Becoming the Dark Lord

Luke had just finished telling Ronan what everyone else had known for weeks: the Beast Lord was dead. The commander stared at him, pale and rigid, fingers digging into the edge of the table. Disbelief still clung to his face when Luke produced the trophy, a massive fang from the monster, and set it down in front of him.

“So you all knew… and I was the only one who marched all this way terrified out of my mind?” Ronan’s voice wavered between astonishment and disbelief.

“Come on. It’s not like you’re exactly trustworthy. You were Bartholomew’s man,” Evangeline shot back, eyes steady.

“But Eleanor was too…” he countered.

Eleanor gave a slight shrug and let out a controlled sigh. “I told them to tell you, but everyone has their reasons. Things aren’t always that simple.”

Mason cut through the tension by sliding a map across the table. His fingers traced the scribbled routes. “Now you know the plan, Ronan. We don’t want to return to our Safe Zone carrying news that we’re about to send people to their possible deaths trying to capture the third fortress. We need motivation. We need hope. If we go back with proof the Beast Lord is already dead…”

Ronan drew in a slow breath and leaned back. “I get it. It’ll be a bigger spark for them. Even if I don’t agree, it’s the best way to keep the fire burning.”

“Motivation also drives them to push their professions, to level up. We’re just trying to nudge the ones still frozen in fear,” Allison added, her voice calm.

Ronan rubbed his face, exhausted. “Fine. But from now on, keep me in the loop. I said goodbye to my fiancée, you know. Told her there was a real chance I wouldn’t make it back.”

His eyes flicked toward Jack, leaning silently against the wall. “Wait… even he knew and I didn’t?”

Everyone nodded without a word.

Mason unfolded another map, this one a clean copy of Luke’s rough sketches, redrawn by a skilled cartographer. The markings were sharper now, almost professional. “Alright. Next priority is leveling up. Luke, any recommendations nearby?”

Luke’s mind flashed to the statues hidden in the city, but he pushed the thought aside. Best to focus on the beasts first. “We stick to the forest. Follow the river all the way to the city. Either way, we’re going to have to clear it out.”

“What’s your race level?” Evangeline asked, curiosity flickering in her eyes.

“Forty-eight,” Luke replied without hesitation.

“He’s almost there,” Mason murmured to her.

Then Mason looked around at the group, his expression turning firm. “Right now our focus is hitting level 60 in class so we can unlock a powerful epic skill. For some of you, that’s also going to mean reaching at least race level 50, like Luke.”

Luke was already at 58 in class. It would practically line up, two new skills waiting on the other side.

“I’m going to give you all a piece of advice about rank skills,” Mason went on, straightening his posture.

This was the part Luke had found most intriguing over the last few days.

“A rank skill is born from your greatest flaw and your greatest strength. It’s a two-edged blade, addictive to some once it awakens. That’s why you need to master your flaw. Think of something you know, deep down, is a problem inside you, then overcome it or at least keep it under control. That’s how you handle a rank skill.”

“Flaw?” Jack frowned. “Like being bad at something?”

“No,” Mason said with patience. “A flaw in your personality. Ask yourself one question: what’s my greatest flaw?”

The conversation drifted back to progression and mapping new zones, but Luke’s mind had already slipped elsewhere.

Something born of my flaw… what flaw do I even have? Nothing obvious came to mind. It couldn’t be something trivial like hating to wake up early. It had to be something big, a fracture deep in his personality or in the way he lived. A flaw by his own measure, or by everyone else’s?

Either way, Mason had said the system would reveal it when the time came.

***

An entire week had passed since the group had settled into this new stretch of the tutorial. Time moved differently here, the dense silence of the ruins, the constant whisper of wind through hollow structures, all of it gave the sense of a place suspended between worlds. They had divided their responsibilities with military precision: one team dedicated to leveling, another to mapping and exploration.

Luke had taken the lead on exploration. He was simply the best suited for it, with his stealth abilities and the angel mask that let him roam the city without triggering the statues. Most days it was just him and Princess Charlie, while the rest focused on training and hunting.

