Overpowered Wizard

The paladins didn’t attempt to kill Zarian.

They had their swords drawn. They had their magic charged. But they stayed put and did nothing as the kobolds suffered very gruesome deaths.

The paladins chose to not throw their lives away to strike at the most evil creature they had ever seen, the Madness Wizard.

Maybe that was a consequence of Zarian riding on a shifted gnoll elder who was about thirty feet tall at the shoulders. Her drooling, blood-coated maw could snap up a whole man. Her extended belly had plenty of room for more after feasting on dozens of kobolds.

Or maybe the paladins didn’t want to mess with the wavering tentacles that were sprouted from the saddle. Unfortunately for them, Para was the type to test their patience. She formed smaller tendrils and feelers that prodded at the paladins playfully, almost tempting them to attack.

They refused to take direct action, which was smart of them. However, that didn’t stop them from acting out in other ways.

Zarian felt a familiar zing against his aura, like someone scanning over him. That was the telltale sign of Identify being used.

Chuckling darkly, Zarian jumped off of Ezda’s back. Para returned to her monstrous cloak form before he hit the ground, his boots splashing in puddles of gore inside the giant paw prints left by Ezda’s stomping.

He reached up with one hand, and Ezda lowered her bloody snout down for scratches. She made happy hyena noises, sounding cute to his ears. The paladins didn’t seem to share his appreciation of Ezda being adorable.

Sometimes, people couldn’t feel it, especially if they weren’t magically inclined, lacking stat points in Wonder or Mysticism. Zarian had also gotten better at using subtlety to ensure he could get away with Identify on more sensitive targets.

But for this once, he identified the paladins pervasively, and made sure all twenty of them felt it.

<Roul Voland, Human, Level 45 Stalwart Paladin, Best Alpha Skill: Righteous Skin.>

<Gidie Travers, Human, Level 41 Stalwart Paladin, Best Alpha Skill: Faithful Blaze.>

<Jehan Simon, Human, Level 43 Stalwart Paladin, Best Alpha Skill: Water Prayer.>

<Henri Roche, Human, Level 42 Stalwart Paladin, Best Alpha Skill: Repulsive Force.>

<Cateline Remy, Human, Level 46 Stalwart Paladin, Best Alpha Skill: Miracle Strike.>

…

<Roland Picard, Human, Level 48 Spirit Healer, Best Alpha Skill: Purify Soul.>

<Elise Martel, Human, Level 47 Blessed Healer, Best Alpha Skill: Blessed Healing.>

<Marc Lambert, Human, Level 54 White Priest, Best Alpha Skill: Summon Lesser Cherub.>

<Bernard Bonfils, Human, Level 56 Battle Priest, Best Alpha Skill: Field of Good Battle.>

Among the fifteen men and five women, sixteen had the actual Stalwart Paladin class. Two of the paladins were healers, which was clear to see from how they worked quickly to fix up their wounded and promote rapid vitality recovery. Two of the paladins were priests, the head honchos of this party.

From what Zarian knew outside of his tedious studies, it was common to say paladin when referring to those from the Stalwart Paladin Kingdom, regardless of their class.

The paladin people ran their kingdom with more of a theocratic and hyper-religious bent. They also had the most paladin classes, hence them being all called paladins.

The people from the Windy Strider Kingdom were commonly referred to as striders. That was a fitting name for them since they were the most adventurous people of the Walled Continent. There were a bunch of striders at the Ride-or-Die Village right now, in fact.

People from the Eternal Garden Kingdom were known as gardeners. Although, not all the time. Their women were commonly referred to as flowers by everyone, since the practice of grooming women to remain delicate and weak wasn’t a common one beyond the gardener people.

The case with the Slick Cutlass being a flirty creeper wasn’t the first. Striders liked to get invested in the girls of the Ride-or-Die Guild, even though they weren’t so delicate and weak anymore.

The girls were still considered some of the most well-groomed flowers for starting out as acolytes of Lovewar. That kept their desirability high, which could lead to some annoying trouble here and there.

Thankfully, Naomi was the hot-headed mama bear of the Floridians, which kept Zarian from having to put his foot down too much. There was also Hannah, who could act as a cold and scary guardian when necessary, maybe more so as the engineer of the village.

And Bianca was Bianca, depending on her mood, which was more unpredictable as of late.

