Zarian faced a monster that looked like three wendigoes fused together at the waist, its lower body a bovine hulk the size of a full suburban SUV.
The entire entity didn’t fit in the dilapidated hallways of the fortress hill that Zarian found himself in while brawling corrupted creatures covered in Black Fire.
None of them cared about proportions or cramped spacing. All that mattered was violence and madness.
The monster barreled forward destructively, its hooves digging through the crumbled, tilted floor like it was a much softer material. The sharpened antlers on its three heads raked across the stone ceiling like cutting through sand.
Zarian hooked a punch and smashed one head through a wall. He swung an uppercut and connected again, sending another head into the ceiling.
He grabbed the third head by the antlers, stomped his foot on its shoulder, and wrenched with all of his enhanced might as the black and gray flames sputtered out. The Black Fire spell finished consuming the creature’s vitality, leaving it more vulnerable.
Zarian ripped away the head of one torso and used the antlers to stab the torso of the second and gore it dead. He didn’t get to finish the third torso because a four-headed bear rammed through the walls and tackled him through more walls.
Everything felt like thin layers of plaster and cardboard getting smashed apart around him. Zarian’s body was so tough he could endure the punishment, only suffering a few bruises and cuts from the monster’s bites. His Mystic Toughness was proving itself as one of his best Level 0 skills.
The environment couldn’t endure him and the corrupted creatures, however.
The hill of fortresses collapsed around him and the four-headed bear. Before they tumbled out into the sea of crimson grass, Zarian cast Void Step and took the creature into the air with him.
They separated for a moment before Para latched onto the monster’s limb with a thorny tentacle and yanked Zarian back in. He punched one head and smashed it like a tomato under a hammer. He punched and punched again until he smashed all the heads of the corrupted creature, its body already out of vitality.
Finally, Zarian received the notification he was waiting for.
Seriously, Luciana? Now you’re really messing with these poor adventurers. You’re gonna have them crushed by a thing with a warped teddy bear class?
Did the Star System make these classes on purpose? Or did Luciana force the System to make the class for the aberration?
Did Luciana have that much sway over the System? More so than any other god other than The Dragon, perhaps?
These questions mattered. But Zarian was currently falling. So he focused most of his Fractured Mind on the task at hand.
He cast Void Step again and ended up higher in the air. Quickly, he hand-signed and chanted for another one percent move, Dark Javelin.
He cocked his arm back as the dimmed night swirled to answer the demand of their lord. He had to struggle a little with this one.
The 40 point dump in Wonder had added more aura power to him. That increased the likelihood of Overwhelming Darkness breaking free. Thankfully, Zarian’s cultivation from earlier balanced things out.
He was still in control.
The Blood Prairies glowed crimson under him. The stars and moons shone their celestial colors dimly above him. In the middle of it all, the Madness Wizard formed a javelin made from the pure darkness of the night.
He threw it down at the hill of fortresses and the roaring aberrations contained inside. The javelin traced a streaking dark line between the night sky and the crimson ground of the Blood Prairies.
The javelin landed like the strike of a miniature god and blew the fortress hill and the surrounding land apart. Rubble flew sky high in tumbling heaps. Geysers of earth and snow shot into the air.
Zarian fell through the mess before casting Void Step again. He landed a few thousand feet away in the tall crimson grass.
The grass reached up to his shoulders. One touched his cheek with a sharp edge that would’ve sliced the flesh of a lesser person, but Zarian was too tough for that.
His breath was heavy. Sweat covered every contour of his muscular body. His heart was still hammering hard. He could hear his rushing blood in his ears.
He checked the notifications.
“Seriously, is this your attempt at humor, Luciana? I don’t think the Star System would do this on purpose,” Zarian said. “Naming these monster classes with silly names when they can wipe out human kingdoms is the height of villainy.”
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Zarian shook his head as he spoke. He didn’t even know why he was scolding his evil weirdo wife. He just felt like he should, for some reason.
“Each of these things is tougher and more savage than your average dungeon boss, by the way. You really shouldn’t let them roam around. Give adventurers a chance or some forewarning before they face these monsters.”
Criticism aside, there were still four more. Zarian watched them hobble out of the crater from the Dark Javelin.
They ignored the raining debris. They focused on him from thousands of feet away and lumbered forward with screwed-up strides.
They weren’t unbeatable. The Black Fire spell had stripped them of their primary advantage. Now they were slower and more predictable.
“Go ahead, Para,” Zarian said.
“Quagmire Pit. Dread Mire Bite,” the Parasite Cloak +2 chanted, casting the spells quickly.
A pit formed under the aberrations and dropped them into its infernal and mucky embrace. They couldn’t get out in time before the great predator of the pit snapped its large jaws shut from below and tore them apart.
