Becoming the Dark Lord

Vaelor and Azazel stood before the sealed chamber, the one where Luke was undergoing the fusion. The door didn’t move, didn’t breathe, but the air around it felt stretched thin, as if reality itself were holding its breath.

“That is my theory regarding Asmodeus’s blood,” Azazel murmured. “It will amplify the soul-fragment inside that eye. Turn a desert into an ocean. Or a withered plant into something violently alive again.”

Only the two of them remained in the corridor. The Primordial Asmodeus was off in another room, casually reading tarot cards for himself as if none of this mattered. Azazel held one of those cards in his own hand. Death. According to Asmodeus, it represented the outcome awaiting Luke Moon at the end of this ordeal. Death would come, one way or another.

“Sovereign Azazel,” Vaelor began carefully, “one of the reasons fusion rituals fell into disuse was because the risk far outweighs the gain. Trying to merge with a creature vastly stronger than oneself is suicide. And to risk the same procedure on a weak creature is… well, pointless.”

“I know.”

“Balance is required for the ritual to be viable. But you told me that eye belongs to something far beyond Luke Moon in power… and in understanding of the soul.” Vaelor hesitated, then spoke the truth anyway. “Is it not madness to let him attempt this? Even a mild soul-interference would be lethal for a mortal. Something like this… it is almost certainly his end.”

“Luke Moon enjoys challenges,” Azazel said quietly. “And he has already proven that, when the odds demand he die, he can still find a way to spit in death’s face.”

The Primordial might have been a great sage. But after everything Vaelor had learned about the implications of that eye, and considering that Luke Moon was still just a mere mortal who had barely reached E-Rank, he was certain the little demon wouldn’t survive.

A shame. There was talent in him, real talent.

***

Sariel’s arm was buried deep inside Luke Moon’s torso, pinning him like an insect on a spear. The ritual was underway. No turning back now. The end of the half-demon had begun.

“Now I understand,” Sariel whispered, delighted. “Now I see the full weight of your bloodline. Fascinating. I’m taking your memories. Your tricks. Your skills.”

Luke’s insides felt as if they were liquefying, his soul being siphoned away strand by strand. His existence thinned, frayed, dissolved.

“How is the pain, Luke Moon? Describe it to me,” Sariel crooned. “Scream if you want. Many have stood where you stand now. So determined. So stubborn. And all of them broke. The agony drove them mad before the ritual finished.”

Sariel’s power surged through him like a serrated blade. “Give in to the pain. Give in to the madness.”

Luke’s breath shook. His vision trembled. His very sense of self flickered. Then he laughed. A sharp, feral grin cut across his blood-streaked face, even as his soul was torn open again and again.

“I’m not afraid of madness,” he said. “I prefer it.”

Luke suddenly grabbed Sariel’s arm and pulled it deeper into his own body, ignoring the scream that tore out of him as the pain multiplied.

Sariel barked a laugh. “You truly are insane. You’re accelerating the ritual.”

“Let’s see which one of us is crazier,” Luke snarled. “Soul Infiltration!”

Suddenly something snapped into existence. Sariel sensed an invisible figure, though his eye saw it clearly: a cat perched on Luke Moon’s shoulder, leaping without warning and diving straight into Sariel.

“What did you do? What was that?”

“My Rank Skill.”

Rank Skill? What Rank Skill does he have?

Sariel hadn’t fully mastered Luke Moon’s soul. He had no access to his Rank Skill.

“It doesn’t matter. Nothing you do is going to stop me.”

Luke Moon yanked Sariel’s arm deeper into his body. “You really thought I spent all that time just running around?”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Sariel’s arm slipped further inside, and in the next instant, Luke Moon grabbed the other one and pulled.

“W-wait, I didn’t order my other arm to do that. How did it pass through your soul?” Sariel’s voice cracked with panic. He tried to pull the second arm free, but it wouldn’t budge.

“I’ve been studying how the soul and the body work this whole time. Trying to decide something.”

“Deciding? Deciding what?” Sariel demanded, and Luke Moon dragged him closer until their eyes were almost touching. Luke Moon’s gaze burned with madness.

“Instead of just killing you, why shouldn’t I absorb you?” Luke Moon laughed, though nothing about it resembled joy. It was a laugh fractured by lunacy. “That’s what I’m going to do. Let’s see which of us is truly insane. Let’s see who wins.”

