Becoming the Dark Lord

Luke was holed up in his temporary hideout in the Wild Zone, the old church where he had first found Artemis’s necklace. It had been his base for the past few days.

“That ninja woman knew about the second fortress. She didn’t even look surprised to see it. But what was she doing there?”

The answer seemed obvious: a scout for Bartholomew.

“Either he sent someone to keep watch on that place, or to use a marking skill on me.”

There was a very real chance the ninja had marked him so a larger group of Bartholomew’s assassins could track him down for an ambush. But honestly, he didn’t care. In fact, he almost preferred it. Being hunted might make things easier; let them come to him.

For now, he stayed put, letting his mana and stamina recover while Charlie replenished herself in his soul. He had all the time in the world. If his enemies wanted him dead, they would have to come inside. And Luke had no intention of strolling out the front door. He could slip out as mist through a crack in the wall, then pick them off one by one.

Why did my Predator’s Mark vanish from my enemies?

With a level 70 monster, sure, that was expected. But the assassin who had ambushed him after he left the capital had also made the mark disappear, and she had been weaker than him. Now, the ninja woman had done the same.

He stayed seated on the cold floor, slipping into Meditation. Back in the capital, he had trained for days to control the mana within his body, learning to read its flow like blood in his veins. With Meditation, he could watch both mana and stamina being generated inside him, or at least he experienced a visual distortion that his mind interpreted that way. That was how he perceived stamina. Only after mastering the same with mana had the system unlocked the Mana Infusion skill, which meant some skills only revealed themselves when you understood them.

Eyes closed, he let the darkness fill his mind, picturing his own body. Luke expanded his awareness outward, feeling everything around him even without sight. It was his “echolocation,” an instinct he had developed after studying bats in the past. He felt the church’s columns, the rough floor, the distant ceiling. His perception radius was large, though clarity degraded near the edges. So he switched to his refined perception field.

The range contracted into a tight sphere around him, but the detail sharpened. This was how he honed his reflexes in combat; through that refined field, he could sense anything entering the sphere, almost like a sixth sense or spider-sense. Normally, this perception scanned the outside world. But then he wondered: Why not use it inward?

Luke inverted the field. Instead of sending the echolocation outward, he drew it into himself. Only darkness. Blind. He forced himself deeper into Meditation, and then saw it. A faint flicker in the void: his own silhouette, and at the center of his abdomen, a glowing pulse of energy being generated. He took a long breath, dropped Meditation, and let stamina surge through his body.

Now his outline burned clear in the dark. He could feel stamina everywhere. He played with it, moving it under the internal field’s watch. When he concentrated it in his fist, that area flared brighter in his perception. He could see his entire form, the stamina like a natural armor. He shifted it into his core, then his arms, then his legs, each focus point glowing a sharper green.

Then he turned his attention to something else.

His mana.

His inner silhouette glowed even brighter, but the stamina was fading, being pushed out. He couldn’t keep both active at once. It didn’t matter. What he wanted was the feel of that stamina outline, and now he had reshaped it for mana.

The mana flowed through his body, thin streams weaving along invisible paths. He tried focusing it into his arm. Nothing. Into his leg. Still nothing. He couldn’t yet use that energy to truly fortify his body. It was only faint traces, scattered threads. Stamina was like a massive sewer pipe inside him, but mana… mana was a drinking straw. Weak, narrow, still lacking force. If he could master it, it would be powerful, but that wasn’t the goal right now.

He let go, releasing as much mana as he could. It flooded through him in a sloppy, uncontrolled surge, spilling out and leaking away. Amateurish, but he felt himself getting closer.

More.

He pushed harder until his outline dissolved into a single bright-white mass. His mana pool was draining fast, but he kept his focus on the center of that energy, a kind of core in his soul, pumping mana into his body. The more he forced the flow, the more clearly he could see and feel that heart beating.

And there, something faint. A mark. A tracking mark. The ninja woman had tagged him. That’s how marking skills worked. They branded the soul. But then he saw a second one.

