Becoming the Dark Lord

Luke’s grip tightened on both kukris, the blades slick and cold, pulsing with the shadow-born energy of his Demonic Predator Hands. Ahead, the white haze swallowed the forest whole, a curtain where reality bled into illusion. A flicker of warped air shimmered, just a smudge of movement, but enough for him to catch it.

Kruger was there. Invisible, or cloaked in some trick the mist amplified.

Luke moved first. He rolled his shoulders and slashed through the air with both blades. The steel bit into something unseen, a hard, clean shock, metal meeting metal. Blue sparks flared in the void. Another invisible strike lashed back, cutting through the fog. He was fighting a phantom he couldn’t see, only sense.

He stepped back, muscles coiled, as bolts hissed out of nowhere. One grazed his shoulder; another buried itself in the trunk beside him. Luke’s smile spread, adrenaline catching fire in his veins. The deeper the danger, the sharper the edge. He sprinted toward the source of the shots, feet sinking into the wet grass. A flick of the wrist, and one kukri left his hand. The metallic thud came first, followed by a strangled cry, Kruger’s voice, high and furious.

“How the hell are you seeing me?!” the mist roared.

Luke didn’t answer. He lunged forward, closing the distance in a heartbeat. A vague silhouette coalesced ahead, and his twin kick hit solid mass. The invisible shape ripped through the white haze, clearing a path like torn fabric.

His outstretched hand called the thrown kukri back. It snapped into his palm as he broke through the edge of the fog into the remains of the forest beyond. Behind him, mocking echoes taunted. Dozens of Krugers raised crossbows between the trees, insults braided with laughter. Luke ignored them. He knew they were projections, bait meant to scatter his focus. The real one was close.

His entire body was a net of sharpened senses. Demonic Perception filtered every tremor, Assassin’s Tracking mapped each step in the grass, Soil Analysis whispered the weight of unseen footsteps, and the Botanical Bond pulsed back the memory of trees swaying around them.

Luke didn’t need eyes on Kruger. He could feel him.

Ahead, the unseen figure staggered upright. Acid chewed at its wound, cracking the illusion apart. Little by little, Kruger bled back into sight.

“I don’t know how you’re seeing me, but it doesn’t matter,” Kruger snarled, voice tight with rage. “I should have finished you the day you stopped me from punishing Angélica.”

Twin silver daggers glimmered in Kruger’s hands as the white haze churned like a living thing, thick with ghosts. Dozens of copies sprinted from every direction, laughing as they charged.

Luke hurled his kukri at one. Illusions burst into smoke on contact until the blade struck something solid, Kruger himself. The assassin deflected it, breaking into a sprint, face twisted with hatred.

Luke advanced too, each step sinking into the soaked ground as he drew on his stamina. His free hand brushed the earth, and roots erupted like serpents, barbed thorns bristling. Plant Growth turned the battlefield into a living snare.

Steel met steel. Kukri against daggers, strikes like lightning, a rhythm of violence. The thrown blade snapped back into Luke’s hand at the perfect moment, closing the trap around his opponent.

“I’m going to enjoy hunting down the rest of your team when I’m done with you!” Kruger spat.

The blades collided in a shower of sparks. Barbed roots coiled up from the ground, snagging Kruger’s boots for a heartbeat, a taunt from the earth itself. Luke triggered Demonic Blade Dance and spun. His kukris, cloaked in the power of the Demonic Predator Hands, carved a horizontal arc through the mist. Kruger’s scream tore through the fog as the strike split his defense. Luke finished the spin with a jump, landing a kick that cracked like thunder.

Kruger slammed into a tree. Luke was already moving, falling on him like a predator with that involuntary smile still etched on his face.

The assassin tried to lift his daggers, but Luke was faster. One kukri slashed across Kruger’s hand, three fingers flying in a crimson arc. The second plunged deep into his abdomen while Luke’s clawed hand raked across his face. The mask tore away, revealing features warped by pain and hatred.

