Becoming the Dark Lord

“The human village is under attack by orcs,” Charlie said.

Luke narrowed his eyes but didn’t waste time on pointless questions. He touched the tree once more and replied, “I’ll be back. We’ll finish this conversation later.”

[Teleportation Circle 2]

He stepped into the circle.

[Teleportation Pentagram]

The next instant, Luke appeared in the castle chamber housing the Kingdom Core. He approached the Core and placed a hand on it. The connection snapped into place. The village. Its residents running in panic. Hulking figures moving through the streets. Through [Sovereign’s Gaze], the orcs stood out like stains within his territory. Outside, Angie descended from the sky with her wings spread wide.

Charlie came rushing toward them moments later.

“I heard screaming, and then—”

“Explain while we move,”

The three of them raced through the forest. By the time they neared the village, the air already reeked of smoke, blood, and splintered wood. Orcs were everywhere. One kicked through the door of a burning house. Another dragged a bleeding man into the street by the ankle. Anyone who resisted was cut down. Charlie and Angie scanned the chaos for survivors.

Luke had already chosen his target. A child lay sobbing in the dirt, unable to stand. An orc loomed over her, raising his axe.

“Angie, you’re with me. Charlie, go back and protect the Core with Franky.”

Luke pulled the [Abyssal Mask] over his face. Angie put on her helmet, folded her wings, and fell in beside him with her spear ready. He fired a low-powered shadow ball, just strong enough to kill the orc without damaging the surrounding buildings. It struck the creature square in the face. Before the explosion had even faded, Luke was beside the child, lifting her into his arms. She clung to him without looking at the mask.

He walked calmly along the main path through the village, firing shadow balls at every orc threatening a villager.

“Hold her,” he said, passing the girl to an elderly woman trembling beside a house.

Angie cleared a path beside him. Her spear sliced through the air in precise strikes, dropping any orc that tried to get close. Two orcs charged Luke with a roar. The first brought his axe down with all his strength. Luke raised his bare hand and caught the blade. The metal groaned, then crumpled between his fingers.

The orc barely had time to process what had happened before Luke drove a fist into his face. He hit the ground with a heavy thud. The second orc tried to retreat. Too late. Luke cast [Demonic Predator Throwing Knife]. Blades formed around him without a sound. Luke kept walking. Every time he pulled one from the air, an orc fell. Within seconds, the invasion was over. Except for one.

A larger orc with tribal markings across his face raised his axe and snarled.

“You dare challenge a Vice-Captain, human?”

Luke looked at him. “Fuck you.”

He moved too fast for the orc to react. A flash cut through the air. The Vice-Captain’s head hit the ground a heartbeat later. Luke flicked the blood from his kukri and slid it back into its sheath.

“Invasion handled.”

The last orc hit the ground. For a moment, the village went still. The villagers clutched the wounded and pulled their children close. No one seemed sure what to say.

Then a man screamed. “Cecilia!”

Luke turned. A young woman lay in the dirt, blood soaking through the front of her dress. A man knelt beside her, pressing both hands over the wound.

“Stay with me, Cecilia,” he said.

“My niece...” Cecilia whispered. “Is she safe?”

“She’s safe,” the man said quickly. “She’s with Otto.”

Luke stepped closer. “Move.”

The man froze for half a second. Luke pulled him aside and crouched beside Cecilia. Her breathing was shallow, and blood touched the corner of her mouth.

“Angie.”

She was already moving. Green light spread from Angie’s hands and sank into the wound. Cecilia coughed, spilling blood onto the dirt, then dragged in a weak breath. The man stared as the wound slowly closed. After several tense seconds, the green light faded.

“She’ll live,” Angie said. “But she’s lost a lot of blood.”

Cecilia’s eyes flicked toward Luke and Angie before she passed out.

Luke eased her onto her back and stood. “Anyone else hurt? My servant can heal you.”

It took almost an hour. Angie treated everyone who could still be saved. Children. The elderly. Men and women with deep cuts, broken bones, and wounds that would have killed them without a healer. Even so, not everyone survived. Bodies covered in cloth lay beside the ruined houses. Even with the danger gone, grief still hung over the village.

Later, Luke sat in the home of Otto, the village elder and unofficial chief. The house was simple, with worn furniture and the lingering smell of old herbs and hearth smoke.

“I can never repay you, my lord,” Otto said. His face was swollen from crying, though no tears remained. “If not for you, Cecilia would be dead.”

“It’s fine,” Luke replied. “You’re alive. So are the children. That’s what matters. I’m sorry about the others.”

The old man clasped his trembling hands over his knees. “This has never happened before. We’ve always been safe this deep in the forest. Beasts rarely come near the village, and we’d never seen those green creatures before.”

“They were orcs,” Luke said.

“Orcs...” Otto repeated. “I’d only ever heard stories.”

Luke glanced toward the window. “You said beasts rarely come near. Why?”

Otto drew a slow breath. “We’ve lived here in peace, far from everything. Deeper in the forest, there’s a ruined castle. Giant spiders made their nest there.”

