Vile Waste Of Magic [Private]

It was a strange sensation. God Slayer Magic danced along his fingertips like threads of fate and ill omens, and it emeshed so kindly to his Key, his Arc of Embodiment. Such a powerful Creation Magic would tear apart any user and rid them of any drop of mana if not powered by a sufficient battery, and Addre had finally solved his issue for many years to come. Achlys had trained him thoroughly, and now, he was exerting her Magic - and thus, her dominion over mortals - everywhere he went. Unlike before, where people wouldn't bat him an eye out of anxiety, he was now found all alone... deserted, in a way. People had completely avoided being in his presence... or was it because of this town?

Morgate Town was a wasteland. Just the perfect grounds to test out his spells against unaware flesh.

WC: 145

And the first bastards had already arrived. Brilliant, just what the God Slayer needed - instead of butting into other people's lives, they crawled right towards him as if they didn't have anything better to do. It would suffice as their plead to participate in his little training montage, hopefully harvesting some satisfying results. Addre needed more strength than this, but he was also being a little playful and curious to see just how far his newly-achieved God Slayer Magic could take him.

WC: 83
TWC: 228

His first spell was... primitive. What, he was very excited to finally lash out at his enemies, and they didn't even say any words to him before flipping out their... swords? Wait, were those swords or guns? They were some kind of mixture... but it didn't matter. Addre's first thought was to punch them all away, so his desire was poured directly into his Magic and manifested itself as a cloud of corrosive acid covering his clenched fist.

Some could say that he insinuated this battle, but Addre could argue that everything insinuated an assault on him. And what better way to work against that than by performing this preventative action of 'landing the first hit'?

He flung his fist through the air faster than a bullet, and the impact ringed through his bones, but he felt bloody amazing in that moment. This was what true, primal Slayer Magic was all about - establishing his will on his enemies with undeniable dominance...

WC: 162
TWC: 390

So one of them was already down. They seemingly died from the impact rather than from the after-effects of the spell itself, but since this was a poisonous type of Magic, Addre needed to see those lasting effects on someone. Therefore, he pulled his next punch and lapped around the remaining hooligans, watching the mist of poison from his palm surround them like a small tornado.

And then, they began coughing. Violently. One of them couldn't breathe in the end and collapsed, way before Addre even decided to attack one of them. What was the poison doing to them, exactly? It was a primary teaching of Achlys to use the right type of poison for the right type of enemy - this poison did the unthinkable and made the oxygen in the air react harmfully with the human's body, resulting in the asphyxiation that they went through...

WC: 147

Because of how Poison Magic worked, the power of impact was often overlooked... as long as there was any sort of impact, the magic's true power could be unleashed. However, for someone as impulsive and energetic as Addre, impact was so attractive! He wanted to punch people as hard as possible, so why should he half down on that?! If anything, it was only a plus in his case - his victims wouldn't be able to recover quick enough to do anything to him before the poison took effect if they were still ringing from the punches of his two, clenched, scarred fists.

But that was only short-range... he needed to practice his long-range spells too. A simple spell was to emit poisonous gasses from his mouth, and that was just what he did - now, the entire battlefield was inhospitable and completely inhabitable for anyone but him, and... it kinda took away the fun. Addre discovered very lately that his Magic had a knack for pushing away his opponents, preventing him from meeting them up front like he liked it.

WC: 181

He began running out of the cloud to check whether anyone was still willing to fight outside of the cloud's range. He spotted up to three, capable foes who looked like they came from Morgate Town's security department. Addre had done a good job at keeping the noise at a low, because if he attracted too much attention to this place, then he'd have a bounty on his head by now. That wouldn't benefit Errings Rising, would it?

Errings... he began thinking of the symbol as he engaged in combat. It looked like thorns making a circle, and thorns could at times be poisonous, right? If he were to create a physical thorn bush with the poisonous properties of his Venom God Slayer Magic, then... ohhhhhh boy, it got him riled up. Yup, he wanted to try it out.

WC: 139

The thorned bush qucikly grew up from the ground as he clapped his hands down. Yup, it looked like a plant from afar, but there was nothing living in that thorny incubator. It was so vile… great! With a bit more control transferred to the spell, the thorns began wrapping around what looked like a black rose which was now resting in his hand. He could feel the thrill rush through his skin, and it intoxicated his state to such a pleasant degree.

