Overpowered Wizard

A new gold notification popped into Zarian’s awareness. Before he digested what it meant fully, shouts and screams sounded off from the group.

They were all standing close in a circle while looking down. At their feet was a police officer. He wasn’t moving anymore.

Oh, uh, I didn’t expect him to die from a blunt strike.

Then again, Zarian had officially become overpowered.

Even blunt strikes could be deadly on anyone lower level than him. The dead man might’ve had broken ribs and terrible internal bleeding.

Zarian didn’t have the emotional bandwidth to deal with that directly. Not right now.

Instead, he used Identify on everyone and noticed one of the remaining police officers had Basic Healing as their best alpha skill. Zarian gawked at the huge idiot.

“You, the big one, Gilbert, you have a healing power. Look at your profile. It’s right there. All you have to do is will it to work, and you’ll feel a button get pressed inside of you. Make sure everyone is okay, so nobody else dies.” Zarian got the words out quickly so he could go back to his own power up review.

The police officer he addressed gaped at him dumbly. Thankfully, Sergeant Washington stepped in and took control of the situation.

She had everyone check their profiles and speak aloud their skills so she could get an inventory. A man had died because some people weren’t adapting fast enough.

Yes, Zarian was the reason for the man’s death.

In a fight between a gunman and a wizard, the wizard survived, Zarian thought. And I will continue to survive no matter what.

Even with the game-like System, death seemed like a brutal reality.

Killing monsters hadn’t registered the violent nature of this new world with Zarian right away. But a man’s death was a real deal. And Zarian had survived without even reading the descriptions in his skills.

That would explain why his darkness always came out as staffs, spears, or tendrils. Weird, but fairly workable.

There wasn’t much else to it other than finding time to practice and study. At the very least, he’d practiced Straight Darkness for nearly two years. He was proficient in that skill.

How hard could studying a thick grimoire of black wizardry be? Couldn’t be that difficult. He’d learned Bloody Lifesteal on the fly.

As for choosing a new skill. The list was much simpler this time compared to having over a hundred options for selecting a class.

Zarian figured being a wizard apprentice meant he got little outside of utility skills and a soul bound grimoire. Without Straight Darkness, he would’ve had a harder time fighting the koi monsters.

He would’ve been dead.

Dark Staff seemed like the most useful skill. It would enhance Straight Darkness, making his biggest offensive skill even more overpowered. It would also enhance his black wizardry.

Dark Staff started with the highest level as well. Did that mean it was more tailored for him?

The next skill down in level was Evil Wand. But its description of the evil alignment wasn’t a draw.

Dark Staff seemed like the most superior choice. It was the smartest choice.

Zarian chose the Parasite Cloak instead. That one sounded cooler and reminded him of the Venom symbiote from Marvel Comics.

Who in their right mind would turn that down?

Excited, Zarian pressed the quasi button inside him and activated his new skill. When he saw the magic symbols and text in his head, they seemed hungry, carnivorous, chaotic, and horrifying.

Then the skill exploded out from his back in a horizontal geyser of blood-like and leathery tendrils. His shirt ripped off, leaving him bare-chested.

Zarian remained unharmed, but everyone else was reacting with screams and stares of horror. Even the tough-as-nails Sergeant Washington looked shaken, her Tranquil Mind reaching its limit.

Unbothered, Zarian waved them down. He was perfectly fine, enjoying the show as the parasite twisted around. Tangled threads of flesh and bone encircled him for an oddly intimate embrace.

The parasite was truly a sentient cloak. It was a hideous and grotesque cloak that quivered and glistened wetly unless it assumed a harder leathery appearance, but still a sentient cloak nonetheless.

It even came with a dry, leathery hood.

“Everyone, meet Para, my newest skill. She’s a parasitic flesh-eating cloak. And she has an appetite,” Zarian said as Para vibrated around his body gently, sweetly even.

“Hola, Para, me llama Bianca,” the rum promoter greeted in Spanish, done with her screaming.

The others looked at her questioningly.

She looked back in confusion. “What? Maybe Para won’t eat me if she gets to know me. I’ll even teach her Spanish.”

Zarian had to admit that Bianca was kind of ditzy in a quirky way. The others didn’t seem to appreciate that about the Latina. He kept the ball rolling.

“I’ll feed her the koi monsters. I’m almost done looking over some stuff, too. Be ready to move because there is only one way out.”

Zarian left it at that before standing up and walking to the nearest monster corpses. Para flapped dramatically behind him, the cloak flowing in a wavering current of fleshy threads and glints of ivory.

Para knew the assignment without Zarian having to ask her, defying the laws of physics. Gravity? What was gravity? Only the rule of cool existed with Para.

Almost like Spawn’s cape.

Once Zarian drew close enough to a monster corpse, Para stopped being dramatic and regal. She lunged around him and all over the meal.

Bony, razor-sharp teeth grew from the fleshy threads. Multiple mouths, some like lampreys, formed and opened wide from her material.

She wolfed down on the koi fish, taking big, loud bites that tore off chunks and cracked bone. She gulped up the flesh without adding on any weight somehow, staying comfortable for him to wear.

