Becoming the Dark Lord

Three days had passed since Charlie acquired the Berserker Flames skill. An explosive power. Visually stunning. And hot enough that even Luke had to stay back if he didn’t want to get scorched.

During those days, they hadn’t focused on hunting. The goal was clear—test the skill, figure out its limits, understand every cost. Luke brought Charlie into the Wild Zone for one thing only: control. Precision. Efficiency.

Efficiency… wasn’t exactly a word that matched that ability. Just activating it burned 200 mana upfront. After that, it drained 2 mana per second. With 500 total MP, Charlie could only maintain Berserker Mode for two and a half minutes. And that was standing still. Not punching. Not running. Just existing. And stamina? Same deal. Even idle, it drained fast. Three hundred points gone... just holding the flame.

Living fire consumes everything. Luke finally understood why Morvat had ended that fight barely able to stand. Berserker Mode wasn’t something you used to start a fight. It was the thing you used to finish one. Charlie understood it too. Now they were ready for the next step.

A massive coyote bolted into the intersection of the Wild Zone, sprinting straight at Charlie. She didn’t move. Feet planted. Fists up. Her stance was clean, sharp—like a pro boxer waiting for the perfect counter. The monster snarled, crouched, and lunged forward. A full-speed pounce. Charlie twisted her hips.

[Steel Fist].

The punch connected clean with the coyote’s skull. A sharp, brutal crack rang through the air as the beast flew back like a broken doll, landing in a twisted heap several meters away.

Dead. Instantly.

[Princess Charlie has slain a Gnashing Coyote: Lvl 18]

*The [Pugilist] 2nd Class of Princess Charlie has reached Level 2! (Class Bonus Points Acquired)*

[Princess Charlie has learned the Class Skill: Stunning Punch]

Luke grinned silently from the top of a half-collapsed building, eyes glued to the floating interface.

[Stunning Punch (Uncommon)]: A heavy strike with a chance to stun the target, leaving them dizzy and unable to act for a short time. Can be used in any melee engagement.

Perfect.

Down on the street, Charlie stood calmly at the center of the ruined intersection. Surrounded by broken buildings and piles of rubble. Luke grabbed an old pan, raised it, and slammed it with a stick. The clang echoed through every alley nearby. The response came fast. Snarls. Claws scraping. Something growling.

A Devouring Cricket shot out from the shadows, legs clicking like daggers, bouncing forward in a murderous sprint. Charlie didn’t flinch. Her fist whipped up—caught the creature mid-jump—and sent it smashing against a brick wall.

She was already moving before it even hit. Closed the gap. Quick. Aggressive. A flurry of punches followed, hammering the monster deeper into the wall with each hit until it collapsed into pulp.

[Princess Charlie has slain a Devouring Cricket: Lvl 15]

The ground shook beneath her feet. A roar boomed from the forest nearby. Deep. Guttural. Loud enough to make the trees tremble.

[Tyrannosaurus Commander: Lvl 23]

The ground split open beneath its weight. The tyrannosaurus that guarded this sector stormed out from between the trees, flattening trunks like twigs beneath its claws. Its massive neck stretched forward, jaws wide open.

Charlie didn’t move. She inhaled slowly. Held it. Exhaled... and activated. A shockwave burst out. Flames exploded from the ground beneath her, rippling outward as waves of heat warped the air. Her entire body ignited—wreathed in roaring fire. Her steps grew heavier. Her presence... monstrous. She raised her hand and pointed—challenging the tyrannosaurus head-on.

Luke watched from his perch above. The trump card was on the table. And this... this was the real test of Charlie’s new power. The beast roared again, shaking the forest, tearing trees from their roots. Then it charged. So did Charlie. No hesitation.

At the last second, she leapt—high—fists blazing—and drove a punch straight into the tyrannosaurus’ face. The impact cracked through the air like thunder. The monster staggered backward, stunned. But she wasn’t finished.

With a burst of speed, Charlie activated Spectral Charge, closing the gap in an instant. Her fists smashed into the creature’s jaw, chest, neck—relentless. Each strike forced the beast back, further, further, burning fists leaving molten scorch marks in its flesh. She twisted mid-air, swung her leg, and delivered a spinning kick straight into its side.

The tyrannosaurus lost balance—toppling—rolling down the ruined street, snapping trees, smashing boulders along the way. Charlie hit the ground running. Sprinting right after it. She grabbed its tail—while it was still thrashing. Her bones strained, arms trembling under the weight. She spun. And spun. And spun. Then—she hurled the monster like a wrecking ball—straight into a stone building.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The wall exploded on impact. The entire structure collapsed on top of it in a cloud of smoke and rubble. But it wasn’t over. The tyrannosaurus burst free from the debris—still standing. It roared—enraged. Until—Charlie lunged in and delivered a brutal uppercut to its chin.

[Stunning Punch]

The monster staggered. Its eyes went glassy. Focus... gone. This was the opening. She hammered another punch—square into its snout. The tyrannosaurus crashed to the ground—flat.

Charlie didn’t waste a breath. She pounced. Climbed onto its chest. And started punching. Again. And again. And again. Every strike was a blast of flame. Each one dented flesh, crushed bone, melted scale. The ground around them started to blacken. Burn. Cracks in the dirt glowed red beneath her.

