Becoming the Dark Lord

Luke felt a chill crawl down his spine. This was worse than he’d thought. The system error hadn’t just dumped him in some random corner of the multiverse. It had thrown him into a dungeon overrun by psychopathic criminals. They had already awakened classes. They already had power.

Then came a sharp twang, and an arrow struck Walter in the chest. The officer staggered back, a scream catching in his throat as his hand shot to the wound and blood spread across his shirt. Before he could even understand what had happened, a second arrow buried itself in his shoulder. The third hit his throat.

Walter dropped to his knees, eyes wide with panic. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a broken sound before he collapsed onto the stone path, motionless, staring at nothing.

Dead.

It happened in seconds. Luke didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. He had barely processed the first arrow when footsteps echoed through the ruined street, slow and deliberate. Then a voice slid out of the shadows, soft, mocking, and poisonous.

“Well, well... look what we found. The amazing Officer Walter.”

Luke turned as a group emerged from the darkness.

Prisoners. His stomach dropped.

Tattoos. Scars. Dead eyes. Hungry eyes. Some were huge, built like walls of muscle. Others were so thin they looked half-starved. It didn’t matter. Every single one of them carried the same monstrous presence.

One of them held a bow, the same one that had just killed Walter. His face was covered in tribal ink, and he was smiling like this had made his whole day.

Luke swallowed hard. “Oh, shit...”

There were at least fifteen of them, maybe more hidden in the shadows. They wore scraps of makeshift armor and carried swords, spears, bows, hatchets, cleavers, anything they had looted or built in this place. But the weapons weren’t the worst part. It was their eyes. The eyes of men who had killed before and enjoyed it.

A tall man stepped forward, long, tangled hair hanging around a face split by an ugly, razor-thin grin. “Looks like we got fresh meat.”

The group laughed. Luke looked at Walter, dead on the stone path. His stomach twisted, but he forced himself to look away. Panic wouldn’t help. It would only get him killed faster.

One of the criminals, a man with a scar over one eye and ink covering half his face, stared at Luke.

“Name’s William,” he said, smiling. “My friends and I spent way too much time in solitary. Seeing someone new? Kind of therapeutic.”

Luke forced himself to breathe. His heart hammered against his ribs, but he still managed a thin, nervous smile.

“We’re all... tutorial buddies here, right?”

One of the prisoners barked out a laugh and spun a hatchet in his hand. “Buddies?”

Another spat on the ground. “Nobody here is going to the damn tutorial.”

Luke’s heart skipped. Yeah. That was bad.

One of the prisoners rested his spear across his shoulder. “We checked this place out. We don’t need to leave.”

Another nodded. “We just wait until the government declares us dead. A year. Two, tops. Better than death row. Better than rotting in a box.”

“There’s a dungeon,” someone else added. “There’s loot. There’s time.”

William’s smile widened. “This place is our new home,” he murmured. “A hell of a lot better than that solitary hole.”

Luke’s eyes darted around, searching for an opening, an alley, a broken wall, anything. But there was nothing. They had spread out without him noticing, casual and experienced, like wolves circling wounded prey. He was surrounded. He was going to die here.

“Maybe...” Luke slowly raised both hands. “Maybe I just grab the portal key and pretend I never saw anything?”

He tried to smile. The silence that followed was worse. The prisoners exchanged looks, and then William laughed.

“What do you think, boys? Should we just let the only witness walk away?”

Luke sighed. “Yeah... figured not.”

A shaved-headed brute grinned. “Smart kid.”

“Can we kill the little bastard already?” another growled, twirling a short blade between his fingers.

“Oh, no.” William shook his head, almost disappointed. “He still has so much to learn.”

His gaze settled on Luke, and Luke went still. “I’ll give you a head start, kid. Five seconds.”

Panic hit Luke as William raised his hand and started counting way too fast.

“Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Time’s up!”

An arrow tore through the air. Luke threw himself sideways, rolled across the ground, and reached for Walter’s fallen sword. His fingers almost brushed the hilt before more arrows hissed past and struck the stone where his hand had been. No choice. He ran.

“Get him!” William shouted.

Boots pounded after him. Arrows snapped past Luke’s head and buried themselves in trees, walls, and stone. A knife hissed close enough to scratch his cheek before burying itself in a tree trunk. Luke didn’t think. He ripped the blade free as he passed and kept running.

“Run faster, kid!” one of the prisoners shouted behind him.

Luke dove through the entrance of a ruined house, vaulted over a broken beam, and hurled himself through a shattered window. He hit the wooden floor hard, pain jolting through his ribs, but he didn’t stop. There was a staircase ahead. Footsteps poured into the house behind him.

“Where are you, kid? Come on out.”

Luke slipped into a dark hallway, breathing hard. He had a knife and one goddamn apple.

Great.

Footsteps approached again, slower now, careful. Luke peeked around the corner and saw a man with an axe moving down the hall, checking each room one by one. He wasn’t rushing. He knew Luke was trapped somewhere inside.

