Becoming the Dark Lord

Luke stood atop a stone structure, the cold afternoon wind cutting across his face. From up there, he could see them clearly: assassins spreading across the rooftops, forming a perfect ring around him. He was surrounded.

If he tried to escape over the rooftops, they would close in from every side. If he dropped into the streets, he’d be nothing more than a target for the archers and mages waiting below. And worse, he knew the Bastion soldiers would be arriving soon. Kruger was nowhere to be seen. Which meant only one thing: he was watching. Waiting for the exact moment to strike.

The situation should have felt hopeless. And yet… Luke didn’t feel pressed. Quite the opposite. Inside him, something absurd blossomed, a strange thrill, a sharp edge of happiness. The kind of exhilaration that only comes when facing an impossible challenge.

So he jumped. Chains whistled through the air, arrows streaked toward his body. At the last instant, Luke let himself dissolve, his form unraveling into mist. He poured through the cracks of a shattered window, reforming inside the building. By the time his boots touched the floor, he was already sprinting.

Behind him, glass exploded into shards. Bolts and arrows tore through walls, a fireball roared down the corridor, demolishing half of it. But Luke was already gone, that wild grin of battle carved into his face. Narrow hallways. Broken walls. Abandoned rooms. He moved like a predator in full hunt, his mind racing through possibilities.

Close-range assassins. Mid-range assassins. Maybe even long-range. And at least one mage.

He wasn’t about to fight them on the ground they chose. Not the rooftops. Not the streets. His hunt would be inside the buildings. Footsteps thundered behind him. Assassins dove through the windows in pursuit, wolves chasing him into the same den.

“Keep running, little rat!” one of them taunted.

For some reason, the insult drew a low laugh from Luke. He sprinted, yanking an arrow from his quiver and clamping it between his teeth. He had almost triggered his epic skill when the assassins first surrounded him, but canceled at the last second. He didn’t want to reveal that trump card yet, and besides, they were still too spread out. Luke wanted them as close together as possible.

He vaulted through another window, landing hard in the ruined husk of a neighboring building. Half-finished, walls broken, floors crumbling, perfect for an ambush. Throwing knives whistled toward him. Luke hit the ground in a slide, blades slicing the air inches above. He dashed forward, propelling himself down the corridor.

An assassin stepped from the corner, dagger raised to strike, only to find the hall empty. From a jagged hole in the wall, a wave of mist slipped out. Luke emerged behind him, kukri in hand. The blade opened the man’s throat in a clean sweep. He collapsed, gurgling blood.

[You have slain a Human…]

[+1 Soul Fragment acquired]

More footsteps thundered closer. Luke spat the arrow from his mouth into his hand, pulled his bow from the inventory, and swung around the corner. Another assassin appeared. The arrow was already flying. It pierced his eye and drove through the brain. The man staggered two steps, then fell lifeless at Luke’s feet.

[You have slain a Human…]

[+1 Soul Fragment acquired]

Luke pressed his back to the wall near a window, breathing steady. He risked a glance outside. More assassins were sprinting, fanning out to encircle the building.

“Where is he?!” one shouted.

Luke’s smile widened. And then he triggered his epic skill.

[Acid Blood Arrow (Epic)]: The Guardian Botanist sacrifices 100 HP to fuse the essence of [Dark Blood] with the [Corrupted Blood of Mother Freya]. From this unholy fusion, a [Rare]-tier arrow is formed, its shaft conjured from high-grade enchanted wood grown out of his own corrupted plant powers. Upon impact, the arrow releases a cloud of acidic mist that corrodes everything within its range. The cloud remains for some time, dealing continuous damage to all enemies who stay inside. Those who dare to challenge nature soon learn the price of defying its guardian.

The arrow began to take shape in his hand. A green glow flared, born from his Plant Growth skill, rising from his palm like a seed swelling with unnatural life. Then, streaks of crimson bled from his pores, weaving into the structure, hardening into dark wood that pulsed like it was alive. Dark Blood seeped out of him, staining the shaft until it was almost black.

