Overpowered Wizard

Why does her voice sound like she’s right behind me?

Wallenberg told himself not to look back. He rarely looked back during these life-and-death runs. He’d escaped from danger by always looking forward and trusting on the points invested in Wonder.

But for some reason, he couldn’t help but look over his shoulder and see a sight that turned his blood cold.

She really was right behind him.

And she looked like she was walking.

Her strides covered plenty of ground without her having to run. With one step forward, she matched his many racing steps.

No matter how hard and fast he ran, she kept up effortlessly. Wallenberg also felt compelled to listen to her, but he had just enough fear inside of him to disregard that.

He tried to juke to the side as he pulled the cork off the vial and threw the stinky cloud bomb at the ground behind him.

An intense beam of light struck the vial, eradicating the container and its contents all at once. Nothing remained other than a round black scorch mark and wafting smoke rising from the impact.

Seeing that horrifying power, Wallenberg’s legs gave out as his Willpower failed him.

He tripped on a root for the first time in a long time. He careened through prickly shrubs and flipped into a tumble that led to him smashing at the base of an old and wide tree trunk.

Wallenberg twisted about to sit up before freezing as he saw the expensive and beautiful heeled shoes of the monstrous goddess in front of him.

Wallenberg trembled as he looked all the way up, up, and upward a little more. Straight blond hair. Slightly tanned and unblemished skin. Golden eyes that shone like magic lights. And an aura that crushed the air out of Wallenberg’s chest.

She was beyond pretty. Beyond any woman Wallenberg had ever seen. There was no doubt she was the most beautiful evil demoness he would ever come across, because he would surely die like the bug he was.

She could zap him like she’d done his stinky cloud bomb. Or maybe she would take her time roasting him alive.

Wallenberg bit the edge of his bottom lip. He thrust upward while still in a low position, aiming his spear for a gap in the skirt of her armored dress.

She reached down and caught the weapon by the spear point. With a flick of her fingers, she snapped the spear head off and tossed it aside despite how much that spearhead had cost Wallenberg. It didn’t matter to her. �

Wallenberg dropped the broken staff and remained kneeling as he accepted his fate.

I guess this is the end of me, Wallenberg thought sadly. Foiled by a beautiful and deadly woman. I’m sure I’ll join the ranks of many men who’ve fallen prey to such cruel and horrifying devils.

“Please let me die without too much pain, oh beautiful one,” Wallenberg begged, groveling before her.

“Que? Oh, are you saying I’m so beautiful it’s painful? Ha! Gracias!” She laughed like a beautiful demoness would, with a voice of poisoned honey.

She even sprinkled in some phrases from another language, which was surely a demonic tongue. Wallenberg felt more miserable, because he was quite curious about the strange language, but he would surely die before learning it.

Once she stopped laughing, she said, “Zarian told me your name is Wallenberg. But you really look like Wally. I think this is meant to be, so you should come with me now.”

“But I’m not Wally,” he mumbled dumbly. “I’m Wallenberg.”

Again, she laughed with that poisoned honey voice of hers. Then she plucked him up by the back of his ratty tunic like she was picking a little toy off the floor.

Before he could truly understand what was happening, Wallenberg ended up with his body wavering like a flag caught in a storm wind. The Old Goblin Forest and heavy fog blurred by him in a rush that disorientated him.

Before he could recompose himself and get a better grasp of his situation, he landed back on his feet. But he wasn’t allowed to collapse to his knees again.

The beautiful demoness, Bianca, kept a firm hold of his arm by the triceps. Her grip stopped short of causing pain.

But he could tell she wouldn’t let him escape, even if he tried with all of his might. She could easily snap the bone in his arm and turn the muscles into a pulp if she wanted. Worse yet, Wallenberg found his heart racing even more from her touch and nearness.

Accursed body! This isn’t the time to fall weak to her guile!

Wallenberg felt ashamed of himself. He was also a little dizzy still from the rapid trip.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. His Agility helped him recover from disorientation. Once he was more composed, he looked up and saw he was among them.

The black man.

The giant man.

The black woman.

The cold woman.

And the cruel and monstrous Bianca.

They had Wallenberg surrounded with no way to escape them.

