoff. I think this might end up being perfect for me.”

“If presentation was the winning factor, then we are certainly at a loss,” Lady Para ascertained. “I, too, am impressed.”

Wallenberg gawked at the ridiculous black lord and his cloak. He looked up at Princess Bianca and saw her face pinched with dangerous focus.

Surely she understood the gravity of the situation.

“Don’t you dare let him beat you in fashion! You are associated with me. And when I’m glamorous, all my friends are glamorous!” Princess Bianca shouted.

Growing more desperate, Wallenberg turned to Lady Hannah, who was splitting her attention from observing the standoff between wizards and Wallenberg himself. Then there was Lady Naomi, still busying herself with her ridiculous sword project.

Wallenberg wanted to explode.

They aren’t taking this seriously! Why aren’t these Floridians ever serious?!

Wallenberg nearly yanked at his hair.

Instead of self-harm, he watched Lord Zarian act out even more with his utter madness. The black lord walked casually toward the War Lord.

“Most would run,” said the War Lord, all rasp and steel. “Thank you, young man, for making this easier.”

“I just remembered I can’t punch you, so I honestly started walking your way for no reason other than it makes me look cool,” Lord Zarian said merrily.

“Perhaps my flapping would raise our glamorous approval under Bianca’s eye. Let none dare think I lack prestigious flair!” Lady Para said boastfully.

Wallenberg wriggled to test the Strength of the princess. He found he was too tired, and she was too strong. He was stuck in her hold.

Lord Zarian continued his ridiculous death march with Lady Para flapping with more gusto than prior.

In return, War Lord Isaac summoned his hideous and infamous destruction grimoire, a giant book of spells with covers made from small knives and arrowheads welded together. Embers and smoke wafted off the spine. Blood poured from the pages and flowed onto the floor like a miniature waterfall.

The horrifying grimoire hovered next to its wizard.

Almost predictably, Lord Zarian remarked in favor of his foe with the word “Badass” before the Destruction Wizard gave the wizard duel a proper start.

War Lord Isaac conjured a green fireball that was as big as Lord Hoodah. Then the War Lord hurled it down the street and into Lord Zarian’s face.

Wallenberg and the others were in the direct path behind the black lord and his talking cloak. Wanting to scream in warning, Wallenberg froze as another unbelievable sight came to be, making him a passive observer in truth.

Lord Zarian reached forward and caught the giant green fireball with his hands and some sparks of elusive and supernatural energy that Wallenberg couldn’t quite see. However, he could somehow sense the flashing and shifty energy through his Wonder stat.

Whatever that energy was, Lord Zarian used it with physical motions to stop the attack.

Meanwhile, Lady Para turned strips of the cloak into arms and aimed her palms at the immense fireball. From there, the fireball of the Destruction Wizard shrank away until nothing remained but a few trails of smoke. Then even that ended up crushed by the quickly fading energy used by the black lord and his living cloak.

“What?” Wallenberg asked, still in disbelief.

“What item are you using?” asked War Lord Isaac.

Lord Zarian chuckled. “No item. Only aura.”

“Liar.” With that, the Destruction Wizard unleashed even more spells of such deadly and horrific intent that the nobles in their homes began screaming in terror again.

They had walls and enchantments to defend them, however, leaving Wallenberg to endure while out in the open street with only the body of a princess protecting him.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

He soon realized he was better off in the arms of the princess when Lord Zarian swung his arms, whipped out that elusive energy, and deflected a giant orange and black fireball off to the side.

The destructive spell plowed through half a dozen walls and three noble homes before erupting with hellish heat and torturous afflictions that certainly killed all caught in the wake.

The shockwaves and aftershocks would’ve floored Wallenberg if it wasn’t for Princess Bianca shifting around. She used her body to protect him, letting him continue as a witness to a wizard duel of epic proportions.

War Lord Isaac thrust one hand forward and emitted a stream of screaming ghost skulls that flew straight at Lord Zarian. In the War Lord’s other hand, he gathered a ball of yellow hurricane winds compacted into his palm, channeling two destructive spells at the same time.

At the peak of the hurricane’s charge, War Lord Isaac pushed the yellow spell forward while maintaining the streaming skull torrent.

