Overpowered Wizard

Wallenberg couldn’t believe what he was hearing as five strangers jogged through the fog and forest surrounding the Crossdeath Region. The five strangers were singing … loudly … without respect or fear of the Death Lords and the cruel men and women on their payroll.

Wallenberg’s thoughts raced: These foreigners will get themselves destroyed by acting like this! Don’t they know the unbeatable Death Lords and their Crossdeath Militia will kill for less!

Wallenberg stayed hidden amid thorny brambles, sharpened hedges, and a few worn down statues that were prevalent in the Old Goblin Forest. The forest existed like the most stubborn weed between the Blood Prairies and the Grimrock Castle Mountains.

It was here that Wallenberg’s wicked birth home, Crossdeath, set its roots as the chief territory for evil aligned humans and other evil sapiens on the continent. Many evil or criminal organizations lurking in the underbellies of the human kingdoms had ties with Crossdeath.

Many had to pay up tithes to the Death Lords to keep them happy.

Of course, a functional city couldn’t rely wholly on evil humans. There were common serfs or uncommon merchants of the neutral alignment who made up most of the population.

They lived in constant fear of the Death Lords, however. But that was a price many had to pay when in bed with evil, which was the same case with Wallenberg.

There were powerful resources, amazing treasures, and endless streams of riches passing through Crossdeath. It was an open secret only known to those who lived there. Or to those who conducted their business there with enough status to come and go regardless of alignments.

Evil, villainy, and organized chaos could lead to opportunities most people couldn’t ever imagine. One just had to ignore the horrors and downright inhumane things that happened as a byproduct.

That was why Wallenberg was doing everything he could to prepare for the perfect heist. He planned to rob a minor family member of a Petty Lord, who were lesser nobles of Crossdeath.

Then he would flee for his life to the only place that could protect him, the infamous yet secretive Ride-or-Die Village!

Not much was known about Ride-or-Die other than it being ruled by the Dark Lord. In fact, the lack of sizable info was the most curious part for Wallenberg, who had sources he could rely on for irresistible crumbs of gossip.

There should be a massive treasure trove of info on Ride-or-Die Village.

Instead, most of the information surrounding Ride-or-Die came from unreliable adventurers from the Windy Strider Kingdom and a few crime syndicates who were acting strangely bold or unresponsive.

All the Crossdeath spies and thieves the Death Lords and Petty Lords had sent to Ride-or-Die Village hadn’t come back. Or if they had come back, the Death Lords had silenced them personally.

Wallenberg had even eavesdropped on complaints from young nobles that crystal ball transmissions had failed when connecting to another corresponding crystal ball in Ride-or-Die Village. The only things known by the nobles and Death Lords came from either Central Bramblevale or from the four patron gods of Crossdeath – Sickspread, Goldhound, Killall, and Sinfeast.

But even that had failed to give a decent enough full picture of the Dark Lord, his party, and their Ride-or-Die Village. In fact, from what Wallenberg had heard through certain sources he should never name, the four patron gods were acting strange and unreliable. Perhaps even unresponsive.

Maybe the Darkrun Apocalypse had scared them all.

Or maybe the Death Lords hoarded the information to themselves. There were even rumors that one of the Death Lords was actually the true Dark Lord and that Ride-or-Die Village was fake!

Wallenberg had his doubts about that. Evil Goddess Shadowfell had deemed the Dark Lord worthy of being her husband, and that was somehow known to everyone as if it came to them through a dark and murky dream.

Nonetheless, Wallenberg had plans to take advantage of the confusion and see Ride-or-Die Village for himself.

He was a rare Level 41 Bug Alchemist and follower of Hisscreep, who helped him with keeping his growth undiscovered.

He had three traits, one rare and two uncommon. And he had four whole skills, which was a lot at his level. All of his skills helped him with insect-type creatures and using them for alchemy. 𝑅

He was only plain evil, but that was okay. Being a little evil gave him enough edge to pursue his ambitions without falling into being a depraved psycho.

For a long time, his ambitions had led him to hunting and fighting in secret in the Old Goblin Forest. He’d used the safest tricks he could pull off. He’d grown a lot from the moment he became Level 10 four years ago.

He considered himself powerful at eighteen, but he still had to be careful and avoid the attention of the Death Lords, Petty Lords, and the Crossdeath Militia.

Thus, Wallenberg found himself rightfully pissed off as the strangers sang without fear. They spooked off the latest beast Wallenberg sought for experience.

