I'm fifteen years old, and it never ceases to amaze me just how much I've changed. From an ordinary man, I've become a 3.98-meter-tall behemoth of an orc, about to massacre an entire tribe. Yeah, I've done a lot of growing up in the last twelve years—not just physically, but in character, too.
It all began when I realized how powerful my cheat really was. Fictional Mimicry doesn't discriminate—it copies abilities from any fictional character, no matter their scale of power. In theory, I could even create an omnipotent being right now and copy their powers, if I so desired. But that's the thing—I don't want that. While cheating might be fun in a game, it quickly becomes boring after a while. Becoming omnipotent? Sure, I'd have infinite power, but what's the point? Where's the challenge in that? I chose to enjoy this new life, not overshadow it with effortless superiority.
But just because I wanted to live fully, that didn't mean I wasn't going to make the most of my situation. At three years old, I decided to run an experiment. I wasn't like the others, born into this world and relying only on the brute force of the Horde. No, I had a cheat code, and I intended to use it.
The first thing I thought about was One Piece—a world full of fascinating characters and abilities. Out of all of them, there was one that caught my attention the most: Big Mom. She was a force to be reckoned with, even as a child. Despite her size, she could fight and kill adult giants—one of the most physically powerful races in the world. And so, I copied her adult strength. Not bad for a three-year-old.
But strength alone didn't interest me. I was drawn to legends, to the warriors who pushed their bodies and minds to the edge. One such legend was Gol D. Roger. Even when sick, with his body deteriorating, he still kept pace with the mighty Garp at the height of his prime. The sheer tenacity and willpower he displayed intrigued me, so I copied his abilities as well, channeling his raw strength and unyielding spirit into my own form.
Since then, I've only gotten stronger. My body has been reshaped by the combination of their powers, and it's made me faster, tougher, and more durable than any orc in this Horde. Not that I would say that out loud, of course. The others have begun to notice, though. They can see how different I am. Not just in terms of raw power, but in how I carry myself. My confidence is unmatched, but I'm not going to boast about being the strongest. It's not about being the strongest—it's about being the most effective.
I didn't stop there. I wanted more, something beyond even the incredible might of Big Mom or Gol D. Roger. That's when I decided to mimic Saitama. After witnessing his battle against Cosmic Fear Garou, I realized that power isn't just about strength—it's about breaking the limits of what's possible. There was a moment when I felt something inside me snap, something that reshaped my understanding of combat, of power. I didn't give it much thought at the time, but the changes were undeniable. My speed, my reflexes, my strength—it all surged after that. And now, here I am, standing on the edge of another battle.
The Horde, as we call ourselves, thrives on swarming tactics, overwhelming foes with numbers and sheer brute force. That's the way of the orc warriors. But me? I don't need to rely on numbers. I've been stepping far beyond the expectations of my people. And now, they watch as I prepare to face an entire goblin tribe on my own.
I brought my focus back to the task at hand. Today, I wasn't just a child anymore. I was a warrior. A force to be reckoned with. And this goblin tribe would soon learn that the Horde wasn't the only thing capable of wiping out enemies with ruthless efficiency.
I arrived at the outskirts of the goblin tribe's territory just as the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a blood-red hue over the land. The air was thick with the smell of damp earth and decay—nature's own way of warning me that this was no place for the faint of heart.
But that was exactly why I was here. I was going to show these goblins that no amount of cunning or numbers could stand against the overwhelming power I now possessed. Their entire existence was about to be erased in the blink of an eye.
I stood there for a moment, taking in the scenery—the forest stretching out before me, the trees whispering in the wind, the animals going about their usual business. All of it was just waiting for me to get started. In my mind, I was already thinking about how to make it spectacular. Maybe a dramatic speech? No, too cliché. Too flashy. I didn't need that.
No, the goblins would learn about me the old-fashioned way: with a single swing of my sword.
I gripped my blade tightly, the weight of it almost comforting in my hands. It had been a while since I felt the thrill of simply cutting through the air with a weapon of this caliber. I cracked my knuckles and took a deep breath, letting the power flow through me. I was no longer the awkward child with a cheat code for life. I was a force of nature now.
With a smirk, I raised my sword high.
One swing.
That's all it would take.
I swung the sword downward, moving it through the air like I was cutting through butter. The sound was almost comical—a slight whoosh as the blade cut through the atmosphere. But what followed was anything but funny.
The earth trembled. The trees seemed to shudder in anticipation. And then—
BOOM.
The impact was nothing short of apocalyptic. A shockwave rippled outward from where my sword struck the ground, and in its wake, the very fabric of the environment began to unravel. The trees didn't just fall—they exploded into dust and splinters, as if they had never even existed. The ground cracked open in vast, jagged chasms, swallowing everything in its path—rocks, dirt, animals, the very air itself.
And the animals? Oh, they didn't just scatter or flee in fear. They were sent flying like ragdolls, their screams cut short in an instant. Birds were reduced to splinters of flesh, insects turned into little smears on the ground. The once-lush ecosystem was being erased in real-time, as though someone had just pressed "delete" on the entire planet.
I felt a strange sense of satisfaction as I watched the devastation unfold, but there was something oddly anticlimactic about it. After all, everything I had just destroyed was... well, it was just there. There was no struggle, no defiance. It was almost too easy.