Lately, Luke had been stepping back, deliberately letting Charlie handle the undead. She needed the experience. Luke could have climbed faster, unlocking new skills at a steady pace, but he’d chosen to slow down for the sake of the group. That was the price and the strength of working as a team: everyone rose together, even if the individual climb took longer.

Still, Luke hadn’t stagnated. He’d gained levels of his own, edging toward the moment when two new skills would unlock at once. His stats now were almost unrecognizable compared to just a few weeks ago.

Name: Luke

Level: 49

Race: Half-Demon

Rank: F

Class: [Demonic Predator (Lvl 59)]

Profession: [Guardian Botanist of Mother Freya (Lvl 60)]

Titles: [Dark Lord]

Bloodline: [Bloodline of the Dark Demon]

Health Points (HP): 4263/4270

Mana Points (MP): 4423/(4940)

Stamina: 2373/(2890)

Soul Fragments: 104/1000

Stats:

Strength: 680

Agility: 492 (542)

Endurance: 269 (289)

Vitality: 427

Perception: 450 (460)

Intelligence: 489 (494)

Free Points: 0

Class Skills: [Advanced Blade Handling (Uncommon)], [Profane Knife Throwing (Uncommon)], [Twin Blade (Common)], [Basic Dark Dash (Rare)], [Basic Blood Regeneration (Rare)], [Predator’s Mark (Rare)], [Demonic Blade Dance (Rare)], [Wraith Form (Ultra-Rare)], [Force Infusion (Rare)], [Advanced Stealth (Rare)], [Assassin’s Tracking (Rare)], [Mana Infusion (Rare)], [Basic Archery (Common)]

Profession Skills: [Herbology of Mother Freya (Ancient)], [Precise Extraction (Common)], [Basic Potion Crafting (Common)], [Corrupted Plant Growth (Rare)], [Plant Sensor (Uncommon)], [Botanical Bond of Mother Freya (Rare)], [Seed Conversion (Rare)], [Plant Manipulation of Mother Freya (Rare)], [Corrupted Blood of Mother Freya (Ultra-Rare)], [Thorn Mutation (Uncommon)], [Soil Analysis (Uncommon)], [Botanical Purification (Uncommon)], [Acid Blood Arrow (Epic)]

Race Skills: [Identify (Common)], [Demonic Perception (Uncommon)], [Dark Blood (Uncommon)], [Meditation (Common)], [Demonic Endurance (Uncommon)]

Bloodline Skill: [Servant of the Dark Lord (Unique)]

Servants: [Princess Charlie (Skeleton) - Lvl 40], [Servant Slot Available]

Luke dumped every free point from his level 59 class upgrade, plus the spare point from his level 49 race milestone, straight into Intelligence. His mana pool swelled like a reservoir after a storm. He was inches from cracking the 5,000 mark now—enough to launch five Acid Arrows back-to-back without blinking. Just thinking about it gave him a thrill. With that kind of firepower, he could tear through crowds on his own.

[Princess Charlie has slain a …]

**The [Pugilist] 2nd Class of Princess Charlie has reached Level 41! (+3 Strength, +2 Endurance, +2 Agility, +2 Vitality, +2 Perception, +2 Intelligence, +2 Free Points.)**

Luke vaulted off a crumbling rooftop. Below, Princess Charlie and Eleanor were cutting through the last of the monsters. Charlie had made massive strides. At level 40 her pugilist build had bloomed into something dangerous, unlocking a skill born from a simple choice she had made months earlier.

[Flame Aura (Rare)]: Harnessing the power of [Flame], the brawler’s body is wrapped in a shimmering layer of fire that boosts their strength and agility, making their movements faster and their strikes far more powerful. The released energy leaves a blazing trail in the air with every motion, which can disorient enemies.

Charlie was already moving like a storm. He watched her explode into a sprint, triggering Flame Fist, her hands igniting in a fierce, rippling blaze. She drove a punch into a statue, shattering it into jagged shards that clattered across the ground. Undead crowded in and she tore through them bare-handed, each strike trailing fire, each hit leaving burning marks in its wake.

