Becoming the Dark Lord

Samael’s gaze sharpened as he stared at Luke. He had tricked him into agreeing to fight the Beast Lord.

Luke only tightened his grip on the demon’s hand. “I don’t care. I’m killing that serpent anyway. Honestly, even if it were ten of them, I’d still have taken the deal. You’re offering me something I’ve wanted for a long time. Answers about what happened to my mother.”

He gave a slow smile. “Far as I’m concerned, I’m the one coming out ahead.”

Samael’s face returned to its usual unreadable calm. He released Luke’s hand.

“Well said,” he replied with a brief chuckle. “That’s the kind of answer I like to hear.”

He took two steps to the side, then added casually, “But seriously... kill the serpent. You’ll enjoy what comes next. That’s all I can tell you.”

Luke frowned. “Wait... was this a test or something?”

“Yup.” Samael smirked. “Actually, it was a joke.”

Artemis burst out laughing from inside the necklace. “I told you he wouldn’t get it!”

Luke scratched the back of his head, staring at them both, thoroughly confused.

“I figured you’d catch on,” Samael said, relaxed now. “You know, all that classic demon deal stuff. Soul trades, eternal servitude, dramatic backroom bargains. If this had been a real contract, the system would’ve shown up as mediator. You’d have seen the prompt.”

Luke was mildly stunned that Samael, the ever-serious, clean-cut demon, could even make a joke.

Samael walked over to the table and picked up the necklace. “You’ve practiced with a bow, haven’t you?”

“I’m learning,” Luke replied. “An assassin adapts. If there are no knives, use your hands. No hands, use your feet. I just want a ranged option in case I ever need it.”

Samael nodded, thoughtful. “Ask Artemis for tips. She can help you with the bow. After all… she is the Goddess of the Hunt.”

Luke blinked. “She’s a goddess? That necklace is a goddess?”

“Was,” Artemis corrected, her voice light but tinged with melancholy. “Now I’m just a soul. My divine power’s gone, but I still know a thing or two about archery.”

Luke tilted his head, intrigued. “Wait, can gods even have titles in your order? I thought only the main god could hold one.”

Samael crossed his arms. “Our order doesn’t serve just any god. We serve a Primordial. He’s the supreme deity above all others, which means our structure includes multiple divine orders beneath Him.”

“So... like a divine megacorp?”

“Exactly like that,” Samael said with a faint smile. “Other gods are worshipped by their own followers. But they worship Lord Azazel.”

He turned to walk down the corridor.

“Mind if I ask something?” Luke called out. “What exactly is a Dark Lord? I have the title. What does it actually do?”

Samael stopped. Slowly, he looked back over his shoulder.

“I can’t answer that. That’s part of your journey, to understand the nature of divine domains.” He paused. “If you ever make it out of this tutorial, come find us. Your initiation ceremony into our order still isn’t complete.”

“How will I know when it’s time?”

“When it’s time, you’ll know.” He gave a brief nod. “Goodbye, Luke.”

Samael disappeared into the corridor, his footsteps echoing with quiet grace. Kalysto, who had remained silent nearby, offered a small, respectful bow.

“Take good care of Lady Artemis... guest,” she said, just as a massive door formed behind them, made entirely of light. The glow flared, intense and blinding, swallowing the room whole.

When Luke blinked, they were gone. Silence followed. Not just quiet, something heavier. Like the air itself had lost weight. Presence. He looked around. He was alone. Or... almost.

“Now that I think about it,” he muttered, eyes landing on the necklace resting on the table, “why are you still here? Shouldn’t you have left with them?”

“Me?” Artemis’s voice echoed from the necklace with a touch of dry humor. “Oh, you know how it is. I’d have to sit on some throne while a hundred Kalysto clones worship me all day. ‘Lady Artemis this, Lady Artemis that’... exhausting.”

”And instead, you chose to stay with a mortal who’d probably let you go hungry out of spite if you pissed him off.”

She let out a genuine laugh. “Please. The people love me. You wouldn’t dare.”

“What people? You’re not on a stage. Wait, hold on. Are you digging through my memories for entertainment? Watching human pop culture like it’s your personal streaming service?”

“Hmm... maybe. Maybe not. By the way...” Her voice turned teasing. “I found a particularly interesting section in your memories. Something about... big-breasted elves?”

“WHAT?! Stop looking through my search history!”

Luke grabbed the necklace, almost crushing the thing in his fist.

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“Alright, alright! I promise not to access that specific type of content again.” Artemis was still laughing. “But if you ever make it back to Earth, I want two things: to read manga... and to try pizza. I’ve become a huge fan of One Piece.”

“Deal,” Luke said, already turning away. “But you never mention my browser history again.”

“We have an agreement.”

He made his way toward the makeshift lab, footsteps steady, though his mind still reeled from the abrupt farewell.

“By the way,” he muttered, “isn’t it kind of risky hanging around with me? If I die, that’s it for you.”

“Aww, that’s sweet. You’re worried about me?” Her voice was almost tender.

“I never said that... and you know I didn’t.”

She laughed again.

“Relax, Luke. I’m not in the necklace. This shiny little trinket is just a proxy. If it breaks, my soul just snaps back to the main crystal. You really think Samael would let something this valuable get wiped out that easily?”

“So basically, you’re a backup stored in the cloud.”

“Exactly. And I’ve got fans, you know. They’d be devastated if I died.”

Luke exhaled through his nose, unamused but not disagreeing. He glanced over the lab: scattered flasks, half-labeled ingredients, and a corner garden that looked more chaotic than cultivated. For a brief second, the silence around him felt almost... peaceful.