Lord Zarian spiraled the air and translucent energy in front of him. He tore up the streaming skull heads like they were paper.

Meanwhile, Lady Para reached over the black lord with half a dozen arms. She slammed her own version of the powerful energy against the yellow hurricane spell and diffused it so fast that Lord Zarian could stand his ground against both the blistering fast winds and screaming skulls.

Watching all of this, Wallenberg had a hard time believing Lord Zarian and Lady Para were using only aura and traits. The way they bent a source of power so fluidly and effectively should be impossible. It had to be another force or energy.

But then Wallenberg realized he didn’t know everything, and these foreigners were acting as if they had powers far beyond anyone else in Crossdeath.

Aura and traits. That’s all he’s using. And so is his cloak. Wallenberg was flabbergasted.

Eventually, both spells died down, pulling Wallenberg’s attention back to the fight.

The War Lord turned to his grimoire as its bloody and fiery pages flipped rapidly for him. Lord Zarian dashed forward with an explosive burst, now flying over the ground.

War Lord Isaac’s eyes widened, looking quite pressed for time. He seemed to form a hasty spell. A bolt of lightning appeared from his open hand with a thunderous clap before solidifying into a large sword.

Then the War Lord raised the lightning sword and his dark staff and blocked a shadowy blade that Lord Zarian had formed from his aura somehow. The impact emitted a resounding wave of magical thunder.

Wallenberg was constantly feeling gobsmacked with each exchange until something finally went in a more expected direction. War Lord Isaac got the upper hand with his powerful lightning sword.

The War Lord swiped quickly through Lord Zarian’s shadow of a sword and demolished it. The black lord had to retreat, his feet returning to the street, as the War Lord revealed his expertise in swordsmanship.

Forcing Lord Zarian to evade backward, the War Lord pushed even harder when his dark staff emitted more lightning that shaped itself into a spearhead at the top.

With these two elemental melee weapons, War Lord Isaac attacked relentlessly with two hundred years of grand military experience that the black lord surely couldn’t hope to overcome.

Yet, Lord Zarian did the damndest thing.

He laughed in the face of destruction and yelled out, “Let’s go!”

Lord Zarian quickly formed two more shadow swords. He smashed them against War Lord Isaac’s lightning sword and lightning spear staff.

The shadow swords didn’t last long, but Zarian formed two more and smashed those against the lightning weapons as well. When those shadow swords broke, he formed another pair of shadow swords, and then another pair of shadow swords, and then another and another and another.

Lord Zarian kept forming shadow swords, never running out as the two wizards clashed at melee range. They moved at blurring speeds or stopped temporarily in climatic clashes. Every impact released shockwaves, lightning bolts, lines of sharpened darkness in all directions.

They fought on the demolished street. They clashed in the melted gardens. They slammed together through the neighboring homes of the nobles. They brought about more epic destruction, slaying nobles as a byproduct of their wizard duel.

Nobles perished even while praying to their evil gods for vengeance or guidance. They found neither and ended up slaughtered as mere casualties, a fate normally reserved to commoners.

Neither wizard cared for the crying nobles and their demolished homes. All that mattered was the fight and supremacy of combat magic. Then things changed again when one broke away from the other.

War Lord Isaac created space with a teleportation spell and quickly dropped his melee lightning magic for more ranged destruction magic. He was preparing three spells at once.

But as Wallenberg watched with a clear view of the old man, the War Lord seemed haggard, stressed, and in disarray. All of his medals were gone. And his outfit had suffered many rips and burns.

Still, the old and determined Destruction Wizard raised three mighty spells: one spell gathered the blood of nobles into a deadly crimson ball, another turned the sky stormy with thunderclaps and thick coils of lightning, and the third split the ground with numerous magma-orange fissures that sent deadly tremors far in all directions.

Based on how the spells reached over and under and beyond Wallenberg and the Floridians, the Destruction Wizard was going to do more than attack Lord Zarian and Lady Para. The Destruction Wizard was going to unleash unparalleled ruin that would obliterate all of them and a vast swath of the city.

“I won’t lose to you!” shouted War Lord Isaac. “I am the greatest wizard alive!”

“No, you are not.”

Lord Zarian moved at a breakneck speed.

