Becoming the Dark Lord

They entered the throne room in silence. Torches clung to the columns, their orange flames throwing erratic light and sending shadows to dance across the marble floor. Where Bartholomew had once ruled like a dark monarch, now Erza sat. Her eyes glittered with a dangerous, bright alertness. As a precaution, Luke had Charlie return to his soul. He didn’t want her near Erza, the woman was far too shrewd. Ronan had needed to be carried by Charlie to a healer when Luke went to kill Bartholomew, and perhaps Erza had seen her carrying him only minutes before letting just Luke and Ronan through the door. She could very well deduce that Charlie fit into the category of a familiar.

Footsteps echoed across worn marble until Allison broke the quiet with practiced firmness. “First thing: Erza, are you going to stand in our way of leaving the tutorial or not?”

Erza leaned back on the throne and rested a hand on her chin. She pretended to weigh the matter, then let a thin smile flicker across her face. “Depends a lot on what I hear from you,” she said, velvet-smooth. “If your plan strikes me as foolish, I will, of course, prevent it. I have no interest in dragging myself into your doom. Let’s be frank: activating the third mechanism won’t bring only the army of the Midnight Wardens. You all know that. Worse things are waiting.”

None of them said a word, but they didn’t need to. Erza could tell from their expressions that she was right. It wasn’t just the undead army; it would also mean the end of the kingdom wall’s magical protection, unleashing the cursed winter that would kill everything in its path. They had six hours to fight through the army and reach the castle, or else they would all freeze to death. The final challenge wasn’t just brutally difficult, it was also a race against time.

Luke wanted to argue, but Erza didn’t seem to care about any of them; her eyes were fixed only on Allison. This was a conversation between nobles. He also couldn’t shake the anxiety of having less than 400 HP. He felt completely exposed, just a few solid hits and he would be dead. And right now, he was in the enemy’s lair, Erza’s domain. Worse still, Jonathan was missing, the same man who had openly sworn to kill him.

If Jonathan intended to strike, this moment right after Luke had barely survived Bartholomew was the perfect time. And Jonathan didn’t even need to be as strong as Kruger or Bartholomew. Luke knew he could not last long against a powerful foe at full HP and mana, especially one armed with at least a single epic skill.

Erza looked straight at Allison and allowed herself a faint smile. “Then, bastard of the Rhiannon. What do you have to tell me? What is your little plan?”

Allison stepped forward, taking control. Her voice was steady and resolute. “Erza, I’ll be blunt. I want to make a deal. From Rhiannon to Grimhart.”

A small laugh escaped Erza, breaking some of the room’s severity. She lifted the fan that lay on the throne’s arm and opened it slowly, fanning herself with a bored air. “A deal between families… you take this seriously,” she said, mocking at first, although curiosity showed in her eyes.

Allison didn’t let the tone unnerve her. She closed the distance another step, bringing herself level with the throne. “I don’t just want you out of our way. I want your help. I want you to train the civilians in the Safe Zone for the final fight.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Even the faint crackle of the farthest torch seemed to carry weight. Erza raised her brows, caught off guard for an instant, then regained her composure.

“Interesting,” she murmured, snapping her fan shut with a sharp click. “And?”

Allison drew a long breath, as if holding a winning card close to her chest. “I want you to fight alongside us against the last bosses of the tutorial.”

A dangerous gleam lit Erza’s eyes. She rested an elbow on the arm of her throne, chin propped against her hand, as though enjoying the boldness of their request.

“Now that is a worthy demand. You’re asking me to double my strength and serve it on a silver platter in the name of survival. Truly, something grand.”

Mason, who had held back until then, inclined his head with measured respect. His voice, low and steady, walked the line between diplomacy and honesty.

“Lady Erza, I believe our goals align. Together, we can carve a way out. Alone, though, I’ll admit I doubt any of us could succeed. In the current state of things… I’d say at least six months to gather the strength needed.”

Luke nearly choked. Six months?

For a moment Luke thought Mason was exaggerating, but he knew Mason usually thought strategically, so he weighed the current problems. The recent attacks, the chaos, the fear Bartholomew had spread, the assault by the Midnight Wardens. If they revealed the final challenge to the public, they would be in trouble. No one would get excited right away. And even if they did, the truth was that reality was not so simple. They would need to take a civilian at level 3 in class, give them at least some combat training, raise their class level, and push them to level 60 in profession. Two months had been the expected timeframe before, but the truth was they needed to take into account that a civilian was very different from them.

Erza tapped her fingers on the throne’s armrest in calculated disinterest.

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“And what do I gain from this?” Erza asked Allison. “I am a priestess, and I must remain neutral.”

The question cut through the air like a drawn blade.

Luke couldn’t hold back. “If you wanted to stay neutral, you shouldn’t have killed Bartholomew.”

Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment the very air seemed to thin.

