Becoming the Dark Lord

The system alert still pulsed across their screens. Luke and Allison stared at it, frozen in place, trying to process what they’d just read. The shock was inevitable.

Now it all made sense. Why so many had been trapped here for eight years. Why no one ever spoke of completing the mission. Why those who tried simply vanished.

Luke slowly looked up. The castle loomed in the distance, dark and unreachable. The vast ruins stretched before them. Endless forests teeming with monsters. Everything about this place screamed warzone.

This world was flooded with predators, and the only way out was at the end of hell. And even if they reached the castle, it wouldn’t matter. The gates were sealed. To open them, they’d need to find three ancient mechanisms.

The mission was clear. The cost was not. Because once the third mechanism was activated, the Midnight Wardens would rise. They would march without end. They would slaughter everything in their path. Even the Safe Zone wouldn’t be safe.

This wasn’t just hard. It was cruel.

Luke felt the weight of the truth sink deep into his chest. There was no timer. No ticking clock. Only one rule: complete the mission or stay trapped forever.

Allison’s voice pulled him back.

“Come on, Luke. We need to gather information. We’re not giving up, right?”

He took a breath. The words grounded him again.

“Of course not,” he said, steady.

I won’t give up. I can’t.

They stepped closer to a gathering of survivors, but something immediately stood out to Luke.

A group of men near the center didn’t look like the rest. Their clothes were clean. Their expressions calm. One of them even wore a suit and tie.

At the center stood a well-groomed man holding a clipboard. He took notes while speaking to the newcomers. Then he clapped his hands, drawing all eyes to him.

“I see a lot of new faces,” he said, voice smooth and practiced. “I imagine most of you have realized just how hopeless this tutorial really is.”

Luke and Allison exchanged a glance.

“The locals won’t stop you from trying to leave,” the man continued. “But we’ll let you discover for yourselves what this mission really means. For those of you who spawned directly inside the Safe Zone, take a walk through the Wild Zone sometime. Then you’ll understand exactly what we mean.”

He smiled.

“My name is Oswald. I’m the Chief Administrator of Bastion. I manage logistics and civil order on behalf of King Bartholomew. And today, I’m here to offer you something important: an opportunity.”

At that cue, several men appeared, hauling out a wooden crate. They opened it in front of the crowd. Inside were wine, cheese, fresh vegetables, and canned food.

Luke’s brows furrowed.

What the hell…?

The bottles were sealed. The produce looked newly harvested. The supplies were high-grade, untouched.

Then another group arrived, rolling in a barrel of clean water.

Oswald adjusted his coat with deliberate precision.

“Think of this as a courtesy,” he said. “For the past month, we’ve been offering these supplies each afternoon. Those who arrived earlier already know—newcomers are given a daily food allowance.”

He folded his hands behind his back.

“This is a gift. And for those who join us, who pledge themselves to Bastion, you’ll never go hungry again. Healers are honored. They live inside the fortress walls. Those with offensive skills—don’t worry. We have teams waiting. And we’ll help place you where your talents can shine.”Oswald stood tall, his confident smile never once fading.

“I invite you all,” he said, voice calm and charismatic, “to live without hunger. Come, help yourselves. And if you choose to enlist, I promise you hot baths, a roof over your head, three meals a day, and a warm bed at night. We’re all trying to complete the mission… but tell me—how do you expect to survive out there on an empty stomach?”

He stepped back and opened his arms, letting the offer hang in the air.

The reaction was immediate. Dozens of newcomers surged forward, driven by instinct more than thought. Some remained frozen in place, wary. Others simply watched, fear flickering in their eyes.

Bastion wasn’t just survival. It was control dressed in velvet.

“I—I’m a healer!” a boy shouted suddenly, stumbling forward.

Oswald’s expression softened—controlled warmth behind calculated eyes. “Ah, wonderful. You’re the third healer we’ve recruited this week. You won’t have to risk your life recklessly anymore.”

The boy collapsed to his knees, trembling. “I… I almost died! I woke up surrounded by monsters… I didn’t know what to do…”

His voice cracked into whispers, tears trailing down his face.

Luke narrowed his eyes.

Perfectly played.

Oswald didn’t need to chase anyone. They came to him.

He didn’t just offer food and safety. He was extracting names. Classes. Skills. A quiet registry of power. A system of invisible chains.

“Name and class.”

The voice came from a soldier beside Luke—though it wasn’t aimed at him.

“I’m not interested in your food or drinks,” Allison answered without pause.

The soldier huffed. “Let’s see how long that pride lasts in the Wild Zone, boy. Just say your name and class—there’s no harm in it. You’ll still get your daily rations.”

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Allison didn’t answer. She walked away, straight toward Anna and Cecilia.

The soldier’s eyes then shifted to Luke. “Name and class.”

Luke offered a thin smile. “Not hungry.” And moved on.

But his mind remained focused. He studied every movement, every interaction.

Oswald stood like a recruiter on a throne of rations, surrounded by the desperate. People weren’t being conscripted. They were volunteering. Begging to be used.

“We have plenty of knights and warriors,” Oswald said to one man. “You’ll need to prove yourself on patrols and hunts if you want to eat.”

He turned to another. “A fire mage? We already have a few, but with this cold, you’re useful. I can’t promise a healer’s life… but maybe a hunter squad. Maybe the forge. I’ll evaluate.”

Luke saw it now. Value inversion. Bastion didn’t plead for soldiers. It made soldiers plead for placement. A roof. A bed. A hot meal. That was all it took.

And beneath the surface of generosity—control reigned. They didn’t need to force anyone. Hunger would do that for them.

Luke kept watching, thoughtful. If Bastion really trained and equipped its people—how did they manage their growth?

Then it clicked.

The final blow.