At the back, fresh green leaves sprouted where the fletching should be, only to wither instantly, curling into dark, feather-like forms. The tip emerged last, honed by Thorn Mutation, wood sharpened into a deadly point as hard as iron. First red, then swallowed by a black so deep it looked bottomless.

Luke stared at it, fascinated. All of my plant powers… they all came together to forge this.

Three assassins sprinted across a nearby rooftop. Luke exhaled slowly, feeling the otherworldly weight of the arrow. It was cold, uneven, as if something alive squirmed inside it. The bowstring groaned under the draw, and for a heartbeat the entire world seemed to hold still.

The arrow hissed through the air, biting into the rooftop. A sharp crack followed, then a muffled whoosh, like a furnace door being flung open. From the split wood, a dense green cloud erupted, thick, heavy, crawling outward like a predator set loose.

The stench hit before the screams did. A caustic reek of burning metal and cooking flesh. The assassins vanished inside the veil, first coughing, then shrieking, their cries breaking into wet, choking gargles. One staggered out, his face sliding into ruin, flesh dripping like melted wax. Another clawed at his throat, eyes streaming as his skin sizzled.

Luke watched for only a second, long enough to etch it into memory. Then he drew a normal arrow, loosed, and the shaft buried itself in a man’s skull, silencing him with a sharp crack.

[You have slain a Human…]

[+1 Soul Fragment acquired]

He vaulted through the next window, activating Spider Jump. His body shot upward, cloak unfurling into leathery bat wings that carried him to another rooftop. He landed in stride, already running. 𝑓𝑟ℯℴ𝓂

Behind him, the green fog thickened in the abandoned building, swallowing the screams. From the haze, one assassin staggered free, spitting blood, skin shredded raw.

“YOU BASTARD!” he roared, voice ragged with hate.

But Luke was already gone, forming another blood arrow. This time he poured in mana and stamina, feeding the weapon until it throbbed in his grip. The strain was brutal, the wood cracked, glowing fissures spreading down its length, white light pulsing through them.

He drew a deep breath. Now.

Spinning midair, he bent the bow to its limit, muscles coiled, body arched. He loosed. The arrow ripped forward like a bolt of lightning. The assassins below saw it coming, scattering instinctively. Luke’s smile cut across his face as the mana inside detonated. The blast rattled rooftops, shattering tiles and rattling glass. Then the second acid cloud unfurled, thicker and heavier, a rolling green tide that cascaded down and devoured everything in its path. The street drowned in screams, convulsing coughs, skin sizzling under the corrosive haze.

[You have slain a Human…]

[+1 Soul Fragment acquired]

[You have slain a Human…]

[+1 Soul Fragment acquired]

Still midair, Luke nocked and released another arrow. It punched through the chest of a crawling assassin, pinning him to the cobblestones.

[You have slain a Human…]

[+1 Soul Fragment acquired]

He allowed no pause. Another acid arrow bloomed in his hand, drawn, fired. Mid-flight, he gave the command.

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Release!

The projectile obeyed, bursting apart before it struck, scattering its venomous fog across the struggling survivors.

[You have slain a Human…]

[+1 Soul Fragment acquired]

[You have slain a Human…]

[+1 Soul Fragment acquired]

[You have slain a Human…]

[+1 Soul Fragment acquired]

Luke ran. He only glanced back once, just long enough to see a body collapse, skin peeling away in slabs under the acid’s bite. He had needed to test it here, in the middle of chaos, and now he understood. The arrow obeyed because it wasn’t only magic. It was plant.

Botanical Bond of Mother Freya… The thought hit him between ragged breaths.

The arrow listened to him because it was alive, bound to him. Which meant he could detonate the acid cloud whenever he wanted, long before impact. A grin carved its way across his face, even as he sprinted. “Yeah… I like this skill.”

He began to summon another blood arrow. The green glow bloomed in his hand, then bled crimson, sinking into black. And then everything went wrong. Agony detonated in his chest. A violent cough tore through him, forcing the spell to collapse. His heart thundered like it was trying to claw its way out of his ribs.

