Becoming the Dark Lord

[All five Beast Captains have been defeated in combat! The Event has ended. The Beast Lord’s forces will remain distant from this Zone for a while.]

“F-five?” Angelica repeated, stunned. “That hasn’t happened since last year…”

The hotel doors opened. A few people stepped out, weapons still in hand, their faces pale with tension.

“Please focus on helping the wounded! Keep the children inside the hotel!” Paul shouted, taking control of the situation.

Others quickly responded to his command.

“Someone run to Bastion and ask for permission to fill the barrels with water! We have to put out the fires!” Jonathan called out.

Luke stood still for a moment, watching everything—the collapsed tents, the relieved faces, the injured survivors sitting in the mud, some still in shock.

He thought of his mother.

If the tutorial she entered was anything like this one… she would’ve been among these people. Scared. Hiding behind fragile doors, praying that no monster would break through. Or maybe it was in a moment exactly like this that she died.

In the distance, the silhouette of Bartholomew’s fortress loomed under the dark sky. The people inside were safe. Unconcerned with what had happened beyond their walls.

Luke clenched his fists. That made him angry.

More than ever, the fortress of the Second Mechanism needs to be taken.

Now he understood why some people let their shoulders drop in relief when an invasion event ended. Because it meant one thing:

Peace. Temporary, but necessary.

“At least we know it’ll be a few months before the next one,” Jonathan said to Anna. “The danger level on this one was way too high.”

Cecília signed to Anna: ‘I’m going to help the wounded.’

Allison walked up to Luke, wiping the blood from her face.

“We did it.”

Luke stared at the destruction around them.

“Yeah… we did.”

***

Thiara was treating the most seriously wounded. Anyone with even basic first aid knowledge was lending a hand. Not everything could rely on magic. But luckily, thanks to Luke’s efforts, the civilians had managed to retreat to the hotel in time. The other warriors had done what they could to hold off the monsters. The camp was already being rebuilt.

The rhythm was familiar now. Rebuild. Assist. Restart.

People organized themselves with eerie efficiency, as if the night of hell had been just another day. Some mages conjured small clouds above the streets to extinguish lingering fires, while others moved supplies or tended to the wounded in near silence. Behind a few forced smiles, Luke could still see the exhaustion etched into their faces.

Bartholomew’s men remained distant, running between structures inside the Safe Zone, likely inspecting the wooden walls for damage. The sky had already begun to lighten, and somewhere in the distance, a bell rang at six in the morning.

The sun rose slowly over the horizon, casting its pale light across the scorched streets and broken homes, as if nothing had happened.

“What a night…” Paul said, eyes locked on the tyrannosaurus corpse sprawled in the center of camp.

“What are we gonna do with that thing?” he asked.

“You’re seriously asking?” Jonathan replied, half-smiling. “We’re gonna eat the damn thing.”

He clapped Allison on the back.

“This blonde right here fought practically solo. We only showed up at the end, and because of the fire, we were pretty much useless.”

“She really was incredible,” Paul agreed.

“Can we throw a party in her honor?” Jonathan asked, looking at Angelica.

Angelica replied without a smile. “After we help the wounded. And the dead… if there are any.”

She glanced around the camp at the exhausted faces and sleepless eyes. “They deserve something good. Not just the panic of tonight.” Then she turned and walked away.

Luke kept watching her. The bow still hung in her hands. He had always seen her wielding an axe. He thought about asking but chose to wait. Another time. Another day.

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He sat down on a log. The group who had fought was finally resting while others moved through the area, busy rebuilding the camp.

“Do you think many people died?” Luke asked Anna, who sat beside him.

“Civilians? None,” she answered without hesitation. “They know the protocol. Some of them have lived here for six years. They already know what to do.”

“And our side?” Luke pressed.

“You mean frontline?” Anna pointed toward the tyrannosaurus’s corpse. “When things get this tough, the regular monsters are weaker. System balance. Most of them were level ten to twelve hyenas. Nothing we’re not used to. But in exchange…”

She nodded toward the direction where the gorilla had been fought. “We got five captains. Those were the real threat. That’s why we prioritized them. Three came here—we handled them. The other two were probably taken down by Bartholomew’s men.”

Jonathan gave Luke a light pat on the back. “Don’t stress. It’s not the end of the world. If you, Charlie, and Allison hadn’t bought us time to deal with the gorilla, yeah—it would’ve been a massacre. Someone else would’ve had to give their life to stall those captains.”

