Chaos Protection Agency (Wizarding World x Chaos Gacha)

[Millangrimme]

One thing nobody tells you when you're born to famous parents is the amount of time you're going to get kidnapped. Two out of five chances, they're doing it for the supposed money they're going to get either from your parent's enemies or your parents themselves. Another two of the five are just crazy motherfuckers thinking that any attention is better than no attention at all, and what better way for their supposed idols to look upon all their glory by taking one thing they cherished most of all.

But that slim one in five chance? Those are the kind that has an agenda on them–a dark agenda.

My parents are Aurors–my father, an American Senior Auror for MACUSA, is instrumental in the defeat of a First Nation's Dark Lord, and alongside my mother, who is a former professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. That alone should have put them in the same strata as a "power couple", but complacency isn't in the Squidd genes, apparently. Just after I was born, father and mother found themselves battling against the forces of one of the greatest Dark Lord in modern history.

Grindelwald is, as my cousin Skarland will say, an absolute pain in the ass. He launches attacks across the globe, dismantling international relations and destroying global enchantments in a matter of weeks. Although my parents don't tell me how he got that kind of firepower, I know enough not to underestimate him–well, him and his followers. Damn acolytes of his makes that Dark Lord in Brunei look like a child in a butcher's shop, killing people left and right, hurling curses like they're candy, and the fact is that hardly anyone ever knows how to find or stop them.

It will suffice to say that the son of a bitch made himself the enemy of the entire wizarding world.

Now, my parents are nowhere near close to Scamander and his group of misfits when this all went down, but they did do some stuff that made the news or some such. I know it's a cop-out of an explanation when I said earlier that my parents are celebrities–I mean, they are, but like a D-list celebrity, like Dule Hill–but they really are pretty important.

…

"Which is why I must insist that you unhand me at once." I finish my diatribe and, looking up, am still tied up to a wooden post.

To say that this is the most horrifying morning I ever had was to lie, because there is that one time I saw my parents going at it in the family dining room when they thought both of us had gone to our Aunt Susan the night before, but second most is definitely on the board. I had just woken up after a long study session from my dorm in Oxford when these nutjobs apparated in my room–in complete defiance of the Statute of Secrecy–and kidnapped me in front of my unsuspecting roommate.

Now, here we are. Hands and legs tied up in a massive wooden pentagram with my body forming a rough outline of a star, hiding the trembling in my body as I pray to the magic that permeates the wizarding world for my parents to do their weekly call catch-up with me and find out that I have disappeared.

"We know who you are, Child of the Squidd, and how powerful your patrons are." A figure steps out of the darkness. A robed wizard comes into my view, long, scraggly hair like it hasn't been washed for months, the stench of dark magic clinging onto his clothes and body.

A Dark Wizard has kidnapped me.

I smile, hiding behind the familiar comfort of a hard-earned lie. "Oh, you do? Then this gets easier. My father is going to rip you a new asshole, you dumb fuck. So, If you don't want to be shitting out of your belly button for a few weeks, then I suggest untying me and teleporting me back to my dorm."

The false bravado stirs the dark wizard, only for another to step out of the shadows of the chamber like its some kind of malevolent clown car. This one is fat and blonde and has yet to schedule a dental appointment for the last decade judging by the decay on his gums and rotten teeth.

"Oi, don't you fucking threaten us." Oh, lovely. I don't know what's worse, that they're dark wizards or Scouse. You know what, I'm thinking both. "Don't matter, does it? Sooner or later, you're gonna be a smear in that sigil."

The other wizard–I'm going to call him dumb–Dumb laughs as his friend–whom I will now regard as Dumber–Dumber laughs along with him. "That's right. I don't how you're mum and da passed you on for Ministry stuff, but our luck just turned up!"

"That's right, boy!" Dumber clapped Dumb's shoulder and they hooted and hollered like idiots. Jesus, if this is the state of dark wizards after Grindelwald, then I guess it might as well have thanked Mom and Dad for not involving me in magic affairs because this sounds boring.

