Becoming the Dark Lord

Angelica appeared in front of him, holding two wooden mugs that probably held something alcoholic.

“Well, if it isn’t my battle partner. Come on, let’s drink and eat some meat,” she said with a wide grin, handing him one of the mugs.

Luke took it but hesitated. She was already raising hers in a toast, clinking it against his without waiting.

“I don’t drink…”

“Oh really? But you’re eighteen, aren’t you?” she replied, genuinely surprised. “If you’re old enough to get a system, you’re old enough to drink. Golden rule of this world.”

Clara would kill me if she saw me drinking...

“I’d rather not,” he said, trying to stay firm.

I mean, I’ve killed monsters... even bad people. Drinking shouldn’t be a big deal. But with Angelica? She’d probably rope me into a drinking contest.

She laughed and raised her hands in surrender. “Alright, I’ll respect that. But I’m dead serious about the meat. We need your help with the noble — yet terrible — task of devouring an absurd amount of tyrannosaurus. If we don’t, that corpse is going to rot in the middle of camp.”

“That I can do,” Luke replied with a faint smile. “I’m starving like a lion.”

Angelica paused, brow furrowing.

“Wait… was that a joke?”

“Yeah. Lion. Like the manticore we fought.” He sighed. “I know, not my best work...”

She burst out laughing, slapping him on the back — hard enough to nearly knock him forward.

She’s kind of rough...

“So, where are you from, back on Earth?” she asked, still chuckling.

“United States.”

“No way, me too! Which state?”

“Maine.”

“Maine, huh? A proper Yankee.” She gave him a teasing look. “I’m from Texas.”

“Texas? Well, that explains a lot...”

Angelica gave him a playful pinch on the arm. “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

“N-nothing...” Luke raised his hands, backing up a bit, but the two of them laughed together.

Their conversation drifted to life before the tutorial. Luke learned that Angelica had been good with a bow since childhood — she used to hunt with her father near their home. It all made sense.

But something still bugged him.

“But... those skills you used. The arrow multiplication, the mana shot… they don’t fit a warrior class. How is that possible?”

“It’s because…” She hesitated a second before answering. “I’m not a warrior. I’m an archer.”

Luke frowned. “But the axe? I’ve seen you use it more than once.”

Angelica looked down, the smile fading from her lips.

“That axe… it belonged to my brother. He and I came into this tutorial together.”

Luke understood instantly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s alright,” she said, offering a small, distant smile. “He’s the one who founded the Haven. I have some close-range archer skills, and I’ve adapted them to work with his axe. I keep using it… hoping I can awaken a second class.”

“Second class?”

“It’s rare. But if you get really good at something outside your main class, the system might recognize it. You can earn a second class linked to that skill. I want to awaken his class… so I can properly wield his weapon.”

Angelica looked at Luke for a moment, her expression more serious than he was used to seeing.

“In the past, my brother and I were like you and Allison,” she began, her voice steady but heavy. “We did everything we could to speed things up. We wanted out of here as fast as possible. But one night, we broke into a place in the Wild Zone… thought it might be important for the mission.”

She paused. Her eyes were fixed on something far beyond the moment, lost somewhere in memory.

“He didn’t make it. That night, out of thirty people who went in, only two came back. Me and Paul.”

Luke didn’t say a word. The weight of her words settled in the air.

“I hope you understand... I didn’t stop because I gave up. I stopped because he died for me. If I throw myself into this mission and die for nothing, it’s like spitting on his sacrifice.”

She placed a hand gently on his shoulder — far softer than her rough exterior made it seem possible.

“I don’t like watching people die, Luke. That’s why I don’t push anyone to keep chasing this insane mission. Lives matter. Bartholomew has a plan. It may seem slow, but it’s working. He’s building a safe route, trying to save as many people as possible. One day, he’ll activate the three mechanisms and reach that castle.”

Angelica leaned in slightly, locking eyes with him.

“Use the time you have here. Don’t throw yourself into the abyss. This place is cruel enough already. That’s my advice — and I’m not speaking as a leader of the Haven. I’m speaking as someone who knows what rushing the system really costs.”