Not all striders were bad, especially when Gilbert liked to get drunk with some of them, but striders definitely lived up to being the most adventurous of adventurers. Maybe that was part of the reason the Eternal Garden Kingdom had outlawed adventurers.

The gardeners certainly had issues with adventurers from rival kingdoms way down south, even while having a civil war. The southerners were far from Zarian’s village, so they weren’t much of a concern compared to the gardeners themselves.

As for the empire to the west, which was known as the United Nomad Empire, the people from there had the name of nomad attached to them. Zarian wasn’t sure if that name was true since there was a lack of nomads flowing through Ride-or-Die Village so far.

To be fair to them, the lands west were some of the harshest outside of the Blood Prairies and Coldbooth Castle Mountains. There was a big desert out there, the Man Hunter Sands, and it lived up to its name based on the limited info Zarian knew. Maybe the nomads were getting held up by that desert and were still on their way.

I have to admit that I had no idea I’d create a village that would be the focal point of so many adventurers, Zarian mused, ignoring the angry glares from some of the paladins.

They definitely didn’t appreciate the pervasive Identify scan that Zarian had used on them.

The Madness Wizard didn’t care and ignored most of them. The one paladin who drew his attention was the man who remained the calmest, the Level 56 Battle Priest, Bernard.

He was a bald and elderly guy, dressed in bronze armor and brown robes. He had a steel mace that was certainly enchanted, probably a rare quality weapon.

Bernard gave off the feeling of someone with a rare class. The same could be said for the other priest and the two healers. The actual Stalwart Paladins were of uncommon quality despite their unique quirks.

Even with the paladins being older, Zarian imagined in an equal fight against the kiddos, the kiddos would’ve massacred the paladins. The paladins had already underestimated the dangers of the area and needed saving. Their one positive decision was their caution toward the Madness Wizard, despite the rude Identify.

“You used Identify on me,” Zarian accused.

“Not quite. I have a more epic version of that trait that should’ve gone unnoticed.” Bernad had the decency to lower his head like a man caught red-handed. “I’m unable to Identify you. We seem to truly be at your mercy, regardless of the … gnoll elder.”

“Uh-huh.” Zarian nodded.

Bernard squinted up at the shifted giant. “That can’t be Alpha Elder Ezda the Devouring Beast, is it? I’ve heard tales of her barbaric savagery. And yet she truly answers to you.”

“I am no longer the alpha elder,” Ezda answered with a guttural voice that scared the paladins. “Lord Zarian is my alpha, and he is the alpha of all the Blood Prairie Savages, although he still needs to conduct the blood rites as is tradition.”

“What can I say? Ezda just showed up and told me I’m the boss, and that was that.” Zarian shrugged at the paladins as they gawked at him. “But I’m no uncultured swine, so I will get those blood rites done soon enough.”

Bernard shuddered a little, but not as much compared to his frightened comrades. They knew of the Blood Prairie Savages, and they knew of Ezda’s infamy. They knew of Zarian’s infamy, especially.

Zarian soaked it all in while playing as the nonchalant lunatic.

Politics surrounded him these days. Yes, he had other people handle that for him while he’d studied his ass off in the library, but it wouldn’t hurt to get involved here and there.

Sometimes, politics could be fun.

“Do you need any of these bodies?” Zarian asked.

Bernard schooled his expression as he looked at the massacre. A hundred kobolds had once stood here for a battle, with twenty of them being enforcers in the high Level 60s. Bernard and his paladins would’ve died if Zarian hadn’t dropped a gnoll elder and a hungry parasite into the mix.

“It would be convenient to gather resources from these bodies. Scales, fur, bones, bile, and such. While we don’t officially approve of the disciplines that may use these materials outside of the pure power our faith presents to us, we do recognize that our heathen neighbors across the Stone Sea River would appreciate them,” Bernard said.

“So, unofficially, you use alchemy and the black arts of crafting as backup in case the power of Wonder and faith fails.” Zarian chuckled as Bernard’s carefully crafted facade cracked a little.

The man probably had some decent investment in his Willpower. But Zarian’s Willpower was no doubt higher, imposing his will on the Battle Priest with ease.

Zarian kept going. “Either way, I doubt you’re only here to collect body parts and sell them off. This place is a prime location for grinding up levels and to build your reputation. And to dig up info on the troublesome village where a troublesome man lives.”