Wallenberg now realized they might be far, far stronger than he’d initially thought. He should’ve noticed it before this point, but maybe the distance and fog disrupted his supernatural senses.

Now that he was in the middle of their party, he felt like a bug among demigods. They oozed such power that made it hard for Wallenberg not to fall to his knees and grovel for his life.

“Look guys, it’s Wally!” Bianca cheered, waving her free hand over him like showing off a new pet.

How horrifying, Wallenberg thought. She’s going to stretch this out for her amusement before she grows bored with me and tosses me to the wolves.

“Fucking, Wally.” The black woman cussed without limit. Her anger struck Wallenberg like a boulder. It almost felt like he was being crushed under her heel by her anger alone as she muttered, “He shouldn’t have died like he did.”

“This isn’t Wally,” said the cold woman, deadpanned. “And we’re not in the business of picking up strays right now. If he’s a threat, then just kill him and move on.”

“That depends,” said the giant man, stretching his massive arms wide with a yawn. “What were you doing in the forest, young man?”

“Hunting for experience,” Wallenberg spilled out. “I’ve leveled up in secret for the past four years. I plan to steal from a Petty Lord and flee to Ride-or-Die Village. Now that you know the truth, please kill me without hurting me too much, please.”

“Yeah, Hannah, please kill the poor kid without hurting him too much,” the giant man said, directed toward the cold woman.

“I suppose he’s not a threat or nuisance then,” Hannah said, still cold and unfriendly. “But I don’t think that stops Naomi from feeling angry.”

“Fucking Wally,” said the black woman, who was most likely Naomi. “I really am still pissed about that.”

“Maybe you won’t be angry about that if we take this Wally with us!” Bianca said.

No, don’t take me with you. Please don’t take me with you, Wallenberg fretted.

“Yeah, I think this is the best thing. It’s meant to be. Wally wasn’t supposed to die like that. But now this Wally is here. How about it, Zarian? Can we take him with us?” Bianca pleaded, using her poisonous charm.

“Fine, fine. We’ll take him with us. He really does look like Wally,” said the leader, the black man, the one known as Zarian. “Heal him up, Gilbert. The kid looks like he’d suffered some awful crap.”

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“I’m not Wally,” Wallenberg said. “And I’m an adult, not a kid.”

“Just shut it,” grouched Naomi.

Wallenberg sealed his lips. He accepted the free healing even though he knew they were doing this to prolong his torment before they got bored and killed him.

Nonetheless, many lingering injuries that his vitality failed to clear up disappeared. All his scars went away. He felt a few out-of-place bones shift back to their proper position.

Then Bianca released him, allowing Wallenberg to stand on his own. He held his head down and stayed stooped over, but Naomi slapped him on the back and forced him to straighten fully.

He was considerably taller than Hannah. He was only an inch taller than Naomi, but her dynamic body had more weight on her than him.

Compared to Zarian, Wallenberg was shorter by two inches.

Wallenberg had to crane his neck considerably to look up at the giant Gilbert and the glamorously statuesque Bianca. It was unfair that they had such powerful physiques to go with their golden looks and grand height.

He felt the power rolling off of their bodies and concluded that they must be in the Level 70s with rare quality classes. That would explain why they were so confident with their loud singing.

They must’ve been talented adventurers from wherever they came from. Maybe they were the best of the best from the Windy Strider Kingdom based on how unconventional they looked.

Wallenberg knew striders didn’t mind having many sorts amid their alignments.

Other than Gilbert who was probably a very strong neutral man, the other four were clearly evil aligned. It wasn’t easy to sense the energy from their alignments, but Wallenberg didn’t sense his opposite. There was nobody with the good alignment among this party of powerful and physically gifted adventurers.

That meant he could still attempt to save them and himself.

He could try to appeal to their evil intelligence.

“May I assist you milords and miladies with useful knowledge of the place you intend to visit?” Wallenberg offered politely.

“Oh, I’m not a lady. I’m a princess,” Bianca said.

Wallenberg choked on the air. An evil princess?!

She could be lying. But the way she said that so boldly and openly might mean she didn’t care to lie.

