Overpowered Wizard-Chapter B4 Ch46: Quantity Over Quality

“Where are all the gods?” Zarian asked, cigar smoke unfurling from his mouth in thick clouds like a grumpy dragon. The next match had Bukka the Chopper up against Dynamo of the Assimilator System, a straightforward fight with a predictable outcome, not worth watching with his own eyes when he had a cosmic itch to scratch.

He stood at the entrance of the Sinfeast Temple, the tallest temple in Carrowmore. The gaudy gold steps once had a thousand servants to sweep away the dirt even though they had enchantments to keep it clean. It once boasted every sinful delight, and it was loud about boasting that, too, with how the temple’s interior was built with acoustics in mind. The front itself was a face with a gaping maw, as if Sinfeast himself was inviting you inside him. Thirty years wasn’t enough for Zarian to get over his hatred for Sinfeast completely, but it was enough for him to keep his wits about and proceed as rationally as possible.

That and the end of Carrowmore had left its mark on all the temples. There were driders dashing about and looting the place as the ceiling broke, the walls crumbled, and the infamous cavern city slowly but surely drew to facing its end. A large rock came careening down and slammed into the defaced front of the temple, where there had once been engravings holding precious jewels. There was only damage from being defaced. More importantly, Sinfeast’s divinity was gone.

“They wouldn’t ignore the tournament,” Zarian muttered around his cigar.

“You’re the one who speaks with them on the daily,” Ekri said irreverently, almost flippantly, before realizing he was addressing the most dangerous god in the universe. “Well, uh, how can a lowly specimen such as I know more than you, milord?”

Foodie snorted and gently elbowed the drider playfully to make him relax. Her familiarity and friendliness toward Ekri made Zarian regretful of how he’d treated the old drider in the past, but not regretful enough to admit it. Besides, there were more pressing matters.

They’d already checked at Hisscreep’s temple. They’d checked at the temples for Killall, Goldhound, and Sickspread. Shadowfell didn’t have a temple here – people feared her too much, and rightfully so. The temple of The Dragoness was still active, and would probably remain so even if all her acolytes would end up dying from the eventual cave-in.

Turning away from the temple’s entrance, Zarian scanned the infamous cavern city. It was dark, doomed, and heavy with an atmosphere of despair. Loosened boulders rained down constantly, their impacts cracking thunderously across the city. The myriad architectures here, especially the more standout ones, were the quickest to come to ruin. It looked more like the grave of an evil circus, like the greatest carnival the lesser realm could offer as a city that had come short on paying its karmic debt. Now the fun was over at long last.

Zarian reached into one of his pocket dimensions and pulled out a magical canvas that was three-by-three. After eyeing the despairing scenery, he cast some simple sorcery, nothing too complex, and painted the scene. He pulled out a few more canvases and did the same, depicting what he’d observed with the naked eye from various points in the city. When he finished, he put the canvases away and turned toward Ekri, the drider’s gaze affected by thinly veiled curiosity.

“For Ruvaria,” Zarian said.

Ekri clicked with his mouth. “Ah. Enough said.”

Foodie waved toward the empty temple. “What about this bastard?”

“Something’s happening in God Land.” Zarian looked up piercingly as if he could see directly into the highest realm. He couldn’t. Despite his growth, he still had his limits. He was still Level 200 and Master Ranked. “Something that might have to do with whatever Lucy and Ariana are up to.”

Ekri shuddered. “Your, um, other daughter, the one who was once the premier fashion statement of living flesh cloak. Maybe she would know. It seems The Dragoness has taken to grooming her.”

Zarian shook his head. “Nah. Ariana would keep her in the dark. At least until there’s more separation.”

“I could try praying to her. Shadowfell.” Foodie frowned. “But the connection between us has waned. I’ve broken my end of our covenant.”

“I’m not her husband, and I can’t predict what she’s up to now.” Zarian focused on his cigar before offering it to Ekri. The drider turned it down, and when he saw Foodie’s face lit up with desire, Zarian passed it to her. As she puffed merrily, he led them down the steps away from the temple. “There’s no asking the System either.”

He’d already tried earlier today. There were divine locks set in place, more so now than ever before. Something or someone had enforced on the System to tighten up its informational security. The amount of power it would require for Zarian and Ruvaria to break that with their system magic couldn’t be found in a lesser realm.

“It’s all the same, really,” Foodie said, passing back the cigar. “We need to move upward, Father, you and me. Once we’re Level 500 and in God Land, we can confront our greatest problems from there.”

Ekri interjected nervously. “And what of the Floridians, milord and milady? What of your rag-tag Outsiders?”

