Overpowered Wizard B3 Ch94: Avatars and Rotations 1

To Zarian’s ever-growing surprise with the usefulness of having 1557 Wonder, he found members from the original herd of contestants he’d joined some days ago.

They were occupying a large weapon shop with a variety of gear that was on sale, and the not-dwarf Valin Storm-Skull was in the middle of panic-buying with one of the magic drop troopers named Turret.

Stepping into the massive factory-style structure on top of a legendary mound of blue steel, Zarian passed a flurry of excited contestants and sales-happy driders. He ignored the sales pitches and the promotional offers as he headed straight for the people he vaguely knew.

He quickly recognized the fuzzy guy with the features of a cat and a bat and the steampunk construct standing among them. Then he noticed someone new who didn’t seem to fit, and as soon as he noticed her, Zarian had to block the invisible and invasive magic she tried to use on him.

Well, well, well, someone was already laying the groundwork for fucking over their own contestants before the tournament even began.

Zarian didn’t feel angry, but he did stride with a strong and purposeful gait as he approached while the avatars of the Good Gods and Evil Gods yammered about for the lead up.

“Valin Storm-Skull, you look sweaty, are you trying to lose weight?” Zarian asked with some humor and a nod in greeting.

“Ninety-nine percent off, Isaiah Skybreaker! The driders just dropped their beardless prices just half an hour ago! All across the city! So many precious items, enchanted equipment, and great drinks! All for a pittance! I don’t have enough time but I must buy, buy, buy!” Valin roared thunderously as he surged around the wide open weapon shop, elbowing aside other contestants who were driven to a craze by the sales just like him.

“Legendary flintlocks, motherfuckers!” Turret shouted, raising two magic guns akimbo before tossing them into the bags that Arty and Shield were holding. “Yo, Isaiah, stop standing all mysterious and magical and get a load on this stuff before we get shipped off!”

Chuckling a little at how informal the drop troopers could act, Zarian made sure he seemed friendly and approachable, even with his body standing on guard. He didn’t approach the woman among them directly just yet, instead he faced the cat-bat guy and acknowledged him with a nod.

“I still have my ear on you, fox devil,” growled the fuzzy guy.

“That’s certainly hard with how loud the gods are being.” Zarian turned his attention fully to the grand stage he could see in the corner of his vision no matter where he went.

The gods wouldn’t allow anyone to dare ignore their presence, especially with all fourteen of them being present in their avatar flesh.

“Rocket, dear, aren’t you going to introduce me to this interesting fellow?” said the woman draped over the drop trooper leader, her magic wrapped so tightly around the poor guy he couldn’t fart without asking for her permission.

“Hey, Isaiah, this is–”

“It’s great to see you again, Rocket. If we end up in the same area or whatever, I won’t kill you,” Zarian said.

Rocket lost his train of thought, and the charm magic wrapped around him waned a little. The charming woman narrowed her eyes slightly before pulling Rocket away by the arm and giving the drop trooper leader a teasing smile, as if she wanted to flirt with him off to the side.

Para paid close attention to them while Zarian gave the gods their due attention. Things were getting more interesting.

“This is getting boring and slow,” said The Dragoness.

That was the first time she spoke since the start of the tournament lead up, and as expected, her voice resounded louder than all the other gods.

Her voice shook all of Carrowmore slightly, and there was a single moment where everyone at attendance froze in fear for their lives, the celebratory mood and excitement falling deadly silent.

Even most of the major gods, good and evil, feared for their lives. Some tried to play it off, though they might not be as successful as they might think.

“We are proceeding as we should as hosts to this grand event,” said the stuffy Good God Lawkeep.

His avatar looked like the ultimate form of an old and bookish nerd, with a stick so far up his ass, his neck seemed longer than necessary because of his strict nature. He even went as far as pushing his spectacles up his hooked nose.

“I must ask that you remain patient … milady.” Lawkeep seemed to struggle a little with himself while addressing The Dragoness as his superior.

Still, that might’ve been enough to mollify the Ultimate Queen if it wasn’t for certain others’ egos flaring up.

“How can we allow this she-beast to treat us as mere WORMS?! Where is our pride? Where is our fury! Where is our power of what’s GOOD?!” shouted Kingsblood, who was draped in heavy golds, rich blues and whites, and looked like someone sculpted out of a marble.

All the features that someone would expect from an untouchable noble was blended into him. It was also notable that he stood the furthest away from The Dragoness with the other Good Gods in between.

But it didn’t seem like the good-aligned contestants cared about the slight hypocrisy as they all cheered along with Kingsblood. That gave him undue confidence.

“See, the people agree with me!” he claimed.

“Oh, ha, ha, ha, that’s rich, coming for the one who loves to sit his fat bottom on the throne and order peons around,” mocked Good Goddess Hopeland, whose avatar was shocking to witness.

She was the most imperfect humanoid shape, fat to a degree that was overly obese, with rolls on rolls on rolls of blubbery skin that jiggled with every movement. She also had hooves for feet and antlers, like she was some overly large satyr.

