Becoming the Dark Lord

Luke’s body had gone completely rigid. A thin layer of ice formed beneath his skin, spreading like frozen roots threading through every nerve. He couldn’t move at all. He remained trapped in the exact posture he’d held the moment the spell struck. He tried wiggling a finger, flexing a shoulder, forcing even the smallest twitch. Nothing. The cold stole his movement with the detached finality of a verdict.

His eyes were the only part of him still functional. They drifted over the village, taking in the scene. Everyone else had met the same fate. Frozen figures dotted the snow-covered streets: adults caught mid-step, children locked in expressions of shock, all crystallized at the instant the cold claimed them. For a moment, Luke thought they were dead. But his HP bar hadn’t budged. This wasn’t a killing spell. It was imprisonment.

The blizzard that had ravaged the village moments before seemed to halt around him. The storm still howled farther out, but here, in the space near Allison and the other Rhiannon, the air felt paused, restrained.

Luke forced his mind to keep working even as the ice tightened around his bones. Whoever cast the spell wasn’t just strong. She was a queen, the kind of person whose mere presence carved out a wall of power. A woman who, in his estimation, could have taken the Fallen Stone Archangel seriously in a fight… and won.

Allison stepped forward. The soft crush of her boot in the snow carried unnaturally loud in the stillness. She was the only one spared.

Then the queen’s voice rose, sharp with irritation.

“Allison, Allison…” the queen said, annoyance sharp in her voice. “You disrespected me. You allowed yourself to be fully integrated into the system. You chose to enter the tutorial. I was disrespected, by you, of all people. The bastard daughter of a maid.”

Luke tried to drag in a breath and force his body to respond. He strained every muscle, trying to crack the layer of ice binding him, but nothing gave. His mind raced anyway, already preparing for whatever came after this paralysis ended.

’Be careful, my lord. This enemy is powerful. And there are eight of them. You must prioritize your safety.’ Angie’s voice whispered inside him, faint and tight with stress.

Allison remained silent as the queen advanced. Her approach needed no theatrics. She was imposing simply by existing. Her gown, a deep royal blue, clashed unnaturally with the cold, as if she refused to acknowledge the temperature itself. Long white hair flowed down her back, and her face was hidden behind a smooth white mask. Only her eyes were exposed, framed beneath the crest of the Rhiannon: a blue dragon stamped at the center like a brand.

But the eyes… the eyes were another matter entirely. Draconic. Inhuman. One a piercing icy blue, the other a burning red, both glowing as if lit by their own internal fire and frost.

Luke noticed something else in her stride. She wasn’t old. She didn’t even look middle-aged. Youthful, almost. Or perhaps age simply meant nothing to someone whose rank had evolved beyond mortal limits. The Kings of the World were anomalies, beings who had stretched their lifespans to extremes. And this queen stood among the few who walked dangerously close to divinity.

But even then, her footsteps didn’t make sense. The snow sank beneath her far more than it should have. Each step carried too much weight for the slender body she wore. And there was a sound, a low, heavy breathing, like the muffled rumble of a dragon walking beside her. Luke couldn’t explain it. He only felt the wrongness of it in his bones.

When Queen Rhiannon finally stopped in front of Allison, the girl lowered her head, avoiding her gaze.

“I’m sorry, my queen…” Allison whispered, barely audible.

The queen paused and tilted her head, narrowing her eyes behind the mask. She raised a calm hand and gripped Allison’s chin, forcing her to lift her face, making her look directly into those mismatched, predatory eyes.

“You might be a bastard, but you’re still a dragon. Still a Rhiannon.” The pressure on Allison’s chin increased, almost lifting her by sheer force alone.

The air wavered. Hot and cold at the same time, a sickening distortion that made Luke try again to force his Wraith Form and fail. Nothing responded. The ice resisted everything.

So he focused on the only thing he could still reach, his hand. More specifically, the Witch Ring. Slowly, as if the ice were fighting every spark, he began gathering mana in his frozen palm.

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The queen exhaled a frustrated huff into Allison’s face, pulling her even closer by the chin.

“Half filthy blood runs in your veins, but the other half belongs to our family. You are our property. Don’t forget that. Because I will personally make sure you never forget.”

Only then did she release Allison, who immediately stared back at the ground, shoulders shrinking inward.