When she finally slowed, her stance stayed high, fists raised like a fighter in the ring. The flames around her hands went out first, then the shimmering aura across her body faded away. The synergy of her skills was terrifying. She also loved pairing Fire Aura with Steel Fist, the raw power stacking into something almost unfair. Hard to believe she’d once been a fragile skeleton. Now she was a walking weapon. She spotted more enemies ahead and charged toward them without hesitation, one blazing fist cocked back for the next hit.

Off in the distance, Luke muttered, “I’ve basically turned into support at this point.”

Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author’s preferred platform and support their work!

“She’s having fun,” Eleanor replied, a quiet smile playing at her lips as she drew an arrow.

Luke kept scanning the area, senses sharp. They were near the edge of the forest, still inside the ruined capital.

“So your name, does it come from that old movie?” Eleanor asked, easing the tension.

“Yeah. Star Wars,” Luke said, a quick grin flickering across his face.

They walked side by side through the hushed streets.

“In a way, I’m basically a Jedi,” he joked, pulling a kukri from his inventory and tossing it down the street. The blade clanged against the stone. “Watch this.” He extended his hand; the kukri whipped back to him like a boomerang, drawn by magnetism. “See? I’ve got the Force.”

“Cute,” Eleanor murmured, arching a brow.

Princess Charlie came back, approaching them. For some reason, she didn’t seem to like leaving Luke alone with Eleanor. Charlie opened the system interface and, pretending it was nothing, showed Luke the free points.

Name: Princess Charlie

Level: 40

Race: Skeleton

Rank: F

Class: Death Knight (Lvl 48)

2nd Class: Pugilist (Lvl 41)

Title: [Servant of the Dark Lord]

Health Points (HP): 2603/2690

Mana Points (MP): 1837/2130

Stamina: 2509/(3010)

Stats:

Strength: 416 (486)

Agility: 215

Endurance: 261 (301)

Vitality: 269

Perception: 176

Intelligence: 213

Free Points: 21

Class Skills: [Basic Weapon Handling (Common)], [Heavy Strike (Common)], [Basic Spectral Charge (Rare)], [Crescent Slash (Uncommon)], [Whirlwind Strike (Uncommon)], [Spectral Chain (Rare)], [Spectral Barrier (Rare)], [Doomblade (Rare)], [Mark of Doom (Rare)], [Force Infusion (Rare)], [Doom Explosion (Rare)], [Spectral Soldier (Ultra-Rare)]

Second Class Skills: [Advanced Hand-to-Hand (Uncommon)], [Steel Fist (Rare)], [Stunning Punch (Uncommon)], [Battle Roar (Uncommon)], [Concentrated Kick (Uncommon)], [Power Punch (Uncommon)], [Pugilist’s Leap (Uncommon)], [Muscle Reading (Uncommon)], [Movement Echo (Uncommon)], [Flame (Common)], [Flame Fist (Rare)], [Flame Aura (Rare)]

Race Skills: [Demonic Servant Perception (Uncommon)], [Basic Bone Regeneration (Rare)], [Bone Endurance (Rare)], [Iron Bones (Ultra-Rare)]

Rune Skill: [Berserker Flames (Rare)]

He handled the point allocation for Charlie. She still preferred to let him do it, choosing skills and distributing stats. Rarely did she ever show real interest in those details herself.

Stats Updated (Princess Charlie):

Strength: 416 (486) -> 426 (496)

Vitality: 269 -> 280

Free Points: 21 -> 0

Health Points (HP): 2603/2690 -> 2713/2800

Luke couldn’t ignore the big drawback of Charlie running two classes. Death XP had to be split between them. If it weren’t for that, she would have already maxed out her class or at least be standing shoulder to shoulder with him at nearly level sixty.

He wanted her to reach her epic skill as soon as possible. In terms of pure attribute gains, leveling her pugilist class had been worth it, low XP cost and generous stat rewards. But once it hit the higher tiers, the experience curve spiked, slowing down her Death Knight progress.