Kruger’s howl rose into the canopy, half his face sizzling under acid. In desperation he threw his weight into Luke, stabbing wildly. Luke blocked each strike with his empowered hand, small, precise movements swatting the blades aside.

Then Kruger flicked a dagger and hurled a small black orb. It burst on impact, billowing dark smoke into the white fog, swallowing the battlefield in deeper shadows.

Luke shut his eyes for a beat and inhaled, letting the noise guide him. A metallic click reached him, the crossbow reloading, then the sound of boots crunching away. Kruger was retreating, firing blindly as he ran.

Luke mapped the path in his head, spun on his heel, and threw a kukri exactly where Kruger would be. The assassin flared his hardened cloak, using it as a shield. The impact rattled the fabric and still hurled him backward, dropping him hard.

Luke closed the distance in a blur, his feet barely touching the ground.

“Die already, you bastard!” Kruger roared, loosing more bolts. But it was too late.

Luke leapt, driving a twin-fisted strike powered by his skill straight into Kruger’s chest. The impact slammed the assassin into a tree with a hollow crack. Before he could even breathe, Luke was on him. His palm hammered down on Kruger’s face, pinning him. The assassin tried to raise the crossbow, but Luke summoned his kukri back like a magnet and swung. The blade split the weapon in two and, in the same motion, carved through his forearm, ripping from knuckles to elbow until the arm was nearly severed.

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A feral scream echoed through the forest.

Luke stomped on his enemy’s chest, grinding him into the dirt, and pressed his clawed hand over Kruger’s face. Acid began to eat into the skin, first slow, then bubbling fast.

“You said you’d make me beg?” Luke’s voice was low, almost serene. “I’m not begging. You said I’d suffer… but honestly? This is fun.”

“Son of a bitch!” Kruger snarled, stabbing upward with his remaining hand. Luke caught it midair. The demonic claws squeezed until bone cracked like dry twigs.

Another scream tore the night.

Luke drove one kukri through Kruger’s arm, pinning it to the ground, and placed his hand back over the assassin’s face. What began as a scream twisted into a high, broken laugh that bled into madness.

“I won’t beg!” Kruger laughed, even as acid sizzled across his face.

Luke answered with a single, crushing punch. Bone cracked beneath his knuckles. Half of Kruger’s face was already raw meat, yet Luke kept swinging, each strike more deliberate than the last.

“It’s useless!” Kruger barked between bloody laughs. “Keep hitting me, I still win! As long as you’re near me, you’re dying too!”

Luke’s fists rose and fell like a metronome.

“I don’t fear anything!” Kruger howled. “I don’t fear death! I’ve sent plenty of souls to her already!”

Each blow drove his face deeper into ruin.

“Feel it yet? The madness?” Kruger spat blood and laughter. “You’re losing it, man. Your mind’s already gone!”

Luke didn’t respond. He just kept punching. The rhythm became almost mechanical, then stopped for a heartbeat.

Kruger’s laughter rasped, shaky now.

“You think I’m crazy?” Luke’s voice cut through, eyes locking with his. “No. I’ve never been this clear.”

He raised his fist again.

“It won’t matter,” Kruger snarled. “I’m not afraid of anything!”

Luke’s hand stopped inches from the mangled face. “That’s the best thing you could have said,” he murmured, almost calm.

Both clawed hands hovered over Kruger’s head. “Let’s try something new. Want to know what it is?”

His thumbs, nails like knives, found Kruger’s eyes and pressed. Slowly, deliberately, the claws sank in as acid chewed through the orbs. The assassin screamed, teeth clenched to hold it back.

“You’re not afraid of anything, right?” Luke whispered.

Then he withdrew his hands.

“Perfect for my experiment. I’ll leave you blind, dying in total darkness. We’ll see how long it takes before your mind snaps in that void. Just you, me, and death.”

Luke’s fists began to rise and fall again, each punch a drumbeat. Kruger’s damaged arm fluttered up to shield his face, useless.

“You were supposed to be dead!” Kruger’s voice cracked, panic leaking through. “Why isn’t my power working on you?!”

