Becoming the Dark Lord

Luke sat at the table in his hideout, surrounded by scraps of paper and hand-sketched notes. He’d managed to scavenge some basic supplies from the city, ink, old parchment, scraps of cloth, and now, after days of careful observation and cautious scouting, his map was finally starting to make sense.

The forest, as far as he could tell, curved around the city in a giant U-shape. That meant he could continue advancing through the outskirts, hugging the treeline and avoiding attention. It was safer that way. No curious Midnight Watchers. No Beast Lord sniffing around. The capital was massive, so massive that the chance of crossing paths with that monster was low. Still, Luke wasn’t interested in testing his luck. Not yet. Not while he was still this weak.

Leveling up was the obvious goal. But it wasn’t the only way to get stronger. Professions offered slower, safer growth. Tending his garden, crafting potions, cooking, everything fed into the system. He earned experience for every seed that sprouted, every brew that bubbled. Even without combat, his stats were slowly climbing. Bonus points from race level-ups let him funnel strength where it mattered. It wasn’t glamorous, but it worked.

He glanced over his map one last time, made a few corrections, then returned to the task at hand.

“How’s it going?” Artemis asked.

The cauldron beside him let out a quiet gurgle as steam rose in lazy tendrils. Luke knelt near the planter box, checking the soil with practiced care.

“If everything goes right, I’ll have a potion ready in a day or two,” he said, a flicker of excitement in his voice.

“A whole 33 HP healed?” Artemis teased, laughing.

Charlie was sitting quietly in the corner, struggling through another page of reading exercises. She was making slow progress, but progress nonetheless.

“Hey, 33 HP is a solid start,” Luke replied, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

Every part of the cycle fed another. Plants became potions. Potions earned him experience. Experience led to stats. The system was slow but efficient. The only downside was time—cultivation took patience.

“I’m also way better at cooking now,” he added. “Between the potions and the profession skills stacking up, I’m not half bad. With the right ingredients, I could probably make a lasagna. I used to follow online recipes back home.”

“I’d kill to taste that. Any treasure chests in sight yet?” Artemis asked.

“Nothing. No sign of loot chests. Not even a flicker of event lights at night.”

So far, the capital felt barren in that regard. There were no signs of Reward Events like in the Wild Zone. He couldn’t say with absolute certainty that they didn’t exist here, but his gut told him otherwise.

“This area wasn’t supposed to be accessed until after people had conquered at least two fortresses,” Luke said as he sifted through the dirt. “Two fortresses means two Safe Zones. Weekly loot chests. A solid foundation to build strength. With enough effort, you could snowball—farming orcs, hunting beasts, grinding for gear. The Midnight Wardens are like the final test. A way of saying, ‘If you can kill them, you’re ready for the capital.’”

That was his theory anyway. The tutorial’s first phase wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t impossible either. It looked brutal on the surface, but Luke saw the design behind the madness. It was a training ground. Mission orbs kept people moving. Fortresses gave them safety. Invasions ensured they never got too comfortable. The system pushed survivors to grow or die trying.

“It’s like a video game,” Artemis said. “After that first area, a full expedition of high-level players should be the ones coming here. Armed to the teeth with gear, potions, and powerful abilities. That’s what it would take to bring down a giant serpent. But no—you’re the idiot who strolled into this place while still weak and actually plans to kill it anyway.”

“You don’t have to rub it in…”

“Someone has to knock some sense into you.”

He let out a sigh. “I have a plan, alright? Now that I’m starting to understand how the capital works—how this half of the tutorial functions—I’ll keep exploring until I find the third mechanism and level up my profession. There’s no way to speed it up. Unlike a blacksmith, I have to wait for plants to grow, and that gives me time to scout the city. So here’s how it goes: I explore, I find the mechanism, I level up my profession, get a bunch of bonus attributes, keep taking out isolated monsters like those statues or that minotaur… and then I head back to the Wild Zone. Simple enough, right?”

“Nothing’s ever simple with you, Luke. Right, Charlie?”

Charlie wasn’t sure if she should nod or shake her head.

“It’s a solid plan, guys. I give it a month. If I stick to it, I’ll be way stronger. I go back, unlock the second fortress, get myself a second Safe Zone, hand it over to Allison and the Haven. Then I gear up with healing potions from the events while thinning out some Midnight Wardens. After that, I return here, kill the giant snake, and boom—me, Allison, and maybe a few trusted folks go activate the third mechanism. One move, everything solved.”

“By gardening,” Artemis said flatly.

“Yes. By gardening. I just need to level up my profession even more. I already took out one of those statue things without breaking a sweat. Sure, they don’t have the enchanted armor that a Midnight Warden does, but they’re still level 45 monsters. When I come back, me and Charlie will be a proper powerhouse.”

And with any luck, he’d recruit his second servant along the way. Luke kept working the soil when the notification appeared:

*Your profession [Botanist of Mother Freya] has reached Level 18! (Bonus attribute points acquired:+2 Str, +2 Agi, +2 End, +2 Vit, +2 Per, +2 Int, +4 Free Points)*

“Speaking of plants…” he said with a grin, eyes lighting up at the surge of stats. And those extra four free points? Always a welcome gift.