War Lord Issac smiled crookedly as a fourth spell that was a trap in waiting flashed under Lord Zarian and his wavering cloak. Giant green chains reached up with spectral hooks that aimed to latch onto the black lord and bind him.

But they missed when Lord Zarian went even faster, disappearing from view while creating a shockwave that rattled the green trap chains. He reappeared in a hover beyond the failed trap spell and in front of the surprised War Lord.

A shockwave blasted into the War Lord’s face and forced him into a stumble. Then Lord Zarian spoke in a deathly serious tone that was nearly too traumatizing for even Wallenberg to hear as a mere witness.

“You are an insignificant mortal who will fade from memory and be forgotten forever. To speak as if you are the greatest is in disrespect to my dear teacher, and I cannot stand that.”

Lord Zarian wasn’t standing indeed.

He was hovering over the War Lord, looking down upon him like one would look at a disgusting bug despite the growing danger of the immense spells charging up.

Wallenberg soon learned why Lord Zarian paid no mind to the War Lord’s spells. They stopped charging. Their progress reversed. They faltered, going still and cooling off.

Even more shocking, the destruction grimoire seemed to flicker in and out of view, struggling to stay materialized for the sake of its master.

The War Lord screamed hoarsely, staggering backward, twisting back and forth as he clawed at his chest with his free hand. Then he collapsed to his knees, dropping his staff, as his spells went inert.

The blood ball splashed uselessly on the floor.

The stormy clouds and coils of lightning faded.

The ground firmed up, cooled off, and stopped shaking.

The War Lord was shouting like a man in torment. His grimoire continued to blinker in and out of reality.

“Who is it? Who gave you such power?” the War Lord begged. “Why are you so strong?”

“My family gave me power when I was born. I got the ultimate nepo start point despite all the trouble it comes with, so yay, me,” Lord Zarian said. “But if you want to know who taught me mastery over aura and pushed me to be a real wizard, I will not say. Her name is not yours to know, because you won’t know much of anything anymore.”

“Is it her?” the War Lord begged. “Is it the Chosen One who taught you? Please! I’ve called and reached for her for all my life, and she has refused me an audience! Give me a chance!”

“No,” Lord Zarian said.

“Please!” the War Lord pleaded again.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

Lord Zarian didn’t answer anymore. He merely turned away, letting someone else take over.

“Shush, feeble morsel, and welcome your destiny,” Lady Para said in a monstrous voice. Tentacles and lengthy arms reached out from the cloak and stroked over the humbled War Lord. “Now … feed me all you know!”

The War Lord screamed and screamed despite no injury being done physically to his person. He fell backward and squirmed on the ground while under Lady Para’s cruelly gentle touches.

His destruction grimoire blinked away.

The War Lord fell silent, pissing and shitting himself as his eyes rolled into his head. Just like that, the battle between wizards ended.

Lord Zarian remained hovering in the air. Lady Para returned to being wholly a cloak flapping behind the black lord.

Wallenberg gawked at the defeated commander. The old man was still alive, but Wallenberg suspected he’d suffered a fate worse than death.

Lady Hannah confirmed it with a casual question. “How much did you gain from eating his mind, Para?”

“Quite a lot. There are some enchantments and uniquely written runes you don’t even know. Once I categorize what’s useful and do away with the rest, I shall write you reports for your reading.”

“Gracias, Para. I appreciate that a lot.” Lady Hannah turned toward Wallenberg. “As for you, child … have you still not figured out who we are? Don’t you know who Zarian is?”

Before Wallenberg could try to figure out anything, everyone became tense suddenly and turned in the direction further up the street – except for Lady Naomi. Her sword project kept her occupied still, which could be a grave mistake.

Through the smoke and haze, a strange and well-dressed man walked alone in their direction.

Wallenberg wondered who else would meet their doom at the hands of the unstoppable Floridians. But it turned out the World of Castles and Caverns hadn’t finished destroying Wallenberg’s expectations.

The lone figure was a drider, and everyone knew driders were the most unbeatable across the entire continent.

“Hello, I am Han the Realtor, also known as Baron Han. I’m the owner of the Crossdeath Region and other flourishing cities,” the drider greeted.