“You told us in our first meeting you couldn’t act because of your deals with Bartholomew and his order,” Luke pressed on. “But we all know you want out of here just as much as we do.”

The priestess studied him with sharp intensity, weighing every word, every flicker of expression.

“I am a priestess. If my sovereign commands—”

Luke cut in, perhaps too quickly. “If he told you to leap into a volcano, would you smile and obey? The truth is, he no longer wants you bound here. Otherwise, he never would have let you kill Bartholomew at the exact moment you did.”

The hall collectively held its breath. Evangeline discreetly raised a hand to her lips; Eleanor averted her eyes, tension clear in her posture. Luke realized he’d crossed into dangerous territory.

Sensing the risk, Luke eased back, softening his tone. “What I mean is, there’s no need for games, Erza. We’re in this together. We could have hidden our plans from you, but we chose to come here. We’re looking for a real alliance. You are the queen of the Safe Zone. Your people look to you. Without your approval, we have no legitimacy.”

Erza shifted in her throne, her expression finally relaxing.

“There is some truth in that.”

Relief rippled through the group, visible in Eleanor’s loosening shoulders and Evangeline’s heavy breath.

Erza’s gaze swept over them one by one, as if she could measure their worth with a glance. The silence stretched long enough to become uncomfortable. At last, she spoke.

“What progress have you made so far?”

Allison tilted her chin ever so slightly. “So you’re willing to cooperate?”

“I already said: if it’s viable. But I’m not foolish enough to tie myself to people who’ve shown nothing but intentions. I won’t train civilians or march forces against tutorial bosses when you haven’t proven your worth. I give something, you give something back. Simple as that.”

Twisted as it was, she had a point. If she accepted Allison’s proposal without guarantees, Erza would be carrying all the risk alone.

“We found the third fortress of the mechanism,” Allison said firmly. “And we know the final challenge in full.”

Erza raised a brow, but quickly slipped into boredom. “That’s something… but not nearly enough.”

Mason stepped forward, his tone decisive. “We have a solid plan to reach the last fortress. We’ll use boats along the river beyond the barrier, bypassing the capital. We can transport hundreds without losing anyone on the way.”

The priestess waved a hand in disdain, lips curling into a cold smile. “The last thing I care about is whether anyone dies along the way.”

Her words dropped like lead. Mason clenched his jaw but swallowed the retort.

“We killed the Beast Lord,” Allison said suddenly.

The hall trembled. Even Erza shifted, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward slightly.

“Ah, that’s more interesting,” she murmured, studying them anew. “A feat that gives me at least some incentive to consider partnership. So… how was the fight? I heard it was done with a small party.”

Allison didn’t hesitate. “Actually, the Beast Lord has been dead for months. Long before the Orc Lord.”

Hey… wait. Don’t you dare—

But Allison’s look at him was crystal clear: ’Yes. I’m doing exactly that.’

“Months ago?” Erza frowned. “Strange. At that time, your group wasn’t even formed. Hard to imagine you slipping past Bartholomew’s camp. If someone like you had gone there, Allison, Bartholomew or Kruger would’ve crushed you on the spot.”

Allison’s smile turned cold. “That’s because it wasn’t us. Not a group. Just one person.”

’Wow, they’re dropping the bomb on you.’ Artemis’s voice echoed in his head.

Allison lifted her hand and pointed without a shred of hesitation. “It was him. Luke killed the Beast Lord alone. And he claimed he would’ve taken down two if he had the chance.”

She exaggerated. Way too much!

Erza turned her gaze on him, eyes sharp as blades.

’You’re screwed now, Luke. They just threw you into the fire. And you barely know how to talk to nobility without cutting yourself on the glass.’

Luke cleared his throat. “Two? That’s her exaggeration. It wasn’t that easy.”

“But is it true?” Erza asked sweetly, almost poisonous. “Did you really kill the Beast Lord alone?”

The weight of every stare pressed down on him. There was no escape.

“Yes,” he admitted at last.

“What level was it?”

Luke drew in a breath, but before he could speak, Mason cut in with iron certainty. “High enough to make anyone outside this hall wet themselves in fear, right?”

Evangeline and Eleanor nodded quickly.

’They’re all in on it, tossing a mountain-sized hot potato in your lap. And you, with zero social grace. This is going to be beautiful.’

He shut the voice out, forcing his focus on Erza.

“And how was the fight?” the priestess pressed.

Luke forced a crooked smile. “It’s… a long story. I’d hate to waste your time.”

Erza leaned back on her throne, amused. “Oh, but I have all the time in the world. Begin.”

The group’s eyes locked on him, silent and pleading: You need to convince her. Now.

The problem was… the way I killed the Beast Lord was completely idiotic.

Artemis broke into roaring laughter inside his mind. ’Go on, champ. Tell the queen all about your glorious “epic strategy.”’