"Look, fellas, lads… Whatever ritual you're going to do to me? It ain't going to work." I say, keeping my face calm and happy like I'm on a walk on the world's most dangerous hiking trail.

Dumber contemplates my word, which is probably a hard thing to do when half your brain is infected with gingivitis. He looks at Dumb, nudges him with his elbow, and says, "What's he talkin' about, mate?"

"Nah, he's egging us on. Let us think we're stupid or somethin'" Dumb knocks on his forehead, nearly barreling towards me like an angry bull. "We're no stupid, fuckface. You're a Squidd, says so on the paper!"

Paper? Oh, shit.

"Do you mean the Weekly Washington Witchly?" Dumb nods

"The September 2 issue?" Dumb tilts his head, nodding still.

"The one that says, "The One and Only Squibb?!" Dumb nods again.

If I have control of my hand, then it would be in my face. "Listen, Dumb and Dumber, I'm a Squibb!"

"We are Dark Wizards, not idiots." Dumb says.

"Yes, we are. You're fuckin' Sebastian Argentyle Squidd." Dumber confirms my worst fear.

I smile, "Yeah, not what I meant, Einstein. Squib-uh. Letter B. As in, "Be careful with spells because your brother doesn't know magic." Letter B: As in, "Buttfucks, out of seven children, you picked the only non-magical child!""

Oh, fuck. Now I'm screaming at my captors. Like that'll help me live longer.

"Oh." Dumber looks at Dumb, who just scrunches his face like he's still figuring things out. "Wait. No, you're fucking with us!"

Dumb's eyes widens, "Yeah, he is. We're supposed to pick up Squidd at his dorm and we did. So, it don't matter anyway."

"Tha's right." Dumber grins, "A Squidd is a Squidd, right?"

Dumb shrugs his shoulders as hope reignites in his ugly mug. "Da'm right, it is. Do you parents love you?"

Hopefully, but I keep my mouth shut.

"If you don't 'áve magic, then somebody else can take your place!" Dumber suggests then high-fives Dumb. "Tha's the plan now, ain't it."

"We can just trade him with his sibling. Ay, whose your youngest and where are they?"

"Dominic Augmenton Squidd, second year student in Hogwarts, waterboy of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team." I say, folding under the bare minimum pressure. "He takes his morning constitutional around that shack near the Forbidden Forest, says the thrill of the dangers gives him the energy to run at five in the morning. Do what you will with that information, gentlemen."

To my surprise, Dumb and Dumber convenes an impromptu meeting right in front of me, shielding themselves from my senses with some kind of divinatory magic.

Sue me for throwing Dominic under the bus. The boy is spoiled, I tell you–most of my siblings are, actually–but him particularly, which is pretty reasonable when the kid almost turned me into a slime-like creature when I told him that I was going away for muggle college. It's as if the world is balancing out my lack of magical abilities by giving him quadruple the potential an average wizard has in his age. Very cruel, the world is.

Look, am I sad that I don't get to spend my whole life practicing an esoteric field of metaphysical energy? Yes, I am. But you know what's even sadder? Getting to spend boxing day seeing your siblings get magical artifacts from your aunts, uncles, great-uncles, great-aunts, and that weird great-grand uncle who might have bunked with Merlin and had freed slaves during the American revolution. But it's not totally without its advantages, being a squibb.

First and most importantly, I get a lot of sympathy sex from out-of-town third cousins during holidays, birthdays, and a smattering of festivities that involves the whole family. Second and less weird than the first, is that I don't have to fight or resist or dispel or another action verb that I will have to do whenever some scary-ass shit happens around the world.

Grindelwald isn't the only Dark Lord in the world, just the most famous and feared one. The Bone Lord in Columbia, Rising Shadows in Indonesia, Baron Samhedi in Haiti, and in a few years, that fuck-ass Riddle is going to tear through western Europe like he's D-1 athlete in a co-ed dormroom.

Dumb and Dumber ends their meeting with rigorous nodding, looking like they've just decided that they're going to merge with a multinational conglomerate.

