Becoming the Dark Lord

Luke stared at his transformed hands. The skin had become a dark, pulsing mass, alive with veins that writhed beneath the surface. For a moment he was caught in it, a mix of fascination and unease edging toward fear. He drew a slow breath, focused, and willed the skill to stop.

The change receded like liquid obeying gravity. The blackness retreated from his fingertips to his palms, sliding under the skin until it vanished. In the blink of an eye his hands were normal again, as if nothing had happened.

He lifted one hand toward the water. An invisible pull snapped through the air, and his kukri, the curved blade he had dropped, shivered and flew back to his grip, drawn by the magnetism embedded in his power. The moment he caught it, he noticed the greenish acid glow had faded. He frowned.

“Does the acid vanish after I throw it?” he muttered under his breath.

The power was still too new. He had tested a fraction of it, but most of its effects were still a mystery.

Luke closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. His pulse sped up as he summoned the power again. Heat rolled down his arms. Microfissures split open across his skin, too fine to see at a glance, and the same viscous dark liquid seeped out, coating his fingers and palms like a living gauntlet.

The kukri flared black-green as soon as he gripped it, the blade drinking in the energy. He opened his hand and let the weapon drop onto the damp ground. For a few seconds the acid glow lingered, then ebbed away.

“So this is your new power? Interesting,” Allison said as she walked closer, her tone a blend of curiosity and caution.

“A little,” Luke answered, still studying his hands.

“Looks like your attacks got a lot stronger with that skill.” She crossed her arms, watching every detail.

He gave a small nod. He had explained the basics to her, but this was still the testing phase. They needed to understand each other’s skills if they wanted any chance at the final battle.

“Does it hurt your own skin?” she asked, one eyebrow raised.

Luke glanced at the long, black nails now crowning his fingers. He pressed one against his arm. Nothing. He picked up the kukri and brushed its edge along his forearm. Still nothing.

“I’m immune to my own acid,” he said, a flicker of relief in his voice.

“At least that,” Allison murmured, eyes dropping to the damp kukri.

Unlike most skills he had seen, or even his own enchanted arrow, this one felt stable, safe for him, but not for anyone else.

“Time to test how it works on something living,” she said, matter-of-fact.

“What? No.” Luke stepped back, lifting the kukri.

“We have to know its reaction. We need to test it on every kind of creature we find.”

“Then I’ll test it only on monsters.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She gave a short laugh, almost amused. “Touch my breastplate. See if your hand can burn through to what’s underneath. We’re about to face a Lord who could be using enchanted gear. You know the risk? None of the Lords wore heavy armor, not even the Orc Lord. He fought practically naked. If the Midnight Lord is more like a Warden, we’re in trouble.”

Still, he was uncomfortable.

”Put your hand on my stomach,” she said, pointing.

“This is kind of weird…”

“Why?” she tilted her head. “You’re immune to your own damage. Charlie, even when summoned, is a skeleton and also immune. That leaves me.”

“Nothing,” he muttered, clearing his throat. “If it hurts, tell me.”

He stepped closer, lowering the demon-slicked hand to her armor at waist level, and held it there for a few seconds.

“It seems to be eating at the armor a little,” Allison noted, watching the point of contact. “With prolonged exposure it might even corrode the equipment completely.”

“In a real fight it wouldn’t last that long,” Luke replied, taking the kukri back. “You’re not about to ask me to actually hurt you with this, are you?”

“Test it.”

He exhaled heavily. Bracing the blade against her armor, he pressed. The metal gave way far too easily, soft as melted butter.

“Ow…” Allison muttered, stepping back.

“Sorry.” Luke shut the skill down and watched his hands fade back to normal. He tapped the blade to her armor again—nothing.

“It really is the power of the skill. That extra acid damage could be a huge advantage.” He spun the kukri absently, thinking.

“Luke…” Allison’s tone had changed. “The pain isn’t stopping…”

His head snapped up. “What?”

She took another step back and with a quick flick of her menu dismissed part of her armor. Beneath, the shirt was torn, a scorched ring exposing reddened skin. She lifted the fabric, revealing the burn blooming across her stomach. The acid was still working, eating slowly, a metallic tang rising from it.

“Look… the effect is still corroding my flesh,” she said with almost clinical calm.

“Why are you calm about this? This is serious!” Luke was already fumbling with the amulet that opened his pocket dimension. “I just used an epic skill on you.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Allison lowered her shirt, drawing a steady breath. “At least now we know the acid keeps working after the initial hit.”

“That’s not comforting…” He dumped several potions at once, glass rolling across the damp ground. “The skill mixes blood with the black mist. When it touched your skin, it must have amplified and spread…” He was muttering, trying to reason it out even as his heart pounded.

“I’m not fragile. Don’t worry,” Allison said, though the hard line of her mouth betrayed discomfort.

“Fine, but drink a healing potion now.”

She crouched and began rummaging through the bottles. For this trip to the capital, each of them had received five healing potions they had gotten from the Safe Zone event.

“There’s ketchup in here…” she said, holding up a vial with a grimace.

“There’s a little of everything,” Luke answered distractedly, eyes flicking to her wound.

She sorted through more flasks.

“Don’t drag it out, Allison. Drink it. That wound could get worse.”

“Relax. I know my limits.” She glanced up at him, a hint of curiosity slipping through the pain. “What even are these potions?”

“Defective ones. At worst they give someone a stomachache.”

She gave a short laugh. “And why do you keep them? You can’t beat an enemy by giving them a stomachache.”

