Becoming the Dark Lord

“I don’t understand,” Franky hissed.

Luke drew in a slow breath and opened the familiar interface. A translucent panel materialized in the air, hovering amid the thick, gray haze.

[Familiar: Frankzaroth]

Race: Jormungandr

Rank: F

Familiar Skills: [Serpent’s Leap (Rare)], [Corrosive Venom (Ultra-Rare)], [Acid Jet (Epic)]

[Evolution to Rank E]: To evolve from Rank F to Rank E, the familiar must consume Magic Beast Cores of Rank E.

E-Rank Cores (0/100)

Below that, a new line pulsed.

[Dark Lord’s Familiar Evolution]: As the familiar of a Dark Lord, Jörmungandr qualifies for a unique evolutionary path. This special evolution requires the familiar to absorb the core of a creature at the peak of Rank E.

[Peak Rank E Core (0/1)]

“Get it now, little snake?” he asked, shoving the monster’s body aside. It was heavy, absurdly heavy, but the carcass had fallen at an angle, which made the job slightly easier.

“Lucky Anne didn’t come through here first,” he muttered.

Luke drew his twin kukris from his inventory. The short blades caught a glint of the pale light before sinking into the creature’s hardened flesh. The tissue resisted, then tore open with a wet, tearing sound. A thick gush of black, reeking blood splattered across the ground.

“Why bother helping me, human?” Franky asked, suspicion lacing his tone. “You said you had no intention of making me your familiar. That was the deal. You weren’t going to enslave me.”

Luke crouched low. The stench hit him like a punch, rotting meat and acid rot, a cloying odor that clung to his skin. He sliced open a chunk of blackened tissue with the kukri and shoved his arm inside, pushing almost to the elbow.

“I’m keeping the deal,” he said, voice steady. “I don’t want you bound to me any longer than necessary. Our partnership lasts until we’re out of this world, and you said you wanted to help in the fight, didn’t you?”

Something came loose beneath his grip. He pulled it free.

What emerged was slick and steaming, drenched in viscous blood. Thick veins, like living roots, still clung to it, pulsing faintly as if trying to draw energy. Luke sliced them away with clean, deliberate motions. In his hand, the core throbbed with near-incandescent heat. It was shaped like an uneven polyhedron, something between a crystal and a twenty-sided die, about the size of a soccer ball. Its surface glowed a deep, smoldering red, the center so dark it was almost black.

The Wyvern’s core.

“Still too hot,” Luke muttered, studying the object closely.

[Reanimated Wyvern Core (Rank E)]: A core taken from a Wyvern-type creature at the peak of Rank E, a magical beast of the dragon lineage. In life, this mighty monster served as the guardian of the capital’s skies. After its death, the core endured for millennia, still brimming with dormant draconic power, until it was awakened once more by the King through necromancy.

“A necromancer, then,” Luke murmured, eyes fixed on the core. The pieces were starting to fit together. The Midnight Wardens, the statues that were souls trapped in stone... necromancy without corpses

A necromancer king.

“A Rank D mage,” he whispered, the conclusion clicking neatly into place.

He brought the core closer to the small serpent coiled beneath his collar. “Well? You gonna take the gift or not?”

Franky studied the core. The red glow reflected in his slit-pupiled eyes, the heat radiating from it drawing him in with almost instinctive hunger.

“It’s warm,” the little creature hissed. “Warm is good.”

The serpent lifted part of his body from under Luke’s shirt, narrow eyes locking on him as if reading his very intent—searching for lies in the air between them.

“You swear your intention isn’t to enslave me?”

“I swear. Just take it already. We’re short on time, little snake.”

Franky held his gaze for a moment longer. He felt only honesty. Luke wasn’t trying to bind him or keep him as a pet—he didn’t want to deal with a gigantic, perpetually hungry serpent. This was survival, nothing more.

Jormungandr touched the core with the tip of his head.

[Warning: Upon accepting this special evolution, the familiar will enter a long hibernation state.]

The serpent immediately recoiled, sliding back under Luke’s shirt. “Hibernation? Absolutely not. I’m not evolving now.”

Luke sighed, staring at the core for a few seconds, the warmth pulsing through his palm.

“Fine. Thought maybe you could get a little stronger if you absorbed this thing. Guess not.”

He tucked the core into his storage item, watching it vanish into the pocket dimension.

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“Another time, then,” he muttered.

He picked up his pace, running along the trail toward the bridge. The others were ahead. The structure stretched for hundreds of meters, suspended over a vast abyss. It shouldn’t have existed—no pillars, no supports, nothing holding it up. Just empty air. The end of the tutorial. The castle beyond loomed like a shadow carved into the void.

As he ran, his mind drifted to what he thought he knew about this world. A fragment of the First Universe, torn from its destruction and cast into the emptiness until it became this testing ground. A shard of reality floating inside another universe. The Void. That was the only word that fit. A sliver of existence locked within a dimensional pocket, created by the System itself.

The thought stayed with him as his footsteps echoed across the bridge. When he caught up to the group, the silence hit him immediately. Everyone stood rigid, weapons drawn, eyes scanning the horizon.

“If this thing breaks while we’re on it,” Jack muttered, staring into the endless pit below, “we’re done for.”

