Becoming the Dark Lord

Luke peeked out from the flap of the tent, scanning Conrad’s bandit camp. It sat deep in the forest, inside what people called the “gray zone.” Technically neutral ground, but not really. The Safe Zone lay on one side, the Midnight Wardens stalked the other, and in between prowled beasts and other nightmares. The bandits were used to it.

He slipped back into the tent. And here I was, worried about Bastion setting up an ambush, only to get grabbed by a bunch of random thugs.

Not that he minded. Free experience points didn’t exactly fall from the sky. He didn’t see himself as a psychopath; he’d never harm someone decent. But these men were criminals. Killing them wasn’t just justified, it was practically charity. And on top of that, he’d get stronger.

Was it psychotic of me to let myself get captured just so I could slaughter the whole camp?

“This is giving off some serious Dexter Morgan vibes,” Artemis whispered. “But yeah, there’s a touch of psychopath in you. Who else would plan around getting their arm chewed off by a giant snake?”

Maybe all the crap I’ve gone through is warping my sense of humanity. But hey, who hasn’t had a bad day, right?

Luke did something he hadn’t done in a long time, he brought out his throwing knives. A faint shimmer, and a holster materialized strapped to his thigh.

[Throwing Knife Holster (Common)

Description: A specialized holster designed to store throwing knives. It can conjure common-rarity blades when infused with mana.

Enchantments:

[Mana Knives (Common)]: By channeling mana, the holster can generate up to 6 throwing knives, instantly materialized and ready for deadly precision.]

He poured mana into it, and six blades blinked into existence. Jack had been marked with Predator’s Mark, his outline glowing faint red through the rock wall. He was inside a shallow cave, sitting on the ground. Luke summoned Princess Charlie. She appeared at his side and immediately understood the situation when she saw Becket’s body on the ground.

He stepped out of the tent. Seven men lounged around the main fire.

I’m going to kill every last one of these idiots.

“Okay, new vibe,” Artemis teased. “Less Dexter, more Jason Voorhees. Creepy woods, knives in hand, it fits.”

Luke glanced at Princess Charlie. “If anyone runs, you know what to do.” She nodded without hesitation. He palmed two knives and moved forward, each step silent, his mind sharpening into Advanced Stealth. The air itself seemed to bend around him. He raised his hand and let the first blade fly. It whistled through the dark, buried itself in a bandit’s throat. The man dropped his bowl, eyes wide, clutching at the wound as blood sprayed between his fingers.

“The hell was that?!” one of them barked.

The dying man’s gaze locked on Luke. Too late. He flicked his wrists and more blades cut the air, each one straight, clean, merciless. One buried itself in a skull, another tore into a chest, another blinded a man screaming in shock. Luke walked calmly, fast hands pulling fresh knives from the holster and sending them out with machine precision. One thug scrambled up, thick leather armor creaking. Luke didn’t slow. He drew six knives at once, three in each hand, and triggered a skill.

[Twin Blade (Common): A skilled assassin never wastes an attack. When throwing a knife, it splits midair, creating a duplicate that follows the same path, doubling your chance to hit.]

With every step, more blades slipped from his holster, splitting midair before finding their marks. One bandit’s chest turned into a pincushion of steel. He stumbled forward and collapsed into the campfire, sparks leaping skyward as his body smoldered.

Notifications lit up across Luke’s vision.

[You have slain a human…]

[+1 Soul Fragment acquired]

[You have slain a human…]

[+1 Soul Fragment acquired]

[You have slain a human…]

[+1 Soul Fragment acquired]

[You have slain a human…]

[+1 Soul Fragment acquired]

[You have slain a human…]

[+1 Soul Fragment acquired]

[You have slain a human…]

[+1 Soul Fragment acquired]

[You have slain a human…]

[+1 Soul Fragment acquired]

**Your class [Demonic Predator] has reached Level 57! (+10 Strength, +7 Perception, +6 Agility, +6 Vitality, +6 Intelligence, +5 Endurance, +8 Free Points)**

**[You have reached Level 46! Half-Demon (Rank F)] (+1 bonus point to all attributes, +1 free point)**

Even weak enemies add up. Between class bonuses and profession scaling, he’d gathered exactly enough to push through another level. Maybe letting himself get “captured” hadn’t been such a bad idea after all. Shouts echoed as more bandits burst from their tents, weapons half-drawn, faces pale. Princess Charlie met them head-on, her sword already swinging.

