Becoming the Dark Lord

Luke dragged himself across the shallows, his body torn and battered.

Blood dripped from everywhere—his arm, his abdomen, his back. He couldn’t even tell what was bleeding anymore. All he knew was the burning in his wounds, and the water turning red around him.

He kept moving, desperate to get away from the lake.

What if another crocodile showed up?

Charlie grabbed him and pulled, struggling with only one arm.

“We have to climb...” Luke muttered.

They pushed themselves up, inch by inch, toward the tunnel. Once they reached it, Luke collapsed onto the stone floor. Water splashed across his face as he gasped for breath.

He extended his hand shakily and snatched the glowing crystal from the floor. Gritting his teeth, he forced his legs to straighten beneath him, dragging himself upright despite the screaming protest from his injuries.

His back flared in agony as it brushed the wall.

The skeleton hovered nearby, reaching instinctively toward him—searching for the source of the blood.

Luke straightened with a grunt.

He lifted his arm with effort, fingers trembling slightly as he called out to his kukris. From beneath the surface of the shallow water, the blades shot toward him, handles first, landing cleanly in his hands. He dismissed them back into his inventory.

“We need to move. I’m not staying here another minute…”

Part of him feared they’d be ambushed by a group of Drowned Walkers.

Together, they limped down the narrow stone corridor, each step uneven, their bodies straining just to stay upright as they dragged themselves away from the water’s edge.

Charlie carried the crystal in her remaining hand. The skeleton clattered behind them, its ribs fractured, several bones cracked. One of its legs was missing chunks, and the hand that rested on Charlie’s shoulder lacked a pinky finger.

Their bodies were wrecked—bloodied, cracked, and exhausted. Between them, they had just enough strength to remain upright, but not a drop more. Every step forward was earned with sheer will.

When Luke reached the resting chamber, he shut the door and collapsed onto the grassy floor. A storm of pain raged through his entire body—every muscle, every fiber, every nerve lit up in protest the moment he collapsed onto the floor.

Charlie set the crystal down and helped him sit upright.

“A torch. Please,” he said through gritted teeth.

The skeleton grabbed one from the wall.

Luke knew these torches were magical—he’d seen them burning even while submerged. They didn’t flicker, didn’t fade.

“Shit…” he whispered.

He looked down. A chunk of flesh was missing from his stomach. He couldn’t see his back, but it felt worse. His arm was shredded, torn and pierced. Sharp crystal shards were embedded in his skin—remnants from being scraped along the lakebed.

He pulled them out one by one, like glass splinters stuck deep in his flesh. Then, eyes locked on the gash in his abdomen, he clenched his jaw—and pressed the torch to the wound.

A scream tore from his throat, but he didn’t let go.

The skeleton rushed to him—then paused. It understood. He was cauterizing.

Luke burned every major wound the same way. Each time, his voice cracked in pain, but he endured it.

“We’re getting out of this cursed place.”

He staggered to the elevator, swaying, still soaked in blood. He didn’t want to rest here—not in a chamber already exposed.

The platform began to rise.

He opened his inventory, scanning for the item he’d earned after slaying the crocodile.

[Stalker Crocodile Chestplate (Uncommon)

Description: Crafted from the hardened hide of a Stalker Crocodile who fought fiercely against a demon. Though plainly made, it offers exceptional physical resistance. A durable chestplate suited for heavy melee confrontations.

Requirement: Level 8+ in any class or race]

Luke exhaled sharply.

“Of course. We can’t even use it…”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Name: Princess Charlie

Level: 1

Rank: F

Class: [Warrior (Lvl 3)]

Race: Skeleton

Titles: [Servant of the Dark Lord]

Health Points (HP): 26/120

Mana Points (MP): 20/20

Stamina: 45/90

Stats:

Strength: 15

Agility: 8

Endurance: 9

Vitality: 12

Perception: 3

Intelligence: 2

Free Points: 1

Princess Charlie’s condition was just as bad—maybe worse—than Luke’s. Her health was dangerously low. He didn’t hesitate.

He placed her remaining stat point into Vitality.

Updated Stats

Vitality: 12 -> 13

Free Points: 1 -> 0

Health Points: 26/120 -> 36/130

Luke pulled his hand back from the crystal as the elevator began to slow.

