Becoming the Dark Lord

Allison tore through the fortress corridors. She was the first to cross the gate, not because she knew the way, but because someone had to be the symbol of courage pulling everyone forward.

Evangeline quickly moved to the front, flanked by archers. Unlike Allison, she knew every inch of this place; she had once lived in Bastion. The maps she had drawn for Haven came from that past. Now, that knowledge was the thread holding the group together.

“There!” Evangeline shouted, pointing ahead.

The first phase of the plan was straightforward: destroy the alarm crystals before they could activate. Evangeline’s Shadow Sense made her indispensable. The shadows around them were like extensions of her perception, and she could feel the faint ripples that betrayed the hidden crystals. Guided by her voice, the archers let fly.

Arrows cut the air, shattering the crystals embedded in the walls before they could glow. Every shot mattered. One mistake, one crystal lighting up, and the entire mission would collapse. This fortress wasn’t a dungeon you could leave halfway through, it was an event, and once it started, it only ended with success or death. The Wardens didn’t know the intruders’ position unless the alarms were tripped. It was a game of predator and prey. Their counter-strategy was to flip the game: trigger the alarms only at the right place, on their terms.

“Warden ahead!” Evangeline warned.

A hulking figure emerged, descending a narrow staircase. The silence broke. It was the first time they had faced a Warden inside the fortress itself. They had fought them on the walls before, but here they seemed heavier, darker, more oppressive.

A spear shot forward, slamming into its chest. Arrows followed, punching through weak points in the armor. Miranda roared, charging with her axe raised high. The blade came down with brutal force, splitting armor and flesh alike. The Warden staggered back, crashed against the steps, and tumbled lifeless down the stairwell.

“We… we actually did it,” Miranda panted, chest heaving.

With a handful of strikes, they had felled a monster that had once butchered friends and allies without effort.

“No time to celebrate,” Evangeline snapped, already surging ahead.

There was no room for relief.

As the group pushed forward, Allison sank into her own thoughts, trying to keep her focus sharp. She let the cold pool inside her chest, gathering it piece by piece, preparing for the Draconic Exhalation. Every corner they turned, every step deeper into the fortress, could mean the difference between survival and annihilation.

Wardens appeared again and again. The group pressed on like an unrelenting tide, cutting them down one after another, forcing their way into the heart of the stronghold.

Around the next corner, five more enemies materialized. Allison didn’t hesitate. With the purple-bladed katana in hand, she launched herself forward in a blur. Her horizontal slash was so fast the creature didn’t even raise its spear. Its head flew, and the body froze solid mid-motion, becoming an ice statue.

The others collapsed seconds later, cut down by her companions.

Luke stepped up beside her, staring at the frozen corpse. “Impressive. Hard to believe one of these nearly killed us once. Now you took one down like it was nothing.”

Allison drew in a steady breath. It hadn’t been nothing. She had to dive deep into her frost, weave in techniques from her Sculptor’s craft, and channel the katana’s enchantments just to pull it off.

“I’m still far from where I want to be. But if the two of us from back then, running from these things and throwing ourselves off cliffs to escape, could see this now… I think we’d be proud.”

That was how she kept herself moving: by remembering who she used to be. But whenever her thoughts drifted toward her family, toward the Rhiannons, that pride curdled into bitterness.

“We’re a lot stronger now,” Eugene said, yanking his spear free from a Warden’s corpse. He shot Luke a look laced with irony. “But tell me, Mister Epic Skill, I haven’t seen you lift a finger yet. Weren’t you the one who killed the Beast Lord?”

Luke raised his bow. “I’m just providing support. If I feel you need me, I’ll step in.”

Electricity crackled along Eugene’s spear as he sneered. “Oh, of course. We’ll just keep waiting for your grand entrance then,” he muttered before hurling himself into another enemy.

“Sorry… they still don’t trust you,” Allison murmured, a little embarrassed.

“It’s fine,” Luke replied, calm as ever.

They kept running through the fortress. The heavy stares of Miranda, Quinn, and Gilbert didn’t go unnoticed. Until a few days ago, they’d believed Luke was working with Bartholomew, that he was the one behind Angelica and Paul’s deaths.

“We’re here,” Evangeline called, halting in front of a massive door.

From this point on, they wouldn’t be breaking crystals. The alarms would blaze. The fortress would know.

She pushed through first. Torchlight clung to the stone walls, spilling into the vast chamber ahead.

“Hurry, we don’t have much time!” Quinn barked.

They poured in. The hall was enormous: long wooden tables stretched down its center, enchanted candelabras glowed from the ceiling, torchlight flickered against worn stone, ancient carpets lined the floor, and heavy chandeliers swayed slightly in the draft. A banquet hall turned battlefield.

“Form up!” Gilbert roared.

Shields slammed into place, a living wall trembling under the weight of anticipation. Mages and archers flowed past, taking their places in the rear. The formation was set: shields in front, steel and magic layered behind. The same strategy they had used against the Orc Lord’s army.