Think. Think. Think.

Luke pulled the apple from his pocket and threw it into a room farther down the hall. It bounced once, and the man’s head snapped toward the sound.

“Found you!”

He charged. As the thug passed the corner, Luke hooked out a leg. The man tripped hard and slammed into the floor with a grunt. Luke moved to run, but pain suddenly ripped through his shoulder. An arrow had hit him from the other end of the hall.

This narrative has been purloined without the author’s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Luke staggered back, teeth clenched, hot blood spreading under his shirt. Two prisoners advanced down the corridor. One already had another arrow drawn and aimed at his chest. Luke didn’t think. His arm moved on its own, and the knife flew from his hand in a blur.

“Oh, shit!” the man yelled, stumbling back as the blade struck him.

Luke stared for half a second. He’d actually hit the bastard. Then survival took over. He turned and bolted upstairs, gritting his teeth as he grabbed the arrow lodged in his shoulder and ripped it out. Pain burned through him, sharp and nauseating, but he forced himself to keep moving.

At the top of the stairs, he shoved a table over, knocked down everything he could, and ran into the nearest room. He slammed the door, locked it, and dragged a heavy dresser in front of it. His injured shoulder screamed with every movement, but fear gave him enough strength to shove it into place.

An axe struck the door.

“OPEN THE DOOR, KID!”

Luke backed away, breathing unevenly. “Shit, shit, SHIT!”

He looked around. A window. No other exit.

His chest rose and fell in raw panic. He could hear the men on the other side of the door, laughing, scraping metal against wood, taking their time because they knew he had nowhere to go. So Luke did the only thing he could.

He opened the system screen.

“Give me a class!” he shouted. “Any class! NOW!”

The axe struck the door again. Wood cracked. Footsteps shifted outside. Time was running out.

Then the system answered.

[Choose your class wisely. It may mean the difference between life and death.]

“I KNOW!” Luke shouted.

The system screen flickered. Class options began appearing in front of him.

[Knight]: A resilient and honorable warrior, the Knight stands at the front lines, shielding allies through a mix of strength and discipline.

Stat Bonus: +2 Endurance, +1 Strength, +1 Agility, +1 Vitality, +1 Free Point

Starting Equipment: Sword and Shield.

Luke stared at the words, sweat running down his face. Sword and shield?

He looked at his own arms. Not a chance. The weight alone would slow him down. He wasn’t built for brute force, and carrying both while running from fifteen awakened psychos sounded like a creative way to die.

Next.

[Archer]: A ranged combat specialist, the Archer is swift and precise. He keeps a safe distance from the frontline, striking enemies from afar with deadly accuracy.

Stat Bonus: +2 Agility, +1 Vitality, +1 Perception, +1 Intelligence, +1 Free Point

Starting Equipment: Bow and Quiver.

Archer. Attacking from a distance sounded perfect. Safer. Cleaner. Less suicidal. Then Luke’s eyes dropped to the last line: Bow and Quiver.

“And what happens when the arrows run out?” he muttered. “I die out of ammo. Genius.”

The door groaned as another blow opened a crack in the wood. A small hole opened near the lock, and a face peered through.

“There you are, little man.”

Luke sucked in a breath and jumped to the next option.

[Thief]: Agile and stealthy, the Thief relies on tricks and quick strikes to catch enemies off guard.

Stat Bonus: +2 Perception, +1 Vitality, +1 Agility, +1 Intelligence, +1 Free Point

Starting Equipment: Bandit’s Cleaver and three Lockpicks.

Luke stared at the class. A criminal class to fight criminals. Ironic.

But irony wasn’t enough to keep him alive. The class looked useful, sure, but not strong enough. Not right now. Not against a pack of armed lunatics breaking down the door.

Next.

[Mage]: Master of the arcane arts, the Mage trades physical strength for magical power. Though physically fragile, his spells are feared from afar.

Stat Bonus: +2 Intelligence, +1 Vitality, +1 Agility, +1 Perception, +1 Free Point

Starting Equipment: Arcane Staff and One-Time Spell Scroll.

Luke’s eyes narrowed. Magic sounded tempting. Terrifying, even. Then he pictured himself out of mana, holding a staff, while fifteen criminals took turns tearing him apart.

No. If I run out of mana, I’m holding a stick.

The dresser scraped across the floor as the men slammed into the door from the other side. Laughter leaked through the gaps.

Last option.

[Assassin]: For the Heir of Shadows and Child of Assassination. The Assassin uses fast, lethal strikes to eliminate targets. He avoids prolonged fights, relying on ambush tactics to guarantee victory.

Stat Bonus: +2 Agility, +1 Strength, +1 Vitality, +1 Perception, +1 Free Point

Starting Equipment: Throwing Knives and Three Smoke Bombs.

Luke froze. Something moved inside him as he read those words. It wasn’t fear. Not exactly. It felt like recognition, like that class had been waiting for him.