Angelica walked over, wearing a crooked smile. “Alright, enough with the funeral faces.” She dropped a wooden barrel in front of them. “We survived another day in this hellhole. I say we drink.”

Luke exhaled.

These people are insane.

But somehow, he liked it. They didn’t cling to the trauma or the chaos. They always found a way to laugh. To move forward.

“We still need to give Allison a nickname,” Angelica said, glancing around. “Where’d she go?”

“She went to wash up,” Anna replied. “She was covered in blood.”

The camp slowly returned to life. People ran across the site, carrying canvas, repairing tents. Farmers returned to their fields, which—luckily—remained intact behind the hotel. Carpenters brought new logs. Mages extinguished the last smoldering flames.

As if rebuilding had become habit. As if disaster was just part of the daily schedule.

Luke excused himself, saying he was going to his tent. It was just a cover. His tent, located in the newbie zone, had stayed untouched, far enough away from trouble to avoid the worst. He stepped inside and sat down. Finally, he opened the system screen. The notification was still there.

[You have a new Class Skill available]

His heart pounded faster. Since the Arachna fight, he hadn’t received a single new class skill. And each one, so far, had completely reshaped his combat style. When he clicked the notification, five skill options appeared.

Luke’s eyes widened. “What?!”

The abilities were ridiculously powerful. He had to reread them twice.

“Te-teleportation?”

[Corpsewalk Teleport (Ultra-Rare)]: Spilled blood marks the path. Every time you kill an enemy, you can use their corpse as a temporary portal, allowing short-distance travel through the guts of death.

Luke stared at the screen, stunned.

I can teleport through the bodies of enemies I kill?

It was macabre. Brutal. Perfect. Limited? Sure. But stylish? Hell yes.

He couldn’t lie—he was dying to try it.

Second skill:

[Thorncut (Ultra-Rare)]: Every deep cut inflicted on an enemy not only wounds but causes black thorns to sprout from their flesh, tearing and shredding their body further with each movement. The enemy’s own pain becomes a lethal trap.

Luke frowned. That was pure cruelty.

A skill that turned pain into a weapon. Every movement the enemy made would be a sentence—a punishment they brought upon themselves. It was like planting a curse inside their flesh, a plague of thorns hidden in their wounds.

Definitely tied to the demonic side of my class...

He could already picture the effect on a powerful enemy like the manticore. Even if the initial strike didn’t kill, the thorns erupting from each wound could completely throw off their rhythm. Blood and pain would be inevitable—and deadly.

More than that, in group battles, the effect would multiply. Constant movement would turn enemies into their own executioners.

It was a cruel skill.

And efficient.

But even so...

Luke exhaled slowly, as if letting go of his hesitation.

“Nothing beats teleportation.”

He was already almost sure. That skill would be the perfect choice. But just to be thorough, he decided to check the other options.

[Blood Drain (Ultra-Rare)]: By sinking your fangs into your victim’s flesh and drinking their blood, you restore health and stamina. The flow of blood revitalizes your body, letting you fight without succumbing to fatigue or wounds.

He had to reread it twice. The idea of sucking blood to recover energy...

It felt instinctive. Primal. Too much.

That skill leans way too far into the beast side... and yeah, demonic. Hard pass. Definitely not.

The next one was different. Less visceral, but just as deadly.

[Reaper’s Eyes (Ultra-Rare)]: Your sight transcends flesh, revealing the vital auras of your enemies. The most vulnerable targets glow bright. No prey can hide from death once your eyes see the thread of life unraveling.

He read it again. Once. Twice.

That skill didn’t just sound useful—it was tactical.

“It highlights the weakest enemies… or the ones close to dying.”

If that were true, then the ability basically acted like an invisible HP bar. Knowing when an enemy was about to fall—or still had strength to fight—could be the difference between surviving or dying.

“During the manticore fight, I was completely in the dark. I had no idea whether my hits were doing anything or not.”

Luke started to seriously consider it. The skill wouldn’t just help him end fights more precisely—it could keep him from entering hopeless ones to begin with. Maybe it was better than teleportation. Then he scrolled to the last option on the list.

And stopped.

His eyes widened as he finished reading.

“This power...” He read it again. “…is something truly powerful.”

He paused, a chill running up his spine. “…and terrifying.”