Originally, he was not just going to leave these bodies to rot and mess up his tomb but he, the newly awakened Kain, had no idea how to use magic to dispose of them. Now that he had some breathing room, he could take his time and learn how to make use of the magic that flowed around him. First off was sensing it, if he could do that then manipulating it was going to be easier than if he could not. He was fond of the saying, ‘there are more ways of seeing than with just your eyes’ and thus Kain closed my eyes and began to attempt to reach out and make visible the energy in the air. For over thirty minutes he meditated and slowly gained more clarity. Eventually, he could feel what felt like eddies and currents of a viscous and yet intangible wind flowing around and through him.

Kain's senses were slowly growing more accustomed to the subtle changes in the flow of the winds of magic and with a bit of effort, he was able to create a siphon-like effect within him that passively drew the flowing currents of natural magic into him. No matter how much magical energy flooded into him, I felt like there was always room for more. His body, or to be precise, his Mana Pool, was a limitless well that he could draw from to create any spell he needed even if it broke the original rules of how magic spells worked. Soon he could pull out quite a lot more than a normal mage could, as long as he put the equivalent amount of mana in. Thus, to make sure that he would not be caught in a bind, Kain spent another half hour cramming as much mana into his body as he could. After the hour of cramming and learning how to sense and absorb mana was over, Kain spent another half hour trying to create a spell.

He discovered that simply saying the name of the spell wouldn’t work, rather an image had to be formed mentally and then the equivalent amount of mana needed for the desired effect had to be offered which allowed a spell to be used even without saying its name if done correctly. This meant that the process of using magic was not a perfect exchange, more effort had to be put into making and using a spell than procuring the mana for said spell. You COULD create a fireball the size of a soccer ball and send it flying towards your foe, but the average person would need to continuously gather man for over ten minutes beforehand. For him, though? Well, the rules only apply to those weak enough to be bound by them, and even though he wasn't at his peak, he was still powerful enough to pull a Seto Kaiba and screw the rules.

Thus, for all but the freaks and monsters of the world, using magic was a very time-intensive process that made its user incredibly vulnerable as to procure mana one would have to enter a trance-like state where you were unaware of your surroundings. This was in addition to the conversion ratio of mana to spell effectiveness being roughly 3-1. If you made a ‘standard’ low tier magic attack, the mana required to make and launch the spell would be three times greater than the expected resulting range and destructive potential of the spell combined. You could change either the range or intensity of the spell to increase range or intensity at the cost to the other, but to increase one and not decrease the other or to increase both would require much more mana than normal.

But once again, Kain and those like him could tell the rules and norms to go fuck themselves. Talk about 'Power Overwhelming'...

…

Kain was getting the hang of using magic but felt that he was woefully underpowered for what was supposed to be an exceedingly overpowered being. Sure, his spells were very potent and were probably more powerful than most others, but Kain was supposed to be able to destroy cities with a snap of his fingers, but such a thing was quite far off from what he could do right now. Maybe with a few more weeks, he might be able to do some pretty nasty things, but right now he felt like he was just a very powerful and very tall human. As much as he wanted to continue to try and figure out things, the smells from the broken bodies of the dead bandits were terrible, so he decided to incinerate them so that they wouldn’t stink so bad. Kain neglected to remember that burning human flesh was supposed one of the worst smells in the world. Clenching his nose shut and breathing through his mouth he fled from the human barbecue that was going on in his tomb and made his way through winding corridors until he reached the light of day.

Only to find himself in a full-blown bandit camp.

The original smell was no longer able to bother him, and he needed his hands, so he released his nose and unconsciously caught a whiff of the combination of body odor, fecal matter, and other nasty things. Kain suppressed his urge to gag and vomit and made ready to fight his way out of the camp. Surprisingly, there was no one to stop him from leaving. He assumed the rest of the bandits were out on a raid and the ones he had knocked off a short while ago were the leaders who had the privilege of staying back at camp while the grunts did the dirty work.

However, just because there was no one else here did not mean that he was simply going to leave. No, he would not only take everything of any value he could find but also burn this whole place to the ground. He spent an hour looting the brigand’s encampment for anything he could use and then let off a series of Fireballs at any standing structure or tent he could see. With the camp now in flames, Kain bid a hasty retreat into the forest that surrounded the camp.

