Becoming the Dark Lord

“If you fail,” Samael said, opening a book without even glancing at it—just moving through a ritual long memorized, mechanical, dulled by centuries of repetition—“I’ll teach you the profession you picked. Even if it’s idiotic, useless, and leads your entire journey straight into a ditch.” He gave a soft laugh, the kind that told Luke he truly didn’t care either way.

Luke stared at the mountain of books, a weight blooming in his gut. Each volume looked like it carried not just pages, but burdens. Just looking at them triggered a wave of preemptive fatigue—mental exhaustion that hadn’t even started, but already felt inevitable.

“Oh, and Artemis,” Samael added casually, flipping a page. “No helping him.”

“Me? Offer help? I’d never,” Artemis replied with the most angelic tone she could muster.

But the moment Samael’s attention dipped fully into his book, she whispered: “Hey, Luke. Let me eat those sausages you’ve been hoarding… and I’ll give you a hint.”

“Hah. Cute,” Luke muttered, already grabbing a book from the top of the pile.

“Is there a time limit? Are you going to disappear at some point?” he asked.

“Nope. You can stay here until you die,” Samael replied flatly, eyes never leaving the page. “Told you—I’m very good with contracts. As long as you haven’t chosen a profession, I’m allowed to remain. That’s part of the fine print.”

Luke exhaled sharply.

He scanned the initial titles: Farmer, Carpenter, Blacksmith, Builder, Sculptor, Cook, Armorer... all simple, introductory trades. But as he looked around the room, he saw entire shelves dedicated to each one—filled with dozens of volumes.

He swallowed hard.

I can’t believe I’m really going to have to study.

He began walking among the shelves slowly, like someone entering a sacred site, afraid to disturb something forbidden. His eyes darted from title to title, parsing words, covers, textures—searching for any sign, however faint, that pointed the way. He’d pick one up, skim a few pages, set it down. Repeat. Again and again.

Time slowed. Each choice felt like a turn inside an invisible maze.

“Hey… that book there,” Artemis chimed, casually mischievous. “The one on Managing Brothel Chains as a Merchant Specialization... Maybe that’s your hidden talent.”

Luke ignored her, picked up the book anyway, and dropped it on a side table.

“Oh wow. Is Luke finally going to learn about sex?” she teased.

“It’s not that,” he muttered. “First, I’m building a discard pile. Books that clearly have nothing to do with ancient witchcraft. Then I’ll group the ones that might be related. Gotta manage my time.”

“And the brothel book goes in which pile?”

“The obviously not related pile.”

“Hmm. If I were you, I’d read it. I mean… you’ve got that whole bloodline thing now. Cosmic consequences and all,” she said, clearly enjoying herself.

“Haha,” he muttered dryly.

“For a virgin like you, Luke? Who would’ve thought your first time could end in a divine incident?”

He gritted his teeth, tightening his grip on the necklace. “Shut up…”

“Alright, alright. I’ll be quiet… for now,” Artemis replied, theatrically defeated.

Just then, a pleasant aroma wafted through the room.

Luke lifted his gaze and spotted Kalysto entering silently, balancing a silver tray with the same precision and grace as always.

“Lady Artemis, I’ve brought a special meal,” Kalysto said with a reverent bow, placing the tray gently on the table.

Sizzling steak strips, golden dumplings, vibrant sweets, and something like a warm, fragrant fruit custard—all arranged with the elegance of a high temple offering.

Stolen novel; please report.

“Unfortunately… I didn’t have time to prepare anything for you, guest,” she added, not bothering to mask the contempt in her tone.

She turned and left without looking back. Her steps echoed faintly across the floor—measured, deliberate, like someone used to vanishing before replies or gratitude could catch up.

“Pretty sure that ‘unfortunately’ meant ‘thank God,’” Luke muttered under his breath.

From inside the necklace, Artemis let out a series of very audible pleasure sounds.

“She’s always like that,” Artemis said dreamily. “Kalysto’s a bit… fanatical about me. It’s normal.”

“About you? Who could stand you for more than five minutes?” Luke said as he carefully transferred all the food into the necklace.