Two? I’ve been marked twice?

He thought it through. If it had been the assassins, the mark would have vanished when they died. Which meant…

Someone from Ronan’s camp marked me, too. Didn’t do them much good, though. They never managed to come after me.

Luke poured more mana into the core, watching both marks begin to fade. Then he pushed further, shaping the leaking mana into a phantom hand that reached out, seized them, and pulled.

[You have destroyed a Mark on your soul] **Experience gained for deepening your understanding of mana!**

[You have destroyed a Mark on your soul]

Luke’s eyes snapped open.

“Bitch… now I know your little trick.”

**[You have reached Level 44! Half-Demon (Rank F)] (+1 bonus point to all attributes, +1 free point)**

***

Luke was packing a few things into a backpack. Useless for travel, he didn’t need one, but for what he had in mind it was essential. Part of the disguise.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

For a moment, he wondered if that trick could have removed the Beast Lord’s mark from him. He decided not to dwell on it. Whatever power the Beast Lord had used, it was probably far stronger, something that wouldn’t come off so easily. He also understood now why some people had managed to shake off his Predator’s Mark. They had a solid grasp of mana.

I figured that out in seconds, just by theorizing? I’m kind of impressed with myself.

Technically, it had been building for a while, ever since he had tried to understand how mana worked during that fight with the Midnight Warden in the mine. Then came all the days spent refining plant magic, the decision to pick up Assassin’s Tracking just to see if it would give him a mana insight, and finally, everything he had learned from killing the Beast Lord.

Guess I learned how to do equations before I ever learned the multiplication table.

He thought back to using Predator’s Mark on Ronan, and then on the assassin. Logically, if Bartholomew wanted strong allies, he would have taught Ronan this trick.

Maybe Bartholomew doesn’t want anyone else learning it.

“You’re actually going?” Artemis asked.

“Yeah. I need to hit the Safe Zone and do some shopping.”

The backpack was there to draw attention away from the fact that he carried a storage item. If one of Bartholomew’s guards demanded he empty the necklace, they would see his stash of potions and other valuables. But with a backpack, they would check that first.

“And if they recognize you?”

“The Safe Zone’s huge. Odds are, they’ve tightened security around the second mechanism now that they know I’ve been there. No one’s going to expect me to walk right into the lion’s den, in front of Bastion’s gate, just to buy supplies.”

He had already made sure there wasn’t an army waiting outside to kill him. A quick mist-form check showed the area was clear. The ninja woman had tagged him, but she hadn’t followed, most likely her mark was just a way to detect him if he got close to Bastion. Once inside her range, she would see him, even through walls. But now that he had erased every mark on him, he could enter the Safe Zone without a problem. He could even walk right up to Bastion’s doorstep. The best part? Whoever had placed the mark would have no idea it was gone.

Good thing I didn’t figure this out earlier. I’d have wiped it the second she put it on me.

Now, the ninja woman probably believed he was clueless about mana, that he had just run away without removing the mark because he didn’t know how.

Luke’s mind was already turning over ideas for killing the Warden Captain. Three plans, actually. The first was to craft an arrow tipped with the Beast Lord’s fang and use it to end the monster. Would it work? Yes. The blast alone would be enough to obliterate it. But it would also mean burning his trump card, something he was saving for the Midnight Lord in the final war, or for the Midnight King himself.

“You’re sure I can’t make at least an uncommon-tier arrow?” he asked Artemis.

His second plan was to craft his own arrows. The third involved potions, but that would take far too long.

“As I told you, Luke, you got lucky with Mr. Shitpants’s fang. It’s an excellent mana conductor, plus it stored acid as venom. Without that, you wouldn’t have been able to make the arrow,” Artemis explained.

He let out a slow breath. He couldn’t just pour mana into any random object. It had to be something with natural synergy, or at least a great mana receptacle. In truth, it came down to attributes. If he picked up a knife, the weapon would align with his stats, and if it matched his class, the synergy would be perfect. But channeling mana into an enemy’s weapon to make it explode was not possible. Mana Infusion only worked on gear bound to him, either because he had claimed it from being ownerless or because it was already in his inventory.

