Overpowered Wizard

Four months after the death and revival of everything, which everyone knew as the Darkrun Apocalypse, Late Winter came around.

Zarian was officially a year older. If this was the old world, it would’ve been February, the month of Zarian’s birthday twenty-two years ago.

He hadn’t had many records of that time surrounding his arrival in the old world. He remembered how his records were dubious and messy while he grew up in the foster care system.

That had been the nature of his down-on-luck life, before the dark magic, before the portal. All because of his family’s accursed tradition. The males usually had to grow up poorly before getting their true power.

It was still 1532 of the Dark Era in Zarian’s new universe. Unlike the old one, the Infinita Star System counted a new year when Early Spring happened.

They weren’t that far away from reaching 1533.

Zarian had learned there were different customs for welcoming a new year depending on the world or area. In Corma, the World of Castles and Caverns, they held new year festivals throughout Early Spring.

Zarian’s people were already making plans for that back in Ride-or-Die Village. They were in a festive mood ever since they’d reached Late Winter.

He wasn’t currently back there to oversee anything. Instead, he was out on a solo trip further north-northwest of the village.

Mounds of blocky snow covered the landscape. A wintery chill swept across the battered lands of the former North Crown Peak area.

Minor forests of frosted trees, with stone-covered trunks slick with ice, scraped at the air with their bony branches.

Under the sparse cloud cover and the shining suns reaching their zenith, and amid the snow-laden plains, minor ice forests, and hillocks of snow-covered fortress mounds, the Level 72 Madness Wizard trekked with a comfortable gait.

His boots walked over the snow’s surface without leaving a print for anyone or anything to track. The chilling wind parted around him without pushing him, barely touching him.

Snowfall twirled out of his way like someone pulling aside loose curtains for him.

No effect of the mundane weather could break past the powerful enchantments weaved into his gear. Only the Para allowed the weather to have some effect on her.

This was Para’s first winter, and this was Zarian’s first winter where he actually saw snow.

Looking back, Zarian saw his tattered and monstrous cloak whip, flap, and curl her many tendrils. Para flicked at the flurry of snow blowing by and formed toothy mouths to laugh aloud.

She was having a lot of fun while stretched out twenty feet behind him, not touching the ground whatsoever in her defiance of gravity.

She was still reddish like old blood dried on hard leather skin. A supernatural glimmer akin to dying stars on the edge of the void covered the edges of her surface.

Meanwhile, Zarian was dressed in all black. A lightweight gambeson covered his torso and his upper arms, reaching down mid-thigh. The trousers were lightweight and flexible. The same for the boots.

On the chest was an emblem that looked like a tribal gator’s head. The color was dark red, almost similar to Para’s color.

It was the guild’s crest. And under the crest was the motto written in fancy pensive:

‘Fuck Around and Find Out.’

His wizard hat was black with a few traces of the Parasite Cloak’s likeness, such as having a tattered look around the brim. Then there was the enchanted monocle covering Zarian’s right eye, which was as dark as the rest of him.

<Snow Hunter Monocle (Rare): A legendary Runic Engineer has heavily altered this monocle. It makes the wearer look wiser. It dims any bright lights seen by the wearer. It also highlights tracks or clues of any enemies or targets of the wearer.>

Zarian smiled as magical displays appeared in his vision and highlighted some footprints in the snow in red.

They were deep, large. The way they were shaped reminded him of a reptilian.

The tracks led him down a small forest trail where he found broken branches and more footprints.

The tracks were recent.

He was no professional ranger or tracker, but he liked to think his training from the Marines helped. He’d also picked up a few books on the subject in the Dancing Librarian Dungeon.

In a universe with no television or internet, having a magical library dungeon with nearly endless books was a godsend treasure. Reiki’s dungeon was the heart of the Ride-or-Die Village for many reasons, and the library was chief among them.

Zarian followed the tracks.

The tracks turned fresher.

He was getting closer to his targets.

They weren’t aware of him just yet.

Or maybe they were and had a trap set up for him.