Luke coughed, memories flickering. “I’ve got my reasons…”

“You sure I won’t drink the wrong one?” she teased, twirling a vial between her fingers.

“Healing potions are red. You can’t miss them,” Luke said, trying to sound firm.

Allison held one up to the dim light. “I know. I’m just messing with you.”

Then Luke remembered. “Just don’t drink the pinkish-red one—” but the words left his mouth at the exact moment she tipped a potion back in a single swallow.

Allison froze, smile fading. “What’s the difference, Luke?”

“What do you mean?” His voice was sharper than he intended.

She stared at the empty vial in her hand. “What’s the difference between the potions?” Her tone had shifted, all humor gone.

“One is red… the other’s more of a pinkish red.”

Allison crouched low, rifling through the vials scattered across the ground.

“Oh no…” Luke muttered. “No, no, no…”

She stayed silent, checking each bottle in turn, flicking them aside until she stopped at an actual healing potion. She held it up to the dim light.

Luke chewed his nail, watching her in absolute silence.

Allison lowered the vial and fixed him with a steady stare. “Luke… what does the pinkish-red potion do?”

“Something very dangerous!” His voice jumped half an octave.

She swallowed hard.

Luke started counting the healing potions he had left: five from the trip, plus two old spares. By the time he finished, his face had gone pale. “Oh… no… you actually drank it…”

Allison rose slowly, her cheeks already flushing. “What did your potion do? Was it poison?” Her tone was firm, but there was a flicker of tension in her eyes.

Luke drew a deep breath, buying time. She was beginning to sweat—and not just from the acid. “It was… something much worse…” he murmured.

Her eyes narrowed. “Define worse.”

He swallowed hard. “You… you drank my libido potion.” He blurted it out like ripping off a bandage.

For a second the world seemed to stop. Allison’s gaze went distant, her blink slow as she tried to process it.

“My libido potion…” Luke repeated under his breath, almost mournful. “My only potion, gone…”

She grabbed him by the collar and yanked him forward, her face inches from his. “What the hell do you mean, idiot?! A libido potion?”

“I swear it’s not what you’re thinking!”

“And what exactly am I supposed to think?” Her voice was a snarl now. “What does this potion even do?”

Luke lifted his hands in surrender. “I swear it was for science, okay? I needed experience points in profession. I thought, you know… create this potion, even though it’s insanely hard, even though it burns through resources. It was all for magical science!”

She shook him hard. “Stop stalling and just tell me!”

“It’s a potion to make a man… enthusiastic. You know. To keep the sword sharp for night combat.”

A sharp crack. The slap landed fast.

“You lunatic!”

“I told you I didn’t want to say it out loud!” Luke rubbed his cheek. “But look on the bright side: you’re not a man. There’s nothing down there to… rise.”

She released his collar with a growl.

Luke exhaled, trying to get his breath back. “It’ll have zero effect on you, don’t worry.”

He gave her shoulder a light pat to calm her, and at that instant a low, involuntary sound slipped out of her—a soft moan.

Allison went crimson, eyes wide. “W-w-why did I just moan?!”

Luke froze. The sound etched itself into his memory instantly.

“Answer me, idiot!”

He raised both hands. “I-I-I don’t know! It was designed for men! I have no idea what it does to women!”

She stepped forward, fist tightening.

“Look on the bright side!” Luke ducked. “You’re healed! The wound’s gone!”

“I’m going to kill you!”

She seized him again, closer this time. Luke tried to lift a hand to defend himself, and the moment his skin brushed hers another moan escaped Allison. She let him go instantly, staring at herself in shock.

Luke swallowed hard. “Maybe the effect on women is… making them super sensitive to everything?”

His heart was hammering. “Don’t tell me I just invented something that could accidentally shake the world…” he muttered under his breath.

“Allison! I need you to tell me exactly what you’re feeling, right now!”

She raised her hand and slapped him hard. “You’re an idiot!”

Turning away, she started rummaging through the potions on the ground, clattering vials as she searched. “You said you’d brewed antidotes for Bartholomew’s poisons. Hurry up and tell me which one is going to fix this!”

Luke rubbed the sting from his face. “O-okay… yeah, I deserved that… but you could have used Identify on the potion before drinking it.”

“How was I supposed to guess you’d make something almost identical to a healing potion? Even the smell was the same,” she growled.

“That’s because the base is a healing potion…” Luke muttered, mostly to himself.

“Which antidote, Luke?” She shot him a glare, eyes sparking. “And for your own good, there’d better not be another potion like this in here.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Artemis’s laughter echoed. He ignored it.

“Tell me which potion to drink to stop the effect!”

He hesitated, staring at the ground. “Look… when a man takes that kind of potion… it’s because he doesn’t want it to stop. So… there isn’t an antidote. I wasn’t exactly going to invent something to cancel a miracle effect.”

She stepped toward him slowly, irritation rising with every breath, her face deepening to crimson. Just looking at him seemed to make the flush spread.

“I’m leaving, don’t worry!” Luke said as he turned to run, but he felt her grab him by the collar of his shirt.

“You’re not running,” she snapped, grabbing him by the collar again. “You’re staying right here until this wears off. Until I’m sure I’m fine.”

Luke caught the glint of her katana as she shifted her grip.

“And don’t you dare lay a finger on me,” she warned.

“Hey… in my defense, I’m the one here who could be the victim of a horny sexual predator, not the other way around,” he tried weakly.

Another slap cracked across his cheek. He saw her clench her jaw, fighting off another involuntary sound at the contact.

It was going to be a very long afternoon for both of them.