It didn’t take long. Red glimmers flared in the doorways, and Wardens stepped into the light. Spears rained down, slamming into shields with bone-rattling force.

Beside Allison, Evangeline’s voice dropped low. “The Captain doesn’t stray far from the mechanism’s chamber. The banquet hall is the edge of his leash. Sooner or later, he’ll come.”

The objective was brutal in its simplicity: survive the waves until the Captain arrived.

Allison tightened her grip on her katana and rushed forward. A Warden abandoned its spear for a sword and met her head-on. Steel rang loud through the hall as their blades clashed. With a sharp twist, she redirected its strike and tore through the helmet in one precise cut. The body froze instantly, locking into another ice sculpture in her growing domain.

She pressed on. More kills meant more territory, and every statue fed the spreading frost that strengthened her. Evangeline was pure shadow, slipping through the melee like a phantom. Her spear struck with surgical precision, piercing skulls before the Wardens even realized she was behind them.

The hall erupted into chaos. Haven’s mages unleashed volleys of fireballs, explosions lighting the room and blasting tables into splinters. Gilbert darted in zigzags, throwing hatchets into legs, dropping enemies for Miranda to finish with brutal swings of her axe that shattered helms and clavicles alike.

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

Eugene was a storm of lightning. Each time his spear struck, sparks crackled across a Warden’s armor. Before the creature even hit the floor, he was already ripping the weapon free, driving it home again. They weren’t the same people who had once run in terror from these monsters. They were stronger now. Sharper. More in sync. And Allison couldn’t help but hope. If they kept fighting like this, maybe, just maybe, they all had a real chance of making it out of the tutorial alive.

A Warden lunged at her, spear raised. Allison leapt, triggering her double jump. Her spinning arc ended with the katana buried in the creature’s helm. She landed lightly, blade already sweeping in a crescent slash that severed another head clean off. Ice blossomed from the wound as her profession skill surged to life.

[Funerary Ice Sculpture (Ultra-Rare)]: When the Ice Sculptor slays an enemy, they can instantly freeze the corpse, preserving it exactly in the position it fell and transforming it into a macabre ice sculpture. These sculptures remain standing for several hours, radiating an intense cold that gradually lowers the surrounding temperature. This effect creates a frozen terrain that strengthens all ice-based skills cast within its area of influence.

By channeling the power of [Heart of the Ice Dragon], the Sculptor can intensify the effect, causing the sculptures to drain even more heat from the surrounding space, making the environment severely cold and further amplifying the potency of ice arts. However, this additional strength comes at a cost: while sustaining this effect, the sculptures begin to melt, vanishing more quickly.

The chill of the Draconic Exhalation pulsed through her veins. Not the active burst, but the passive might of her dragon’s heart. Frost crawled across her katana in a thin, glittering layer. She dashed forward in quick bursts, weaving the secondary power of her sculptures into every strike. The banquet hall soon looked like a frozen graveyard. Statues of ice lined the floor, snow curling across the stone. Allison cast iceballs, each one detonating in shards that blanketed the chamber with razor-edged frost.

“Come on! Let’s kill every last one of them!” Miranda roared, her voice ragged under the weight of berserk skill.

Then a different sound cut through the chaos—a roar, deep and resonant, vibrating through the walls as if the fortress itself bellowed.

“He’s coming!” Evangeline warned.

The Wardens shifted instantly, as though obeying a silent command. Swords vanished into sheaths, spears rose in perfect unison, and they marched forward in a tight phalanx.

“Form up!” Mason shouted.

And then came the footsteps. Heavy. Metallic. Each one echoing like a war drum through the corridors.

Allison vaulted onto one of her own ice sculptures, eyes scanning the room, alert to the snow, the shadows. She inhaled deeply and exhaled slow. A plume of white mist poured from her lips, curling outward until the cold smoke seeped through every doorway, bolstered by the aura of her frozen statues.

A spear flew toward her chest.

“Protect Allison!” someone cried.

The weapon spun away, deflected midair by one of Luke’s arrows.

Allison didn’t flinch. She stretched the fog farther, smothering the entrances in a veil of white. That was when she saw it: something moving inside the mist, unseen yet leaving footprints pressed into the snow.

“There!” she shouted, leaping high.

She fired iceballs downward. They exploded against the invisible outline, shards clinging to a shape that flickered in and out of reality. Allison descended in a whirl, katana raised to pierce through the form—only for her blade to slice through empty air.

The counterstrike hit before she could breathe. A brutal blow crashed into her ribs and flung her across the room. Too fast. Way too fast.

“Careful!” Mason barked—then was hurled into a wall, smashing through the shield line in a spray of splinters.

The monster was in their midst. Wardens surged with the opening, spears flying in volleys. Magicians cast blindly into the haze, fire and lightning flashing against the stone. None of it landed. The enemy moved too quickly, striking unseen.