“I’m all for going against the odds, but there are no odds there. What says you, Lovewar?” Hopeland asked.

Zarian and many others held their breath.

Lovewar was the most beautiful of the Good Gods, with tanned skin, fiery yellow and red hair, piercing silver eyes, and a body that was both provocative and battle-ready. The moment she was mentioned, everyone became still again, both good-aligned and evil-aligned, as they bore witness to most eye-catching and lovely of the Good Gods.

“I still owe Goldhound over there a spear through the heart, but I’m not champing at the bit for it here. We have priorities, don’t we?” Lovewar said plainly, which had Hopeland laughing while Kingsblood looked contemptibly at the younger woman standing among the Good Gods.

“I agree with Lovewar. Our priority is the tournament, not our issues with each other,” said Serveserf, who looked just as Zarian always imagined, an old man bent over a cane while dressed in a simple beige robe.

Purgehunt, who looked like the godly version of a wild hunter, and Purehome, who looked like a voluptuous elf goddess with too much of Ruvaria’s features, kept their opinions to themselves. They clearly didn’t enjoy having The Dragoness looming over them, enforcing her evil will, but what were they going to do?

If the avatars were to fight, they all knew The Dragoness would win, and the Evil Gods knew that the best.

“Let’s kill them all,” growled Killall, who was like a bloody berserker who hadn’t showered in many years. Just to look at him would have the awful scent of his murderous and unclean nature reach an observer’s nostrils no matter how far.

“We don’t really need the Good Gods to proceed with the tournament. It would be quite simple to do away with their avatars,” Sickspread suggested, whose appearance was surprising.

She looked … sterile and clean … while dressed like a medieval laboratory scientist. She was bald up top with big and round glass spectacles that reflected everything she looked at. When she moved her gloved hands, it was like watching an overly large insect masquerade as a person.

“Let me get that spear off Lovewar’s avatar. She always has some nice stuff,” said Goldhound, the rattiest and scrawniest of the Evil Gods.

He didn’t seem like much of a god at all with his bucktooth and mangy features that seemed more like a rat than a hound. Hell, he looked the most uncomfortable on the grand stage.

Instead of exuding divine confidence, he looked like he was one scare away from using divine concealment. Still, he did speak in a cocky tone toward Lovewar … while putting most of the Evil Gods between him and the Good Gods.

“I’m leaving if this breaks out into another fight,” Hisscreep sighed wearily, looking like a well-dressed grandfather, all suited with a neatly folded tie that looked like a divine centipede beast.

He had a cane, too, but one that looked more fashionable, while also made from numerous fossilized critters. Out of all the gods, he seemed the most stylish in an old money way.

“It wouldn’t be much of a fight. It would be a massacre. Isn’t that right, oh Ultimate Queen, oh Young Corrupter?” asked Sinfeast, whose visage disgusted Zarian deeply, his rooted hatred inside of him throbbing.

Sinfeast looked like something both man and woman, both vulpine and canine, both a person and a devilish monster. And he didn’t keep to just one shape or coloration or wardrobe, either.

Sinfeast kept shifting his skin, his bone features, the patterns of his fur, the clothing he wore, constantly in shift. And if that wasn’t enough, there were the faces that peaked through Sinfeast’s face. These faces belonged to others who were somehow still alive, still existing, and still in the process of being devoured for Sinfeast’s pleasure.

Zarian couldn’t stop himself from clenching his fists along with his entire body as driders and worshipers of Sinfeast cheered for him. Every god who had spoken had an audience who cheered for them, but some gods were clearly more popular than others, and Sinfeast was clearly one of the more popular gods, especially among the drider populace.

Something liquid swished with the volume of rolling tsunami waves.

All the cheering died down.

The divine vision drawing the audience’s attention honed in on the appearance of a human-sized doll dressed in a gothic ball gown with a veil covering her face.

In the doll’s hand, there was a vial, and in that vial, there were the Tears of Sinfeast.

Lucy Shadowfell Darkrun shook the vial about, and the sound of the swishing tears filled the city. Meanwhile, Sinfeast stopped morphing around and became a pale-skinned, vaguely male creature with eyes widening as big as plate saucers.

“Now that I have your attention,” Shadowfell said softly, “I would probably attack you first, Sinfeast, since I currently stand for the freedom alignment.”

“You are an Evil Goddess!” Sinfeast snarled.

“It is a horrible thing for me to have to agree with the Sinful Wolf, but he is correct. You are not of this … freedom alignment… you are evil, Shadowfell,” Lawkeep said.

“And yet, I have my husband’s blessing to act on his behalf. And so, with his blessing, I can make this onetime offer from the Dark Emperor to all of you.”

The humor and certainty in Lucy’s voice seemed to mollify the gods and excite the audience.

“If you ever wish to be free from the controls of the alignments and develop your own mastery over good and evil, join the freedom alignment. You don’t even have to choose now. The option will be there in your notifications as long as you don’t say no,” Shadowfell said.