I glanced over my shoulder, just for the hell of it. Some goblin scouts had been watching from a distance, no doubt hoping to ambush me when I wasn't looking. They'd picked the wrong day to be clever. They were now about as useful as a broken pencil. The shockwave had sent them flying, too—flailing through the air like comical ragdolls before slamming into the remnants of the forest. It was almost too easy.
I sighed, wiping the blade clean as I stood in the center of the devastation, the sounds of destruction echoing in every direction.
"Well, that was… dramatic," I muttered to myself, staring at the vast, barren wasteland I had just created. "Guess the goblins won't be needing their eco-friendly lifestyle anymore."
And as the last remnants of the ecosystem fell silent, I turned and started walking toward what remained of the goblin's stronghold. It was probably in ruins by now, but I figured I'd take a look anyway—just to make sure there were no survivors. Maybe there were a couple goblins left hiding in caves, thinking they could escape my wrath.
Foolish.
If they survived this, I'd be genuinely impressed. But I wasn't here for that. I was here to clean up a job. And with that, I was already moving forward. The rest of the world? They were just lucky I wasn't in the mood for wiping them out today.
I made sure to comb through the area, searching for any signs that might suggest a goblin had somehow survived—perhaps hidden in a cave or burrow deep in the earth. But no matter how deep I dug the already deep crater or how far I scoured, nothing remained. It was as if the land itself had been flattened under an unseen hand. The goblins were gone.
With a final glance at the barren wasteland I had created, I nodded to myself, satisfied with the results. The task was complete, and there were no more loose ends to tie up. No survivors to worry about. With a grunt, I turned and began heading back to my clan's stronghold.
The path was a familiar one, but the weight of the silence around me felt... oddly oppressive. The once-lush forests were now silent. Fallen trees littered the forest from the shockwave of my swing and among them carcasses of animals that were unable to withstand the force. Suffice to say, this forest, having lost three quarters of itself would soon die away, adding to the already huge wasteland.
.........
Hours later, after he had returned and began mingling with the clan, a strange rumble shook the air. It wasn't thunder. It wasn't the wind. It was a vibration that seemed to pulse from the very core of the earth itself. A magician, no doubt. No one else would be so reckless as to investigate the aftermath of something like this.
The magician arrived shortly after, his robe flapping in the wind as he moved toward the epicenter of the destruction. He had been in the vicinity, no doubt, feeling the seismic tremor he had left behind with his little "exercise." The moment his boots touched the ground near the wasteland, he froze.
The air was still. The eerie quiet was only broken by the occasional creak of broken trees and the faint sound of earth settling, as if the world itself was mourning. Looking all around, his brain was still trying to catch up to the image he was seeing!
He stood there, unmoving, staring in disbelief at the devastation. His mouth moved, but no words came out. His eyes darted to the horizon, where the remains of the once-vibrant forest lay in tatters. The ground was cracked and pocked, large fissures running through the landscape like a spider's web. No trees, no foliage, just miles of shattered earth.
The magician took a hesitant step forward, his wide eyes scanning the area. There was no sign of life—no birds chirping, no creatures crawling from the underbrush. Not even a single blade of grass had survived the destruction. It was all gone. A wasteland.
His breath hitched as he stumbled forward, eyes wide and hands trembling as he reached out, as though the very act of touching the remains might reverse it. He whispered under his breath, words not even able to be formed properly—"No..." "Impossible..." He shook his head violently, as if denying the evidence of his own eyes.
"By the gods..." he muttered, almost as if praying for the world to rewind. "What madness has happened here?"
The magnitude of the devastation was beyond anything he had likely ever witnessed. The destruction was so absolute, so complete, that even the most seasoned of magicians would be hard-pressed to fathom it. The fact that he could not even sense an iota of mana in the air showed that what had caused this had not used any spell!
After a moment, the magician's hands gripped his head as if in disbelief. "This level of destruction... no one should possess this kind of power. This is unnatural."
He turned slowly, scanning the remains of the goblin tribe's once-thriving settlement, his gaze falling on the massive holes in the earth and the scorched remnants of their homes. The air was thick with the stench of burned wood, animals, and whatever had once lived here.
He had come over as fast as he could after an earthquake almost destoryed the city he protects. A few people had died in the aftermath and he had come over to investigate the cause, probably deal with the goblins that lived here on his way too. But, nothing was here!
"Who did this?" he gasped, his voice cracking in horror.
He turned, his eyes scanning the area frantically, hoping for some sign that maybe, just maybe, it was some kind of accident. But it was no accident. It was methodical. There was no mercy here.
The magician's expression twisted, his shock morphing into something else. Fear? Awe? He couldn't decide. It was clear that he wasn't just witnessing the aftermath of a battle. He was seeing the aftermath of something far darker.
"Who would do this?" he whispered again, trembling.
......
Meanwhile, back at the clan's stronghold, I had no idea the magician was having his little existential crisis in the wasteland. I had already moved on, fully content with the outcome of my task. After all, the goblins were an issue no longer. The rest of the clan would be pleased.
But somewhere out there, a magician was still struggling to comprehend what had happened, standing at the edge of a wasteland where there was nothing left to save. He would likely spend the rest of his days trying to unravel the mystery of who—or what—had wrought such destruction.
But to me, it was just another day's work.