Now, how should he proceed?

One, should he go stealthily from behind like an assassin?

Two, should he go around and set an ambush like a hunter?

Three, should he go forward to fight directly like a warrior?

Four, should he drop a big attack from the sky like a wizard?

Five, should he go in like a Marine and use whatever worked?

Hm. Tricky. Tricky. All these options seemed so viable. How was he supposed to choose?

It was almost an impossible choice, especially since he’d been mostly inactive these past four months, focused on studying and research.

He could call in a friend, such as Para, but the Parasite Cloak +2 was busy playing with the falling snow.

Zarian figured he should play the role he chose for himself a while ago. Option five, he would go in like a Marine and do whatever worked.

He could start off slow to test out things, set traps, then drop a big attack from the sky like a wizard in the end, just like calling in artillery.

Now that he was near his targets, he summoned a few spectral spiders to locate them directly.

Since the past four months bore little action, the Spectral Spider Network +1 had advanced only a little. It was Level 24 now, right at the cusp.

Personally, Zarian was Level 72 because of the multiple side quests he’d accomplished. He still had his party’s main quest, which had been updated because of new information.

<Main Quest (Legendary): Defeat the hellish Grimrock Warlock. Decide the fate of the Mythical Indomitable Cook.>

Then there were the rest of his side quests:

<Side Quest (Epic): Find the Forgotten Kingdom!>

<Side Quest 2 (Divine): Don’t destroy the Infinita Star System! Again!>

<Side Quest 3 (Uncommon): Do nice things for the people who support you despite your issues.>

Zarian smiled. There was another reason he’d come out here. He was working on getting some nice things as rewards for his fellow Floridians.

The current gift was a long time coming, too. He wouldn’t have known where to find it if he hadn’t looked at maps around the area multiple times.

Zarian sat on a log and pulled out an enchanted mug. He sipped on hot coffee mixed with dark chocolate and some alcohol while waiting for his spectral spiders to find the targets and lay traps.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The drink tasted sweet. Absolutely delicious. It felt rich going down his throat. It was like he was drinking ambrosia. It was nearly as good as what Foodie could make.

Reiki had truly outdone herself as the Ride-or-Die Village’s Dungeon Boss and the proprietor of their chief restaurant and coffee bar. She had some new competition growing in the village trying to steal her customers, but they didn’t have her deep resources, and they still hadn’t figured out how to make coffee or chocolate.

Nonetheless, Zarian got a cut of everything passing through Ride-or-Die Village. The amount of money he was raking in lately was nice, and things were only getting more active this month.

He had more money than he knew what to spend on. There wasn’t much he needed, honestly. He could get mostly everything for free.

He didn’t plan on shopping for anything much outside of the village, especially not from anywhere south.

The Eternal Garden Kingdom was in a three-way civil war down there.

Because of that, a lot of traders, merchants, and adventurers were passing through Ride-or-Die Village with loads of goodies while on their quests going west or east.

Early Spring promised even more activity.

Zarian wondered if his village could handle it all. What would it be like once Foodie was saved and introduced to his village?

Zarian had a lot to think about. A ping from his spectral spiders brought him back to the present.

It wasn’t coming from the direction of his targets. The ping came from spectral spiders he’d left behind him during his trek here.

Zarian followed the thread leading to the spider who’d wanted his attention. He saw what the hubbub was about.

It wasn’t anything dire. He remained on his log and kept taking enjoyable sips from his cocoa-coffee alcohol drink.

The delicious beverage was rare quality, too, so he could actually get a decent buzz from it, but not too much to impede his work.

A few minutes later, a ten-foot form stalked quietly toward his position between stone walls and frosted hedges. Her digitigrade legs sliced through the snow-covered ground without making too much sound. Her head bobbed down gracefully under the grasping, snow-covered claws of the skeletal trees.

Then the elder gnoll stopped by a block of snow.

She stooped down onto her haunches in the shade across from Zarian, out of the glare of the winter suns. She seemed to make herself as small as possible while in his presence.