"Right, mate. We don't need you, but we can't exactly spiff through Hogwarts and nab your kid brother." I nod because that is reasonable as fuck. "So, we now want your youngest sister." Okay, less reasonable.

Dumber nods along, "Yeah. Need that tilly mint of yours, what's her name?"

Dumb did a quick and silent accio! and summoned the damn magazine issue, reading from a bookmarked page. "Say here, you have… oh, there she is. Rosalinda Chrysanthemum Squidd. Where is she?"

Goddamn it! Me and my big mouth. Rosalinda ranks highly in my sibling list, mostly because she studies at Bumbaxteons and gets along with the seventh-years really well if you know what I mean, so I hesitate. And dear God, did that hesitation costs me.

"Don't shut up now, mate." Dumb flicks his crooked wand at me, his eyes glowing green when his mouth opens to a, "Crucio!"

There isn't a bolt of green light nor a shadow of a cerulean hue that comes with the spell, just–ARGHHHHHHHHHH–fuck.

Dumb stops the spell, but my body still wilt at the residual pain that had quickly enveloped my whole form. I gasp for breath, trying to return the air I had lost when I screamed from the sudden agony. Muscles burn at the slightest touch of my clothes, joints let loose from the sudden tightness screams at me to let them rest, and then comes the slow numbing sensation slithering through my face. My vision blurries as I lull my head down to stop the pain in my neck from spreading and see the drool dripping from my mouth.

Dumb and Dumber are speaking to me, but I don't hear them through the ringing in my ears. I've never been tortured before, not intentionally, not with malice aforethought.

And it sucks–ARGHHHHHHHH–fuck.

"You hear me now, bitch?" Dumb must have cast the spell again. I don't know anymore, I can't see anymore, I can barely feel anything.

"Where's your sister, lad?" That must be Dumber since he doesn't sound stupid, just looks like it.

I laugh or maybe all I did is grunt, my throat hurts too much to differentiate anymore. "She… nanya…"

"What'd he say?"

"Nanya. Where's that? Africa? I don't want to go there, Mickey."

"Shut it, ya fuck. Don't say my name. And it ain't in Africa." Dumber breathes hot air into my buzzing ear, "WHERE IS NANYA!?"

I tilt my head up, a laborious effort on my part. Through fading sight, I catch the eyes of Dumber as he looks at me with his rotting teeth. I lick my lips, forgoing a reluctant frown with a tug of a shit-eating grin.

"Nanya… business, bitch."

Dumber screams right near my fucking ear and stabs something into my temple. He asks me again, but I don't answer and instead laugh at my stupid, inane joke. Fuck him, fuck the other guy, fuck my parents, fuck Dominic, fuck 50 cents, fuck me in particular.

A bolt of green light flashes through my eyes and I feel it, the sweeping darkness enveloping my senses. It takes out my sight and taste, then my hearing and touch, and lastly the smell of wafting rank odor leaves me.

I have died before, felt my body experience the same sinking sensation, and that towering height of dread that pushes into my mind. I will have guessed that this isn't going to be that different: I'm proven wrong.

[Chaos Gacha Online!]


Congratulations,(&**%#!*&$!(#% !(#$(, you have been granted a third life as Sebastian Squidd…


As part of the registration process, you have been granted three (3) Random Gold Tickets…


Enjoy and please use your third life well!

​

 

[Millangrimme]

Contrary to popular belief, most geeks actually have a niche or a zone of reference in which they actually enjoy. I have a friend from Texas who mostly enjoys the Arrowverse stuff, completely obsessed with the early season and have, in fact, a complete signed collection of memorabilia of every superhero that has appeared in that verse. Believe it or not, that friend is just into mainstream anime, delving deep into the waters of post-modern Japanese animated culture is not his style at all. Although that friend says that he's just too busy to allocate a larger portion of his focus and concentration into something that isn't a shonen battle-anime, that friend and I both know that he's just afraid of being pulled deep into the depths of something my friend and I don't understand.