He staggered, breath ragged, realization cutting fast and cold. The Dark Blood dwelled in his heart. Ripping pieces of it free to shape an arrow wasn’t just draining energy, it was tearing at the organ itself. Each shot carved away not just mana, but life.

He swallowed the pain, dismissed the bow into his inventory, and vaulted onto the nearest rooftop. No chance to breathe. A storm of bolts screamed toward him. Luke rolled, barely slipping past death. One skewered his thigh, tearing through flesh. He grit his teeth, yanking the shaft free, blood hot against his leg.

And then Kruger appeared. The Phantom Assassin materialized mid-stride, teleport spitting him out in a rush straight at Luke.

Kukris flashed up to meet the assault, only for Kruger’s blades to erupt in blinding white light. Luke reeled, vision seared, his cheek burned raw as steel grazed him. He retreated fast.

Another shadow moved. A second assassin, this one brandishing a dagger wreathed in fire. Two against one.

“Nice little trick with the bow,” Kruger sneered behind the skull mask. He slid his daggers back into his inventory, drawing the crossbow from his hip.

Beside him, the fire-wielder lifted a hand. Flames coiled in his palm.

“Use that green cloud again,” the man hissed, “and you’ll burn with the rest of us.”

Kruger lunged. Luke’s body screamed warning. His heart throbbed violently, every pulse a blade through his chest. No chance to conjure another blood arrow. Kruger charged in a straight line, crossbow leveled. The fire assassin hurled spell after spell, streaks of flame bursting overhead. Luke rolled through the detonations, the heat singeing hair from his brow.

He threw a kukri at the fire mage, too fast, too clean, but the man slipped aside with ease. And then the bolts came. Kruger fired like a revolver gone mad.

One. Two. Three. Luke’s instincts carried him, body twisting, steps snapping tight arcs around the alley. Four. Five. Six.

The seventh bolt cut the air past his shoulder. Then Kruger lowered the weapon, calm, composed.

Luke’s eyes widened. Seven shots. That’s his limit.

He surged forward, weaving through fireballs like a phantom, ready to carve Kruger open. But the assassin raised the crossbow again.

“What—?”

The eighth shot slammed into him, driving through his guard, tearing into flesh. Pain exploded, but Luke forced his body to keep moving, heart hammering.

“So the limit’s eight,” he snarled through clenched teeth.

Kruger laughed, the sound sharp and merciless. “And you walked right into it, like the idiot you are.”

A surge of fire struck Luke’s back, followed by a roaring fireball. He grabbed Kruger, and both were swallowed in the explosion. When the smoke cleared, the Phantom Assassin stood tall, twin daggers gleaming in his hands. He lunged, strikes sharp and merciless. Luke caught them with his kukris but was slammed backward by a brutal kick.

In the same motion, Luke hurled one kukri at the fire assassin. The man dodged with ease. Another blade spun toward Kruger, who charged forward. He barely had time to react, covering himself with his cloak. The kukri bounced off as if it had struck a fortress wall.

The cloak snapped closed. When it opened again, Kruger was already holding his crossbow. A volley erupted. Luke sprinted in a zigzag, weaving between bolts. Chaos filled the alley, and in that chaos, he made his move. The fire assassin stepped into range. Luke raised his hand.

[Magnetic Return activated]

The kukri snapped off the ground like lightning, burying itself deep into the man’s leg. The scream was sharp and raw. Luke’s bow materialized with a snap. An arrow flew before the enemy could recover, piercing his chest clean through.

[You have slain a Human…]

[+1 Soul Fragment acquired]

He turned to Kruger. Both froze for a heartbeat, weapons raised. Luke with his bow, Kruger with his crossbow. In one fluid motion, they aimed and fired at the same time. The arrow hissed through the air. The bolt whistled back at equal speed. Both men charged.

Luke counted each shot. Fifth. Sixth. Seventh. Eighth.