He had half a mind to stalk the strangers until they make camp and lace their food in secret with stomach-hurting poisons. Wallenberg had plenty of unique alchemies made from the insects based on his studies and skills and the boon-shaped alchemy book Hisscreep gifted to him years ago.

Maybe he could paralyze the idiotic strangers and give them a proper scare, letting them know how much worse things could’ve been if the Crossdeath Militia had found them first. Then Wallenberg would rightfully take the strangers’ best gear and let them fend for themselves as part of the lesson.

I have a rare class! That means I’m finally powerful enough to stand for myself. I’m not some loser son of dead loser hunters anymore!

Wallenberg felt his heart clench at the thought of his parents, but he ignored that feeling with the help of the evil alignment. His parents had died because they were too weak and unambitious.

As Wallenberg schemed to exact some petty revenge on the strangers, he listened up when he heard their change of song. They had more than one, apparently, and they still refused to quiet themselves or fear for their lives.

Wallenberg grew angrier as he crept past thorny brambles, around vine-covered and weathered statues, and slid behind ancient columns standing between gnarled, stone-barked trees. He looked through a gap in the ruins and foliage. A section of the fog cleared up. His vision of the five strangers improved even further, allowing him to see the smallest details.

His heart skipped a beat in shock. He nearly sent himself reeling back. He froze instead, unnerved by the sight of them as he finally paid more attention to the words of their song. The words came out as a call-and-response cadence of sorts.

One highly strange man with eerie dark skin, a big wizard hat, and a monstrous cloak sang first while jogging at the front. Following behind the eerie black man, a giant of a man and three foreign and extremely beautiful women sang second as a united chorus.

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“I left my home!”

“I LEFT MY HOME!”

“To go adventure!”

“TO GO ADVENTURE!”

“I left my home!”

“I LEFT MY HOME!”

“To slay monsters!”

“TO SLAY MONSTERS!”

“The day I left!”

“THE DAY I LEFT!”

“My momma cried!”

“MY MOMMA CRIED!”

“She surely thought!”

“SHE SURELY THOUGHT!”

“I wasn’t strong enough!”

“I WASN’T STRONG ENOUGH!”

“I left my lover!”

“I LEFT MY LOVER!”

“Standing at the guild!”

“STANDING AT THE GUILD!”

“They thought for sure!”

“THEY THOUGHT FOR SURE!”

“I would die in shame!”

“I WOULD DIE IN SHAME!”

“The day I left!”

“THE DAY I LEFT!”

“A wizard shook my hand!”

“A WIZARD SHOOK MY HAND!”

“They were certain!”

“THEY WERE CERTAIN!”

“I will become OP!”

“I WILL BECOME OP!”

“Ooooh we ooooh we!”

“OOOOOH WE OOOOOH WE!”

“Ohh wee ohh wee!”

“OHH WEE OHH WEE!”

“Ooooh we ooooh we!”

“OOOOH WE OOOOH WE!”

“Go adventure!”

“GO ADVENTURE!”

Now that Wallenberg was listening, he found himself stunned by the genius lyricism and bravado of the song. He felt a fire blaze inside of him. He remembered every horror and near death experience of the past four years.

He remembered how he felt terrified every night because he worried the Crossdeath Militia would take him away in his sleep for not reporting his growth and levels. Everyday back in the outskirts of the city, he’d forced himself to pretend to be nothing more than a reliable hunter who was always a little hungry because most of his game had to go to his Petty Lord.

He could’ve eaten more. He could’ve paid more in taxes and tribute and had leftovers. But he held back to keep up the ruse. He had to keep Petty Lord Julius unaware of his rise in power and how far west he’d gone to grow so strong.

Yes, Wallenberg was evil, but even he could admit these brave and foolish strangers were talented in more ways than one. Because their appearance spoke of profound power and battle expertise that even the Crossdeath Militia might find intimidating at first glance.

The strange man who led the singing and jogging was on the tall side. Most men across the Walled Continent were like Wallenberg, about five feet and seven inches. Most men were wiry and pale skinned , and they had brown or black hair with dark brown eyes.

But the leading man was not only eerily black of skin color, but he was hugely muscular, with broad shoulders and a well-defined torso that was visible down the middle of his cloak. If it wasn’t for his strange black skin, Wallenberg would’ve thought of the strange man with the large wizard hat as some blessed hero who was fabled by most, if not all, of the Good Gods.