“Elder Ezda,” Zarian greeted.

“Alpha Elder Zarian,” Ezda replied in return. “Your spiders are much stealthier. I didn’t notice them as much this time around.”

Zarian chuckled. “They’ve gotten some decent practice. The skill for them is one level away from advancing. Perhaps they’ll become even stealthier or have even more interesting abilities.”

Ezda nodded before looking off to the side. Zarian studied her, making note of how the massive gnoll female had cleaned up a lot lately.

She didn’t smell of rot and old blood. Her fur was pristine and freshened up, all yellow with brown spots that stood out against the white blanket of snow.

She’d even brushed her teeth. It was less brown and more yellow. Her long locks of hair had seen a trimming, too, now only reaching down to her hips.

The outfit she wore was newer, far from the frayed rags of before. She had on leather trousers big enough to fit her and leather straps wrapped around her chest to seal up her three pairs of breasts.

She didn’t wear human bones as her trophies anymore, and the same could be said about the other gnoll elders, most likely.

They weren’t here, since Ezda was chief among them, and the most forward, but Zarian had seen glimpses of them from a distance. If Ezda was all cleaned up and looking respectable, they would certainly follow her lead.

None of these changes happened because Zarian asked for them. The gnolls changed on their own gradually.

They always acted in unexpected ways for savages, especially when they’d appeared outside of the village back in Late Autumn and told Zarian he was the Alpha Elder of the Blood Prairie Savages.

Then they’d left.

Then they’d come back to check in.

Then they’d left again before making more trips in and out of the area.

They were much more mysterious than savage lately, to be fair. Zarian wondered if his … wife … was acting in the background, influencing the gnolls. Or were the gnolls looking at him as some sort of grounded deity?

Ezda hadn’t bothered to explain much.

Zarian didn’t bother to force an explanation. He acted as if everything was okay.

“I’m going to engage in some combat to test out my new sealing style techniques,” Zarian informed. “Do you want to sit back and watch? Maybe even be my cheerleader? Or do you want to join?”

Ezda looked at him for a while.

Zarian finished slurping up the delicious drink from his mug.

After a few minutes, the elder gnoll bowed her head. “I’d prefer to wait in the back and behold the magnificence of your new techniques, oh alpha elder.”

Zarian was tempted to ask her how Evil God Killall was doing. But he held back since it seemed like the Blood Prairie Savages were in a sensitive transitionary period.

He supposed when Ezda and the other elders were ready to be more forthcoming, he would happily lend an ear and invite them into his village with open arms.

After all, his power was bending them to his whims without him having to ask. There was no need for him to be rude to his friends.

That and he still owed their rising gnolls some training.

“Okay, enjoy the show.”

Zarian licked the smeared remains of his tasty drink from his lips. He placed the mug back into the cloak’s pocket dimension and stood to his feet.

The Madness Wizard turned away from Ezda, and his cloak fluttered and flapped as twisted streams of glimmering leather and flesh. Some of which traced over the epic Level 91 Blood Brute in a friendly manner.

Ezda silently stood up and stalked after him.

Most humans would’ve feared for their lives to have an elder gnoll, one at Level 91, trail behind them. And Ezda was an infamous elder gnoll, known as the Voracious Blood Beast of the Blood Prairies.

There was a reason Silver Guardian Arnold of Ambrose couldn’t stop himself from attacking Ezda on sight months ago.

Strangely, Zarian felt comfortable to have her cover his back. Her presence felt loyal and reserved. Not dangerous at all. At least when around him.

He hadn’t known her true level and class until she told him weeks ago. It had come up at random.

He thought little of it until he remembered she’d lied about being in the Level 80s the first time they met.

Zarian almost wanted to laugh at how ridiculous it was to have a Level 91 gnoll act subservient to him of her free volition, while he was only Level 72. His free evil +3 enjoyed it.

They reached the target area.

Zarian blended into his environment. His black and dark red outfit turned mostly white with off gray to match with the snow and shadows.