That's why my friend and I stick to western fiction. Lord of the Rings, Percy Jackson, Dark Horse, Marvel, Boom! Studious, DC comics, Image Comics–Okay, I hear it now. It looks to me that I mostly just spend all my time reading comic books. Sue me, it's the best. My friend and I get to escape reality for a while, dream of being somewhere other than our rundown home with our drunk dad with a raging hardon for whiskey and anything American. But you know what my friend and I like better than comics?

Harry Potter.

Man, the shit is the bomb. We were barely thirteen when we received a rundown copy of the first book. The feel of its broken spine is still fresh in my memory. It was the first time I had something of my own that my father couldn't break or I wouldn't sell for a fresh plate of dinner. I must have read it seventeen times by the end of the year, I giggled at every corny joke even though I didn't understand some of the references, I blushed far too many times whenever Hermione did something nerdy, awed at Firenze and his cool-ass centaur magic, and may have cried a little too much when Harry is staring at the Mirror of Erised, his smiling parents reflecting back at him.

Even now I feel like the Mirror is particularly cruel. Showing us something that we couldn't have.

…

Where was I? Oh, right. Desire.

Ever since I and my friend were kids, we had desired a release of life's stranglehold over my body. The yoke of lamentable destiny, chains of poverty dragging me down the mires of scarcity, and that ever-present threat that my fragile body is but one mistake away from the all-encompassing fate of death.

Fuck it, why am I even justifying it. I had no friend when I was a kid–It was all me. I was alone and lonely, my only companions were the people in my books and cracked laptop given second-hand by my third grade teacher.

I grew up feeling that, alone. It sucks–a terrible, horrible, gnawing feeling that latched onto you the moment you wake up, all throughout your day, and even when you try to fall asleep but can't because you're too tired to sleep.

Maybe it's why I felt grateful when I died. That I get to spend another lifetime in a world full of magical things. Hell, I didn't even care that I'm a magic-less chud now because my parents are loving and rich enough for my life to be even better than the last. Plus, I don't have that Catholic guilt making me do crazy shit so I can be a good boy and get to heaven. No, sir. Now I get to live for myself.

Now these motherfuckers are trying to take that away from me. Making me feel bad that I'm an exception to the rule, that my second birth is a miracle reversed, and that I am an affront to all that is arcane when I all I wanted in this godforsaken life it to be able to look myself in the eye at the end of the day, ask myself, "Did you enjoy yourself?" And get an affirmative answer.

Now these motherfuckers removes that for me, they kill me, they show me that my new ideology of self-atonement is some bullshit. I can't help but feel like shit and the last time I felt like shit, I stole a Humvee, drove to a known Taliban campsite, and rescued the five civilians we left behind which made the SecDef give me a Purple Heart just so I shut my trap about the illegal operations he and his little cronies had me and my unit doing in Afghanistan.

I ain't going to take this lying down. I guess I need to do it again.

Essentially, ROLL THE GODDAMN TICKETS!

Rolling… 3x Gold Random Gacha Ticket

[Venom Vial]
|Uncommon Item|
Batman/DC - A sealed injection vial filled with a dose of Venom, a very powerful fast-acting steroid that enhances the physical strength of whoever consumes a full vial for 12 hours, after which they are left in a weakened state. Venom is incredibly effective and can have debilitating withdrawal symptoms. It may also fill the user with an urge to break people's backs. Restock Timer: 24 Hour.

[Frenzy]
|Rare Ability|
You are drunk on the scent of blood, you are immune to negative mental effects but at the time you lose most of your inhibitions in exchange for a large boost to your instincts.

[Expert Discipline]
|Elite Skill|
You have a mind made of iron. Your focus is sharp as a blade, if you do not want to be interrupted you won't be, if you know you need to keep going, you will. You can endure the toughest of training, even if your body starts breaking down you can force it to keep going for longer. You are very resistant to mental influences and effects.

Frenzy does its job almost instantaneously.

Blood pumps into my body like crazy, supplying much needed oxygen and energy into my muscles. I've forgotten more about being drunk than I can remember, so I know that I feel like I'm about five beers in and not a drop more. The kind of drunk that gives you the courage to punch someone bigger than you or ask out that bubble-butt Latina who has been eye-fucking your idiot friend ever since you came in the room.