Allison sprinted forward, chest clamped by guilt. She’d failed.

“Use your power!” Mason shouted at Evangeline.

“It needs a shadow first!” she snapped, skewering a Warden before it reached her flank.

Allison’s jaw clenched hard. This is my fault!

She fired iceballs at every flicker she thought might be it. Dustin leapt into the chaos, fists crashing against the ground. The entire chamber quaked, Wardens stumbling off balance. That was the opening she needed. Allison soared upward, unleashed her Draconic Exhalation, and drowned the battlefield in a wave of freezing mist. Allies and enemies alike shivered under the numbing cold—but then she saw it, the fog striking something solid, something hidden.

There!

She dashed forward, igniting her berserker blade. The katana tore across the unseen mass with a devastating cut. She felt the steel bite.

“I hit it!” she gasped.

Her triumph lasted less than a second. A crushing strike slammed into her side, sending her skidding across the floor until she smashed into a table. Her weapon was gone. When she lifted her gaze, her katana floated in midair, caught in something unseen. Slowly, the illusion unraveled, peeling away until the figure stood revealed. Taller than the others. Its armor black and oppressive, radiating menace. Silence smothered the room as one line of text appeared before her eyes.

[Midnight Warden Captain: Lvl 70]

“Holy shit…” a soldier whispered, stumbling back in panic.

“It really is… l-lvl 70,” Gilbert stammered.

Miranda said nothing. Eugene’s breathing came heavy, uneven. Even Allison, who already knew what they were facing, felt the chill crawl down her spine. The Captain roared and charged. Three shield-bearers were hurled against the wall with a single strike, their blood splattering across the stone floor.

This was the moment Evangeline had been waiting for. Allison lowered her gaze and saw her shadow stretch outward, twisting into a dark circle. From it, a thin line reached across the floor and connected with the Captain’s own shadow.

Evangeline clasped her hands together, jaw tight. From the circle, black arms burst forth like writhing roots, clutching at the monster’s legs and arms. The Captain screamed, thrashing violently, but the shadows held. Evangeline stood rigid, her entire body trembling as she forced the skill to bind him.

“Now!” someone shouted.

Mason surged forward, his body blazing with golden light so bright it hurt to look at him. Allison flicked her interface, dismissing her katana from the Captain’s armor and pulling it back into her inventory.

Mason’s arms darkened, turning coal black. He raised his hands, activating his blacksmith’s epic skill. A golden fireball erupted in his palms, launching into the Captain’s chest. Another followed. Then another. Soon, the blasts came so fast Allison lost count. Explosion after explosion thundered through the hall, the air itself shaking as golden light turned the battlefield into a storm of fire.

Wardens rushed to shield their commander, but the Haven fought tooth and nail to hold them back. Shields slammed against spears, mages raised walls of flame, and warriors hacked desperately to keep the enemy line from breaking. At last, Mason collapsed to his knees, his arm scorched black, eyes half-shut from exhaustion. The glow around his body flickered out. The shadows snapped back, freeing the Captain.

Silence fell. All eyes fixed on the cloud of black smoke that engulfed the creature.

“Please… just fall,” someone whispered.

But the sound wasn’t a body hitting stone. It was footsteps. Slow. Metallic. Each one slicing through the silence like a blade. The silhouette emerged. The Captain’s breastplate was shattered, chunks of armor blown apart to reveal seared flesh boiling beneath. Steam hissed from rents in his armor, yet he still stood tall.

With a guttural roar, he raised his sword again.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” Mason muttered, disbelief etched on his face.

“H-he’s still alive,” Quinn breathed, voice cracking.

Allison swallowed hard, memories of the Orc Lord’s battle cutting into her mind like a knife. Back then, she had survived only by luck and the bloodline she despised.

Eugene’s spear crackled with electricity. “Then let’s see if you can take this!”

He hurled it. Lightning crawled across the Captain’s armor, sparks dancing across every plate. For a heartbeat, it seemed to work. Then laughter shook the hall. The Captain seized the spear, snapped it in half, and leveled his blade at them, a wordless declaration of execution.

He advanced.

“Shield wall! Hold the line!” someone bellowed.

The monster’s body began to glow, signaling some devastating skill. Allison gripped her katana tighter. Shields lifted as one.

“Brace for impact!”

The metallic scream of the Captain’s blade descending split the air. But the impact never came. The shields didn’t break. The line held. A stunned silence followed, broken only when one soldier dared to open his eyes.

“No… it can’t be…” he whispered.

Allison’s gaze snapped upward.

At the very front, unmoving as a wall of stone, stood Luke. With a single kukri, tiny, almost laughable against the Captain’s massive blade, he held the strike in place. His stance didn’t falter. The steel didn’t yield.

“Well, idiots,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “If your plan failed, then it’s time for mine.”