“You will return with us, Allison,” the queen continued. “And you will tell me exactly everything that happened to you in the tutorial. And don’t think that just because you gained a few levels you’re powerful now. I will punish you for the disrespect you’ve shown me.”

“Yes, my queen…” Allison murmured.

The queen turned without haste and walked toward the other Rhiannons. They moved instantly, opening space for her with silent reverence, or fear.

“Don’t take too long, bastard. You’ve caused us enough trouble,” a man commented.

As Allison followed, heads shifted toward her, judging her with open disdain.

“The maid’s daughter really thought she belonged to herself,” a woman whispered with a mocking laugh.

Luke watched Allison walk away. Every step looked heavier than the last. She didn’t try to make the deal. Didn’t mention their plan. Didn’t make a single move that implied she still considered running away with him to Maine.

And he understood why.

There was no negotiating here. He had been naïve, or maybe he’d known deep down but refused to face the thought of her dying in that tutorial. Lying to himself had been easier.

At last, the mana in his hand reached the limit. The ring flared, a small white sphere formed in the center of his frozen palm before detonating. The blast shattered the ice around him. White fragments sprayed through the air. Luke immediately pointed his hand downward, forcing thorned roots to burst from the ground and tear apart the remaining shell.

He launched himself free of the ice in one motion. The noise made several Rhiannons snap their heads his way.

“I have one or two things to say to you,” Luke said, stepping forward.

Faces turned toward him, a ripple of shock passing through the group.

“He broke Rowena’s ice,” one of them whispered.

“Oh, yes. He did… how bold,” another murmured.

Luke glanced back. Jack, Evangeline and Eleanor were still frozen in place. Part of him wanted to help them, but not now. There wasn’t time.

“Allison, wait,” he called, pushing his steps faster through a path the storm grudgingly allowed. “What about our plan? We can still try to negotiate.”

His voice carried across the silent snow, and Allison halted mid-stride. The queen stopped as well, and the entire Rhiannon entourage remained perfectly still.

Luke had no idea how to continue, only that he needed to keep Allison from giving up before they even tried anything. Every step he took, however, made him more exposed.

“There is no negotiation, Luke. It’s over.” Allison’s reply came low, drained and final.

But he didn’t stop. He kept moving toward her, ignoring the danger that loomed with every inch he closed. One of the Rhiannon men lifted a hand toward him, ready to strike.

“Wait, please!” Allison rushed to stand between them, her voice sharp with urgency. “I’m already going back with you. You don’t need to touch him.”

Luke paused only long enough to breathe, but even then he didn’t retreat. He took another step toward her.

“Allison,” he said again, firm despite the knot tightening in his chest. “We have to at least try. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

Something sliced through the air. A voice, cold and irritated, appeared so close it felt like it whispered directly into his ear.

“If she doesn’t want to?”

He jerked his head to the side.

The queen was suddenly there.

She hadn’t approached. She hadn’t stepped. She simply existed beside him, as if reality had allowed her in without a sound. Her presence chilled the air in an instant, turning every breath into a sting inside his lungs.

“And since when does she control what she wants?” the queen murmured, studying him with those burning, mismatched eyes. Then her gaze dropped to his clothing. “Ah… that outfit. That cursed outfit.”

He had equipped the assassin gear through the system, a perfectly functional set, yet something in it clearly provoked her in a way that went beyond annoyance.

Shards of ice materialized around him. One at first, then another, then dozens. They floated in a slow spiral, as if caught in an invisible current, each razor-sharp tip aimed at his heart.

“I hate that outfit,” the queen muttered again.

Luke raised his hands carefully, drawing two throwing knives from the holster. His kukris were still reconstructing in the inventory, useless for now. The mana in the air felt thick, oppressive, like it resisted his very breath. He had no idea if he would be fast enough to react, but he wasn’t going to stand helpless.

More blades formed, their translucent surfaces humming with lethal intent, waiting for a single command from her mind.

Luke kept his knives up, ready to parry or dodge, and locked eyes with the queen.

“Do not point your weapon at me,” she warned.

She lifted a single finger in his direction.

The ice shuddered. Some of the blades vibrated so violently that they seemed to breathe.

“Wait!” Allison’s voice cracked. She threw herself forward, kneeling before the queen so abruptly that the air trembled. “He won’t do anything. Please don’t hurt him… sister.”