Now that she had finally pushed the second class to level forty, he had decided it was time to shift gears. From here on out, he would tell her to focus exclusively on using the sword. That way, all the XP would funnel into the Death Knight class and level it faster. If she could hit level fifty, the class would evolve, her stat gains would skyrocket, and she would finally unlock her epic skill, a massive leap forward in power.

***

After several more hours they finally made it back to Luke’s hideout in the cave. It was rough but secure, cold stone walls, torches wedged into iron brackets, and a makeshift table buried under maps, notes, and supplies. The air smelled of damp earth, but there was a strange comfort to it, the feel of a refuge carved out of the dark.

Everyone gathered inside. Allison broke the silence first.

“Any word from Jerry?”

“Everything’s fine in the Safe Zone. Bartholomew hasn’t moved,” Evangeline replied, arms folded.

“See?” Ronan tried to sound casual.

“Just being careful,” Evangeline shot back.

They spent the next few minutes running through assignments, progress updates, and the most dangerous points on the map. Yet underneath it all, one subject kept pulling at them like a tide: the third fortress. It had become the fixed point in every conversation, a distant beacon daring them to test their limits.

In the end they agreed, at the very least, to scout it. Luke didn’t bother hiding his eagerness to go back. At the same time, they wanted to try a new route, the river that cut through the city like a vein of dark water.

***

Two sturdy wooden boats waited at the riverbank, each able to hold about ten people. Even so, they split the group to keep the weight balanced.

“Maybe she should take off the armor?” Ronan suggested, glancing at Charlie.

“She prefers it this way. Right, Charlie?” Luke asked.

Charlie gave a small, impassive nod.

Luke’s boat carried himself, Charlie, Jack, and Allison. In the other were Ronan, Evangeline, Eleanor, and Mason. It worked out neatly: each boat had an archer and a semi-mage, with Allison in Luke’s boat and Mason in the other, ready to throw spells if needed.

“The current flows straight through the city,” Jack noted, eyeing the slow churn of the dark water.

They pushed off side by side, letting the current pull them forward. This was just a test run, to see if the river really was a safe passage.

“If you spot a crocodile, call it out,” Evangeline joked to Eleanor, who was firing perception arrows into the water. The magic didn’t reach far beneath the surface, but it helped.

Luke noticed Jack gripping the boat with one hand, his wand clutched tight in the other, leg bouncing like a drumstick.

“Afraid of crocodiles?” Luke asked.

“I, I’m afraid of open water. Rivers, oceans, not my thing. I do not want to fall in, I definitely do not want some giant kraken from the depths to drag us under into the darkness,” Jack blurted, panic edging his voice.

“Hey, hey,” Evangeline cut in. “Don’t jinx us. Breathe.”

“It’s still true,” he muttered, trying not to hyperventilate.

“The biggest monster was the Beast Lord, and it’s dead. If anything else shows up, we’ll handle it,” Luke said evenly.

Jack drew a shaky breath. “But I can’t swim if we go overboard.”

Luke stared at the dark water. He had no idea how deep it went but decided not to push the conversation.

“It took me about eight hours to walk from the forest to the fortress. At this speed, by boat, maybe half that, four hours. Quick,” he calculated aloud.

“I don’t know about quick,” Jack murmured, squeezing his eyes shut and inching away from the edge. “This river’s dark. Doesn’t feel safe at all.”

***

Undead dotted the forest’s edge, easily dropped by Eleanor’s arrows. Once they slipped into the urban stretch, darkness swallowed everything. Only the cold gleam of the moon skated across the water. They lit lanterns and set them in the center of the boats, casting trembling pools of yellow over wet planks.

“Every now and then you can hear it… footsteps, guttural noises,” Mason muttered, eyes scanning the shadows.

The current slowed, forcing them to row.

“Looks like the river cuts through a lot of trouble,” Allison said, peering at the streets drifting past.

It did. No statues, no undead drifting in the water.

“Feels almost like a road someone built on purpose,” Eleanor murmured. “Two Safe Zones linked by a river ending at the Capital’s gate… and beyond the barrier, it keeps running straight toward the third fortress.”