She stepped back, but stopped just before walking away.

“If a second manticore had shown up yesterday... we’d both be dead. That’s the Wild Zone. One step forward always means one step closer to death.”

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Luke lowered his gaze. Her words weren’t just advice — they were scars. He could feel the weight of everything she’d lost... and how hard she had fought just to stay standing.

Angelica offered a brief smile, and in her usual way, tried to lighten the air around them.

“Don’t give me that face. Come on. We’ve got way too much meat to eat and way too much booze to waste. Auntie Angelica just felt like playing Uncle Ben for a minute, you know? ‘With great power...’ and all that.”

She made a dramatic gesture with her hand.

“Though honestly, I feel more like Professor X sometimes. Everyone here has superpowers, after all.”

With that final joke, she turned and walked off toward one of the bonfires, where laughter and voices blended together, painting a little warmth over an otherwise gray day.

Luke stayed behind for a few more seconds, deep in thought. Not uncertain — just... heavier.

***

Luke sat near a bonfire, eyes fixed on the ground, even as the heat from the flames warmed his face. Angelica’s words still echoed in his mind. He’d distrusted her from the beginning — for siding with Bartholomew, for not taking action. But now, he understood. She was like him. Marked by scars, shaped by loss.

There were no dark secrets behind her silence. Only pain. And the desperate attempt to preserve something amid the ruins.

“That manticore thing was terrifying... even dead,” said Quinn as he sat down beside Luke.

Further ahead, Ricardo, the mage, flopped down on a moss-covered rock with a drawn-out sigh.

Luke didn’t talk much with them — especially Quinn. He was the type to stick with his own team. Still, he held a similar role among the Explorers that Jonathan did with the Hunters — unofficial, but respected.

“I would’ve shit myself if I had to fight that thing,” Ricardo added with a dry chuckle.

Luke let out a quiet huff. “You think I didn’t?”

They laughed together, the sound oddly comforting.

Quinn leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I think I won’t be worrying about food for a long while.”

“Yeah... but now you Explorers better find some storage chests out in the Wild Zone,” Ricardo warned. “If we don’t get them back here soon, this meat’s gonna rot, and we’ll have to dump most of it.”

It was a pressing problem. Rotting meat in large quantities attracted monsters. The only solution was to form transport teams with storage items and carry the leftovers out into the wilderness — one trip at a time.

“So I guess the nasty job falls to us,” Quinn muttered. “Explorers handling garbage duty.”

“Better that than cleaning out the latrine waste...” Luke grimaced just thinking about it.

That was one job he was especially grateful to avoid: collecting human waste, storing it in an inventory item, and dumping it deep in some forgotten corner of the Wild Zone.

“Don’t be fooled,” Quinn said, shaking his head. “Hauling rotting meat is just as disgusting.”

Ricardo burst out laughing. “At least now the so-called ‘lazy’ Explorers will finally have to get their hands dirty — literally.”

“Hey, we’re not all lazy... I mean, not all of us,” Quinn replied with a crooked grin.

Unlike other roles, Explorers spent most of their time outside the Safe Zone gathering resources. It was easy to fake productivity. After all, they still got food and water, and no one really kept track.

“I hope we don’t get another invasion anytime soon,” Luke said, folding his arms.

“After the crap we just went through? I’d be perfectly fine if this tutorial never sent another monster our way,” Quinn muttered, eyes fixed on the dirt.

Ricardo, on the other hand, gave a grin that was almost excited. “You’re not looking at the fun side. Just get me a minigun or a decent rifle, and I’d turn these invasions into a party.”

Quinn chuckled.

Then came silence — heavier than the smoke that drifted above them. Beneath the jokes and casual banter, they all knew the truth: people had died. And next time, it could be any of them.

“Too bad firearms wouldn’t solve anything,” Luke said.

“Yeah. These monsters are like us — they use mana and all that system crap,” Quinn added with a shrug. “A bullet would be like a mosquito bite to them.”

That was the irony of it all.