“Looks like it’s just the two of us for a while. One man, one woman, all alone in a cave... this is exactly how steamy romances start,” Artemis said, voice low and suggestive.

“That is definitely not happening. Don’t start with that nonsense.”

He moved to the workbench. Just looking at the clutter made him sigh. Honestly, it was a miracle he could find anything in there. But after days of stuffing ingredients into makeshift pouches and wrappings, his storage item was finally back. He grabbed a potion bottle, held it between his fingers, and brought it toward the necklace. The moment the glass touched the artifact, a vision of the storage dimension bloomed inside his mind.

And he froze. “What the...?”

The familiar white room was gone. In its place stood something far larger, an expansive space with multiple sections, like a fully furnished mansion instead of the minimalist blank chamber he remembered. Luke pinched the necklace between his fingers and pulled up the details.

[Artemis Invention (Unique)

Description: A prototype crafted by Samael, the Inventor.

‘A gift to help you on your journey. Good luck. It was collecting dust in my workshop anyway.’

PS: I am not liable for any discomfort it causes.: Samael

Enchantments:

[Spatial Storage (Ultra-Rare)]: Grants access to a massive pocket dimension. Non-sentient biological organisms can be stored in temporal suspension.

[Artemis (Unique)]: This necklace contains the soul of Artemis.

Requirement: Soulbound]

“Non-sentient biological organisms...” Luke repeated under his breath, brow tightening. His gaze drifted toward the corner of the lab, specifically, the makeshift garden he’d been keeping alive by sheer force of will.

Then it hit him. A completely insane idea. He rushed over, carefully lifted one of the potted plants, and brought it to the necklace. The moment it touched the artifact, the interior image of the storage dimension updated. The pot was there. Intact. Perfectly preserved.

“I can run a farm... inside my own pocket dimension,” he whispered, half in disbelief.

Samael hadn’t just returned the item. He’d upgraded it into a full-blown portable greenhouse.

“Technically, nothing will grow in suspended time,” Luke muttered, pacing. “But I can always pull the pots out, give them sunlight, cast Plant Growth, water them with mana...”

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I am the sun now.”

More than just carrying ingredients, he could now transport entire ecosystems. Preserve rare specimens. Grow them. Multiply them. This wasn’t storage. This was agriculture on demand.

“This is... absurdly powerful,” he said, already picturing the possibilities. “I’m gonna fill this necklace with everything I can find.”

“Oh, I’m thrilled you’ll be putting parts of yourself inside me,” Artemis purred, her voice slow and deliberately sultry.

Luke froze. Sighed. “I’m seriously starting to regret not asking them to take you with them.”

***

Samael stood at the edge of the grand hall, his gaze fixed on a specific corner of the room. Tall walls of obsidian marble shimmered with the shifting glow of enchanted crystal lights. Floating displays hovered in midair, each showing different segments of the tutorial: shadow-drenched forests, damp corridors, crumbling ruins.

He wanted to know if there was television in other universes… while being watched over and over through a magical one. Kinda curious. Kinda ironic.

A quiet chuckle slipped from his lips. The hall bustled with motion as waiters weaved between small clusters of guests, trays bearing enchanted glasses that refilled themselves. The crowd was a surreal collage of forms and species. Men, women, beasts, things that didn’t quite fit into any category, all gathered in one place. Nothing here was accidental. Every presence was calculated—emissaries, patrons, investors, even gods themselves. Because this wasn’t just any tutorial. Everything centered around the anomaly known as 51.

Samael remained still, arms folded behind his back. Until he noticed the slow approach of a hunched figure. An old man, so frail he looked like a single gust might shatter him. Each breath rasped like a final plea.

“Hanged Man?” Samael asked, his tone neutral.

The old man smiled weakly, then coughed again and the illusion cracked. Tattered robes morphed into a sleek, pitch-black overcoat. Wrinkled skin stretched smooth, pale and refined. Curved horns curled from his brow, and his eyes now gleamed with reptilian pupils, glowing green with mischief. He looked no older than mid-forties, sporting a precisely trimmed goatee and a presence that wavered somewhere between charm and inevitable ruin.

“Hanged Man is one of many names,” the figure replied with a sly grin. “But let’s keep things simple. Call me the good old Asmodeus.”

Samael didn’t even flinch. “What are you doing here? I thought universes newly integrated into the system didn’t interest you.”

Asmodeus pulled a tarot card from his coat pocket. The Fool stared back, smiling with mocking innocence. He twirled it between his fingers like a child playing with loaded dice.

“I’m just someone who enjoys spicing up the board,” he said, then added with a grin, “Give my regards to my old friend Azazel.”

Samael exhaled through his nose. “You’re everyone’s enemy, Asmodeus.”

“Ah, but enemies are just admirers with complicated feelings. Ever since that little Marshall exited the scene, the game’s been far too predictable. I’m simply adding new pieces.”

Samael narrowed his eyes. He recognized the rhythm of it—Asmodeus always played chaos like a well-rehearsed instrument. Not for control. For the thrill.

“So which is it?” Samael asked. “Are you trying to delay 51 or ensure it happens?”

Asmodeus paused, gave the card one last glance, and slipped it back into his coat. A playful tune escaped him in the form of a whistle, cheerful, almost childish.

“Now that Azazel’s come out of retirement,” he said, eyes gleaming, “I figured I’d rejoin the game myself.”

He turned, already walking away, still whistling.

“After all... a chess match only gets interesting when both players know how to win.”