Luke stayed quiet, eyes sweeping each alley and ruin, every sense tuned tight.

“This isn’t coincidence,” Allison went on. “A tutorial’s meant to be beaten. There’s always a hidden route, some logic to the maze. Follow it long enough and you start seeing the end.”

“For five years… maybe I wasted my time,” Ronan said with a bitter laugh.

“Try eight,” Evangeline replied dryly.

“At least I met my fiancée,” Ronan offered.

Luke shot him a look across the boats. “You actually had the guts to date one of those assassin maids?”

“Finally, someone said it,” Mason muttered.

“I was thinking the same thing. That’s bold,” Jack added.

Luke’s mind flicked with Artemis’s voice: ‘Interested in maids, are we? Back on your scumbag phase or just indulging a fetish?’

Quiet. Just curious.

Ronan cleared his throat, embarrassed. “When I met her, she was just a normal woman… later she joined Erza’s organization.”

“That woman freaks me out,” Jack said. “Every time we talk about her, I feel like she’s right behind us listening. Gives me chills.”

Before the conversation could spiral, Allison stood, unfolding a map.

“This is it,” she announced.

Both boats glided to the silent bank. One by one, they climbed the moss-slick stones and stored the boats in their storage item.

“It’s right there at the end of the street… I don’t believe it,” Evangeline breathed.

They stared at the looming walls of the third fortress. The air felt sharper, colder. None of them could quite hide the edge of anticipation crawling over their skin.

***

Bartholomew sat in his Bastion office. The room was large but unnervingly quiet. The only steady sounds were the wind slipping through the narrow windows and the soft clink of liquid hitting glass as he poured another drink. Heavy piles of sealed reports and letters littered the oak desk, a half-empty bottle standing among them.

He sat hunched, not like a triumphant ruler but a man drained of victories, eyes fixed on the surface of his glass. He knew he had already lost, not in open battle, but in something far deeper: morale.

For years, Bartholomew had lived off his own cleverness. Always two steps ahead of Marshall, predicting every move, spinning contingencies within contingencies. He had spent years in fear, hiding in shadows without ever surrendering the plan. He had been the symbol of progress, the one chance at going home, and for that the majority had followed him.

But when the Haven claimed the second fortress, reality had finally broken through. He had seen every outcome, played every scenario. There was no real way to stop them. Even if he fought, unleashed force, fear, mercenaries, at best he could stall a month, maybe three. And in doing so he would turn everyone against him. It was the curse of being too smart: seeing the future moves and knowing, sooner or later, the board would swallow you whole.

“At least I tried, cousin,” he muttered to Kruger, who stood silent in the corner like a statue. “At least I stalled them for eight years.”

He took another drink. The burn in his throat gave no relief.

“How’s the second Safe Zone? Jonathan still watching?” His voice barely lifted.

“Jonathan’s inside. From what I see, everything’s moving as planned. Supplies arrived, no disruptions,” Kruger replied, deep voice almost mechanical.

Bartholomew rose slowly and drifted to the window. Outside, the Safe Zone looked smaller than ever. A few figures moved through the main square, but most had already migrated to the second Safe Zone.

“They’ve been gone a week now, holed up in that new section of the tutorial, leaving this place guarded only by Haven members,” he said with a mix of contempt and fatigue.

He took two steps back. “And we have no interest in that second Safe Zone.”

The late light cut long shadows across the stone floor. He exhaled. “Everything ready?”

“Just waiting on your word,” Kruger said, straightening.

Bartholomew turned. The cold gleam in his eyes left no doubt. “Then go. Gather your assassins. Kill every last one of them. No one from that expedition comes back alive.”

Kruger gave a small nod and slipped from the room. Bartholomew turned back to the window, speaking almost to himself.

“King Bartholomew publicly backed and invested everything to bring people back to Earth. But, sadly, Allison Rhiannon, Commander Ronan, and the rest perished on their mission…” He paused, tasting the bitterness in the words. “That’s how I make sure everyone else is too afraid to try.”

The wind filled the silence once again. Bartholomew raised his glass and drained the last of it in a single pull.