I feel lighter and stronger, something I test with my bindings; It gives way more now when I struggle against it. My senses are better, the smell of rot growing, the sounds of arguing loudening, and that tiny, almost imperceptible window in the darkness widening until my eyes can see this wobbly, grainy view of the same dank cellar with the same idiotic Dark Wizards who almost killed their captive.

They are still arguing, almost frantically now. Dumber waves his wand ever so often while Dumb keeps shoving the other and looking towards the top of the stairs at the other end of the cellar.

There is still pain raging within my body, but I feel as if I can just move past it. It didn't leave nor did the numbing strengthen. I can ignore it, just like I can ignore the migraine in my head. I push my head upward, looking at the single bulb at the center of the ceiling. The brightness screams into my eyes, but my mouth doesn't. I grit my teeth and it does wonders for the pain.

I fucking love Elite Discipline.

I close my eyes, saving what little energy I can still muster for my escape. Yes, I will escape. This… thing, this Gacha may have given me a sliver of hope. I feel inside of me, searching for the last piece of the puzzle… There! just below my navel is this piece of non-space. Inside is a small neon-green vial of Venom, the same poison that Bane injects in his fucking skull that allows him to go toe-to-toe with a blood lusted Killer Croc.

The sealed injection proves to be a damper to my joy, but it doesn't matter. Once I get free of my bindings, I have all the time in the world to inject myself with it. How do I get out? Easy peasy.

Being the eldest child of D-list celebrity wizards and sibling to seven of them, I have been in, seen, and escaped out of Locomotor charms and Incarcerous spells all my life. Each spellcaster invokes their spell with different intensity, imagination, and movement that seeks to prevent the target from moving away or countering the spell itself, but the one thing they have in common is that they don't care what happens to the spell once it hits. They don't think about the tightness in the rope, nor do they think about what happens if someone with enough grit breaks their hands to slip past it.

I breathed in.

Dumb and Dumber over here proves their namesake when I easily break both of my thumbs, timing it to when one of them shouts to mask the fracture. My eyes didn't leave their form as I channel my bloodlust, that desire to pierce their eyes with my broken thumbs, to slowly wiggle and slither those broken fingers under the loose and fray rope binding.

I breathed out.

I smile, summoning the Venom vial in my now-free hand. It feels cold to the touch, the silver edges of this viscous, strangely electrically charged liquid vial touching my elbow pit. The voice at the back of my head tells me that I should either find a vein or have an implant in my brain stem to receive the full extent of this poison, but fuck that. I pop off the cap and slam the needle tip into my skin, the vial hissing for a moment before its contents hungrily exited into my body.

Even with Elite Discipline, a moan escaped my mouth. It gathers the attention of the two, I notice, but I don't care. Instead, I focus on the euphoric sensation of Venom coursing through my body. The pain, the ache, all that little bubble of uncomfortableness fades away–Truly fades away.

And then I begin to enlarge.

Like a balloon being blown up in five different orifice; my arms surge forward length-wise that makes it look like a hotdog before filling up like a very veiny sausage; then comes my legs, the binding on my ankles ripping apart when that neon-green glow blows up my shins into the shape of a fleshy anvil; and then my torso rips through my uniform, showing off that bronze tan I wasted ten hours of my life in Norwich.

Dumb and Dumber both step back as I take one step forward, looming over them with frothy saliva bubbling in my mouth.

"W-what are you?" Dumber asks.

I take a single step and smash an open backhand to Dumber, who takes the strike with the utmost indignity. He screams as my enlarged flesh hits him fully in the face, flying off his feet, and trails towards the other end of the dank cellar. Blood blooms out the back of his head as he smashed headfirst into the cellar wall, likely dead from the way his dented head and body slumped against the cracked wall.

"W-what the hell did you do'?" Dumb asks as he backs away from my humongous form–No, my monstrous form. He looks at me, then up when he sees nothing but my bulging belly. Every minutia of his expression is clear to me, even the way his eyes widen in fear as if seeing something… unnatural. "W-what the hell are you doin'...?"