Zarian smiled sharply at Bernard’s pensive expression. Before the Battle Priest could rebuttal, the Madness Wizard kept on going even further.

“Now, now, don’t give me that look. I’m going to share half of what’s remaining of these kobold bodies with you, after all. You just have to entertain me.”

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Bernard took his time to respond. “It is good to see that you are a charitable man, Lord Zarian.”

“The most charitable, perhaps. Now, come on, Bernard. Bring your people and walk with me. Ezda won’t bite as long as you’re a friend. Same for my cloak, Para.”

“If food is friend, then you stop being food. If you stop being friends, then you are food,” Para explained, while picking up bodies and gory remains to store into her pocket dimension.

The paladins watched with a disturbed gaze as Para cleared the entire battlefield in less than half a minute.

Ezda laughed like any giant hyena would. She smiled hungrily at the paladins, then she turned to her alpha and provided Zarian giant nuzzles with her bloody muzzle.

Zarian gave her more scratches and cooed over how much of a sweetheart she was acting toward him.

Maybe her being free evil +1 allowed her to be more affectionate and endearing in ways she’d never acted before. Who knew savage gnoll elders could be so cute.

Zarian led the paladins to the nearest road that would take them to Ride-or-Die Village. They moved faster from here while the midday sky turned darker with the approach of evening. A more chilly winter wind blew down on them.

Zarian whittled away the time by using his spiders to observe events around the village as the paladins carried on them plenty of bags for roughing it out in the wilderness. They didn’t rely on any travel beasts, only themselves. A few paladins clearly had solid investments in Strength with how they carried bags so big and heavy their loads would’ve crushed ten mundane men easily.

At the Level 40s and beyond, adventurers usually relied more on themselves. Most kingdoms relied on these adventurers to protect caravans, transport goods, aid in battles, clear nests and lairs of monstrous activities, and venture out into frontiers despite the ridiculously high death rates.

There were few actual traders or merchants moving through these frontier lands on their, just adventurers who served as traders and merchants, especially the striders.

“How did you know we’ll head back to the village?” Bernard asked calmly.

He was doing his best to ignore the lumbering gnoll giant stomping close to him and his paladins. But that wasn’t nearly as hard as ignoring Zarian’s playful cloak.

Para kept splitting and shifting and taking on different monstrous forms around the paladins. She loved making alien hands with long fingers to further prod at the paladins, just because.

“It’s not casting a hex on us, is it?” one paladin asked as Para fingered the gaps in his armor.

“Purehome, protect us,” prayed a female paladin, as Para patted at her dome-shaped helmet.

“We must stay strong. We must stay strong,” a different male paladin muttered, as Para jimmied the sword on his weapons belt.

Smiling, Zarian took his time to answer Bernard’s question as they trekked over the frozen, cobblestoned road. “After you nearly died in a skirmish with a kobold patrol, you would feel ill-prepared. So the best option is to head back to the village, regroup, and perhaps combine forces with other paladin parties. Or heavens forbid, you join up with your heathen neighbors, the striders.”

Bernard frowned at that strider part.

Zarian had more to add. “That’s assuming you don’t wait in the long request queues in hopes of my kids partnering up with you.”

“The time we would have to wait for your guild to assist us is considerable,” Bernard said. “It would be helpful if the creator of the golems would sell her constructs to us. Wouldn’t that make a difference to the survival of adventurers in this region of yours?”

Ezda let out another big hyena-like laugh. She shifted her head from over Zarian to over Bernard. Sticky saliva mixed with blood oozed down from her muzzle and dripped over the paladin.

“Speak, Ezda,” Zarian said, waving a hand over his shoulder.

Ezda purred. “The rising humans in the care of my alpha have much renown to their name already. They carry knowledge, expertise, and achievements like no other young humans on this continent. They offer their services and their time for measly coins, which is more fair treatment than you deserve. Yet you dare ask my alpha to give away such prized possessions from his war hoard? Call me a savage if you must, but even I can see you are reaching for more than a little snack should.”

“It is only a suggestion, I swear,” Bernard replied quickly, ignoring the oozing blood and saliva that was dripping over him. “Perhaps you are right that we are in need of patience. But the journey here has been long, and it has cost us too much in resources and funds. We’ve also lost another unit of paladins who we were meant to meet before crossing through Bramble Wolf Forest. They disappeared at the foot of Grimrock, I’m afraid.”