“Hey! I have a fan club, you know. People adore me.”

Luke didn’t sound convinced. He took a seat at the table with a kind of reluctant ceremony—pulling the chair back slowly, then drawing it in beneath him with care. He opened the first book, fingertips brushing over the cover as if the pages inside might burn him.

Then, a long breath. Deep. Resigned. This was page one of a new life, and he could already feel the weight of the thousands that lay ahead.

“Looks like… I’ll be spending days just reading.”

***

Erza Grimhart sat on the balcony of her room in Bastion, sipping hot tea while watching the world beyond the walls. The sky above was calm—clear, blue, serene—as if the past days had been nothing more than a bad dream. No smoke. No screams. No sign of chaos. It was as if Bastion had simply chosen to forget.

It had been a week since Marshall’s attack on the Safe Zone, and the city had returned to its usual artificial peace.

“I miss the ants… and the deaths,” she murmured, taking another sip.

She’d heard that Bastion had renewed its offer for Allison Rhiannon to relocate inside the fortress, but—as always—the girl had refused. Erza never quite understood her. She could live without luxury if she had to—going days without food, crossing sun-scorched deserts, shivering through bone-deep cold… that was all part of the game. But if comfort was available… why not take it?

They had something in common. Like Erza, one of Allison’s parents hadn’t been integrated into the System. That meant both girls were born with hidden limitations—subtle blocks in their capabilities. That’s why they were eligible for the tutorial in the first place.

But Erza knew more.

She was almost certain that Allison’s family never would’ve allowed her to enter a tutorial at eighteen. Not with the secrets Erza was aware of. Which led her to one conclusion—Allison was here out of rebellion.

And that… made her interesting.

Most people tied to the World Government had been forbidden from entering tutorials in recent years. But Erza’s case had been different. She had her own reasons—her own duties to fulfill. The tutorial was just a means to an end.

Her only true pleasure these past two years had come from the expeditions beyond the walls—hunting the snow creatures. The cutting cold, the sound of snow crunching beneath her boots, the muffled silence of the world outside—that was her peace. That’s how she leveled up. She’d slain more powerful monsters in the snow than most could imagine.

But this time of year… everything hibernated. Not even her urge to freeze to death could justify a hunt. There was no thrill in killing something barely awake. Which meant... boredom. Another year, waiting for the seasons to shift. Or, if she was lucky, maybe someone would finally unlock the gate to the tutorial’s end, and she could return to Earth.

Then something strange happened. Her teacup’s shadow… moved.

“Master Siegfried?” she said, her eyes locked on the silhouette.

When she looked up, he was already there—seated calmly in the armchair beside her, as if he had always been part of the scene. Siegfried. The Apostle of Lakarion. Not in flesh and blood, but as a projection. A shimmering echo of presence rather than true form.

“Hello, Erza,” he said with a reserved smile.

She rose at once and offered a short, precise bow.

“To what do I owe the honor of your visit?” she asked.

Since the ant attack, there had been no contact. No instructions. No updates. But the assault had been far too coordinated to be the work of mortals alone. There had been divine fingerprints all over it—she was sure of it.

And now, with Siegfried appearing out of nowhere… that certainty only deepened.

“Something important has happened in this tutorial,” he said calmly.

Erza raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Important?”

“Yes. Several days ago, actually. Something was opened. Soon enough, your people will realize it. The real question is… bets were placed. Some lost. Others… won.”

He paused, and she leaned forward slightly, attentive.

“Master Lakarion remained neutral for some time. But now… he’s interested. He’s made a personal wager.”

For a fleeting moment, Erza felt that flicker of joy ignite in her chest. This was what she’d been waiting for.

Finally!

“I’m to be given a task?” she asked, her eyes gleaming with something close to hunger.

“Oh, yes,” Siegfried smiled. “We want you, when the time comes… to kill someone for us.” 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ

Her eyes widened—then she smiled. Wide. Delighted.

“An assassination? How wonderful. Who is the target?”

Siegfried spoke the name. “This one. When the time is right… you must kill him.”