Luke loomed over him. Kruger’s face was a pulped mask of blood and torn flesh. Coldly, Luke stamped down on one foot, breaking it. The scream echoed. Then he crushed the other.

“You can’t do this to me!” Kruger bellowed. “I’m one of the chosen!”

Luke planted his boot on the man’s face. “Screw you.”

The pressure started slow. Bone creaked under the heel.

“Stop!” Kruger’s bravado broke into shrieks. “It hurts!”

Luke pressed harder, unhurried, inch by inch.

“It’s dark now, isn’t it, Kruger?” His voice was almost a whisper.

The assassin’s noise degraded to guttural grunts as he clawed at the boot.

“Beg, and I’ll stop,” Luke said, forcing more weight.

The sound was like an eggshell cracking mixed with gas escaping. Kruger’s last defenses shattered. “I beg… please, stop!”

That was all Luke wanted to hear.

He lifted his boot.

Kruger lay there trembling, wrecked. He had endured acid, broken bones, mutilation—but even he had a limit.

“Please…” His voice dwindled. “Stop…”

Luke no longer touched him. The pleas were just echoes of his own pain.

Kruger’s breathing came ragged and uneven, his voice breaking apart. “I can’t die here… do you hear me?” he whispered into the dark. Nothing answered.

“It’s dark… I can’t die… where are you? Answer me, bastard! Answer me! Don’t hide like a coward!” His voice trembled, swinging between pain, rage, and creeping madness.

Luke said nothing.

“If you’re going to do it, do it like a man!” Kruger shouted, then laughed, hollow and off-key. “Wait… did I die? Am I dead already?!” His breathing shortened to shallow gasps. “It’s dark… it hurts… say something if you’re there! SAY SOMETHING, DAMN YOU!”

Only the forest replied, branches creaking under the wind.

“I can’t die…” Kruger murmured. “I can’t…” He tried to move, failed. “TALK TO ME!” Another shout, another cracked laugh that dissolved into a warped sob.

Luke stood silent, bow already drawn. An Acid Blood Arrow took shape on the string, not to kill. Not yet. He aimed just off-center, close enough for Kruger to feel its presence.

“Death’s finally here for you, Kruger,” Luke said, his voice like steel scraped on stone. “Go meet it.”

Kruger’s ruined face turned toward him. “No, please…”

The arrow left the bow, Angélica’s bow. Fitting that her weapon would close this chapter. Its point slid into Kruger’s eye with no force to finish him, only enough to touch, a kiss of death.

Luke was already moving when the arrow released its cloud of green acid. The screams began almost immediately from within the corrosive mist.

“NOOO!” Kruger’s voice warped, shredded by pain, echoing through the trees. Luke didn’t need to see. He stood still and listened, absorbing every sound, every shuddering note of agony.

It lasted a full minute. One minute that stretched into eternity.

He could have kept the torture going, left Kruger limbless, nailed to a tree, rotting in the dark, but that fate was reserved for another name on the list. Bartholomew. Kruger’s death would be for the victims.

He glanced at Angélica’s bow before sending it back into his inventory. Another name crossed off. It had started with Paul; now Kruger.

[You have slain a Human: Lvl 50 (Phantom Assassin of Lakarion: Lvl 60 / Poison Manipulator: Lvl 60)]

[+1 Soul Fragment acquired]

Luke’s hands reverted to normal as the epic skill faded.

[Mana Points (MP): 6/5100]

Something rolled across the ground. He nudged it with his boot, crouched, and picked it up. Kruger’s mask. A gift for Bartholomew when the time came. He sent it into his pocket dimension. The body lying at his feet was unrecognizable, eaten through by acid, a blistered heap of red pulp. The Phantom Assassin was dead.

Then…

[An item has been added to your inventory]

The system message blinked. Something linked to Kruger’s death had been transferred. Curious, Luke opened it. The interface flickered, revealing a single message embedded inside.

A message sent… by the God of Assassination himself.