[Princess Charlie has slain a human…]

One screamed, then was cut short by her blade. Another bolted, panic twisting his voice as he shouted into the night. For an instant, Luke understood—anyone seeing a black knight with blazing red eyes would mistake her for a Midnight Warden.

The runner didn’t get far. Charlie raised her hand, and a spectral chain shot out, coiling around his chest. She yanked, whirling him through the air before slamming him against a tree hard enough to crack wood.

[Princess Charlie has slain a human…]

Luke strolled toward the largest tent. Conrad emerged, face blanching at the sight of seven corpses riddled with knives.

“You said something earlier,” Luke murmured. “About a long death or a short one?”

Unlike the others, Conrad didn’t break immediately. He clenched his jaw and drew his sword, arcs of lightning dancing along the blade. Then he charged.

A knife punched into his eye before he made it halfway. Another sank into his leg. A third pinned his hand uselessly. Conrad crumpled, screaming, and Luke crushed his shin underfoot. His shriek tore across the camp.

“I-I-Impossible…” Conrad stammered, dragging himself backward, eyes wild with terror. “H-how? What level are you?”

Luke didn’t bother answering. He turned toward the cave entrance. Rhett stood there, gripping two hand axes, sweat shining on his face.

“If you take another step, I’ll kill the healer!” Rhett barked.

“There’s no need for that,” Jack said quietly.

“Shut up, healer!” Rhett snapped.

Luke sighed, taking a single step forward. “If you kill him, I’ll kill you. In the end, what will your threat have gained you?”

Rhett froze, voice trembling. “L-let me go!”

“No,” Luke replied flatly.

Desperation broke him. Rhett hurled one axe toward Luke, the other aimed at Jack. A knife blurred through the air, snapping his wrist and pinning it to the wall before he could follow through. Another blade tore across his throat. A final one buried itself in his skull.

Find this and other great novels on the author’s preferred platform. Support original creators!

He slumped against the stone, sliding down until he sat lifeless at the mouth of the cave.

[You have slain a human…]

[+1 Soul Fragment acquired]

“Don’t worry, Jack,” Luke said evenly. “I’ll come back for you.”

Turning, he walked back into the night. Through Predator’s Mark, he saw Conrad’s faint red outline crawling desperately across the forest floor, dragging himself away like a dying animal.

Luke followed the trail until the bandit leader came into view.

“N-no… please,” Conrad rasped, blood dripping from his ruined eye. “Take everything here. I don’t care. Just let me go. I swear I’ll vanish from the Safe Zone forever.”

Luke sighed and crouched down, locking eyes with the man. Charlie stepped up beside him and stopped.

“Princess Charlie,” Luke said evenly. “This guy swore he’d kill me slowly, painfully. Should I let him walk away?”

Her gaze dropped toward Conrad. The crimson glow within her helm flared, and she shook her head once, no.

She tightened her grip on her sword and invoked the Doomblade.

[Doomblade (Rare)]: The Death Knight’s sword becomes shrouded in a cursed aura. Each strike with Doomblade corrupts the target’s flesh, dealing necrotic damage. Wounds caused by this blade resist healing, leaving behind searing pain and lingering decay. The more cuts inflicted, the heavier the toll of agony upon the enemy.

Charlie drove the blade into Conrad’s gut. His scream tore through the camp. Her free hand clamped down on his face, and fire roared to life, flames chewing through his skin. Yeah… she was definitely pissed.