“Mm,” Zarian hummed. “You can blame that on me, too.”

Bernard and all of his paladins shifted with self-contained disturbance and anger.

It took a while for Bernard to respond. “What do you mean, milord?”

“There is a man on a rampage at the foot of those mountains. He’s someone from my past. Someone who hates me so much, he works with the Grimrock Warlock to see my downfall. I’m sure he’s gotten stronger since I’ve last seen him. Maybe he might be able to tickle me if we face off again.”

Bernard looked at Zarian for a long while before he asked, “Will you be heading back that way, Lord Zarian?”

“I will be. To ensure that man is dealt with. And to put down the Grimrock Warlock.”

Zarian kept out the part about securing the mythical goblin cook. Foodie was so precious, Zarian imagined kingdoms would rage war over the little goblin if they knew the truth of her abilities.

Thinking about her made Zarian a little sick to his stomach. He and the others had delayed for a long while. It was out of necessity, however.

Zarian had just finished learning to seal and unseal his darkness. The mythical regional event should continue soon. Once that was out of the way, they could head for Castle Grimrock.

“Perhaps we can find an accord there at Grimrock,” Bernard said. “The warlock has turned aside one holy war so far. My kingdom plans for another. If we can combine our forces, we would surely win against her.”

Zarian shook his head. “I have plenty of force already. I won’t stop you from trying to get in a scrap before I do. But once my people get involved, we’re taking care of it our way.”

And I don’t trust you guys, Zarian thought. I know you’re looking for an angle to deal with me. But let’s all pretend and smile like we’re buddies.

Zarian was the one with free evil +3, after all. He had an advantage in cunning and smarts in this game, if he wanted to push the political angles further.

That depended on which of the major humans wanted to try their hand at playing hard ball with him and his people. The gardeners? The striders? The nomads? The paladins? Or all of the above?

They really should pay close attention to our motto.

Zarian reached up again as they broke through the forest line. Ezda dipped her head down for more scratches from her alpha. Bernard and his fellow paladins fell silent as they followed a bend around some blocky snow-laden hills and came into view of Ride-or-Die Village, or at least the very top of it.

The best way to describe the village was like playing a game of Minecraft in a medieval setting that wasn’t supposed to have Minecraft. Most first-time viewers would gawk at the impressive height of the Central Library Artillery Tower, a great and hulking cube-made pillar that was mainly black and over a thousand feet tall.

Zarian and the paladins were still quite a distance away, with snow-covered fields and a stretch of road ahead of them. But the Central Library Artillery Tower dominated the skyline for a good while until they drew close enough to see the wall.

Four months ago, it might’ve been possible for something in the Level 50s to leap high and get close to the top of a wall. Nowadays, that wasn’t the case anymore.

The surrounding wall was two hundred feet tall now, the tallest in all the Walled Continent. Classical war machines sat on the walls, each one operated by skeletons with the Self-Sufficient trait.

Zarian waved at one of the nearest ballista skeleton crews. They waved back in recognition of their necromancer, even with the gulf of distance between them.

There were more skeletons on the ground outside the wall as well. They roamed the fields and acted as a show of force that made the numerical advantage necromancy provided something too scary for most people to face.

Who could blame them? The skeletons were untiring, cold, and looked out at the world with eyeless sockets and rictus grins.

The paladins clenched their weapons tensely as Zarian led them past several units of skeletons marching around, each one rattling about, letting people hear them coming. The closer a foreigner would get to Ride-or-Die Village, the more automated the security became.

The skeletons also directed people away from the fields that were filled with deactivated traps. They wouldn’t trigger outside of war time, but Zarian and his fellow Floridians could all agree on practicing safety when engaging with many different people, especially striders.

The neat part was how everything was drenched in colors that were similar or exactly the same as their theme, which was broadly black with splashes of dark red. Great big flags on tall poles wavered in the winter wind, showing off the tribal gator head with the cursive writing of their Floridian motto.

The closer Zarian, Ezda, and the paladins drew to the nearest gate, the more active the road became with adventurers waiting to get in and seek shelter from the oncoming night.