Wallenberg didn’t know what that meant among the nobility, but he’d only heard of the good alignment having princesses. If it was possible for evil to have princesses, that would certainly challenge the female power structure in Crossdeath.

“Princess Bianca,” Wallenberg said, his voice quivering, “you mustn’t say that at Central Crossdeath. The noble ladies are vicious, territorial, and easily offended. I know it’s not my place, but I stress you must enter Crossdeath with more … subtleness. No doubt, a Petty Lord will attempt to invite you to their manor. Or maybe since you all are rare Level 70s, you would have the honor of meeting a Death Lord directly.”

“You think we can take on the Death Lords if it comes down to it?” Lord Zarian asked with a small smile. “Also, you’re a sharp kid, aren’t you? Good guess on our levels and qualities. I bet you invest a good amount in Wonder.”

Wallenberg’s neck heated up from the compliment. He was expecting them to correct him. But apparently he had guessed correctly, which was troubling.

They were not strong enough to face the Death Lords.

“Milord, you shouldn’t,” Wallenberg urged carefully, keeping his head down. “Central Crossdeath is the great dark jewel of the Walled Continent for a reason. It is said that the fearsome Carrowmore favors Central Crossdeath. And the Death Lords are said to be epic and in the Level 80s!”

“Oh, wow, that sure does sound scary,” drawled the giant Lord Gilbert. “Maybe, just maybe, we’ll just pass through without causing much trouble. In fact, I’m so confident we’ll cause no trouble whatsoever I’m going to start drinking.”

The bear-sized man reached into a satchel at his side. He pulled out an entire cask that was bigger than Wallenberg’s torso.

The Bug Alchemist’s eyes flew wide open at the sight of that mystical move. How did the giant lord pull off such magic? Wasn’t he a warrior? His immense size suggested such.

Maybe this is the reason they aren’t traveling with a wagon or beast to carry supplies. There’s nothing else but them and what they wear, Wallenberg thought, feeling the itch to get his hands on one of those satchels and all the hidden treasures they contained.

He snapped back to reality when he heard the change in the conversation.

“We need rules,” said the intimidating Lady Naomi.

“Oh, I know! I thought about this a few training days back! Wanna hear?” Princess Bianca clapped in excitement.

Yes, yes, they’re listening. They’re going to practice care and not upset the Death Lords. Then maybe if everything works out, they’ll let me die a painless death.

Wallenberg felt his heart fill up with poisonous hope. Good Goddess Hopeland was the most nefarious of the gods for a reason.

“Hit us, Bianca.” The mysterious and magnetic Lord Zarian waved her on.

Princess Bianca clapped some more, jumping up and down. “Ha ha yay! So, here are the rules.

“One: Naomi, you can only fight … with a psychic blade and lightning bolts! You never do that. So that’s your rule.

“Two: Hannah fights aggressively with only magic axes and her body. I figure Hannah can get some more work on her berserk crafter style.

“Three: Gilbert … cannot use shields! And before he hits someone, he jolts them up first and makes the fight harder for himself!

“Four: I’m going to punch and kick!

“Five: Zarian and Para can only use pure Aura Mastery. No spells. No traits either! And no wizard hat!

“Six: Wildcard Wally! Don’t die this time! We have a scroll for that now, so if you do die, we’ll revive you. Then we’ll have to give you some tough love to teach you why you shouldn’t break our hearts again! Bueno?Bueno!”

Wallenberg’s mind felt as slow as molasses.

What was happening?

What type of rules were that?

Who the Hidden Hell was Para?

He looked around at the others, because surely they would see that Princess Bianca was insane.

“No way. She’s right. I really haven’t worked on using a psychic blade before,” Lady Naomi muttered, looking … embarrassed?! “How did I not think of that? Damn it.”

Lady Hannah lifted her face from a thick and voluminous book that must’ve cost a small fortune. Wallenberg didn’t know when she’d pulled that out, but she slipped it into the satchel on her side that was like the others worn by Lord Gilbert, Lady Naomi, and Princess Bianca.

“Yeah, sure, I can work with that,” Lady Hannah said plainly.

“Uh. Yup. Sure.” Lord Gilbert drained from the cask and looked rosy in the face. One sniff nearly sent Wallenberg falling back from the high quality beer in that cask.