Luke turned his back on the scene and walked toward the cave, letting the princess enjoy her moment of cruelty without interruption. Inside, Jack was still where he’d been, shackled near Rhett’s corpse.

“It’s me again,” Luke said as he approached.

Jack’s chains rattled. His voice cracked with relief. “Praise be to the Goddess of Kindness.”

Metal snapped as Luke tore the bindings apart. “No goddess saved you. Just me.”

“But you showed kindness, didn’t you?”

Luke didn’t bother answering.

“Th-thank you, James.” Jack reached out, his hand glowing faintly green with healing magic.

“I’m fine. I don’t need healing,” Luke muttered.

But Jack’s gaze lingered on his head, wide-eyed. “J-James… your hair. It’s black…”

And then Luke realized. Damn it.

When his race level-up granted enhanced regeneration, it hadn’t just mended wounds. It had stripped the blond from his hair, leaving it pitch black. Normally, he managed that risk, waiting to raise his race level in his hideout while tending to the plantation. Here, he’d been careless.

“I… dye it,” Luke said flatly.

Jack glanced around at the carnage, the man burning in the campfire, others sprawled in the dirt, bristling with knives.

Luke drew a deep breath and met his eyes. “So. I think you’ve figured out…”

“Your name is Luke,” Jack blurted, not a question, but a statement.

“You already knew?”

Jack nodded slowly. “…Yeah.”

“Then why didn’t you report me to Bastion?”

Jack touched the pendant hanging at his throat. “The voice of the Goddess of Kindness spoke to me the day we met. She said, ‘Help the fool, for I owe Samael a favor.’ I don’t know what it means, but she said you would.”

That caught Luke off guard.

“…Right,” he muttered, turning the revelation over in his mind. If Jack had said the same thing without mentioning Samael, he wouldn’t have believed a word of it. But that name changed everything.

“Alright, Jack. So you know who I am. But there’s a problem.” Luke’s tone hardened. “I killed Conrad, the administrator of this whole operation. His disappearance is going to draw way too much attention from Bartholomew’s men. And I can’t exactly testify that I was kidnapped without blowing my cover.”

Luke walked over to the bodies.

“What are you going to do?” Jack asked.

“I’m getting out of here. I’ve got everything I need, and I won’t be heading back to the Safe Zone anytime soon.”

“And me?”

“Go back to your job. Act normal. Haven’t you ever watched a movie? If you vanish the day after your boss disappears, people start asking questions.”

Jack’s eyes swept over the carnage. “I hope I get to see you again, Luke.”

“I just hope you don’t think less of me for killing these people. It was them or us.”

Jack gave a crooked smile. “Don’t worry about it. The Goddess of Kindness teaches that we should wipe out our enemies in the worst way possible.” With that, he started walking away.

“I like that goddess,” Franky muttered.

Luke moved closer. “Hey. You were planning to take the trail back to the worksite?”

“Yeah, it’s the fastest way.”

He exhaled, shaking his head. “Man, what do you think happens if someone spots you sneaking around the same night one of those guys turns up missing? You really need to watch a few cop movies. I’ll take you back myself. We’ll use the long route.”

[Princess Charlie has slain…]

**The [Death Knight] class of Princess Charlie has reached Level 35! (Class Bonus Points Acquired: +3 Str, +3 End, +2 Agi, +2 Vit, +2 Int, +1 Per, +2 Free Points)**

[Princess Charlie has unlocked a new Class Skill]

Once Jack was safely back on the trail, nothing would hold him back anymore. He finally had everything he needed to claim the fortress.

***

The battle against the Orc Lord raged on, the field littered with the frozen corpses of his kin. Allison bled from half a dozen wounds, yet still stood her ground, surrounded by broken ice sculptures that only hours ago had been living, snarling orcs. They were her handiwork, silent witnesses to the slaughter.