Even with Earth’s access to modern technology, anyone integrated into the system still relied on archaic weapons. The reason? Simple. Creatures linked to the system — monsters or humans — didn’t take real damage from conventional firearms. But a sword in the hands of someone with actual stats? That worked.

Luke hadn’t fully understood that until he became integrated himself. When he wielded his kukris, they adapted to his attributes. At level 1, they dealt a certain amount of damage. At level 10, the same swing hit harder. The power didn’t come from the blade — it came from him.

Meanwhile, a regular gun made on Earth wasn’t a system item. That meant it didn’t scale with attributes. Which made it useless.

Even swords crafted by skilled blacksmiths and enhanced with magic weren’t as effective as the real deal — system-bound items, the kind you could store in your inventory. That’s what made the difference.

“It’s still weird to think that I could take a sniper bullet to the head and not feel a thing,” Luke murmured, eyes on the ground. “But a wooden arrow might actually kill me.”

“We’re basically Superman,” Ricardo laughed. “Wasn’t he bulletproof or something?”

“So system weapons are our kryptonite?” Quinn added. “Either way... your machine gun plan’s officially a bust.”

“At least I have a plan!” Ricardo raised both hands with mock pride. “And it’s a damn good one! Who cares if bullets don’t work? Just give me a working helicopter and I’ll fly straight to that damn castle!”

Luke raised a brow. “Okay... I’ll give you that. You might’ve just found a loophole the system didn’t account for.”

“If I ever find a helicopter in the Wild Zone, I’ll call you,” Quinn said, tapping his chest with mock solemnity. “Explorer’s promise.”

They kept tossing out increasingly ridiculous ideas — rocket launchers against Midnight Guards, fighter jets against dungeon bosses, half-baked schemes that made no real sense. But Luke didn’t care. That’s exactly what he needed. A little bit of nonsense. A break from the heaviness that weighed on every waking hour.

When Quinn and Ricardo finally stood and headed off to deal with their own responsibilities, someone else approached — someone Luke didn’t expect.

Paul.

Luke blinked in surprise. The man rarely came to him directly. Always reserved, always watching from a distance — like he was studying Luke’s every move through a microscope. But maybe, like everyone else in that camp, Paul had ghosts of his own.

”Luke,” Paul said with a casual smile, settling down beside him. ”Mind if I ask you something personal?”

Luke raised an eyebrow, already on guard. ”Depends. I might not answer.”

Paul chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. ”I was just wondering… what’s your relationship with Allison?”

”Huh?” Luke narrowed his eyes. ”We’re friends.”

”Just friends?” Paul asked again, like he was hoping for confirmation.

”Yeah. Friends.”

The relief on Paul’s face was immediate. He smiled wider and clapped a hand on Luke’s shoulder—far too casual for Luke’s liking.

”Good to know. That means you won’t mind if I make a move on her, right?”

The silence that followed wasn’t just between them.

The music stopped. Laughter died out. Dancing froze mid-step.

A squad of soldiers marched into view at the edge of the street, clad in reinforced armor, the symbol of Bastion emblazoned on their chests. And at the center of the group walked a man no one could mistake—Kruger.

The Phantom Assassin.

Black cloak. Skull mask. His very presence seemed to make the air heavier, the world quieter.

”HOW’S THE PARTY?” he roared, voice thick with rage.

Tension cut through the silence like a blade. This wasn’t a friendly visit.

Kruger kicked over one of the tents, sending it crashing to the ground.

”There’s a traitor among you!” he bellowed. ”Someone sabotated Bastion! Someone’s helping the damn Renegades!”

Angelica stormed toward him, her expression furious. ”You can’t just barge in like this! This is Haven ground. We’re neutral!”

”Your ground?” Kruger let out a mocking laugh—then vanished.

In a blink, Angelica was hurled backward with brutal force.

Before anyone could react, Kruger was already on her. His blade pressed tight against her throat.

”I WANT THE FUCKING TRAITOR!” he snarled.

The flames of the nearby bonfire danced across the surface of his mask, casting a flickering glow on the skull-white surface.

”OR SHE DIES!”