Becoming the Dark Lord

‘Let America know you’re basically a walking magnet for disaster’, Artemis muttered.

“Have a good day, or better yet, a good early morning,” Joffrey chuckled.

It wasn’t even five a.m. yet.

Joffrey suddenly paused and looked back at him. “Think carefully about that offer to work for the SIA.”

“I’ll think about it, sir,” Luke answered as he walked away.

While crossing the lobby, he spotted something he never expected to see there.

“Dad, let’s go already. The taxi’s almost here,” a girl said.

“I know, Layla. But come on, do you have any idea how long it’s been since I watched a baseball game?”

Eddie and Layla. Luke blinked a few times, genuinely thrown off. Old man Eddie was glued to a TV showing a baseball match.

Luke approached them.

“What are you two doing here?” he asked.

Layla turned, saw him, and immediately dropped her purse.

“You scumbag? What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“Oh, look at that, Mr. Luke! You live in Maine too,” Eddie said, delighted.

Layla marched right up to him. “Why are you here, you jerk?”

“I live in Maine,” Luke answered. “What else would I be doing in a state I live in? Certainly not following you.”

Eddie let out a laugh. “You’re always so funny, Mr. Luke. That’s why we like you.”

“No, Dad. I hate this guy,” Layla snapped, though Eddie clearly thought she was joking.

Luke glanced to the side and froze. “Katarina?”

His plant friend.

“Oh no. Here we go. The creepy guy again…” Layla groaned.

Luke leaned closer to Eddie. “I really like your daughter.”

Just like Luke, Eddie adored plants, and Luke had learned he treated the plant like an actual daughter.

“What?!” Layla sputtered, eyes wide.

“Mr. Luke,” Eddie said warmly, “you’re a good young man who fights for what he loves. I truly admire that.”

“Yes. Even when I’m away, I feel at peace knowing you’ll take care of her for me,” Luke added.

If Layla were the one responsible for watering the plant, Katarina would die of thirst.

“I’ve cared for her my whole life. I’m a widowed father,” Eddie said proudly. “But talking to you… I feel like my daughter will be in good hands.”

“If you want to give her to me, I’ll take care of her for the rest of our lives,” Luke said.

“W w what?” Layla stammered. “T the taxi’s here.”

“Sorry our conversation has to end, Mr. Luke,” Eddie said. “But now that I know you live in Maine too, you’re welcome in our home anytime.”

“Careful what you say. I will show up to see your daughter,” Luke warned.

Even though you’re careful about taking care of the plant, I still need to make sure Layla doesn’t put Katarina somewhere without sunlight.

Eddie was grateful, but had to hurry off to the taxi.

“It’s really satisfying to meet someone who loves plants as much as I do,” Luke murmured.

He stepped out of the SIA building and into the open air. Cars, buses, people. He took a long breath.

“The wonderful smell of asphalt and gasoline,” he said. “God, I missed this.”

Now it was finally time to go home.

***

The tutorial was already moving the pieces. The war between Haven and Bastion was on the verge of erupting, but at the last moment both sides managed to secure a fragile truce, just enough time to breathe before tearing each other apart. Jonathan knew Bartholomew had a plan. The king of Bastion couldn’t do much after the second fortress had been exposed and Allison Rhiannon, leading Haven, announced that she had activated a mechanism.

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Bartholomew had no army left to launch an assault on Haven. Most of his strongest allies were desperate to leave the tutorial as soon as possible. When he proposed a truce, Jonathan understood instantly: the king was buying time to pull off something else. The same way he had timed Marshall’s death with surgical precision.

Not that Jonathan cared. He used the chaos to slip inside Haven like it was nothing. During an attack on Haven’s Safe Zone chest event, he stole a man’s face. Bartholomew’s criminals had stormed the place hoping to gather intel for him, exactly the cover Jonathan needed. He snatched one of Haven’s members, killed him quietly, and took his appearance for himself. After that, he simply walked into the fortress and lived among them.

He considered killing Luke more than once, but he’d seen what Luke could do. The acid cloud arrow he fired. The fight they had after Landon exposed him. Jonathan knew that in a straight confrontation, he’d lose. 𝘧𝓇ℯℴ𝓂

So he played along with Bartholomew’s game. When Luke’s group went after the third mechanism, Jonathan, already embedded in Haven, opened the fortress gates for the incoming criminals. He struck Haven’s key members using his plague abilities, knocking them out just like Bartholomew wanted. That’s when he killed Quinn and claimed his face too.

Bartholomew’s men seized the fortress and dragged Haven’s members away as hostages. The king was already waiting with a trap designed to wipe out Allison’s group using Kruger, while also setting up his backup plans. If something went wrong, Kruger would retreat to Bartholomew, where they would hold Haven’s people hostage and deactivate one of the mechanisms. Jonathan only agreed to the whole operation after Bartholomew promised to reveal everything.

