Becoming the Dark Lord

The first night in the fortress had passed, and the group now faced a grim reality. They would have to infiltrate Bartholomew’s stronghold, a fortress rooted deep in the heart of the first Safe Zone, guarded by a force far larger, better trained, and far more organized than anything they had.

The so-called army of Haven barely reached eighty people, while Bastion held close to four hundred within its walls. Not all were soldiers, but that hardly mattered. Bastion had years’ worth of stored healing potions, access to healers, and the kind of preparation only time and resources could buy. If they were built for anything, it was to withstand invasions. Especially after Marshall. The group knew what loomed ahead wasn’t just dangerous, it bordered on suicidal.

Rather than push the discussion further, they agreed to end it there and get some sleep. Rest was vital after the battles they had endured, and the fortress still had to be defended from Bartholomew’s inevitable scouts.

Luke chose a small, private room over the luxurious chambers upstairs. He didn’t want space, he wanted control. The smaller the quarters, the easier it was to notice if someone tried to sneak in. No one had touched the ornate noble suites; they stayed empty, gathering dust. Luke’s room had a bunk bed. He took the top while Jack slept below.

Morning came, and Luke wandered the fortress halls, his mind restless. Thoughts spun around the riddle, the next step, and the problems stacked against them.

The clearest solution was to strengthen what they already had: repair, rebuild, expand. If they could draw more survivors here, they’d have numbers, support from the common people. That could be their chance to sway part of Bartholomew’s military to their side. And the truth of the mechanism would give weight to their words.

“Defending is easier than attacking,” Luke muttered as he paced near the walls of the second fortress.

It was true, but their situation left them at a disadvantage. They didn’t have the manpower to defend properly, let alone launch an attack.

“Feels like having a fortress is harder than not having one,” he murmured to himself.

Passing by, he saw soldiers hauling lumber, others weaving nets for river fishing. From the towers above, archers scanned the treeline, ever watchful. But what was the point of activating the second mechanism if they couldn’t reach the third? He made his way back toward the fortress. Another meeting would soon take place, this time to decide how to tell everyone about the obstacle standing in their path.

That was when he saw her. A woman stood at the gates, fiery red hair catching the light, a bow strapped across her back. Cecilia. Her eyes locked with his, and Luke braced himself for hostility. Instead, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.

“Cecilia?” His voice carried surprise.

She had been one of the first to help him when he arrived at the Haven. But after the chaos in the ant nest, after Jonathan accused Luke of killing Angelica, he hadn’t spoken to her since.

Cecilia pulled back, her hands moving swiftly in the silent language: ’Thank you’.

She touched her ring, drew something from her storage, an old sheet of paper. With a fingertip glowing faintly with magic, she began to write. Luke’s throat tightened. He wasn’t sure he wanted to read what she had to say. She turned the paper toward him: ”You saved me that day. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you in return”.

Relief washed over him. Then her hand glowed again, the words fading from the page as if they had never been there. She began to write once more: ”I’m sorry I couldn’t defend you when they accused you. I was unconscious. But afterward, I told everyone you were a good person”.

“Don’t worry about it,” Luke said softly. “I’m just glad nothing worse happened to you. When I made it back to the Haven, I tried to see how you were doing, but… things happened.”

She reached for his hand. In her expression there was no judgment, no suspicion. No hostility. Cecilia leaned back over the page, her fingertip glowing as words shimmered into being: ”I never believed you killed Angelica the way Jonathan claimed. But no one would listen to me”.

Luke felt a weight he hadn’t realized he was carrying begin to ease.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “For believing me.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Her hand moved again, the letters forming clear and steady: ”Let’s get out of this place together. For everyone who died that day”.

Cecilia’s lips curved into a faint smile. It wasn’t the kind of look he usually got from survivors of the Haven. For the first time in a long while, knowing that someone from that part of his past still trusted him brought him a relief deeper than he’d expected.

***

By midday, the group gathered once more in the mechanism chamber. The heavy door was shut behind them. Around the table sat Luke, Allison, Evangeline, Mason, and Jack.

“So,” Mason began, eyes fixed on the map spread across the table, “how exactly do we tell everyone that we’ll have to go to war against Bartholomew?”