“It’s too damn complicated to wrap my head around,” he muttered.

“A century ago, your kind believed in the laws of science and just accepted things. This is the same. There are things the system doesn’t explain. Like the thousand-HP regen cap when you drink potions,” she said.

Luke plucked an arrow from his quiver. “And here I thought I could crank out a whole batch of powerful arrows…”

Artemis chuckled. “Making an arrow is as complex as brewing a potion. Could a newbie craft a 500-HP potion?”

“No.”

“Exactly. You got there through trial and error, learning and refining your own recipe. That’s the magic of professions.”

Luke turned the arrow over in his hand, idly spinning it between his fingers as he listened.

[Common Arrow (Common)]: An arrow generated by an enchanted quiver.

“You can purify water for your potions, other trades have their own tricks. An armorer can tell which monster’s tooth still holds enough magic to make decent gear.”

He raised an eyebrow, picturing a blacksmith sniffing monster teeth like a wine critic.

“There are analysis skills, same as your plant sensor. And that skill you’ve got for harvesting plants without breaking their natural magic? Imagine that applied to other crafts, like a smith knowing exactly which metal to use and the precise spot to strike when forging a blade…”

Luke tilted his head slightly, trying to picture it.

“…or an artificer designing a magical device, or an armorer fusing bone, metal, and wood. An arrow is as delicate as a potion. You got lucky with Mr. Shitpants’s fang, it’s a perfect conductor. But making arrows, or any piece of gear, is its own art.”

Sighing, he set aside his first plan entirely and focused on the second. He would head to the Safe Zone to find arrows.

***

Luke was in disguise. He had sent his light armor pieces into the inventory, thrown on some torn, worn-out clothes, and even smeared a little dirt on his face.

“I hate getting dirty for no reason…” he muttered.

“You’re more than a little obsessed with cleanliness. You brush your teeth at least four times a day, always comb your hair, shower whenever you can, even if you’re about to head straight into a forest. And let’s not forget you once made a toothbrush out of leaves and whatever else you could find,” Artemis said.

Luke was rubbing a mint-based mixture onto his skin. “They taught us basic survival skills in school. Just because I’m in the wild doesn’t mean I have to be filthy. Thanks to my training as a herbalist and botanist, I can make deodorant, toothpaste, and perfume out of plants. It’s practically paradise.”

“I’m not complaining,” Artemis replied. “If anything, it increases my chances of seeing you without a shirt.”

“Damn perverted necklace…” he grumbled, finishing his disguise.

He sat still, letting something work into his hair. In his hand, he held a plant.

[Redwater Henna (Common)]

A hardy plant that propagates easily. Its leaves, when processed, produce a fine powder with strong coloring properties. Over time, it infuses its surroundings with mana, making it useful in a variety of applications.

Mother Freya’s Note: ’Redwater Henna is excellent for dyeing fabrics, producing red or reddish-brown tones. It can also be used to dye hair, creating a long-lasting color that gradually fades.’

That was how Luke planned to enter the Safe Zone unnoticed. He had mixed Redwater Henna extract with other plants to create a blonde dye. His black hair was in the middle of its transformation.

“I’m a genius,” he told himself.

“You’d make a killing running a cosmetics shop,” Artemis said.

“I’m already going to have a business selling fruits, vegetables, and things like wine. I could branch out. Maybe turn it into a massive conglomerate… The Dark Company.”

“That name is still awful. At least pick something decent before that day comes,” Artemis said.

“The Luke Shop will be a hit with all kinds of products, and I haven’t even mentioned the range of medicines I can make. I’d have every grandmother with back pain in the palm of my hand,” he said proudly.

“As long as it makes enough money to buy food for me, I’m happy,” she replied.

Before leaving, Luke scanned the area again. He planned to pass close to Bastion on purpose. There were two people he wanted dead: Kruger and Bartholomew.

Every second he spent away from his family was because of them.