Zarian watched as his cloak devoured one koi monster whole. That thing was the size of a cow. Then the Parasite Cloak grabbed a second and feasted.

The way Para ate brought to question why the skill scaled with Willpower.

Zarian commanded Para to stop and felt some resistance, but not much. Para stopped, even if disgruntled about it.

Still, that was concerning. Willpower was officially his second most important stat to keep updated, right behind Mysticism. Wonder fell in third place.

He willed for Para to keep eating. No resistance, she pigged out. There were a good amount of corpses to go through.

Zarian planned to stop her after ten when he heard a soft ding and received a new gold notification:

Stolen novel; please report.

Okay then! So the System could do quests and dole out rewards. It sounded like a no brainer except for a few issues.

The dead police officer counted as a corpse. That had to get … cleaned away to complete the quest.

Also, Zarian reasoned killing an officer wasn’t the ‘transgression’ or crime the System was referring to. That meant they really needed to get out of here, because they weren’t supposed to be here.

The quest is hinting at something bad that’s going to happen. If Zarian stopped the corpse-eating and rushed everyone to leave, maybe they could avoid the trouble.

Zarian went after the extra experience. He willed for Para to eat faster! The living cloak quivered with some concern, almost questioning him until her gluttony won out.

She ate, ate, ate.

This is horrifying and gross, but I’m just running with it anyway. The stat points in Willpower were helpful.

Para tore up the corpses with a ravenous speed and hunger. Zarian had to run to keep up as Para yanked him around, swerving hard to avoid the dark liquid contaminants on the ground.

Meanwhile, he focused on the last item on his profile review: the Honored Outsider achievement. He willed it to open. Gold notifications popped up.

Please don’t die an unworthy death? That is so weird to tell a guy. And what’s so worrisome about my origins? What are my origins really, System?

Before Zarian could ponder further, thick chains appeared around his neck. A heavy, solid weight smacked into his bare chest.

Zarian looked down at a big gold medallion with intricate engravings swirling on its surface. It also had seven different colored gems embedded around the edges.

He used his Identify trait for more info.

Seriously, what are these connections in my origins where you have to give me a divine item like this?!

Zarian wondered if he had a secret bloodline or if he originated from something similar to Krypton. The only issue with that was how he had sketchy evil-looking magic instead of heroic powers of perfect heroism. His mysterious parents could’ve been Voldemort and Maleficent, for all he knew.

Am I the evil version of Harry Potter?

He had chosen an evil aligned class. He didn’t feel particularly evil. Maybe just a little more sketchy, if anything.

Who were his real parents? Did they know he was here? Why did they abandon him to live a suck-ass life?

Where was Ariana?

“The review’s over,” Zarian muttered, fixing his attention elsewhere: the group.

Para had finished eating up all the monster corpses. Her appetite had settled a while ago, but Zarian had urged her to keep eating.

She felt more invigorated now, even if a little bloated. She wavered around him weightlessly, all flesh, bone, and teeth, with plenty of gaps that would give anyone with a phobia of holes a heart attack.

With his leather hood on, darkening his features, he looked like an eldritch horror walking through the dark depths of their subterranean starter area. The only bright thing on him was the gold medallion dangling against his chest.

***

Staff Sergeant Naomi Washington had stopped her celebration of her new rank when she spotted Zarian at the mall, looking downright terrible. He wasn’t the only recruit she’d known who washed out of the Marines and became a homeless veteran.

She’d tried reaching out to them twice now. One had committed suicide. The other had nearly assaulted her.

She’d been burned like this before, inside and outside of the Marines.

Still, she had wanted to reach out to Zarian, anyway. She’d gotten him into the Marines even though she knew he was a little off. He’d put up a good front, but she was quick to see past it.

More importantly, she’d known he was a desperate seventeen-year-old back then. He’d needed something to do after high school.

She’d done the paperwork. She’d coached him on how to get past boot camp and beyond. She’d ignored the red flags.

Now she was standing over a dead man Zarian had killed. A police officer, of all things. While stuck in a dark cavernous room with minimum light.

Naomi couldn’t believe she’d grabbed hold of Zarian’s arm and used him like a magic rifle to shoot at monsters – koi fish corrupted, to be exact. Now she was doing her best to organize the others and keep track of their magical powers.

What the fuck?

This was crazy.

But she had to adapt and overcome it all anyway.

It had to be this way, because Zarian was their greatest asset regardless of him being a horrific monster.

Naomi was thankful for her skill. It made her clear-headed and aware of options she would’ve missed under normal conditions.

Tranquil Mind leveled up again. Thank God, because the way Zarian was walking up briskly after his monster attire ate up the dead koi monsters was nightmarish. The leather hood darkening his face and the flowing cloak of flesh and teeth was nearly too much.

The big gold medallion on his bare chest would’ve looked gaudy on anyone else. On Zarian, it made him look more powerful and beyond all of them.

Naomi leaned on her skill more even though it made her feel cold and tired. The drawback had felt worse earlier, but she’d leveled up six times from the defeat of the koi fish corrupted.