My head is as big as a watermelon, but so small compared to my hulk-like body. I stand up fully, towering over him and denting the concrete ceiling with ease. Neon-green fluid slithers through my veins, my form looking like a massive glowstick.

"Hush now, mi hermano. I'm thinking" I grin, licking my lips as I tilt my head and enjoy the constant orgasm surging through my body. "See, I'm having trouble deciding what I should break first… your spine or your skull?"

Feat Achieved! You have killed your first person–a Dark Wizard, too! Congratulations!

Gain 1x Silver Ability Gacha Ticket

 

[Millangrimme]

The lower half of Dumb's body is hanging in the ceiling. His legs tied on the piece of string that looks like the kind my dad hangs our dry-age ham with, and his genitals, which I lovingly and easily ripped off the rest of his body, is now laying on top of Dumber's corpse.

His upper half, meanwhile, is still very much alive. Barely, but still alive. He keeps casting some kind of necromantic spell that allows him to survive blood loss and trauma and all that shit. Fucking dark wizards, hoarding all the cool shit all to themselves.

I exhale. It's so easy to do maniacal, psychotic shit when you have Venom in you. I mean, I'm no saint in my past life, but ripping people in half? Jesus, not even my army buddies can do that in their worst days. I guess, Frenzy and Venom is a potent combination not only to my hysterical strength but to my hysterical psyche, too.

Shit. Once the vial potency wears off, I might experience some kind of withdrawal. Fuck it, I'll let Elite Discipline and that four weeks of mandatory CBT I had handle that shit.

Instead I focused on that silver ticket. Roll.

Rolling… 1x Ability Silver Ticket

[Elemental Sight]

|Uncommon Ability|

Allows attunement to Elemental Forces and energy. Feel the air, see the heat, hear the lightning, taste the earth. You can see all Fire, Water, Air, Earth and Water in your line of sight by peeking through everything else in the world. Even extends to the electricity in someone's brain, the particles of water flowing through their blood, the electricity in cable etc. magically charged elements appear more vibrant in your vision.

Oh, well, that went well.

If I remember correctly, I have a five-minute cooldown every ability swap until I get my second slot. Since my sources of bloodlust are currently dead and broken like dolls… I swap Elemental Sight for Frenzy–OHSHIT!

I am in flames. The venom in my veins ignites my very blood, killing me so slowly that once the years have gone by… only then will I have realized the folly of my addiction. The only reason I'm not shivering and quacking from the sheer energy produced by the ignition is my Elite Discipline, the skill cooling me off with my body's natural water affinity. Did you know the human body is 75% water and that given the correct metaphysical ability, it will actively suppress any fire-based magical energy. This means shit to the humans and wizardkin of this world, but is absolutely working wonders for me. It means, with Elite Discipline making sure any phyisical abnormalities are limited in effect, but the poison part of the Venom poison is somehow being also elementally limited by my body. Noice!

Then I turn outwards.

I sense the magic in the air. I've been told by my parents and most people that magic is an invisible force, not anymore. It is alive and it's currently taking the form of death, decay, and rot. I look up and, through the cracked ceiling, see the numerous energy signatures on the floors above. Electrical synapses outlining body parts as it moves through the house, magical essence from what I gather to be wands and staves and magical constructs continuously announces itself through rapid beats of fire and lightning–Dragon core wands by my guess, so I'm in the home of European wizards.

Well, easy guess since Dumb here sounds like my ex who grew up in Liverpool. No offense to the lads there, just fuck her. Damn it, I hate that witch.

Shit. Where was I? Oh, yes. I hop forward, using the monstrous form given by the Venom to limberly grab the bannister of the wooden stairs and climb forward until I reach the door to the ground floor. I place my ear beside, letting my enhanced senses and the Elemental sight to give me a surprisingly accurate depiction of what is going on behind the door.

Two spellcasters on the ground floor, one more above, and one inside of a room with a normal person in it. I can identify the magical people from the muggles based on how vibrant they are and, like me, the other person in that single room seems to inherently reject the invisible magical properties of the world.