“I’m going to sleep…”

He closed his eyes, finally surrendering to exhaustion. After the blood loss, the relentless fighting, and the endless tension, sleep hit him like a wave. He didn’t resist. At this point, he trusted Charlie with his life—and drifted off, wishing the pain would be gone when he woke.

***

Hours later.

Luke sat in the rest chamber, sorting through storage crates one by one. Most were filled with scrap cloth—useful for blankets. But finally, he found a new shirt.

“I still want better pants,” he muttered.

He sat down and ate a few apples. He wasn’t going to complain about having food, but part of him craved a proper meal. Meat, preferably.

His thoughts drifted back to Charlie’s new skill.

[Charge (Common)]: The Warrior surges forward with full force, delivering a powerful charge that pierces through enemies. On impact, it deals significant damage and may knock back or topple the target, opening them up for follow-up attacks. Combines speed and strength, making it ideal for disrupting enemy lines.

It was a solid skill. Useful in most fights. Unfortunately, Charlie was in no condition to rush into anything.

She was rummaging through another crate nearby, one-handed, sorting through yet more cloth. Her sword had been lost in the fight. Luke had given her two small throwing knives from his holster—they were her new weapons for now.

He pulled off his shirt. It was drenched in dried blood and torn to shreds—more holes than fabric.

Wish I could equip that chestplate...

He couldn’t even take the crocodile armor out of his inventory—it was locked behind the level requirement. With a sigh, he looked toward the small waterfall flowing inside the rest chamber.

He carefully unfastened his pants, glanced at the door, and turned to Charlie.

“Keep watch,” he said.

Charlie nodded.

Luke stepped into the water, completely naked. He let the cold stream wash over his wounds, standing beneath the steady fall where it poured from the stone.

When he turned back toward the shore, the skeleton was watching him.

“What are you doing?” he asked, confused.

The skeleton pointed at him, then at its own eye sockets: ’You told me to keep watch. I’m watching.’

“Not me, idiot! I meant watch the area. The door!”

The skeleton tilted its head, as if suddenly realizing the misunderstanding.

“And why would I want you watching me bathe?”

The skeleton covered its skull slightly, clearly embarrassed. Then it turned sharply and faced the hallway, stiff as a statue.

Luke groaned.

I can’t believe my life’s been in her hands… in life-or-death situations.

***

After the bath, Luke dressed in his new clothes. He dried himself with one of the sheets and gathered as many apples as he could fit into the leather pouch he’d found in the gazebo.

Then, the two of them stepped into the elevator once more. Luke placed a hand on the crystal, and the platform began to rise.

I’ve probably spent two days climbing this dungeon…

How much longer until this torment ends?

He was afraid—afraid of missing the portal deadline. But something else gnawed at him: the criminals. He knew the first floor wouldn’t be easy.

***

[Warning: Approaching First Floor]

The notification almost made him jump. His heart pounded.

For hours, his mind had cycled through every possible scenario. He’d come to a conclusion: avoid combat with the prisoners at all costs. They had higher levels, better gear, more numbers.

His plan was to reach the first floor and wait—watch for a moment when all the prisoners entered the dungeon. Then he’d make a run for the statue.

But there was one huge problem: where exactly would the elevator let him out?

If he emerged in the center of the chamber, near the statue… he’d be dead before he could even move. Stealth meant nothing if he spawned in full view of his enemies.

[Alert: Elevator Crystal has broken. Seek another crystal somewhere on this dungeon floor.]

A sharp cracking sound echoed through the chamber. The crystal beneath his hand splintered, crumbled—and disintegrated into dust.

The elevator came to a stop in a rest chamber.

Luke said nothing. No sarcasm. No complaints. He stood perfectly still.

The moment the platform had started to slow, a tide of emotions surged inside him—anxiety, dread, panic. What he was feeling... was the fear of death.

He had nearly died to the dungeon boss. He had nearly died to the crocodile. And now—he was afraid to even step out of the elevator.

Facing death repeatedly doesn’t always make you stronger. Sometimes, it chips away at you.

He clenched his fists, tried to bury that fear deep inside, and walked forward.

Kukris in hand, he headed for the corridor—and opened the door.

“Stay behind me. Don’t move from my side,” he told Charlie.

They stepped into the hallway.

One mistake… and she would die.