He was relaxing in his dojo with his thoughts on a single subject lightning. A ability he managed to snag from his storm ability. It wasn’t true lightning. No, it was just a variant of psychic power one that emulated lightning. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t use natural lightning.

Lightning fluctuated over his fingers illuminating the room with its constant stream. Points of positive and negative appeared and were altered by his psychic powers. It allowed him to use real lightning in a way, but he couldn’t grasp the phantasmal side of it. There is more to lightning after all than a reaction. For magic there was a lot of lore concerning lightning. Tales of great heroes spoke of a great loss that insights a rage that grants their lightning abilities their true power.

Even using natural lightning as a reaction took a heavy tole on his concentration. He couldn’t use it and fight at the same time. No, this power required a great deal of preparation and even then, it was only good for a glass cannon type approach. To truly use this power to its full potential, he needed wrath.

Markus wasn’t an angry person by nature. Sure, he was prone to short bursts of rage like the next guy, but he didn’t hate anyone. No, hatred of those weaker than him was pointless. He pitied them. This made his lightning weak it popped and struck where he told it to, but it lacked the bite of his normal skills.

Wrath was the fuel of lightning. Without it, his bolts would be useless against powerful foes. A fodder cleaning spell and nothing more. It was pitiful. He laid down on the hard bone floor and soaked in the darkness.

He chewed on dark spirits and swallowed mouthfuls of them, as he thought on his problem. Markus scrolled through his menu looking through potions that had anything to do with emotions. Wrath, anger, and hate were some of the cheapest potions to buy. They wouldn’t be his wrath.

Working with a crutch seemed like a bad idea. Something that might make the anger permanent was a great idea, if he wanted to dissolve into a rage monster. So, he grabbed a demon summoning potion, there wasn’t always a happy medium but, in this case, there might be.

The potion appeared in his inventory and he popped the cork drinking it down. This wasn’t one of those rituals that happened in a day. It would take a few months for it to be ready. Until then he would need to make a few preparations.

The knowledge from the potion swam through his mind giving him exact instructions. He had a new room built in exchange for 400,000untis of mana. Not even a hundredth of his mana supply. The room moved, and a ritual room appeared at the side. Another pedestal stood in the room with interactive monitors.

He flipped through the options and came upon candles. Markus bought them at a steep price of 1000mana a candle. Why the dungeon didn’t demand point Markus didn’t know but he was glad to use something renewable.

He ended up spending 100,000mana on the candles making sure he had enough for the ritual. Placing them in a five-pointed star he lit them with friction. The flames glowed purple, he guessed that was demonic. Summoning a demon directly from a hell was considered heresy.

Not that he cared, the monks of the monasteries considered the belief in any god or devil to be heretical to human supremacy. They are known to declare crusades in the name of cleansing those who would dare call upon such powers.

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What Markus needed now was the emotion of outrage to send powerful emotions of anger into the space between the physical plane and the hell of wrath. That wasn’t difficult. He just had to kill a few criminals. Those with the balls to feel outraged for being punished for their crimes.

Hours pass, and Markus entered the room holding a noble. “Let me go you pauper. When my father hears about this he’s going to murder you and your whole family.” He tossed him in the room and the door sealed behind them.

The noble was named Francis a member of the Leonidas family. A distant cousin to Margarette. Now for this experiment, its very important to make this guy as angry as he could before killing him. What did Francis do?

Well to many nobles, he wasn’t considered terrible. He took pleasure in the abuse and beating of his maids. When he was bored he raped them. Nothing out of the ordinary when you consider the power gap between the nobility and the commoner. No what is out of the ordinary was getting punished for it.

Markus stared at the boy he looked ready to attack or cower in a corner. His flight or fight instincts were running overtime looking at Markus and the room.

He turned and saw the ritual candles. “Don’t look at the aesthetics look at me.” Markus said. Francis stabbed a finger at him.

“You took me from my bed. What have I ever done to you?” Francis yelled. He was tall for his age and a little over weight an oddity among the powerful nobles.

“It isn’t what you’ve done to me, it’s your actions, they are beyond forgiveness.” Markus said.

“I have the right to do as I please. I’m a noble without me my subjects wouldn’t eat, they would have no shelter, or direction in life. A few beatings when I get angry is a small price to pay for succor.” Francis said, in an indignant tone.

Markus paced around the noble like a jungle cat. “I have observed your actions and weighed what you give and what you take. You owe a steep debt.” Markus said. The noble looked angry but took on a shrewd look.

“Then tell me how many points I owe, and I’ll pay them.” The noble said.

“Pay, yes you’ll pay but not in points. You shattered a girl’s spine. Another lost half the teeth in her mouth when you smacked her because you failed another test. You forced your male servants to fight for your entertainment. When they died their families went out on the streets. You did not compensate them. How much interest do you think you incurred?” Markus asked.

Chains of light shot out and captured his arms. They pulled him to the center of the pentagram. He struggled but no matter how he pulled, he couldn’t break the chains. “I’ll pay them back. I’ll find them all and ensure my debts are payed. Just let me go.” He yelled. His anger quickly turned to fear, just as Markus ironically feared. So, it was plan B.

Taking potions of rage out of his inventory, he placed them in his right hand. Taking a hastily bought syringe he filled one with the most potent concoction he had. “What are you going to do to me?”

“This wasn’t about your crimes. I don’t care. I wanted you to be angry for your sacrifice, but it seems that failed.” Markus said casually.

Francis’s face went red then purple. “I’ll kill you.” Whips of flame shot out of his fingertips and slashed ineffectively against Markus’s barrier. They proved ineffective much to the noble’s rage. “Curse you for your falsehoods. Curse you for those who suffer, and you pretend to care about. I may have hurt many, but you are the real evil you only pretend to care.” Markus jabbed the potion in Francis’s arm.

“Hate, Hate, Hate,” Francis yelled as foam began to cover his mouth and his eyes bulged out. Markus put a hand on either side of the man’s face. Taking his thumbs, he pushed them against Francis’s eyes. They sank in quickly and Francis yelled. Markus gripped the head tighter. He felt a crack then forced his hands together. The skull collapsed under the force of his grip and brain matter exploded.

Blood soaked into the pentagram and it flickered red. “One down a four to go. For the record.” Markus thrust his hand forward and fried the remains with an intense bolt of lightning. “I do care.” Markus said.