***

Luke stood in the forest, eyeing the old stone structure just ahead. Charlie was beside him, sword in hand. The deeper he pushed into the woods, the harder it became to return to the cave quickly, so this time he’d brought her along. With her by his side, he could venture farther without worrying about retreat routes.

The moment he stepped forward, Charlie raised a hand in front of him. “Let me go first”.

Without hesitation, she activated Doomblade. Her sword flared with a cold gray aura as she moved ahead, clearing the way. They swept through the building room by room. It was empty. Luke pulled out a few supplies from his pocket dimension and got to work. He set a cauldron of hot liquid in a corner to cool on its own.

“It’s so ironic,” Artemis chimed in. “You’re the delicate damsel now, and she’s the one shielding you.”

He glanced toward the door. Charlie had already stepped outside.

“She’s really leaning into the whole ‘tank while I sneak around’ thing,” he muttered. “I swear she’s gotten even more protective lately.”

Turning his attention back to the cauldron, he focused. The potion brewing process was slow—painfully so—but this was all part of the plan. His goal wasn’t quantity. It was quality. If he was going to spend days on a single healing potion, it better do more than restore a pitiful 33 HP. Honestly, even his Basic Blood Regeneration skill could outperform that.

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But this wasn’t just about convenience. It was about having an emergency heal he could rely on. There were limits, of course. Healing potions weren’t some infinite well of recovery. According to Kalysto and the books he’d studied, Rank F had a strict regeneration cap: 1,000.

If he ever drank a potion that tried to restore more than that at once, it wouldn’t heal him—it’d kill him, or at best, count as raw damage. And it wasn’t just about individual potions. Once that 1,000 threshold was hit in a short period, whether through a single potion or several, the body locked itself into a kind of cooldown. No more healing would work until it passed.

Didn’t matter if it was ten potions that each healed 100, or a mix of stamina and HP regen—the total was what mattered. Go over the line, and your body overloaded. Still, Luke wasn’t anywhere near crafting something that strong. Not yet. But he was working on it.

***

The sun had barely risen when Luke spotted them—three statues standing eerily still among the trees.

They’re really starting to explore this area. He glanced toward the barrier behind him. Anyone wandering in from the Wild Zone is in for a nasty surprise.

Not that anyone would realize he’d crossed the gate—unless, of course, the entire tutorial had been notified. From this side, the barrier acted like a mirror. He couldn’t see through to the Wild Zone, and no one from the other side could see him.

Three statues stood silently ahead, their blank faces pointed toward nothing.

“Hey, Charlie. Looks like it’s time for your reward,” he called.

If Luke’s plan worked, he’d lure as many statues as he could far from the city, wait for daylight to freeze them in place, and then pick them off one by one. A personal XP farm.

Charlie didn’t need convincing. She lit up her sword with a glowing aura, activated her abilities, and brought the blade down in a wide arc. The nearest statue cracked apart like cheap plaster, crumbling to pieces. It toppled backward into another one. Nothing happened.

“Huh?” Luke frowned at the system window. “Not even one class level?”

He stepped closer, inspecting the remains. The statue’s insides were hollow—empty shells. But when they fought them at night, they were solid, heavy with concrete.

So... during the day, they don’t count as monsters?

His eyes shifted to the third statue. “Too good to be true.”

With a quick motion, he shattered it by striking its right eye. “So much for the mass farming plan.”

Time to go back to good old-fashioned stealth assassinations. He recalled Charlie into his soul and started moving again, heading toward the capital. His next goal was to reach one of the taller buildings and locate the third mechanism.

“Just keep an eye out for the giant snake, man. I am not in the mood to die,” Artemis chimed in.

“Obviously,” Luke muttered, picking up speed.

“Although... if that thing does show up, we could always use Charlie as bait, right? She just respawns anyway.”

Luke came to a stop. “No. I’d never use her like that.”

He kept moving, jaw clenched.

“Seriously? It’s efficient. I’m surprised you haven’t come up with a dozen plans based on that already.”

“I would never base a plan around her death.” His voice was low. “Every time Charlie dies, I feel it. The pain. The fear of not coming back. Her worry for me. It’s not just a reset for her. It hurts. Every death leaves a scar. I won’t use her like that. She matters to me.”

There was a whistle from Artemis. “Damn. That was... actually kind of deep. You should’ve said that while she was here. Might’ve made her imaginary heart skip a beat.”

Luke kept running. “She’s a close friend. Of course I care.”

“Friend?” Artemis groaned. “Forget what I said. You’re an idiot.”

Suddenly, sharp pain exploded across his back. “Shit!”

He stumbled and hit the ground, rolling fast. Just as he regained his footing, a sharp whistle sliced through the air. He dodged on reflex. A stone arrow embedded itself in the dirt in front of him. He yanked another from his back. Statue arrow. Emerging from the treeline were three figures—three cracked, damaged statues. Luke’s eyes widened in realization.

