Becoming the Dark Lord

As she watched the chaos unfold before her, Eleanor finally understood what the general was doing. Attacking the bonfires head-on seemed reckless, almost suicidal, but then she realized the truth. It wasn’t strategy. It was terror. Once the fires began to die, every soldier would feel it creeping in: the fear. The darkness favored the creatures, and they knew it.

Dustin charged forward with the other warriors, racing toward the general. Arrows streaked through the storm, their flaming tips vanishing into the white void. One struck the creature, making it stagger. When Eleanor glanced back, she saw the archers forming up in the distance, familiar faces, exhausted but unbroken.

Without hesitation, she joined them and drew her bow. The strings tightened, air splitting under the rain of arrows. Common shafts, enchanted bolts, everything they had. Undead fell by the dozens, and the general vanished in a burst of light and shards when one of the magical shots hit true.

“Now! Attack!” Gilbert’s voice cut through the wind.

The bonfire flames wavered, flickering low until they were nearly gone.

“We can’t let them die out!” Eleanor shouted, sprinting toward the camp’s center.

She fired arrow after arrow at the fading light. Each shot struck something unseen, a dry impact, a strange shimmer in the air. Slowly, the distortion took shape: a Warden Captain, cloaked in murky energy, his armor reflecting the fire’s glow. A monster with the power of invisibility.

Its gaze locked onto her, burning with restrained fury. Before she could react, Dustin came running, dragging a heavy barrel behind him.

“What are you doing?!” she yelled as he hurled it straight at the creature.

The impact knocked it backward into the fire, and the flames swallowed it with a violent crack. The flammable liquid spilled, spreading fire in a wide circle.

“That was our fuel!” she shouted, horrified.

“Look around, Eleanor!” Dustin’s voice tore through the wind. “Our camp’s the only one still standing on the front line! We’re seconds away from being wiped out!”

For an instant, the air itself seemed to freeze. Then a sharp crack split the noise. The Warden Captain, still alive, seized a corpse and flung it at Dustin. The body slammed into him and sent him sprawling through the snow, vanishing amid fire and smoke.

Gilbert was locked in combat with the general, who, despite his wounds, rose again. The archers faltered, torn between targets.

“The general goes down first!” Eleanor shouted, her voice cutting through the storm.

She sprinted forward, drew an arrow from her quiver, and poured energy into it. The arrow flared as it flew, striking the burning monster in the back and shoving it forward a few steps. The Warden Captain roared, lifting his sword, the blade drenched in flames. He charged, and Eleanor met him with another volley, aiming for the helmet.

The arrows glanced off the metal, sparking with every hit. The creature swung its sword in a brutal arc. Eleanor dropped and rolled through the snow, the impact crashing beside her. She came up firing again.

More Wardens were closing in. She moved through them on instinct, drawing and loosing without pause. Her Skill Rank activated. Her hair lifted and moved as if alive, pulling arrows from the quiver and passing them into her waiting hands.

[You have slain a Midnight Warden: Lvl 40]

She drew another arrow and fired, twisting aside just in time to dodge a spear strike.

[You have slain a Midnight Warden: Lvl 40]

The creature collapsed, its armor dissolving into smoke. She barely had a second to breathe before another came charging, hurling its spear straight at her. Eleanor rolled to the side, drew, and loosed.

[You have slain a Midnight Warden: Lvl 40]

Then the Warden Captain appeared—a living blaze cutting through the storm. Eleanor steadied her aim, gathering her focus for a stronger shot.

[Impact Arrow (Uncommon)]: The Archer channels strength into the shot, increasing the weight and force behind the arrow. On impact, the strike can throw enemies off balance and push them back.

The monster thundered toward her, and she layered another skill onto the same arrow.

[Razor Arrow (Rare)]: The arrowhead sharpens beyond its natural limit, gleaming with a cutting light. The shot is swift, straight, and clean, piercing leather and light armor with ease. A power made to strike vital points with precision.

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As she released, she activated a third skill.

[Phantom Shot (Uncommon)]: Upon release, the archer generates an illusory copy of the arrow that flies alongside the real one. After a brief distance, the two split, creating a visual feint to confuse the enemy and bypass defenses.

The Captain charged across the snow, raising his sword to deflect one of the arrows—only to realize too late it was the fake. The real shot punched through his chest.

[You have slain a Midnight Warden: Lvl 70]

The Captain’s body fell backward, armor disintegrating as the flames consumed what was left. The air stank of burnt metal and oil.

“I did it,” Eleanor whispered, her breath shaky, exhaustion thick in her voice.

She didn’t even have time to draw her next breath before pain exploded across her back.

A blade had found her.

***

The blizzard howled ahead, relentless. The wind carried the smell of death and the distant echoes of battles lost to the night. Luke watched the horizon, a smear of shadow—the castle beyond was little more than a silhouette, nearly erased by the gusts. The group faced a choice: push on with the mission to confront the Witch and the Midnight King, or fall back to help the civilians evacuate.