The map of Bastion was more detailed now, refined with input from Jack and Mason, both of whom had lived there, layered with the notes from their own scouting around the fortress.

“W-why am I even here?” Jack asked nervously.

“You’re useful, short stuff,” Evangeline shot back. “You know those corridors almost as well as I do. And since you heard the riddle with us, you’re in until we decide how this gets shared.”

Jack swallowed hard and nodded. “R-right.”

Allison had remained quiet until then, staring at the map. She drew in a long breath. “What are the chances we could rally some of Bastion’s soldiers to our side if we revealed the truth about the third mechanism?”

Mason tapped the map, his finger circling the chamber that held the second mechanism. “Not good. Plenty of people are loyal to Bartholomew, and more than a few would rather stay stuck in this tutorial than risk their lives chasing freedom in the castle. And don’t forget, if Bartholomew figures out he’s holding the key to getting out of here, he’ll throw every soldier he has into fortifying Bastion even further. Not to mention those lunatic assassins of his.”

“Then telling anyone is a mistake,” Allison said sharply. “No one outside this room hears a word of it. He doesn’t need to conquer this fortress anymore. All he has to do is keep guarding his own.”

She slammed a knife down onto the map, the blade stabbing into the sketch of Bastion. “Damn it.”

Allison stepped back, pacing as her thoughts turned darker. “That leaves us with only one path,” she muttered.

“An all-out invasion,” Evangeline finished for her.

Luke kept silent, weighing the possibilities.

Mason leaned forward again, his tone grim. “Even if we craft the perfect plan, there’s always the risk of a leak. We’ve got eighty people we can trust, sure, but if we bring in more from the Haven, we lose control of the information.”

He drummed his fingers on the map as he pressed on. “How do we convince people to march into war without telling them why? The moment we explain, we’ve practically handed the truth straight to Bartholomew. It will leak. Guaranteed.”

“And after a war like that, we’d lose too many valuable fighters. We wouldn’t have the strength left to face the final challenge of the tutorial,” Allison observed, her tone sharp with calculation.

Luke let out a slow breath. “There’s always another way.”

Mason and Allison both turned to him. “How?”

“The way of an assassin.”

Evangeline’s eyes flicked to his. “The way of a thief…”

They both stared down at the map.

Luke tapped his finger on the spot marking the mechanism chamber. “We don’t need to crush Bastion head-on. We just need to slip inside, reach this room, and pull the answer from the mechanism. No alarms, no guards alerted, no war. The way of a ninja.”

Evangeline’s lips curled into a thin smile. All five of them leaned over the table, their eyes drawn to the mark on the map.

“The mechanism is here, sealed off. Bartholomew had the corridors walled up, cutting direct access. But…” Evangeline traced a line across the parchment with her finger. “…I can dive into the shadows and bypass the barriers. I’d just need a small breach in the wall to slip through.”

They had a way to reach the chamber thanks to her shadow powers, but that wasn’t the real obstacle.

“Fine. How do we get you into the fortress in the first place?” Allison pressed.

“Scaling the walls and sneaking through one of the upper balconies or windows? Forget it. They’ll spot you the second you make the climb,” Mason warned.

Evangeline exhaled sharply, folding her arms.

“What about punching a hole straight through one of the outer walls? Like I did with the General,” Luke suggested.

“Those weak points are gone,” she countered flatly. “Bartholomew had them all reinforced. Every outer chamber’s been sealed behind layers of stone and concrete. We can’t break through without half the fortress hearing it.”

She leaned closer to the map again, her expression tightening. “I could slip in as a shadow through the front gate. I can’t climb as a shadow, but if I hitch a ride on someone else’s silhouette, it’s possible. What I need to know is… how strong is the magical defense there?”

Mason’s answer came with a grim shake of his head. “Impossible. Four barrier specialists are stationed at the main gate, two per shift, twelve hours each. That’s twenty-four hours of constant coverage. They record everyone who enters and why. If you tried to slip in hidden inside someone’s shadow, they’d sense you crossing the barrier. They only allow one body through at a time. You’d be exposed instantly.”

Evangeline clicked her tongue, frustration cutting through her usual composure. Allison kept studying the map in silence while Luke worked through possibilities in his head.

Then, to everyone’s surprise, a quiet voice broke the tension.

Jack raised his hand. “I… might have an idea.”