“That’s screwed up, Bianca,” Lord Zarian complained. “You know how long Para and I’ve been looking forward to playing with Aura Mastery and our traits with some human dummies.”

“If you want to use your other traits, no giant offensive moves are allowed! Be tricky and fun and clever,” Princess Bianca said, amending her rules.

Lord Zarian nodded. “Okay, nice, much appreciated. Those are some solid rules. We’ve been sharpening our Aura Mastery anyway, so I guess we can make that work. The lack of a wizard hat is going to hurt like hell, though. Ugh. That part is screwy.”

“We got this, guys!” Princess Bianca raised a fist. Then she hopped around and threw some light and playful punches that looked dainty and unthreatening. “I’m going to go bop, bop, bop this time. Like a punchy baddie!”

“Yup! I’m saving that one in the bank. Punchy baddie. That’s what you are, huh, Naomi?” Lord Gilbert laughed uproariously.

Lady Naomi growled as she warped the air in strange ways above her upturned palms.

Lord Zarian opened his mouth with a big smile. “Zombie–”

Lord Gilbert cut him off. “Shut up! Shut up! Let’s get going!”

Wallenberg made a run for it. With Lord Gilbert clearly impaired, Wallenberg tried to slip past the giant and drunken man.

Princess Bianca caught Wallenberg like catching a slow-moving bug. She pranced along with her crazy and outrageous party of suicidal fools while dragging Wallenberg along with them.

She held him by the back of his neck with an unbreakable grip without hurting him, so he couldn’t rip free or die from choking. He almost wished she would squeeze and break his neck to end his suffering, but Princess Bianca was as cruel as she was beautiful and insane.

Wallenberg could try using his alchemy and abilities against them, but there was no point.

Clearly, he had no power here.

No choice.

No chance.

It was insane how they were all rare in quality, but the level difference was too big for Wallenberg to overcome.

The Death Lords are epic and in the Level 80s, a way bigger league. These strange and foreign lords, foreign ladies, and their foreign princess are going to get humbled and brutalized. The Death Lords will sacrifice them to our city’s patron gods. I imagine Sinfeast would enjoy the black ones the most for being exotic. And I’m going to suffer along with them.

Wallenberg felt sullen. Then he felt fear when Lord Zarian’s cloak flicked a ragged strand in his direction. The strands of the cloak transitioned from being a monstrous and starry material to something else.

Slender and feminine arms formed from the mystical material, some so eerily designed they were outrageously long or had multiple elbow joints.

One patted his head soothingly. A few others had their palms split open, forming mouths with supple lips and straight teeth.

“Hello, Wallenberg,” greeted the hands of the shiny monster cloak. “Excuse my friends, for they seemed to have a traumatic attachment to you. They lost someone precious in their earliest adventures and now they seem to seek redemption through you for being a surrogate of sorts. Please play your part as our Wally and enjoy the show.”

“Uh.” Wallenberg’s mind was shutting down on him. He couldn’t come up with an appropriate response. “Uh.”

“Oh, excuse me. I’m Para. You may call me Lady Para, in fact. I think it sounds quite nice to me. Now be a good Wally and give us a proper tour of Crossdeath. We won’t stay for long since we have important business beyond this little city. But as we tour through, your information can help us do what we do best,” Lady Para insisted.

“What is it you do best?” Wallenberg asked, feeling compelled to do so despite his confusion and horror.

Lady Para chortled, sounding like a beautiful and cheery woman, with a hint of her true monstrous nature lurking underneath. She kept providing her comforting pats to his head, reminding him of his late mother before snapping him back to reality with her words of savagery and challenge.

“Well, my dear Wally, we are the best at spreading freedom and seeing who likes to fuck around and find out.”

Before Wallenberg could respond, the most unexpected circumstance on top of many unexpected circumstances happened. He gained a level. He was now a Level 42 Bug Alchemist.

How?!

Why?!

He had no quests!

He had hunted nothing. He had accomplished nothing. He had no apparent reason for the new level.

Was this a premonition of bad things to come? An omen of doom?

Hisscreep, help me, please, Wallenberg prayed.

His god gave no response.

No sign. No comfort.

Wallenberg was on his own.