The forest was twisted and corrupted, as though something evil had remade the landscape in its image. An eternal fog covered the ground and made finding your footing a gamble. To Kain though, it was as if he could see the ground and the way in front of him as though there was nothing clouding his vision. With great leaping strides he moved elegantly through the twisting and winding woods that should have terrified the version of himself prior to his transmigration, but now just felt comforting and welcoming. Occasionally he would catch glimpses of shapes in the fog, but due to the fact the fog was nearly invisible to him, he could see they were in fact the noose-bound bodies of people both long dead and newly hung.

As Kain moved further into the corrupted woodlands the number of hanging bodies increased until nearly every tree held at least one person up by their neck. The deeper he went into the dark forest, the more intense the flow of magic became until it felt like he was inside of a category five hurricane made of mana. Even with the forceful mana storm that buffeted him, he moved deeper into the forest, surrounded by gallows trees that were both alive and dead simultaneously.

It was like Kain's body knew where it was going, even though the current will that animated it was just running aimlessly. He, now Kain, somehow knew how to navigate this death-filled forest with ease, like he had been through here a hundred thousand times. The gallows woods called him in deeper and deeper until he reached a clearing. No, clearing is not the right word. What Kain reached was the heart of the gallows forest, the ruins of a mighty city that even the forest dared not encroach upon. Memories that were not the newcomer's own flooded his mind with visions of glory and greatness, love and joy and finally of pain and loss.

This was all that remained of the once glorious capital of Kain Anathemas Nekronus von Darksol's nation.

This was all that remained of the capital city, Necrograd, the glorious crown jewel of the Darksol Empire, the nation that opposed the Forces of Light for centuries.

This was all that remained of his home... Kain's home.

To see the once majestic walls that were covered in black metal plates in piles of rubble and the city within in a state of such disrepair was like a dagger to the heart. The citadel that was in the center of the city was visibly worse for wear, even from the distance he was seeing it, which proved just how much damage this place must have taken. He walked through the ruined gatehouse and down the rubble-strewn streets, noticing that he was being watched by more and more eyes as he moved closer to the broken stronghold in the center of town.

As Kain reached the innermost area around the ruined fortress, he came across a shantytown that looked to still be inhabited. However, before he could engage in diplomacy with the inhabitants, the presences that had been watching him made themselves known. Men, women and children walked menacingly towards Kain from alleyways and other places, surrounding him while wielding a wide assortment of various makeshift weapons.

“You will not hurt the Master.” They said in a united voice, “You will surrender, and the Master will see you. Do not resist, there is no escape.”

“Who is your master?! Tell me who dares claim my rightful throne?!” He demanded in a voice that surprised even himself by how much anger it contained, but they only repeated the words they had said to him before again.

Kain decided that he had nothing better to do than play along and let his hands be tied behind his back with a rope that reeked of blood. Kain was then led into the citadel and before a bald, pale man who wore clothes that were far superior to the rags worn by the masses who had bound him. The pale man's smile gave away his true nature; he was a vampire, and he thought Kain his prey. This asshole had taken his… Kain’s throne for himself, and was sitting upon the metal and black marble seat like he was its rightful owner.

Anger and righteous indignation surged inside of him from seemingly nowhere; he would teach this insubordinate lamprey of the idiotic mistake it had made with the force only he, Kain Anathemas Nekronus von Darksol, could muster. As the vampire moved closer to Kain, time slowed to a crawl and the vampire’s movement had reduced to a snail’s pace. With a quick pull of his arms, the rope that bound Kain's hands snapped and the risen monarch delivered a heavy right hook to the smug bastard’s face which not only produced the sound of bone cracking but also sent the leech ragdolling across the room. As the vampire tumbled through the air and across the floor leaving a trail of blood and shattered teeth behind him, Kain used much less force than before to knock out the human sheep that had led him to their dark shepherd and prepared to give the usurper a personal lesson from the school of hard knocks. Kain cracked his knuckles and stretched a bit before saying a line the older, pre-transmigration version of himself thought he would never be able to use in his whole life.

“You thought you were dealing with a petty mortal, BUT IT WAS ME, KAIN!”