Only Mason had managed to break through to her side. The rest of the party was locked down, trapped by the relentless fury of the horde. The Orc Lord swung his chained iron sphere again. Allison slipped out of the way by a hair’s breadth, countering with sharp, surgical strikes aimed at tendons and muscle, anything that might slow the beast down. The impact of the weapon shattered the earth at her feet.

In that brief opening, Mason emerged from the shadows. His blade sank into the monster’s back. But his mana was spent, no spells left, only steel against flesh. The Orc Lord’s roar shook the air, the heat rolling off his body like a furnace. He moved faster, more feral.

Allison staggered, her body on the verge of collapse. She glanced at her sword and froze. The first cracks were spreading across the ice-forged blade. Her chest tightened. She knew what that meant: the next shatter would be the last. No more reforging, no replacements. That was the price of channeling her ice techniques into steel. Her weapons never endured for long. This katana had already been reforged multiple times. The next break was permanent. And still, she had no choice but to force it past its limits. There was no retreat here.

While Mason fought desperately to dodge the monster’s strikes, Allison tightened her grip. Frost crawled up her arm as she poured more energy into the katana. With a double leap she came down hard, carving a deep gash across the Orc Lord’s back. Ice erupted from the wound, spreading through the torn flesh.

The beast spun in fury. One chained sphere crushed Mason, the other slammed into Allison. Both were thrown in opposite directions.Allison crashed into a mound of frozen corpses, rolling across the snow, dirt, and blood. The blow would have killed her outright if not for the katana’s enchantment, hardening her skin like an ant’s carapace. Gasping, she raised a trembling hand and fired an iceball toward the enemy.

“You’re the most troublesome of all!” the Orc Lord bellowed.

The chained sphere swung back toward her in a wide arc. Allison tried to dodge, but the second iron ball slammed into the ground beside her, the shockwave knocking her off balance. She knew this move. He was going to crush her between the two spheres, like a fly caught between clapping hands.

She tried to run, but the strike came too fast. Frost surged down her blade as she turned, betting everything on one desperate block. The iron ball collided mid-swing. A sharp crack split the battlefield. Her katana broke in two, the shards spinning away into the snow.

[Warning: Your item ‘General Ant’s Katana’ has been permanently destroyed]

The ground seemed to give way beneath her feet. Allison hit the frozen corpses flat on her back. Her weapon was gone. Without a katana, half her skills as a swordswoman were useless. The Orc Lord advanced, dragging his chains, the screech of metal echoing like thunder. She forced herself to her knees. The first sphere whistled past, nearly crushing her skull. She rolled aside, only to be driven back again by the second.

“What a pathetic little dragon… Your kind should be ashamed of you.” The monster’s eyes burned with scorn as it mocked her.

Allison clenched her teeth. She tried to rise, but her body refused to obey. Pain, cold, the crushing weight of defeat, everything pressed down at once. And yet, her eyes still burned with a fire that refused to die.

She stretched out her hand. Her fingertips trembled. There was no steel, no weapon at all, only the raw essence of ice answering her call. The air thickened, brittle and sharp, as tiny flakes of snow began to swirl around her palm. At first fragile, almost delicate, then denser, harder, glittering like shards of glass. The wind howled, drawn into her grasp by something unseen.

The ice stretched, twisted, lengthened. It was slow, painfully slow. Every second the monster drew closer. But her focus never wavered. Cold sweat slid down her face, her breath faltered, but she held on. The chill burst outward in a dazzling wave, white and blinding. And then the shape was there. Complete.

[Ice Katana Creation (Rare)]: The Ice Sculptor can shape the essence of [Ice] into a temporary blade. While ephemeral, the weapon is as real and sharp as steel, though its power is capped at [Common]. Yet, when imbued with the ancient strength of the [Heart of the Ice Dragon], the katana burns with draconic winter, colder, sharper, deadlier than any mere conjured weapon.

It was a skill of her Ice Sculptor profession, a mutation of her original Sculptor profession. Allison leveled the katana at the orc. No retreat. No hesitation. She would face him head-on.