The parasitic cloak reached toward them. It – or she – looked like she wanted to eat them just like the koi fish.

The others panicked. Naomi’s gun hand shook. Most people would’ve shot at Zarian on the spot.

Naomi took the calmest approach. She asked, “What are you doing, sir?”

Zarian stumbled awkwardly, reminding Naomi of how dorky he could be. That hadn’t changed.

The threads of his many-mouthed cloak stopped close to her. The flesh-like threads wavered around Naomi, touching her gently. Para, the cloak, gave off a subtle scent of leather and bacon.

Naomi would’ve screamed if she hadn’t been the chillest person there. Thankfully, she’d taken all the magazines, bullets, and gun belts for herself.

The cops weren’t happy about that, but investing 30 points in Willpower, Strength, and Agility made it easy for her to overpower them. All thanks to Wally’s geeky knowledge. He’d set her straight with this magic gaming nonsense.

Naomi doubted she could physically overpower Zarian. Not with Para hanging out like a prey-trapping spider web that pretended to be a fashion statement.

“We need to go. I got a side quest to clear out the bodies. But the way it’s written makes me think we have something coming our way,” Zarian explained. “Para can take in objects. Like a bag of holding. She won’t eat this guy. That way, we can take him somewhere to bury him.”

Naomi relaxed a little after that explanation. Zarian was powerful, monstrous, and foolish, but he was still an earnest young man.

That was good to see. Her recent decision to jockey for the right-hand woman position felt even more important.

Zarian could be a colossal idiot sometimes. He was terrible at handling problems that cropped up with people on the peripherals. And he was intensely focused on his own issues: like finding his make-believe sister, Ariana.

Is she make-believe?

No, no, no. That wasn’t Naomi’s concern right now. Keeping the others from acting out was her focus.

All the cops were a danger to themselves and the others. Along with the kid who wet his pants, Jack.

Naomi didn’t like Jack’s vibe. Not one bit.

“Yes, that sounds like a plan,” Naomi said. “Make sure Para doesn’t eat the body, please. You’ll have to lead us in case of danger, sir.”

“Like hell I’ll let him desecrate Ken’s body! He has a kid in college, dammit!” yelled one of three remaining police officers.

They were healed up now because of the big dumb one with the Basic Healing skill. Still too late for Ken.

The one yelling had the Super Punch skill.

Naomi took the calmest approach. She shoved the man softly on the shoulder and threw him off his feet. She barely had to try.

A combination of her heightened Strength and Agility caught him off guard. That sent him on a tumble across the floor without hurting him too badly.

Now his hatred turned to her.

Naomi was fine with that. She was used to being a bitch.

It was better she took their hatred instead of Zarian, really. She knew him well enough that she could speak in his stead, too.

“He’s taking the corpse. That’s what he’s going to do. And there’s nothing we can do about that but follow his orders. You hear me?” Naomi put some bass into her voice with the whip-crack of military authority.

“He killed Kenneth,” grunted a different police officer, who Naomi was wary of.

That one had the Command skill. He didn’t speak often, but Naomi pressed the button for her Tranquil Mind even harder. She wanted the mental defense just in case.

“It happened during combat,” Naomi said, avoiding the phrase ‘self-defense.’ It wouldn’t work here. “We’re not in combat with each other anymore. We’re in a hostile and alien environment with elements that could turn us into monsters or throw more monsters at us. And we need to move out together and get a scope of the situation, maybe find locals for a better explanation.”

The cops fell silent. They weren’t pleased, but they had nothing more to say.

The one she’d knocked to the ground received a helping hand from his friends. Then they closed ranks and became their own clique, an island of blue.

Fine with Naomi. They were off the corpse.

Zarian’s cloak, Para, flowed around Naomi and wrapped up the dead body. Para slurped it off the ground and into her fleshy mass.

The man-shaped bulge disappeared inside her.

“Para has him now. She’s being careful,” Zarian explained.

“Gracias, Para,” Bianca chirped.

Everybody ignored her except for Para. The living cloak waved a fleshy, bone-tipped tendril back at Bianca. It looked like a friendly gesture.

Naomi took note of that: I should acknowledge Para more.

“My quest is complete. Got some new levels. Cool, cool,” Zarian said, straight forward and unbothered.

Naomi wanted to sigh at his idiocy, but then she noticed Zarian looking at her directly. She saw his lower face from under the darkness of his hood. He mouthed the word ‘thanks.’

Maybe he’s not that clueless, Naomi thought. The position for the right-hand woman was definitely hers.

The others – the cops, most likely – might’ve thought of her as an amoral brown-noser. They were probably disgusted with her being a Marine.

They could kiss her ass. Naomi didn’t care.

She’d grown up rough. She’d done all she could to separate herself from her past life by joining the military.

She would do anything to succeed. And she was still willing to stick her neck out for others at the risk of herself.

She still felt responsible for Zarian.

Did I do enough to help him? Is this all happening because I didn’t reach out when he got kicked out?

If she had failed him in any major way, she could make up for that while looking out for her own interests.