But he was surely an evil creature, perhaps some sort of experiment of black magic, which would explain why he seemed more like a devil or demon of sorts. Still, despite his strangeness, he looked human enough, and through that humanity it was easy to tell he was an impressive specimen.

But that paled compared to the others following behind him.

The other man was a monster of a man. He had noble features that Wallenberg had only known from ancient fables and stories about heroes and villains from long ago.

Wallenberg even suspected the giant man was born with elf blood running through his veins, but his bulging muscles and immense size made Wallenberg also think he was raised by bears.

Nonetheless, the blond and blue-eyed giant man would stand out too much in Central Crossdeath. He would surely attract the wrong type of attention.

Wallenberg knew enough insecure noble lads who would want the giant man to bend the knees and bow his head for being too big and too impressive in physique.

Then there were the women.

Wallenberg gulped dryly, his body heating up from the sight of them. He’d never seen such exotic, beautiful, and openly courageous women like these before.

There were plenty of women who worked hard jobs or joined the Crossdeath Militia, but they’d seemed to lose spirit or become no different from men. The evil aligned noble women were untouchable and as deranged as they were pretty, taking full advantage of their statuses and privileges without working hard.

Wallenberg had tried his hand at courting women of his status. He’d even talked to a merchant woman once, who was above him in the hierarchy of statuses in Crossdeath. Each attempt ended with him being cruelly toyed with.

These women could be the same! Evil. Fake. Deceitful. Cruel.

But Wallenberg wasn’t sure the longer he … studied them.

They exhibited a confidence, directness, and liveliness he’d never seen before!

Among the three, a woman with dark skin just like the leading man had a form and air about her that made Wallenberg think she would step on him and crush him.

Her body was unbelievable. It oozed power while pushing the limits of femininity that Wallenberg hadn’t known was possible. Her dynamic shape and extremely impressive physique had to result from black magic, which must’ve tainted her skin just like the leading man.

For whatever reason they’d committed to such black magic, even Wallenberg had to admit the extreme exoticness of the black woman made him feel weak and perhaps a little too willing to fall to her dominance.

Thankfully, there were the other two women.

The smallest of them, who was an obvious brunette and more akin to the women of this land, made Wallenberg think maybe … just maybe … she differed from the women of his home city. The brunette was still exotic in her ways.

Her shape wasn’t as dynamic as the black woman, but she was clearly more powerfully built and full-figured in a way that was stunning for someone so small and similar to the women of these lands.

Then Wallenberg saw the coldness on her face and shied away from ever thinking he had a chance with such a woman similar to him. There was an intensity in her eyes that was so sharp, so calculative, so determined, that Wallenberg was certain she was far higher in the evil alignment than him and would turn him into minced meat.

It was probably best he dropped any fanciful imaginations with that one.

Then there was the last woman…

Wallenberg lost his train of thought when a sudden flare of light appeared next to him. Then the blinding light turned into a towering woman standing over his crouched and creeping form.

Turning to face her and prepare for a fight for his life, Wallenberg froze.

He looked up and up while still bent over and looking like a dirty peeper. He couldn’t bring himself to stand to his full height.

There was no point.

He was already far, far, far beneath the presence and status of such a woman.

The towering woman seemed like she stepped out of the pages of fabled myth. She seemed like she came from the most intricate and detailed illustration depicting the angels and gods of the Ascended Heavens. She seemed like a goddess placed on this world to masquerade as a human woman.

“Hi, I’m Bianca!” She extended her hand down to him.

Wallenberg gaped at the hand. She wore an expensive and intricate gauntlet of such high quality he could feel the heavy buzz of magic coming off of it. He couldn’t even appreciate the quality of her entire armored dress.

Even one of her tall heeled shoes was possibly so expensive that it would take several dozen copies of Wallenberg to hunt for a year to purchase one such piece of fashionable armor.

No noble, low or high, would ever risk dirtying such an expensive and powerful piece of gear. No noble, low or high, would even let a creature like Wallenberg around them when wearing such without spilling his blood as payment or for their amusement.

Run, damn it! Run!She’s going to bleed you like a pig and laugh! Wallenberg screamed in his head.

That wasn’t enough to get him going.

A charming compulsion kept him in place.

Feeling like a desperate animal, Wallenberg bit the tip of his tongue to shock him out of the compulsion. It worked. He was in control of himself again.

He turned away and scrambled for dear life to escape the beautiful monstress. He had to get lost or she would reap his life with a shining smile.