[Steel Fist]

[Steel Fist]

[Steel Fist]

The monster’s roars faded. Became strangled. Broken. Smothered beneath the relentless, fiery storm. Charlie poured everything into her fists—mana, stamina, strength. Her fist rose—one last time. And came down like a warhammer. The tyrannosaurus’ skull collapsed beneath it—a single, sickening crunch.

[Princess Charlie has slain a Tyrannosaurus Commander: Lvl 23]

No words. No cheers. Just the smell of burning flesh... and the quiet hum of victory.

*The [Pugilist] 2nd Class of Princess Charlie has reached Level 3! (Class Bonus Points Acquired)*

[Princess Charlie has learned the Class Skill: Battle Roar]

From his perch above, Luke let out a sharp whistle. Charlie turned toward him, flames still fading around her body, smoke rising from her frame. She raised a proud thumbs-up. Luke grinned and raised his back in response. Curious, he pulled up her system interface to check the new skill.

[Battle Roar (Uncommon)]: Let out a powerful shout that temporarily boosts physical strength, amplifying melee attack damage and enhancing actions that require brute force.

“So... she really can scream now,” Luke muttered, smirking.

He remembered that first brawler they fought. That lunatic who’d yelled “I’m a pugilist!” before charging them. Yeah... this had to be the same skill—or something close to it.

He closed the interface.

It was time to allocate her free stat points. Charlie was growing stronger. Way faster than he ever expected. And that... that had him grinning like a madman.

Name: Princess Charlie

Level: 12

Rank: F

Class: [Death Knight (Lvl 22)]

2nd Class: Pugilist (Lvl 3)

Race: Skeleton

Titles: [Servant of the Dark Lord]

Health Points (HP): 836/840

Mana Points (MP): 241/540

Stamina: 738/1020

Stats:

Strength: 105 (145)

Agility: 61

Endurance: 77 (102)

Vitality: 84

Perception: 42

Intelligence: 54

Free Points: 7

Luke stared at the numbers on the screen.

The sheer pile of free points Charlie had stacked was insane. His stomach did that nervous flip—the same mix of dread and excitement every time stats jumped hard.

He didn’t hesitate.

Stats Updated (Princess Charlie):

Vitality: 84 -> 91

Free Points: 7 -> 0

Health Points (HP): 836/840 -> 906/910

Over 900 HP now. He couldn’t help but feel a wave of nostalgia. She’d started this journey with just 40 HP. And now... now she was a tank. A real tank. Sure, part of him knew dumping points into Intelligence would help too—especially with how mana-hungry Berserker Flames was turning out to be. But not now. Not this time.

Right now, Luke wanted one thing: pure, raw health. Because what he had in mind wasn’t simple. His eyes drifted toward Charlie, still standing there, letting the last embers fade around her, smoke curling off the cracked ground beneath her feet.

“Someday,” he murmured, voice barely louder than the wind, “we’re gonna kill a Midnight Warden.”

The forest settled back into silence. But Charlie heard him, and nodded.

***

Luke walked through the town square, weaving between the rows of makeshift wooden stalls. Each one displayed a random mix of food, clothing, crude weapons, and miscellaneous supplies.

He stopped in line, waiting patiently while scanning the crowd. A few kids were playing nearby, jumping across piles of rubble like it was a playground. Seeing kids in this place... still felt strange.

“I brought some fabric I found out in the Wild Zone. What can I get for it?” he asked the vendor.

“Five items. Take your pick.” The man spread the fabrics out, inspecting them. “If you’ve got shirt buttons, Bastion’s offering good coin for those.”

Luke rummaged through the crates and grabbed a tomato, a carrot, and three potatoes. He thanked the vendor and walked away with his haul.

But groceries weren’t why he was here—not really. His real goal... was to watch Bastion.

The fortress itself was a near-perfect replica of the one he’d seen in the orc territory. He wanted to learn everything he could, just by observing.

Is there any way they’d ever let me inside?

As he moved along, something caught his eye—two of Bartholomew’s soldiers stopping a man on the street.

“What’s in the bag? Where were you headed?” one asked, voice sharp.

“I... I live around here,” the man stammered.

Luke slipped quietly into a nearby alley, fading into the shadows, watching closely.

Tension hung heavy in the air. Bastion’s guards had been on high alert since the last string of Renegade attacks. Rumor was they’d captured someone in the Wild Zone—someone with intel about a possible full-scale assault.

“You carrying a storage item?” the other soldier demanded, rifling through the man’s bag.

“I... uh...” he hesitated.

“This ring looks like one. Empty it. Now. Or you’re under arrest.”

Damn.

Luke backed deeper into the alley. He had a storage item too—along with two healing potions. Not much, but valuable enough to draw the wrong kind of attention. Without wasting another second, he shifted into mist, slipping through a narrow hole in the wall and reappearing on the other side.

That’s when he heard it—the sound of massive gates grinding open. The echo rolled down the streets like thunder. Luke immediately turned, drawn by the noise of heavy gears. And what he saw made him stop cold. A formation of soldiers marched out in perfect sync. At the center, three figures stood out.

Oswald. Kruger. And a man in his mid-forties—upright posture, well-groomed beard, a spotless military uniform pressed so perfectly it almost shined. And resting atop his head... a crown. The soldiers parted the crowd with nothing more than a glance. People stepped back in silence, heads down.

Luke didn’t move. Hidden deep in the alley’s shadow, he kept his eyes locked on the man at the center.

Bartholomew. The King of Bastion.