The remaining aberrations ranged from Level 84 to 88. They were tough enough to have survived the Dark Javelin, but no more than that.
“That’s interesting,” Zarian said, licking his dry lips.
Zarian nearly flipped out. He winced when he felt a deep pang of hunger in his gut. He was also thirsty.
Because of his parasite body, he had an increased appetite that kept up with his rise in levels. Zarian needed more and more nourishment to meet the demands of his monstrous profile, unlike others.
Still, the upgrade from his old void grimoire to the advanced version was terrific. And he could advance a spell, old or new.
Zarian was almost tempted to delve into that now. He’d spent so much time working on sealing and unsealing techniques he hadn’t spent time developing his wizardry the past four months.
He still had a long way to go before learning the gravity spell from his black magic grimoire.
Wait? Does this mean each grimoire becomes an advanced version at Level 25 and resets to Level 1? Zarian wondered, heart pounding with renewed thrill. Does that mean that I can advance any spell I choose when the advanced grimoires are at Level 1, Level 10, and Level 25?
The implications of that were immense. He could make his spells even more powerful. And he could learn new spells from each of the advanced versions of his skill-bound grimoires!
Doesn’t that mean I need to go back to studying like a bookworm? Zarian thought. How much harder will the new spells be? Will they be as hard as that freaking gravity spell?
Zarian’s hunger struck again and pulled him out of his thoughts. He sighed and checked his surroundings.
There were no more immediate enemies. Para ended the Quagmire Pit spell, returning the land to normal where the blood-red grass and crimson snow of the Blood Prairies dominated.
All that remained was destruction and dead aberrations outside of Zarian, Para, and Ezda. The fighting had sent most nocturnal creatures fleeing.
Zarian staggered from side to side woozily. Para unraveled her material from around the large gnoll elder, dropping Ezda into the crimson grass and snow behind him.
The Parasite Cloak +2 formed into a throne of leather, bone, and teeth. Zarian sat back and leaned into the comfortable seat.
Ezda shifted about in front of him while remaining on all fours. She didn’t lift her head.
“Apologies, my alpha. I’ve made a pathetic display of myself,” she said.
“How much Willpower do you have?” Zarian asked.
“I have 83 Willpower,” she answered.
“Ezda, that’s irresponsible. You’re at Level 91, and you left your Willpower to languish?”
Zarian shook his head. Even Bianca and Gilbert had 100 Willpower, which was the lowest in Zarian’s Floridian Party. And those two were nearly thirty levels under Ezda.
Sometimes, Willpower seemed like a less regarded stat compared to others. The one who used it the most was Naomi. It made sense for her profile as the Rumble Psion. Zarian’s Parasite Cloak +2 needed Willpower as well.
Still, Willpower was part of three three esoteric stats for a reason, which included Wonder and Mysticism. Willpower was important for the mind, soul, and emotions, especially for the cases that they’d just gone through.
Ezda had fallen to fear and was unable to take action. Zarian couldn’t help but feel disappointed by that.
“I’ve prided myself on Strength, Agility, and Mysticism,” Ezda explained. “Almost all of my abilities scale or enhance those stats.”
Zarian sighed.
To be fair, nobody else had Level 0 skills, at least nobody Zarian knew. Naomi’s Tranquil Mind and Gilbert’s Adrenaline Jolt were more than just quality-of-life skills and could help snap someone out of fear or being frozen by external powers. Because of stuff like that, every stat was viable for Zarian’s party members.
This brings up an important point I’ve put aside, Zarian thought.
Would he copy over his Level 0 skills onto others outside of the Floridians?
I don’t want to. There’s charity, and then there are some things that should remain sacred in a small circle. I don’t want what we have that’s special to spread.
That and Zarian didn’t want enemies to face examples or test cases outside of his party. Hannah having abilities outside of what a Runic Engineer should have worked best as a surprise.
“Put points into your Willpower, Ezda,” Zarian said. “Or do exercises that’ll raise your Willpower stats naturally if you can’t afford the Free Points.”
The once proud gnoll elder bowed her head and groveled at Zarian’s boots. He hated to see this from Ezda, but her lack of response against some tough foes was concerning.
She would’ve easily dominated otherwise. Or at the very least, she would’ve given Zarian some breathing room to play the wizard easier.
His heart rate was still up.
He was hungry.
His enchanted gear was torn in several places. The aberrations had broken past the advanced protection of his outfit. They’d ruin the crocodile emblem and motto on the front of his gambeson.
However, his bruises and cuts faded away rapidly because of his own vitality. He was a tough man, after all.
When was the last time he had a challenge like that?
Four months ago? Against Good +5 Bianca?
Yeah, that was the last real challenge.