“The ones we already broke,” he breathed.

Charlie burst out from his soul, materializing at his side.

Do they come back if you hit them during the day?

The cracked statues wasted no time. They began firing volleys of stone arrows. Princess Charlie raised her spectral barrier, catching the first barrage. Luke ducked behind her, already marking a target with [Assassin’s Mark] as one of the creatures darted between the trees.

He hurled a kukri and caught it square in the chest, then took off. Charlie dropped the barrier and lashed out with her spectral chain, yanking one of the statues toward her. The creature responded with a rapid flurry of arrows, forcing her to retreat. It was clearly built for range, but even then, it outpowered her in close combat.

Luke charged the other two, blades in hand. Arrows whistled toward him—he deflected one mid-air, then slammed a kukri into the first statue’s chest before leaping and plunging the second blade into the other’s torso. Cracks raced across its body like lightning, and it shattered into rubble.

[You have slain a Midnight Watcher: Lvl 45]

Another arrow flew past his head. He turned, just in time to see Charlie being pierced by multiple arrows, her armor taking blow after blow as the statue circled her, launching shots nonstop. Clicking his tongue in frustration, Luke hurled a kukri into one statue’s leg, then spun and nailed the second in the back. Charlie saw her opening and charged.

[Princess has slain a Midnight Watcher: Lvl 45]

*The [Death Knight] class of Princess Charlie has reached Level 26! (Class Bonus Points Acquired: +3 Str, +3 End, +2 Agi, +2 Vit, +2 Int, +1 Per, +2 Free Points)*

Luke finished the last one.

[You have slain a Midnight Watcher: Lvl 45]

Silence returned. The fight was over.

“Good thing we figured this out now,” Artemis muttered.

“Yeah. Would’ve sucked to find out after smashing a bunch of statues, only to get hunted down by a pissed-off army,” Luke replied.

***

Kruger stood at the edge of the criminals’ camp, alone. No backup. None of his assassins lurking in the shadows. He hadn’t brought them, not because he didn’t trust them, but because he didn’t need them. Not for this. This was a job for his trump card, his Rank Skill, and that wasn’t something he shared.

In the world of the System, understanding someone’s class or profession often meant you could predict their abilities. A warrior, a mage, a cleric, an assassin, each followed certain patterns. Once you knew the mold, you could build strategies around it. Those within similar classes were even more adept at guessing what tricks the other might pull. Two assassins facing off could read each other like open books.

But Rank Skills broke the rules. They didn’t follow the logic of class trees or profession branches. They weren’t learned. They were awakened, drawn from the core of who a person truly was. That made them unpredictable. Personal. And deadly.

Kruger glanced at the translucent interface in front of him.

[Forgotten’s Invisibility (Rank F)]: Born of a desire to vanish from the world, of a soul warped by rejection and silent fury. This ability is a reflection of what was buried and embraced. The user becomes partially invisible, their form blurred as if slipping through dimensions. Anything they carry, armor, weapons, even fresh blood, is absorbed into the distortion. This isn’t illusion. It’s deliberate absence. A walking void. A ghost in flesh. A final reckoning made visible, not by form, but by consequence.

Sure, there were other skills and spells out there that mimicked what this one did. But none of them were this. None of them were him. This ability wasn’t granted. It was born. Manifested from his flaws, his anger, his twisted sense of pride.

And that came with risks. Rank Skills were addictive, especially for new users. They echoed the deepest parts of a person’s mind, the things they wanted but never admitted. It was easy to get lost in them. And for a while, Kruger had.

He’d wandered invisible through Bastion, eavesdropping, creeping, shifting objects just to watch fear creep into someone’s eyes. A phantom in his own city. Draining his mana just to feel that thrill. Especially when he killed. Nothing satisfied him like striking from nowhere and vanishing before the blood cooled.

This was why he craved immortality. Each new rank meant evolution. The power would grow. It had to. It was his, after all, his essence sharpened into a blade. Now, staring at the scattered tents and flickering campfires, a crooked smile stretched across his face. There were limits to the skill, of course. It didn’t erase sound, and daylight made his outline faintly visible. Even at night, a keen eye could catch a ripple if he moved too much. But standing still? In the dark? Perfect.

Perfect for what was about to happen.

He slipped forward in silence and drew his weapon, a sleek, compact crossbow crafted with grim elegance. A trophy from one of his finest kills: a Midnight Warden brought down in a ruthless ambush.

[Midnight Warden Hand-Crossbow (Rare)

Description: Forged from the remains of a slain Midnight Warden. The weapon’s frame carries the same obsidian metal as the Warden’s infamous spear, reshaped for one singular purpose: to kill in the dark. To wield it is to echo the same cold precision that ended its former master’s life.

[Rotating Magazine (Rare)]: A built-in drum holds up to 8 bolts, enabling multiple rapid shots before reloading.]

The weapon formed in Kruger’s hand like it had always belonged there, half pistol, half crossbow, all death.

He stepped into the shadows.