Para shifted colors and blended with the environment just like him. She twisted, splintered, and changed around him. She acted like spindly bush plants, bare without their leaves.

She’d even copied the nearby fragmented walls and looked like lumpy, blocky covers of snow.

Together, they became one with the habitat and settled on the upper edge of a downward slope leading into a basin. Hundreds of feet ahead, dozens of kobolds acted as they pleased while on Zarian’s side of the mythical event.

The war between the Ride-or-Die Village and the wolf dragons hadn’t ended. It was only on pause. Skirmishes had broken out frequently still, at least three to four times a week.

Fortunately, the original two hundred and eight-nine young soldiers and acolytes the Floridians had taken here remained alive. They were flourishing in unique and unexpected ways inside or around Ride-or-Die Village.

However, newcomers, some who were passing adventurers from foreign kingdoms, had fallen during kobold skirmishes. There was also something Zarian found strange that his people had warned him about.

The kobolds were abnormally stronger than they should be. And if the kobolds had a quality jump in power, then the same could be predicted for the wolf dragons.

Zarian hadn’t fought them in a while. He’d get to see for himself, which was perfect.

He could finally test what he’d researched for months in the Dancing Librarian Dungeon, digging up its exhaustive catalogs, practically living down there for weeks on end.

He had the gear for all of that hard research. Hannah’s handiwork.

Smiling, Zarian looked down at the thick black gauntlets covering his hands and forearms. They looked like implements made for tanky bruisers. They were, in fact, the tools that would let him use his Overwhelming Darkness for the first time.

<Gauntlets of the Twenty Dark Locks Sealing Style (Legendary): These gauntlets use twenty enchanted locking mechanisms for seals. Combine them with your trait, the Bearer of the Twenty Dark Locks Sealing Style, to manage your Overwhelming Darkness effectively.>

Zarian nodded at the description from his Identify before he checked on his new trait. He’d earned it a few days ago once he’d finished his initial research.

<Bearer of the Twenty Dark Locks Sealing Style (Legendary): This trait combined with sealing enchantments, crafted tools, guidance gestures, power chants, and skill incantation techniques should control your Overwhelming Darkness. Beware that mistakes or loss of concentration could cause unnecessary harm to you and others, or worse, unleash another Darkrun Apocalypse.>

“I should be able to use one percent of my true power now,” Zarian whispered into Ezda’s ear through a spectral spider on her shoulder. “To be fair, I’m actually using a fraction of my one percent power, but saying ‘One Percent Power’ is cleaner and sounds more badass.”

“Let the foolish lizards behold your dark magnificence, oh Alpha Elder Zarian,” Ezda said with quiet reverence.

Zarian raised up and started the lengthy sequence to use Overwhelming Darkness.

Was it all an inconvenience? Kinda, yes.

Did he feel cool, like a younger and edgier him? Yes, very much so.

The inconvenience was second to the experience of unleashing the techniques he’d developed in the library and through rigorous study. Too bad the kobolds were aware of him now and rushing to the attack.

That was okay.

While Zarian worked his dark magnificence to fruition, the spectral spiders and Para were prepared to show off what they’d learned the past couple of months as well.

The spiders were out of sight, out of harm’s way. They waited for the ‘gifts’ they’d left in place to go off.

The cloak shifted forms once again. She transformed into many arms and hands with slender and articulate fingers.

Meanwhile, all three grimoires appeared.

One grimoire phased out of his body. Its rattling spectral chains bound the covers to his soul.

Another grimoire appeared over his shoulder with jagged teeth running down the spine. It came with a hefty and predatory presence that formed like a translucent shade behind Zarian.

Finally, a dark metal grimoire appeared through a portal in front of Zarian. It emitted a metallic hum and slowly orbited Zarian’s body.

Para’s many hands and slender fingers grabbed each grimoire. She cracked them all open, flipped their pages, and traced her fingers over the enchanted text and symbols.

Then Para formed mouths in the palms of her free hands to speak with.

Para started things off by chanting and casting, “Quagmire Pit.”

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