Foodie spoke ahead on that subject, starting with a huff. “I think they’ll slow us down. It’s unfortunate, but this is a problem only Darkruns can solve.”

“I’m not so sure,” Zarian murmured.

Foodie tensed. “I don’t want to look down on your friends. Our friends. They’d made great efforts to earn their power, Bianca especially. Gilbert’s a one-in-a-lifetime sort of healer. The others are talented in their own ways.”

“Here comes the ‘but,’” Ekri said playfully, but not unkindly.

“Don’t tease the girl too much. She used to eat people she considered weak, so this is an improvement,” Zarian said.

Ekri blinked all of his eyes and nodded in agreement, since he would know this very well.

Foodie shook her head at the two older men. “What I was going to say is that it’ll be better to hurry and grow ourselves with the least amount of distractions to achieve our quest. We can’t afford to cater to mortals. They won’t be able to keep up with us, and it’s a detriment to the universe to slow ourselves down for them.”

“Your mother thinks otherwise, kiddo. Ruvaria thinks the true saviors of our universe are those four. I’ve cared and supported them for a reason. They aren’t just shackles. They’re our weapons.”

Stolen novel; please report.

“But they’re mortals.” Foodie shook her head and let out a gobbish whine. “They’re souls are weaker than ours. Their growth potential is limited even for Outsiders. They’re talented, but once we push into the Level 300s and 400s, what if they end up crushed from the pressure and the pace? We’ve talked about this for thirty years, Father. We cannot let our desires to uplift others impede what’s necessary.” She grabbed him by the arm gently. “We cannot let our pride get in the way.”

“Oof.” Ekri winced.

“You’re right that we’ve talked about this ad nauseum.” Zarian gently swept her hand off with his tail. “There’s no more talking to be done. There will be a test after the tournament. The proper sort of test.”

“Good.” Foodie nodded at that, and they were in accord.

“That was intense.” Ekri looked nervously between the two Darkruns. “Are you two aware of how heavy the air becomes when you’re even slightly serious? I was struggling to breathe back there.”

“We really are deific,” Foodie said. “It’s hard to explain. Because there are different tiers of being deific. Ruvaria’s like a sleeping goddess, higher than a demigoddess for sure, but definitely beneath an Ultra God like Zarian. I’m ultra, too, I think.”

“You are,” Zarian confirmed. “Weaker than usual, but I feel it. You’re more like me.”

Foodie nodded. “The easiest way to make sense of it is to understand that our souls are mightier and our capacity to do more and gain more is greater. This can be representative of certain skills and traits, too. Or with how we can manipulate the system. We’ve also unlocked an abundance of achievements and piled on more stats than you might think is possible for Master Rankers.”

And we’ve tailored our profiles to best suit us, Zarian thought to himself.

Maybe Foodie had a point. Maybe there could only be the two of them after leaving the lesser realm behind.

We’ll decide after the tournament. If they fail, then they fail, and it’s no fault of their own.

***

It was the second day of the tournament, and Zarian was back in the arena. The announcer remained as obnoxiously loud and talkative as before. There were fewer people in the stands. The evacuation of the city had progressed further along with its destruction. He’d ended up reinforcing a few places to slow down the fall, but he didn’t fix anything permanently. He couldn’t do that knowing what the destruction of this place meant to Ruvaria.

“You’ve changed,” said Bukka.

“And you’ve grown a little stronger.” Zarian turned his gaze away from a random corner up in the ceiling to examine the old, grayish orc. He still wore his worn-down and beaten up monk clothing. Dirty wraps covered his hands and feet. Propped on his shoulder, his large scimitar gleamed even with a few chips and nicks along the blade.

“There is far more wisdom in your gaze,” Bukka said. “I fear that this match is already decided.”

Zarian smirked impishly. It was refreshing to face someone who was both a decently well-fought warrior and realistic. There was no ego involved with Bukka the Chopper. He saw reality as what it was, and that was wise. That didn’t mean Zarian was going to let the man go. He had to prove a point after Bukka had schooled him the first time they’d exchanged steel and spell.

“Humor me,” Zarian offered. “I will only use defensive magic. And simple ones at that. Nothing tricky. I want to stop your sword swing with that alone.”

“Fourth Ignition?” Bukka asked.

“Yes, please.”

“The arena won’t survive it.”

“That’s why I’m here.”