If I want to save everyone, I have to kill the king, he thought. But what good is winning a war if everyone dies before the victory?

Doubt built up like ice on his armor. Then he noticed the looks fixed on him—Erza and Ronan watching in silence, as if they embodied the two voices warring inside him: reason and feeling.

“I’ll help with the evacuation,” he said finally, voice steady though tired. “I’ll get the civilians here, then I’ll head to the castle. You don’t have to be as stupid as I am. The Witch is still out there.”

He unclasped the potion from his necklace and tossed it to Erza. “Go on ahead. Start the fight with the Witch without me if you have to. You’re all strong. Acid is a good weapon. Kill the Witch while I get people to safety. I wouldn’t be much use in that fight anyway. I can’t use my epic skill, and my good arrows are gone. Mason still has plenty of mana, Evangeline has two uses left, and you, Erza, can use that porcelain-scythe skill. I trust you. I hope you trust me. I’ll catch up soon.”

Erza folded her arms, expression cold. “So you’ve made your choice,” she said.

Luke nodded and looked over the group, one face at a time. “Once the Witch is dead, I just need the Midnight King distracted long enough to kill him with an arrow. If the second boss falls, the third will be within reach.”

They followed his gaze to the distant castle, which was gradually disappearing into the white curtain of the storm.

“And if the damn Witch teams up with the King?” Erza asked, voice harder now. “If they both come at once, what then?”

There was no answer. Luke stayed silent.

“Are you really going to risk your life for those people?” she pressed.

He inhaled slowly, each word heavy. “We’ve been risking our lives since the start. The portal is open. We could run, trick the King, escape through the passage. But if I let more people die now, everything I’ve sacrificed so far will have meant nothing.”

Memories pierced him like arrows: Angelica, the promise, the captured fortresses, the blood. Flashes of everything came back too fast to hold.

“My promise to Angelica, to flee to the capital, to kill the Beast Lord, to take the fortresses, to kill Bartholomew...” He rubbed his face, exhausted. “Everyone agreed to that plan. But if I had not led them, they would still be in the Safe Zone. They would still be alive. I dragged them into this war. They chose it, yes, but if I turn my back now, it is the same as killing them with my own hands.”

The wind rose, swallowing his voice for a moment. “Stupid? A warped sense of justice? Maybe. Ripping my own arm off to kill a giant snake is one thing. Doing that to an innocent person is another. And in that fortress there’s a pregnant woman, children, and the elderly.”

He drew another cold breath. “Even a plant that became my friend is there. I can’t ignore that.”

He turned to Ronan, eyes set. “We should move fast.”

“Wait.” Erza’s voice cut him off. She was quiet for a few seconds, studying him as if searching his face. “You really gonna do this? Go back for a bunch of people who’d turn their backs on you if the roles were reversed?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation.

Erza exhaled, rubbing her temples. Before she could say more, Evangeline stepped forward. “I’m coming with you. I owe Angelica a debt.”

Erza snorted. “Great. Now we’ve got two idiots. Rhiannon, you coming too?” 𝘧𝓇ℯℴ𝓂

“Of course,” Allison said, a slight smile on her lips.

“Three idiots…” Erza muttered.

“Four.” Mason moved up beside them. “I’ll go. I’ve still got mana to spare. I can take out a few generals and use potions if needed. We just need to get the people to safety. It’ll work… I think.”

“Five!” Jack shouted, raising his hand. “I’m in.”

Erza’s gaze slid slowly to Anne.

“Anne… likes to… kill,” the doll-maid said in her flat, emotionless tone as she stepped toward the group—a peculiar way of saying she was with them.

“You too, Anne?” Erza sighed.

She clicked her tongue and pulled her scythe from dimensional storage. “Don’t look at me like lost kittens.” A half-smile creased her face. “Looks like I’ll hunt a few generals as well, since I’ll be waiting anyway.”

The scythe’s tip touched the snow.

“If you’re all idiots, I’d be an even bigger one to face the Witch alone. So I don’t have a choice.” She adjusted the new armor and hid a brief smile. “Also… I want to test my new armor.”

Luke smiled back, tired but genuine. He held out his hand. “Thanks.”

She gripped it firmly, eyes steady and unapologetic. “Don’t thank me. It’s a deal. You asked for one hour, and I’m giving you one hour. After that, my maids and I go to the castle—whether you’re there or not.”

Her words were blunt but honest. No pretense, no empty promises—just the exact weight of what needed saying.

Erza tightened her hold, sealing the agreement. “Even an assassin’s a judge. We execute, and we judge well.”

She stepped back, the wind catching her dark cloak. “You have one hour to come back. Don’t forget it.”