With a deafening roar, he squashed the rose hard with his now clenched fist, watching the ooze and black liquids spill out onto the broken ground. A mist began forming around him and the three security guards, and sooner than even the caster himself anticipated, one could no longer make out where they were… the mist thickened, and screams began emerging.

WC. 144

Those screams came from dying men at this point. Addre squinted his eyes through the clouds and spotted that each one was brawling with some kind of… t-torso? Entity? It looked like something- s-someone was growing out of those guys’ torsos and clawing at them, which wasn’t exactly an effect that Addre had predicted. Still, it made for quite a show… that ought to have taught them not to mess with him. He felt more and more like his own lord as time passed.

As a last act of mercy, poison began manifesting around his arm and formed a long, crooked blade. It was now solid enough to be used as a slashing weapon, with which Addre dashed forward and made some professionally-prepared sashimi bloody and tasty enough for any scavengers lurking in the wilderness.

WC: 135

He cut quickly through the veins and flesh of his opponent, and at this point in time, only one bastard dared face him out in the fields outside of Morgate Town. He wasn’t exactly the most confident fighter at the moment, not when facing the entity who had just committed mass murder right in front of his eyes for mere training. The best option would’ve been to call for reinforcements in form of a legal guild… but Addre wouldn’t let him.

Addre didn’t fight alone right now. Something had caught the attention of the lone guard who began screaming just like earlier. With the flailing of his arms, it looked like a creature was poking at his eyes and clawing at his face, and Addre couldn’t help but scoff at the sight. Achlys sure had seen better days, acting all horrifying like that, but… the fact that he knew her soft sides brought him quite a bit of pride.

WC: 159

After Achlys was finished with her job, Addre saw to it that there were no more signs of enemies trying to sneak up on him post his little victory. It would’ve been asinine to get a knife stuck in his shoulder due to a classical ‘lowering one’s guard after victory’, but to his luck, the plaza was fairly empty for now. Although, with the high-pitched screams having travelled so far, he’d expect more reinforcements to arrive, so he still made a run for it.

Today was fruitful.

WC: 88

Running out of the city areas, Addre became reminiscent of an event in his earlier life… that of his last master. The one who snapped him out of his years-long daze and set him on a new path to… sort of find himself, y’know. The one who allowed Addre to end up where he was today; in the ranks of Errings Rising, where everyone could do whatever the fuck they wanted without being judged or ridiculed or whipped. The zenith of freedom.

Much unlike Arbastos, that wretched snail. No matter what Addre spawned for him, it wasn’t cutting it for the demanding master. Addre began to enjoy the creations he made, intaking in them and indulging in their functions, but Arbastos was a lost cause. Good riddance for his timely death.

WC: 131

Arbastos was a blight. Clearly the master most hated to Addre in his past as an errand boy, and for good reasons - oh boy, definitely good reasons. Vile, pathetic, wasteful and gluttonous for the worldly riches that Addre was able to spawn at the drop of a hat, this awfully gag-inspiring Boscon stain just... left a bad taste in Addre's mouth. Even mere reminiscence of him was enough to make the God Slayer seethe in anger, lashing his arms out at the air as if someone was trying to attack him there and then.

WC: 95

After that short outburst, Addre caught his breath again. Bad memories... he wanted to rid himself of those. Yet his first Magic, the Magic that had gotten him to this point in time, focused on creating - not destroying! He wanted to destroy shit! He couldn't handle some things in this world, and he wanted to rid of that! Making the world better required creation and destruction! That was why he obtained God Slayer Magic; this esoteric arcana would bring him one step closer to his goal...

Addre's Magic - the Arc of Embodiment - was referred to as a key from the divine. The key allowed its wielder to hold the power of manifestation, to create and apply to this mortal plane whatever one's heart desired. It was limited by his own magical capabilities, but the potential! If he could just grow stronger, then...

WC: 145

... Huh? He could've sworn that something moved - over at the checkpoint. Still some enemies left for him to annihilate, huh? The more enemies he dealt with, the stronger his God Slayer Magic should become, so in all honesty, he sighed in relief that he could keep fighting people now. Without hesitation, he took one heavy step after another, approaching the checkpoint with a crooked grin rising up on his face. He was getting eager to punch some more faces in...

What he was met by was new; some kind of smoke pellet had blown up, releasing a thick cloud of black smoke all over him. His first instinct was to hold his breath, similar to how people would protect themselves against poisonous gases, but that was when he remembered that he could benefit from these gases as a God Slayer. It was time to draw from that unique prowess that Slayers possessed...

WC: 154