Bukka let out a soft chuckle, softer than normal for an orc, before erupting in an explosion of colorful aura. He upshifted rapidly, far faster than he’d shown before. First Stage of Aura Ignition, blue-green. Second Stage of Aura Ignition, green-yellow. Third Stage of Aura Ignition, yellow-orange. Then finally, Fourth Stage of Aura Ignition, orange-red.

His power rose to stratospheric tiers. His techniques shifted from what was available in his profile to what he could do purely with aura. His ignition was stable, and the weight he held upon reality was sharp and severe. With one swing of his sword, he could cut down all of Carrowmore and further beyond that. With one swing of his sword, he could slice reality and pick from the bloody tatters the remains that would prove him the victor. With one swing of his sword, he was unstoppable.

However, Zarian didn’t truly believe that even if reality said it so.

Reality believed Bukka the Chopper was unstoppable once his sword was in motion. It didn’t want to entertain any other assertions. It simply had to be this way just like how a mundane rock would fall to the floor when dropped from an elevated position on a world with adequate gravity. So, Zarian gave reality, Bukka, and everyone else something to reconsider in their equations.

Zarian triggered his Half Stage of Aura Ignition.

His body became subsumed by the brightest blue light of burning aura any ignition practitioner had ever seen. The sheer light and power and control that Zarian exhibited stopped Bukka in his place and had reality rethinking its assertions. Somewhere up in the stands, Zarian faintly heard Para squawking in outrage. On the opposite side of the stands, he heard Foodie screaming in joy.

“Impossible,” Bukka said. “Wizards, sorcerers, and their ilk can’t use Aura Ignition. It is a trait of the warrior.”

“Shut up and try to cut me,” Zarian ordered, and the moment he’d waited for came.

Admittedly, burning one’s aura for greater power wasn’t really a good idea for a caster. It messed with controls and genuine ingenuity that came with being a caster. Aura Ignition was truly a buff for more physical powers. Zarian’s profile, especially after separating from Para, leaned more on the squishy, nuker-controller side. There weren’t many benefits to using Aura Ignition, so it was less about it being impossible and more about it being impractical.

Except in certain niche areas.

Half Ignition allowed him to use his profile even if it was heavily reduced. The payoff came from directly boosting his brain, enhancing his thinking faculties. Did that make him a better wizarding sorcerer than he was without Half Ignition? Not necessarily. But it did make him insanely focused on completing a few simple magical tasks, even if that meant he had to focus on redundancies.

And that was what he wanted. Redundancies. Layers upon layers that would’ve broken the minds of most casters or unraveled their magic from weaving the same thing over and over again. Mental delineation was an unavoidable factor for casters, and it took slightly more work to cast the same spell again and again and again and keep the entire working stable. This was why stacking a bunch of simple fireballs into one big fireball was bound to fail at the highest tier where a new spell wouldn’t.

Not without extreme focus.

Instead of fireballs, Zarian used three simple wards. A ward for slowing, a ward for stopping, and a ward for sticking. All defensive. Having repeats and redundancies was normal in the dozens. Using hundreds was abnormal, but it wouldn’t be if it was spread in an area. Using thousands was ridiculous. Using hundreds of thousands in a small area mainly focused in the space between Zarian’s body and Bukka’s scimitar would be seen as a fanciful tale some old scholars would laugh about if any of their students brought it up. Unless they were Ruvaria, who’d suggested it first.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just use a stronger and more advanced ward?” Zarian had once asked her.

“Well, yes, it would be easy. But bulk sorceries have the unique benefit of being cheaper overall and running on the same energy used in a quick moment. It’s also a fun way of showing your mastery of the basics by using quantity instead of quality.”

Years after that conversation, Zarian smiled from behind his redundant ward wall made from over a million wards. The scimitar that reality had sworn couldn’t be stopped was stuck in his magical bulwark made from the same three spells. The cost wasn’t much for a moment, and Bukka destroyed much of it before it could get costly, making it almost a free cast.

“Something like this has never happened to me before,” Bukka said, taking his sword back and down-shifting to mundane aura. “Everyone usually dodges. They don’t stand and block with–” he squinted at the unraveling remains of Zarian’s impossible working “–basic wards.”

Zarian disengaged his Half Ignition and returned to normal, even if worn out. He winced as his head became a localized earthquake of intense magnitude, figuratively speaking. That was another reason for him to avoid using Aura Ignition except in specific cases.

Bukka frowned. “Is this Ruvaria’s doing?”

“No, it was mine. I got tired of Aura Igniters acting all haughty just because they can cosplay as Goku. I wanted in on the action.” Zarian rubbed his head. “Say, do you surrender? I’d like to slip away to someplace with less annoyances.”

“Oh, hm, yes. I surrender.”