Damn, maybe another Squib? I should probably save her. Decent thing to do, at least.

I don't wait for any of the two ground floor spellcasters to go near me, immediately bursting through the wooden door like the Kool-aid man. The nearest spellcaster is in the living room, his brain activity going haywire the moment I made the loud noise. I barrel through the cobwebbed hallways, hunched on my back and clawing the walls to guide my body away from tearing through the dividers.

My face is the first thing the wizard sees, just a mean-looking pasty face of a young man that smiles through the neon-green veins pounding on his skin. He seems better than Dumb and Dumber by virtue of actually going for his wand instead of mouthing me off, only his fear takes him before his sense of self-preservation.

"Boo!"

He screams as he fumbles on his wand. The dark wizard stupidly looks down, only to find my foot aiming for his head. It feels like kicking a hard boiled egg, even the skull feels particularly flimsy like an overdone eggshell. Brain matter, blood, and pieces of his flesh paint the ceiling, just as the rest of his body falls to the floor.

I forget. For all their power and magical instruments, wizards are a squishy bunch. That's why I always aim for an Eldritch Knight or a variation thereof, sword and sorcery for the fucking win.

"AVADA–"

A surge of earth and lightning gathers from the air and is vacuumed behind me. My body moves faster than my mind does as I leap from standing position and like a nubile and very agile gymnast, bends my legs so that the Killing Curse doesn't stick to any part of my body.

"–KADAVRA"

The green flash of spell light passes by me as I claw onto the gore-filled ceiling, smashing into the fireplace and disintegrating the whole log into smoke and soot.

I look up? Down? I look at the wizard who had cast the spell, his eyes briefly looking at the corpse of his friend before into mine as I plant my feet into the ceiling with only the strength of my hands and that of the concrete–whoa!

"AVADA–"

The concrete, old and rotten by dark magic as it is, completely gives up on me as another spell misses me by inches, instead hitting where I used to be. I fall to the ground, landing on the other dark wizard's body as it lets out this pathetic squish. I do that martial arts jump that makes me land on my feet, but my enhanced strength just pushes me into the air. Luckily, the fall billows out a cloud of dust and ash that hides my body.

"WHERE ARE YOU!? Avada–" the wizard shouts as I loudly land on my feet. A burst of another sickly green spelllight whizz past my body. "Show yourself!"

I can see the other two spellcasters making their way downwards through the Elemental Sight, so I rush forward in a bid to finish him off. My monstrous body must have been quite a sight when I barrel out of the smoke cloud as he screams and takes a step back, his wand finding a hard time to aim at me.

Still. "AVADA–"

He doesn't get to finish his spell because I've already broken his wand, the resulting cancellation of magical energy pushing both of us back. Well, he does. He flies out of the room and smashes into the wooden partition. That wave of magic meets my muscles and ekes out a pathetic win, making me tilt back an inch.

The wizards clearly want to take a second to clear the mess of wood panel and dirt, but I don't. I grab his head within my palms and I look him up, his eyes swimming in fear and so is his pants.

"You're my meatshield now." I say as I twist his neck, killing him with a snap of his spine. "Now, who else is next?"

"Petrificus Totalus!" Another wizard joins the sausage fest with an ashen-gray bang, hitting the corpse when I use him as a shield. I spy him hiding behind the bend of the second-floor staircase, his wand near his nose in a duelling position. Oh, the little git has class, huh?

"Is that all you got, cabron?" I don't know why I'm speaking Spanish, but fuck it, man, it works.

The wizard tries to cast another spell at me as I stand in the center of the hallway, only to flee in terror when his friend's corpse comes flying his way. He recoils in his cover, letting the corpse sail by and into the kitchen door. When he looks back again, I am already there. Smiling and waving at him like he's an old friend from childhood.

"Boo!"

He cries out this primal scream and instead of casting another spell, actually tries to stab me with his wand. The wand bounces off my pecs and I slam him into the wall, spreading his head across the concrete like a pastry.