The adventurers, all striders as of now, looked back and gawked at the monstrous gnoll. Para had to reach out and slap down striders who were about to attack Ezda.

“Don’t attack, silly food, or you’ll become food,” Para explained to each of the striders she smacked.

The striders nodded along and stopped being hostile.

As they continued forward, Zarian noticed there was a gap in the waiting line. Zarian saw why once he drew close enough.

He ignored the gossiping striders and strode off the road where several groups of skeletons set up a cordon.

As Ezda came to a stop on the road, Bernard and his paladins stayed on Zarian’s heels, right up to the edge of the cordon where artillery shots from the tower had bombarded a small group of lesser aberrations.

A dark, oily, and dangerous substance bubbled at the bottom of the craters.

“Allow me, Lord Zarian. I have the divine right and abilities to eliminate this foul substance,” Bernard said with a tight smile.

“Sure, give it your best shot. My wife can always use little helpers to clear away her tears,” Zarian replied.

Bernard stepped forward. He thrust out his hands. He chanted aloud for support from his Good Goods. Then he unleashed his skill with a shout, “Holy Cleanse!”

A flash of white rimmed by gold covered the bottom of the craters. Zarian looked away to keep from getting blinded. His darkness revolted a little. His skin felt itchy.

He wondered if Bernard used his skill more liberally than he should’ve. The priest probably did.

Zarian’s smile grew a little sharper, especially when the glow faded and the corruptive substance remained unaffected at the bottom of the craters.

Bernard had failed.

“What?” Bernard gasped. “How could this be? I’ve always been able to cleanse the tears.”

“Try identifying first before making assumptions,” Zarian said.

<Enhanced Shadowfell Tears (Divine): Two decades ago, the Shadowfell Goddess arrived in the Infinita Star System as a baby. She was a sorrowful and powerful child whose tears can cause horrific corruption. Now she cries more than ever before, but out of tragic joy. She has been greatly inspired by her husband, the one who caused the Darkrun Apocalypse, making Shadowfell an active evil and the Dark Era ever darker.>

Bernard clenched his hands into fists. He shook with so much rage that Zarian wondered if the Battle Priest was going to whirl around and strike the reason for all of this trouble. The Madness Wizard waited, as if inviting Bernard to make the attempt.

“Countless lives will be lost because of this,” Bernard muttered.

“I know,” Zarian said. “But I won’t take back what I’ve done. I did it for the sake of a friend and for our freedom.”

“A friend? Freedom?” Bernard snarled. “What purpose is one friend and this freedom of yours compared to being of service to the gods? Compared to knowing our place and having the comfort of a world that is right and just? What purpose is there for the darkness you’ve brought upon us in an era that is already dark, if not for the sake of evil itself?”

Zarian didn’t answer Bernard’s questions. There was no point. He kept smiling as Bernard and his paladins glared at him, forced to watch on the sidelines as Para dipped her tentacles into the pools of Enhanced Shadowfell Tears.

The cloak drained up all the tears and placed it away in her pocket dimension until there wasn’t a drop left. Zarian told the skeletons they could return to their normal standard of operations, which meant twenty-four-seven patrolling that no mortal at their levels could do while remaining sharp and ready.

Zarian returned to the road. He walked ahead of all the foreigners waiting in line as Ezda followed along in her giant beast body.

She didn’t seem inclined to change back, and Zarian didn’t mind whatever form she wanted to use as long as she acted appropriately in his village.

They reached the towering gatehouse in time, too. Roland and seventy other kids had just returned from clearing out the blood raptors’ nest. They were hauling carts filled with the monster bodies for butchering or to sacrifice to their growing dungeon.

“Lord Zarian, welcome back!” Roland greeted, while standing straight in an attentive position.

The other kiddos did the same, girls and boys, all properly trained like magical medieval Marines. It almost brought a tear to Zarian’s eye. Almost.

“Children, congrats. Every day you’re out there being the best killers you can be is another day I feel proud to be your lord,” Zarian said. “Now let me hear it. And say it like you mean it. I want the gods to tremble when my killers let out their battle cry!”

At the top of their lungs, the kiddos shouted, “Oorah!”

“That’s the spirit!” Zarian cheered. “Now let’s get inside and get you all your special hot chocolate. I have things to discuss with Lady Hannah. The others should be on their way.”

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