“Shut up! Don’t jinx us!” Evangeline snapped, her eyes never leaving the distance.

Luke understood the tension. Their fear wasn’t misplaced—one bad hit could shatter the bridge and drop them all into the abyss.

When they finally neared the far end, a collective breath of relief rippled through the group. It lasted all of two seconds. Then the alarm went up again.

“Enemies ahead!” Ronan shouted.

They fell into formation beside the soldiers. Luke already had his bow drawn. The terrain ahead was uncertain, and everyone knew the Witch was still out there somewhere. The King would be waiting inside the castle—that much was obvious. But her… she was the unknown.

“Generals,” Eleanor said, peering through her enchanted lens. Her voice was calm. Empty.

At the end of the path, the black castle loomed like a living wall. Its towers pierced the starless sky, and every window was nothing but darkness, thick, consuming, endless.

“Stay alert for anything unusual,” Erza ordered, leading the front line.

Allison walked beside her with her katana drawn, the blade shimmering faintly in cold blue light. “Luke, no skills,” she warned.

“I know,” he said quietly.

The group advanced in tense silence. Eleanor and the other archers loosed arrows without a word, each shot opening a path through the corpses trying to claw their way out of the earth.

“No spells,” Erza said sharply. “We can’t afford to wake anything sensitive.”

From the shadows and cracked soil, the dead began to rise. A row of generals emerged before the castle gates, alabards raised high. Their crimson eyes ignited, and with a guttural roar, they summoned the rest of the horde.

“So much for staying quiet,” Jack muttered.

Luke scanned the battlefield, searching for any irregular movement, for her. The Witch. Three generals charged, armor clattering with every step. Allison met them head-on. Her blade cut through the air with a metallic cry, sparks bursting from each impact.

“Don’t waste time!” Ronan shouted. “Get inside the castle!”

More generals started to move.

“We’ll hold them!” Eleanor called, already drawing another arrow.

No one argued. Everyone knew what she meant. They ran. Luke darted between blows, relying on instinct and speed to slip past the undead ranks. Allison, Mason, Evangeline, Erza, Anne, and Jack followed close behind. Their footsteps echoed dull and heavy, as if the very air was thicker there. The abyss around and beyond the castle had no visible bottom, only a pulsating black void, devouring sound and light like a closing maw.

Allison reached the gates first. She pressed both hands against the black wood and shoved, but before she could even finish the motion, the doors swung open on their own, silently, revealing a darkness that felt alive.

Luke lifted one of his kukris, eyes sharp. “We’re in,” he whispered.

Mason threw a torch inside. Before it hit the ground, dozens of wall sconces burst alight one by one, as if the castle itself had drawn breath. The flames burned an eerie green-orange, casting a sickly glow across the stone.

“There’s only one way to find out what’s waiting in there,” Luke murmured.

And they stepped through.

The gate closed behind them, not with a crash, but with a soft exhale of cold air that brushed past Luke’s hair before vanishing into silence.

“I’m activating Shadow Sense,” Evangeline whispered. “Nothing… so far.”

The interior opened into a vast hall of polished black stone. Massive columns lined the walls, etched with ancient runes half-eaten by time, and thick chains hung from the ceiling like the bones of some long-forgotten beast. The air was cold, not the kind that came from the weather, but a deeper chill, one that seeped out from the walls themselves.

Luke drew a slow breath. The warmth that left his lips turned to mist in the air, though there was no breeze to carry it. The silence was suffocating, heavy enough to feel. Their footsteps made no echo. Even with a dozen boots striking stone, the sound died the moment it was born.

Allison gripped her katana tightly, the blade catching the greenish flicker of the torchlight. Charlie stood beside Luke, sword ready. Even Franky peeked out from beneath Luke’s collar, his golden eyes unblinking.

“Still nothing,” Mason muttered, scanning the surroundings. “No exits. Just the path ahead.”

Luke held a kukri in one hand and touched the dimensional charm at his neck with the other. The plan was simple: draw the acid vial or the special arrow as soon as needed. There wouldn’t be time to swap gear mid-fight.

“Do we move forward?” he asked quietly.

A sudden gust swept through the corridor ahead, strong enough to make the torches shudder. Then came the sound, metal grinding against metal, as one door creaked open. Then another. Then dozens, all over the castle. The echo rolled like a storm through the stone.

“Positions,” Allison whispered.

They closed ranks immediately, forming an instinctive circle, backs aligned and weapons raised. Every breath sounded louder now. The castle seemed to breathe with them.

Then came the voice.

“Well, well…”

It was deep and hoarse, each word drawn out, scraping across their minds rather than their ears. And yet, it came from nowhere.

“After all this time watching you through that little mission statue,” the voice lingered on every syllable. “You finally arrived.”

Luke’s gaze darted across the hall, searching for movement, for a source, anything. But the sound came from everywhere: ceiling, floor, walls, air. It was as if the stone itself had learned to speak.

“Who… are you?” Jack asked, his voice barely steady.

The laugh that followed was sharp and bitter, a sound both amused and contemptuous.

“I am the one who sees all.”

Luke’s breath caught for a moment.

“I am the King. Come to me in my throne room.”

Silence fell like a weight.

“…and I will deliver the Final Judgment.”