Three down. One to go.

The last spell–you know what, I've already killed five wizards. I doubt these dark magic pricks will do a smurfette and actually recruit a dark witch. No, I bet you that's another guy hiding inside of the room on the… third? Yes, the third floor of the house.

I look at the squished out head of the wizard beside me with a sigh, "Haven't you guys heard of diversity? I mean, c'mon, I know it's the 40's but this is a total sausage fest. At least, hire a brown dark wizard or something."

Anyway, the last wizard is in the attic of this dusty-ass house, nervous enough that his outline is sparking like a firework on a Chinese New Year. Is that racist? Fuck, it might be.

I sigh as I look at the stairs leading up to a closed attic, where the last wizard is pointing his wand at the blocked entrance like a dickhead. Coward.

I put a hand on my chin, thinking about how to do this without my soul severing away from my body–Oh, silly me. I laugh as I stand directly below where the wizard is, my body so large that I actually have to bend my head just so I could fit. This house is for fucking hobbits, I tell you.

I bend my knees and then, with all the force I can muster, leap upwards and smash my left hand through the attic ceiling. I quickly find the wizard's leg because of the blood jumping inside of his body–fear reaction, I think–and pull him down just as I land.

His bones break when he goes through that hole I made, legs bending at an unnatural angle, his torso cracks the hole wide but doesn't fully go through. I actually have to pull at him again, just so the crack gives way to a bruised and broken body of a clearly dead wizard.

Why is he… Oh, one of the wood panels cracked in half and pierced his throat through his forehead. That is grim. Wow.

Oh, well.

Feat Achieved! Massacre a whole Dark Wizard Den in under an hour–talk about a sausage fest, am I right?

1x Gold Ability Gacha Ticket

Damn it. The mysterious chaotic entity is ripping off of me now.

I roll my eyes and jump up into the whole I created, ripping a new one open when my large form barely fits through the original one. My enhanced eyesight doesn't give me a darkvision, but the ethereal bulbs of magical energy given to me by Elemental Sight does. With it, I search for the muggle or squib that got kidnapped alongside–

"St-stay back!" A child's voice echoes out from behind me.

I look back and the magical energy coalesces into fairy lights for the little blonde girl on the corner of the room. Her lithe figure trembles under my gaze betraying the brave facade she's putting on her dirtied face. She looks so little and cute, like my ex's cousins, that it tugs my heart to see her this way. That or the Venom is cannibalizing my literal heart.

"No need to fear me, mi hermanita." I coo, lending out a hand as I crawl closer to her. "My name is Sebastian Squidd, I'm a… I'm here to save you."

She squeaks when I come too close, so I step back. She gives me a look over with one eye and says, "Y-you don't look like a squid?"

I giggle, though with the Venom in my body it sounds more like the rev of a V8 engine. "Yeah, my younger brother got the fish genes in the family. All I got is the muscles and the big head."

Have you ever heard a little girl giggle at your stupid joke? Well, that shit tastes better than Venom, man. Her whole posture collapses once she sees that I'm not a danger to her, her hand reaching out to me. I take it, gently, as I give her a soft smile.

"Well, I gave you my name, love." I whisper, gently grabbing her other hand so she can stand up on her own, though struggling as it is. "May I know yours?"

"E-euphemia…"

I smile, "Euphemia? That is a beautiful name, Euphemia. Can I carry you? It'll be much easier on us."

She nods and I princess-carry her with a single swipe of my bulging forearm. She squeaks again and by that point I can't help but laugh at how cute she is. She pouts, "That's not nice, to laugh, at me."

I bite my lips, "Sorry, sorry. Come on. Let's get out of here, Euphemia. Do you have a last name?"

She nods vigorously, though that dizzies her. "I do. Euphemia Ragwalt. I live at–"

Her next words become irrelevant to me as I hear that familiar ding.

Feat Achieved! Meet the maybe-Chosen One's grandmother before his birth–Talk about breaking prophecies, am I right? Wink!

1x Silver Random Gacha Ticket

Oh, fuck.