And everything played out exactly as planned. Luke and his group returned from the third mechanism after killing Kruger. Jonathan had gambled on that outcome, he’d actually hoped Luke would survive the ambush, and the bastard did.

Using Quinn’s face, thanks to his Blood Slime familiar, Jonathan joined Luke’s group on their way to Bastion. His role in this part of the plan was simple: kill Allison Rhiannon and kill Luke. That’s what Bartholomew had commanded. Jonathan would strike at the perfect moment, when they were exhausted, unsuspecting, and trapped with the traitor they never noticed sleeping right beside them.

But Jonathan didn’t intervene. The king of Bastion knew the risk of acting was enormous. Luke had assumed Jonathan was blinded by hatred, reckless enough to pull something stupid just to force the Haven members to waste a few drops of mana. Bartholomew was clever, but Jonathan had simply let chaos run its course. He preferred that Bartholomew fell that night. And that’s exactly what happened.

After that, only Luke remained.

Jonathan waited, patient and quiet, hidden behind the mask of Quinn. Killing Luke would be easy, effortless. But how to make Luke suffer? If Jonathan touched Allison Rhiannon, that would end instantly. She was too strong, too well equipped, too protected. A suicide move.

So Jonathan made a different choice: he would follow them into the final event of the tutorial.

And that’s exactly what he did. He stayed at Luke and Allison’s side for months as Quinn, offering help, advice, ideas. Playing the loyal ally while imagining the knife he’d eventually plunge between Luke’s ribs.

Then the opportunity slipped. The war was brutal, far worse than he’d expected. Even Jonathan had been forced to burn through more mana than he liked. His original plan had been to wait for a moment when Luke was exhausted, teetering. If Luke had died in battle against some monster, Jonathan wouldn’t have shed a tear, in fact, he would’ve loved it. Watching Luke die so close to the exit would’ve been poetic.

But that wasn’t what happened.

In the end, Allison Rhiannon’s group defeated the Midnight King and opened the exit.

Jonathan stayed the whole time as Quinn, watching everyone leave while he kept his eyes fixed on Luke and Allison. He had to stay calm, composed. First, he evaluated the obstacles: too many strong, important figures were still lingering around the exit, even if weakened. He needed to be cautious.

He noticed Luke no longer had Charlie, no familiar. So he assumed correctly that Charlie had been destroyed.

His plan was simple. He would kill Allison Rhiannon, make sure she stayed dead, then sprint for the portal. Easy. He’d approach as Quinn, thank her for everything, and then slit her throat. High risk, yes, the biggest being that Luke and Allison might simply walk to the portal before he got the chance.

So Jonathan waited. The moment they started moving toward the exit, he would intercept them, kill her, and run.

Perfect. He wanted to watch Luke break. To savor that moment. But because others were still nearby, he would need to make it fast. Then… something unexpected happened. Something miraculous.

Allison Rhiannon and Luke remained there, completely alone. As if the universe itself had aligned and whispered that this was his moment. That it was his destiny to end Luke, and destiny was opening its arms.

Both of them were drained, out of mana, barely standing after the boss fight. They were practically served to him on a platter. And then things took an even stranger turn. Allison and Luke started fighting each other, actually fighting. Jonathan stared, confused at first, until the realization hit. They looked like two idiots in love having a lovers’ quarrel at the worst possible time.

He waited for the perfect moment, and when it finally opened, he fired the crossbow straight into Allison Rhiannon’s heart. It was glorious. He felt Luke’s despair the instant the bolt sank into her chest.

Jonathan stepped forward still wearing Quinn’s face, then peeled the Blood Slime away and revealed his true features. He wanted to savor that moment, relish the horror in Luke’s eyes.

But he didn’t get the chance.

Even exhausted, half dead, Luke still managed to fight back. The bastard shot him, an arrow straight into his heart, and not just any arrow. It was fired from Angélica’s bow. The bow that should have been his.

With no choice left, Jonathan dove into the portal. His plan had collapsed, Luke had defeated him. But at least, he hoped, Allison Rhiannon was dead.

The moment he crossed the threshold, agony exploded through him. Every bone in his body felt like it was snapping at once, and in fact, they were. One after another shattered and reformed as his Rank F body forcefully evolved into Rank E. Painful, yes, but worth it. He knew he was becoming stronger, more powerful.

Then, without warning, he was falling.

“The teleport went wrong. It went wrong!” he shouted as the wind roared past his ears. He was supposed to emerge in the old apartment he’d rented, not in the middle of the sky.

Just before he hit the ground, the force of gravity weakened as if someone gently lifted him by the shoulders. He touched down lightly.

And realized he wasn’t anywhere near his world.

He stood on soil as dark as volcanic ash, while the horizon shimmered with stars scattered like spilled diamonds. Hundreds of floating crystals drifted around him, each reflecting the sky in deep shades of blue. At the center of it all was a throne.

A massive throne. And seated upon it, someone he knew.

“Hello, Jonathan,” said the old man before breaking into a dry cough.

“Hanged Man?”

“The very same,” the old man replied.