The crossbow went silent. A grin split his face. “Now it’s my turn.”

The arrow drove into Kruger’s leg. The assassin shouted, staggering back.

“HELL YEAH! FUCK CROSSBOWS!” Artemis said.

Luke pressed the advantage, arrows flying in rapid succession. But Kruger deflected every one with his daggers, steel flashing like a wall of sparks. Then, suddenly, he was gone. He reappeared in another spot. Then vanished again. Each time closer, closing the distance in blinks of distorted space. In a flash, he appeared at Luke’s flank. Luke rolled, swinging the bow to block, but Kruger’s blade snapped the string in a single slash.

“Ha!” The laugh was sharp, echoing behind the skull mask.

Luke clicked his tongue, dismissing the bow.

“Looks like your advantage is gone,” Kruger taunted.

Kukris reappeared in Luke’s grip. The duel reignited, steel on steel, each clash louder than the last. Luke unleashed his Demonic Blade Dance. His movements flowed like liquid death, every strike seamless, precise. Yet Kruger matched him blow for blow, his daggers moving with unnerving accuracy.

Then the blades began to glow. Light burst from them, stabbing at Luke’s eyes like searchlights in the dark. He shut his eyes tight, trusting only his perception. But something was wrong. Sometimes Kruger vanished from his senses entirely, then reappeared late, just off-beat. It wasn’t normal. Some kind of skill. One that scrambled his perception field, warping his ability to track.

A blade grazed Luke’s chest, another sliced shallow across his arm. He staggered back, every parry costing him another line of pain carved into his flesh. He tried to trigger Predator’s Mark, but it unraveled each time. Kruger was stripping it away. The bastard understood mana too well.

With no choice, Luke forced stamina into his muscles and charged head-on, brute force over finesse. His arm burned like it was being split apart, the pain surging back in a violent pulse. The limb went heavy, sluggish, almost useless.

He swung a kick, but his leg buckled under him, dropping him to the ground. He rolled, scrambling to rise again.

“You feel it!” Kruger’s laugh cracked through the haze of battle.

Luke rushed forward, but a savage kick slammed into his stomach, hurling him back across the stone. He tried to stand, but his leg seized, stiff and unresponsive.

Kruger’s laughter was sharp and cruel. “Every time I hit you, bolt or blade, I’ve poisoned you.”

Luke ripped a bolt from his abdomen, blood trailing in a slick arc.

“And it’s not just any poison,” Kruger continued, voice almost gleeful. “It’s a high-grade neurotoxin. I knew you wouldn’t fold to a standard dose. So consider yourself honored. I’m using my strongest mix.”

Luke’s body grew heavier, blood thick in his veins like molten lead. His breath came shorter, lungs refusing to obey in steady rhythm.

He focused, analyzing the effects. His blood granted resistance, borderline immunity. But the Acid Blood Arrow had eaten into that strength, hollowed it out. And the stabbing ache in his chest… the price of drawing blood straight from his own heart to forge those arrows.

Kruger reloaded in a blur of motion. The shot came fast. Luke twisted, but his poisoned muscles dragged behind his will. A bolt drove into his back. He turned with effort, blades raised, but Kruger was gone. Teleported. Another impact in his back. Another quarrel buried deep. Another blink of teleportation. The rhythm accelerated. Too fast. Almost impossible to read.

Luke staggered, body peppered with bolts. His muscles screamed, vision swam. The venom chewed through him, nerve by nerve, breath by breath. Then a blade pierced from behind, raking across him. His knees buckled. The leg seized entirely, locking him in place.

“Doing my job is exhausting,” Kruger’s voice coiled near his ear, intimate and mocking, “but gods, it’s fun.”

Luke collapsed, gasping as his lungs stiffened like stone. He toppled to the ground.

“I should let some other idiot finish you off,” Kruger muttered, approaching. “Would make for a good show of unity, all that political garbage. But honestly? You’re already dying to this much venom. So I’ll take the pleasure myself.”

He raised the blade. And then, something sliced the air with a deadly whistle.