“This...” His voice barely rose above a whisper.

That was it. His only real chance. Knight was too slow. Archer ran out of arrows. Mage ran out of mana. Thief was useful, but too weak out of the gate. Assassin gave him knives to kill with and smoke bombs to escape with. Fast. Light. Lethal.

The dresser shook. The wood split. Footsteps pushed closer. “We found you, kid!”

Luke clenched his fists. His heart hammered like a war drum.

“Assassin!” he shouted. “I choose Assassin!”

[You have acquired the Assassin class!]

Something ignited inside him. A strange, sharp heat raced through his veins and flooded every muscle. His body trembled, then steadied. The pain in his shoulder didn’t disappear, but it became distant, easier to shove into the back of his mind. His limbs felt lighter. His thoughts, clearer. For one second, Luke felt like he was standing on the edge of becoming something else. Something faster. Something deadlier.

[Skills are awakening. Please wait...]

The door exploded inward, and Luke stared at the criminals flooding into the room.

“God, fuck this!”

He dove through the window. Wind slammed into his face. The world spun. Then he landed in a pigsty with a wet, disgusting impact.

“Shit...” he groaned.

The mud had cushioned his fall. That was the only nice thing he was willing to say about it. No time to be disgusted, unfortunately. Luke pushed himself up and locked his eyes on the forest beyond the village. Somewhere past those trees was the dungeon trail. The exit. The portal key. The only way out of this nightmare.

“GET BACK HERE!” someone shouted.

Luke turned. One of the prisoners had spotted him.

“HE’S HERE!”

Luke ran, his legs moving faster than they should have. The heat in his veins still burned, and every step felt strangely light, like his body had finally remembered it could move.

A thug jumped in front of him with a cleaver raised. “No way out, kid!”

Luke ducked, rolled under the swing, and slipped past him with a burst of speed that scared even him. The forest was close. Almost close enough. That was when five prisoners stepped out from the trees and blocked the trail.

“Damn it!”

Luke veered hard toward the riverbank. Arrows cut through the air and drove into the dirt around him. His lungs burned, his wounded shoulder throbbed, and his thoughts crashed over each other. Where the hell was he supposed to go?

Then he saw it: the waterfall, and the cave beyond it. The roar of falling water echoed between the trees like thunder.

A fireball exploded in front of him. He skidded to a stop as sparks scattered across the clearing. Flames crawled through the grass and climbed a nearby tree, sending smoke spiraling upward. Then a figure emerged from the mouth of the cave. William.

He spun a staff between his fingers and smiled. “There you are. I was starting to think you’d disappoint me.”

Luke swallowed. Behind him, the other prisoners closed in. Archers raised their bows while others drew blades. Swords slid free of their sheaths. Boots crushed leaves and mud.

William took another step, still smiling. “What do you think, boys? Do we let him keep running?”

“Kill him!” one of the prisoners snarled. “We can’t let the kid awaken skills and walk out of here.”

Cold sweat ran down Luke’s back.

William tilted his head, amused. “So, kid?” he asked. “Fast or slow?”

Luke’s eyes raced around. More prisoners were appearing between the trees. The trail was blocked. The cave was blocked. The river roared beside him, the current violent enough to snap him in half. There was no way out, and William knew it. He wasn’t hunting anymore. He was playing with him.

Luke drew a deep breath. “Fast.”

The criminals laughed.

“Sorry,” William said, his smile widening. “Slow it is.”

He pointed the staff. “GET HIM!”

They charged, and arrows flew. Luke ran, because there was no other choice. He dodged arrows as they tore through the air around him, his body moving faster than it had ever moved before. That strange heat still burned through his veins, sharpening his instincts and driving him forward. Something inside him had changed, but he could figure out what later.

His mind raced as fast as his feet. The cave, the river, the waterfall—there had to be a way through, some path he hadn’t seen yet. Then he remembered the statue’s words: two paths. The dungeon trail... and the Leap of the Brave.

“Kill the kid!”

The shout cut through the chaos just as Luke reached the edge. He froze. The drop opened beneath him, sheer and merciless, with wind howling upward cold against his face. For one second, his body refused to move. Every instinct screamed at him to stop, to think, to find another way, but behind him the boots were closing in, weapons were rising, and William’s staff had begun to glow.

Luke looked back at the men chasing him. Their faces were twisted with rage, disbelief, and hunger.

Then he turned toward the abyss, exhaled, and said, “Fuck it.”

And jumped. Shouts erupted behind him, panicked and confused.

“Did he actually do that?!” but the voices vanished beneath the roar of the waterfall and the wind ripping past his ears. The water rushed up and hit him like stone, cold and merciless. The impact tore the air from his lungs and dragged him under.

Luke sank deeper, not just through water, but through silence and darkness. The surface disappeared, the light vanished, and the world above became a memory.

Then the abyss swallowed Luke whole.