“No, no, no!” Sariel struggled to break free, but Luke Moon drove both thumbs into his eyes. The pain was blinding.

“This shouldn’t be possible!”

“You should’ve been suspicious when a demon agrees too easily,” Luke Moon said. “You’re absorbing my soul… even the fragment I planted in you. You’re absorbing yourself into me.”

Sariel screamed as his body was dragged into Luke Moon.

“It’s a paradox. You opened a door, and I’m stepping through it too,” Luke Moon said, pulling harder. “I told you. I’m not afraid of madness.”

Sariel kept screaming as he was devoured, while the same process clawed at Luke Moon. But Luke Moon didn’t scream. He smiled.

“You really thought having you inside my soul was bad for me? No. You stepped right into my territory.”

***

Luke had fought the Archangel for days, maybe weeks. Time blurred in that place. But when it finally ended, he stood alone. Only one of them had survived. He turned toward the castle, then toward the sky as rain poured down in heavy sheets.

A sharp, burning pain throbbed behind his right eye. When he touched it, his fingers came away red. Yet through that same eye, the world sharpened. Lines of power rippled across every surface. With a bit of focus he could see mana itself, not as intuition or impression, but as something alive and visible, woven through everything.

Luke smiled. “I’m not letting anyone stand between me and my goal. Angel or dragon, it doesn’t matter.”

[You have acquired a Title: Myth Slayer]

[You have acquired a Title: Sariel]

Two titles. That was new. He tapped the notification, and a window opened. At least part of the system still works here.

[Myth Slayer]: Even legends can die. You found a mythological being and killed it. Some say myths aren’t real; you proved otherwise and reduced one to just another story. Grants +8% to all stats and the skill [Myth Sensor (Ancient)].

So the angel is truly dead now. No more fragments hiding, no more tricks.

Eight percent to all stats was absurdly strong.

I can only equip one title at a time. But when I unlock a second slot… 10% from Dark Lord plus 8% from this one will be ridiculous.

He opened the new skill.

[Myth Sensor (Ancient)]: Alerts you whenever a mythological creature is nearby.

Useful… in its own way.

Then he checked the second title, the one he was most curious about, only to freeze for a moment when he read it.

[Sariel]: A name is given at birth, but it can also be earned. Names are words of power; they define a being’s existence. You slew an angel completely and inherited his name. Once called Luke, now you are also known as Sariel. You were born once, and now you are born again. Speak this name, and it will respond with power. Accept being Sariel, and the power becomes yours.

[??? (Divine)]: A Divine-tier skill can only be accessed by beings above Rank D.

***

A long time had passed since the fusion began. Azazel hadn’t moved from the doorway, standing guard in absolute silence. Vaelor stayed with him, matching the Sovereign’s patience, though his mind had drifted into dark possibilities more times than he could count. By mortal reckoning, a full month had gone by. It felt longer, like waiting through the tail end of creation.

Then, without warning, the door buckled outward and shattered.

It’s over?

Vaelor jerked back to awareness, startled by the sudden violence. A month. That was how long Luke Moon had lasted before whatever the spectral beast had become finally consumed him. That was what Vaelor had forced himself to accept.

“I can kill whatever comes out of there, Sovereign,” Vaelor offered. “As regent of this temple, I can deal with it.”

A guttural roar rolled out of the chamber, followed by the silhouette of something massive and black pressing against the threshold before retreating into the darkness. Azazel lifted a hand, stopping Vaelor from taking a single step. Then a figure strode through the drifting haze of spectral smoke, a person outlined by the remnants of chaos.

“How long has it been?” a voice asked.

Vaelor froze.

“You… Luke Moon?” he whispered.

“Of course,” Luke said, grinning as if he’d merely woken from a nap. “You really thought I’d lose with only a 99,9% chance of failure?”

His hair had grown long, brushing past his shoulders. His skin was paler, touched by something cold and ancient. Whatever passage of time he’d endured, it clearly wasn’t the same month they had counted outside.

“Congratulations, my son,” Azazel said with genuine pride. “I knew you’d find a way. You always do, and it never stops entertaining me.”

Vaelor stared at Luke and quietly activated [Identify]. Nothing. No name. No rank. No status. Not even an error message.

How is that possible?

Luke turned to Azazel. “What color is my right eye?”

“Blue,” Azazel answered. “An angelic blue.”