In system mechanics, kill credit often went to the last hit. If only trusted soldiers were allowed to land those—then only they leveled. Only they looted.

It wasn’t just a military system. It was a harvest pipeline.

And now, he had a theory. One he needed to confirm.

***

Luke moved through the plaza, his thoughts caught on a single detail.

How does Oswald even have a crate full of wine, cheese, and canned food? And more importantly... how can he afford to hand that out every single day for an entire month?

That was too much food. Even in a structured tutorial, that kind of supply was rare. And Bastion was throwing it away like candy. To buy loyalty.

It didn’t make sense.

Luke turned to Anna.

“Anna,” he said, “how did that guy from Bartholomew’s faction have a whole crate of wine, cheese, and canned goods? And he said he’s giving it out every day for a month. That’s insane.”

Anna hesitated. Her eyes swept the area. Then she let out a slow breath and stepped in closer.

“You’re going to find out eventually anyway…”

She dropped her voice to a whisper.

“There’s something called a Reward Event.”

Luke frowned. “What kind of event?”

“Chests appear in random parts of the city,” Anna said. “Some are small, some big... but what’s inside is always valuable.”

“What’s in them?” Allison asked.

Anna crossed her arms. “High-quality food. Cheese. Wine. Meat. Grains. Even canned stuff. Bastion got most of their farming seeds from these chests. They appear regularly, so they just stockpile everything.”

Luke nodded slowly.

So that’s how.

He narrowed his eyes. “And who usually finds the chests?”

Anna gave a humorless laugh. “Who do you think? Bartholomew’s soldiers. They’ve locked down every spawn point in the Safe Zone.”

Luke felt a tightness in his chest.

Of course.

The king of Bastion controlled it all. Food. Healers. Fighters. And now—even the tutorial’s loot.

“So the rest of us can only get chests in the Wild Zone?” Luke muttered.

Anna nodded. “If you want one without becoming Bastion’s lapdog, that’s your only choice.”

Luke exhaled. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“How hard is it to grab one of those chests?”

Anna’s hesitation said everything.

“They only appear at midnight.”

The air felt colder. Luke and Allison shared a glance. They already knew what that meant.

“The Midnight Wardens,” Allison whispered.

Anna nodded. “Yeah. The chests spawn when they start patrolling.”

A chill ran down Luke’s spine.

This tutorial wasn’t just difficult. It was cruel by design.

It handed you hope with one hand—then crushed you with the other.

“I’ve already lost two friends trying to get those chests…” Anna said, voice barely above a whisper.

Pain lingered beneath every word.

This place wasn’t built for them to survive. It was built to break them.

Luke stayed quiet, letting it sink in. Then asked, “Is there any other way to get supplies?”

Anna nodded. “There are a few. Outside the Reward Events, there are missions in the Wild Zone that give decent payouts. And then there are hidden chests—not tied to the events. They could be anywhere. Inside abandoned buildings. Underground tunnels. Hidden corners of the ruins. They don’t spawn on a schedule. But when you find one, it might hold gear, weapons… or food.”

Luke’s gaze hardened.

So there was still a chance.

Even if the system was stacked against them… there were still cracks in the wall.

And if he could find them—he’d carve his own path out.

***

They were approaching the Columbus Hotel—the heart of the Refuge faction.

Anna walked ahead, her voice heavy with exhaustion. “That’s why they basically run this place. More people. All the food chests. Dozens of water sources. And they’re stronger than anyone else. People beg to work in Bastion.”

Luke listened in silence. He’d already seen it firsthand. This wasn’t just survival. It was a power game. And Bartholomew sat at the top of the board.

But something caught his attention.

The camp around the hotel was busier than usual. People in cleaner clothes moved through the area. He spotted soldiers—Bastion’s soldiers—openly carrying weapons.

Up ahead, Paul stood in the middle of a tense conversation. Facing him was a refined man dressed in elegant clothing and a polished monocle.

“We only want to know if one of you took our chest,” the man said, voice calm but unwavering.

Paul sighed, arms crossed. “We’d never do that.”

The man adjusted his monocle, expression unreadable. “A Reward Event chest was looted last night. We’re investigating.”

Luke’s eyes narrowed.

Paul didn’t move. “No one here would dare.”

The man scanned the camp with detached interest, like he already knew what Paul would say. “Even so, we’ll need to search.”

Without another word, soldiers began ransacking tents. They opened packs without asking, pulled bags from people’s hands, tossed aside supplies, ignoring protests.

“Hey!” Paul snapped, stepping forward—only to be met by two spears leveled at his chest.

Anna tensed beside Luke. “Don’t,” she whispered. “We can’t stop this right now. Just let it happen.”

Luke watched in silence, eyes cold. He hated this. But now wasn’t the time to act.

The soldiers pushed into the hotel. The doors slammed open, and Angelica stormed out. Her voice cracked like a whip.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

Her words echoed through the plaza. The soldiers didn’t stop.

“I have an agreement with Bartholomew. He stays out of our area. We stay out of his.”

The man with the monocle didn’t flinch. “I’m just following orders,” he said, polite and emotionless. “King Bartholomew has his concerns. So we investigate.”

But Luke saw it—the faint smile playing at the man’s lips. He wasn’t just here for a chest. This was a message.

The soldiers moved toward Luke and Allison.

“Need to check your bags.”

Luke said nothing. He met the soldier’s gaze. A moment passed.

Then—

“I said cooperate.”

Allison’s voice cut through the air like a blade. “No one’s touching my bag.”

Her hand rested on her sword.

Tension cracked like ice.

Luke felt it. This was spiraling.

If they check my bag...

There’s only some clothes in there, but also the canned food from the village and healing potions.

Enough for someone to draw their own conclusions.

They’ll think we’re the thieves!