“Well, I can’t exactly say if it’s a pleasure or not to meet you. The city has its unique quirks, but the people can be a little meh. With that said, I’m going to give you a chance to talk since you’re not Ekri,” Lord Zarian said. “Do note, if you become too much of an annoyance, then I will act shamelessly and call in the big bad elf.”

The Carrowmore Baron laughed. “Normally, we would prefer a more reasonable approach to have you pay us an audience. And we would prefer the big bad elf to stay in her lonesome retirement and out of our business. But Baron Ekri has gone rogue as per usual and your actions are becoming too great a concern for Carrowmore and our many business interests.”

“So, what’s the unreasonable approach?” Lord Zarian rolled his neck around as well as his shoulders, prepared for another fight.

“We convince you to come straight to Carrowmore and have you chat with us.” The drider disappeared.

Lord Zarian yelled, “Naomi!”

Wallenberg somehow kept from becoming a human splatter in Princess Bianca’s arms as everyone turned toward their most vulnerable companion who remained in the back.

Before anyone could do anything, the drider hovered behind Lady Naomi and reached down with six grasping hands to snatch her away.

Lady Naomi spun one-eighty and intervened for herself. She swung her sword of mental magic and static upward.

She cut the sky in half.

Wallenberg heard a distant groan of a vast and dying monster. Two halves of the forever darkness split further and further apart. Then the cover that hid the moons and the stars for all of Wallenberg’s life and for the past thousand years disappeared completely.

The city of Crossdeath and the surrounding lands saw the Infinita Universe and all its cosmic glory for the first time in a long time.

The entire city stopped. Everyone looked up and beheld the impossible sight that a single black woman carved into the sky.

Wallenberg felt tears fall down his cheeks.

Lady Hannah interjected herself gently and said, “You missed killing Baron Han by a split second. A mythical device on his person activated and sent him home before I could stop it.”

Lady Naomi turned toward the others slowly, stiffly. The sword was gone. The expression on Lady Naomi’s face was tight and shaky. Then she fell over and shouted in pain.

“Aaaahhhhhh! My back! I freaking pulled my back! Dammit! What the hell?!!!”

With an expressionless mask, Lady Hannah looked down at the fallen woman and said, “You made the sharpest sword ever to sword. You won with the literal showing of mind over matter. You split the heavens in half. Be glad.”

“My baaaaaack!”

“Go ahead Wally. It’s okay to cry,” Princess Bianca encouraged. “That ugly, bad magic pollution must’ve been blocking your sky for way too long. Let the tears flow. Let them be free just like the pretty sky!”

“Fuck the sky, what about my back?!”

Landing next to the howling Lady Naomi, Lord Zarian chuckled. “Nice work! That was a whole ass secret monster that was half alive and half a curse up there. For a long, long time, it fed on people’s life energy by keeping the air gloomy and depressive over the city. And it tossed in the occasional acid rain here and there, too. But you did the bravest thing, sacrificing your back for the sake of everyone’s freedom!”

“Fuck you!”

“Ha! Fine then. One of these days, you’ll get your backshots of freedom. But I think we dilly dallied long enough. Let’s go finish up at the ball, and if it’s cool with you, Bianca, I think we should call the game finished.”

Princess Bianca nodded. “Yeah. I agree. Time to be all fully powered and OP. Dale! Let’s go and spread more freedom!”

Lord Zarian summoned his wizard hat back on his head and scooped the miserable Lady Naomi off the devastated floor, the living cloak wrapped in a reassuring manner around them. They floated toward the Death Lord Mega Manor.

Princess Bianca stepped on platforms made of light from the moons and stars. She moved at a brisk, breezy pace next to the black lord and black lady.

Hannah pulled out from her satchel some round, fist-sized orbs that orbited around her. Then she flew off along with the others while pulling out a journal and a feathered ink pen to jot down some notes.

Wallenberg still had tears in his eyes. He remained safe in Princess Bianca’s arms. The starry sky and three moons remained above them. The city of his birth rolled far under him.

It was colder and windier in the sky.

Wallenberg barely knew what to think. He was truly along for the ride until it finally came to a stop. Then the Floridians would decide his fate.

Then again, Wallenberg could safely assume the Floridians would first decide the fate of the Death Lords.