“Giant spiders?” Luke asked, his interest sharpening. “And no one ever reported them to the Adventurers’ Guild?”

“It’s been that way since before I was born. If anyone reported them, it must have been decades ago. There was never any need. The spiders kept the beasts away. Strange as it sounds, they protected us.”

Luke fell silent for a moment. So they never go anywhere near my castle.

“I’m guessing you haven’t visited the city lately,” he said. “Everyone in Rosemark is on alert. Orcs have been attacking villages. Unfortunately, it’s happening elsewhere too.”

Otto had no idea how useful that was. The spiders hadn’t just protected the village. They had kept everyone away from Luke’s territory.

Outside, he and Angie spoke with the villagers. Many thanked them, though their gratitude was tangled with grief. Houses had burned. Crops had been trampled. Entire families had lost their homes.

A small girl approached Luke, clutching the hem of her dress. Her name was Hannah.

“What’s your name, Mister Mask?”

Luke stared at her. He hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“Call me Lord Moon.”

Several villagers exchanged startled looks at the title. Otto approached with a small pouch in his hands.

“This is all we can offer, Lord Moon.”

Coins clinked inside the cloth.

“I don’t want your money,” Luke said.

“Please, accept it.”

“Your homes are wrecked, your crops are gone, and you’ll need every coin you have. Keep it.”

Otto gripped the pouch tightly. “You saved our people, Lord Moon. We have to offer you something.”

Luke studied the old man for several seconds. “Then take my advice. Leave before they come back. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but once they realize this group never returned, they’ll send more. Trust me, I have experience with them. Go to Nyvma, at least until Rosemark’s army deals with the problem.”

When Luke returned to the castle, he found Charlie waiting with a prisoner. An orc knelt before her. Both his arms were broken, and his face was swollen beyond recognition. She had captured him on her way back to the castle.

Luke looked at the prisoner and sighed. “If I’d known you had a Vice-Captain, I would’ve captured him instead of you.”

He and Angie had ended the invasion so quickly that Charlie hadn’t even reached the castle before it was over. The orc laughed despite his condition. Angie gripped her spear and activated [Lance Drill]. The spearhead began spinning with a low hum.

Luke crouched in front of the orc.

“Answer my questions, and she won’t have to use that.” He glanced at the spinning spearhead. “Why are you attacking villages?”

The orc bared his teeth. “You will fall!”

Luke sighed. Angie pressed the spinning [Lance Drill] against the side of his head until he screamed.

Then she stopped and began healing him.

Luke tilted his head. “She can do this all day. Your choice.”

“Never!” the orc screamed.

Angie repeated the process. The orc held out far longer than Luke had expected. His stubbornness was irritating, but also revealing. Finally, the prisoner began to mutter.

“We lost...”

Luke leaned closer. “Lost what?”

“We lost... it.”

“Lost what?”

“We lost it!”

The orc suddenly lunged forward, snapping at Luke’s face. His teeth snapped shut inches from the mask.

Then he went still.

A smile spread across his face. “It worked.”

A moment later, his body began to convulse. He collapsed onto the ground and stopped moving. Charlie frowned. Luke forced the orc’s mouth open and examined his teeth.

“Poisoned tooth,” Luke said. “So much for stupid orcs.”

Soldiers willing to die before talking. Poison hidden in their own teeth. This wasn’t the work of a few scattered raiders.

“What now?” Charlie asked.

“I need to get back to the tree.”

“What about the villagers?” Angie asked.

Luke looked toward the forest. “Let’s see what they do next. I want to test something.”

***

Angie was trying to calculate how much food the villagers would need. A few feet away, Franky was trying to teach rats to praise him. She sat in the castle courtyard with her notes spread across her lap. Her lord could use [Botanical Transmutation] to make paper, and thanks to the materials they’d purchased in Nyvma, she could finally write again. She enjoyed it more than she cared to admit. There was something satisfying about pulling knowledge from her mind and watching it take shape on the page.

For now, she was taking inventory of the food inside her lord’s storage item, calculating how much the villagers would need based on their numbers, daily activity, and nutritional needs.

Not far away, Franky pointed at the rats. “Try saying, ‘Boss Frankzaroth, you’re amazing.’”

The rats stared at him. They couldn’t speak. Franky was getting better at controlling his creatures. Each active rat cost him one point of Willpower and a sliver of attention, but no mana. As long as he stayed within range, they obeyed like tiny soldiers.

The moment they crossed the edge of that range, their intelligence vanished. They went back to acting like ordinary animals and forgot every order he’d given them.

“Attack the bad fruit.”

The rats swarmed the rotten watermelon. Seconds later, it was gone. Only a few damp stains remained.

Useful for disposing of organic waste.

Angie didn’t even look up. The creatures didn’t care whether food was fresh or rotten. If Franky pointed at it, they ate it.

Angie lowered her notes. “That’s enough training.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I’m in charge of you today, shorty. You’re lucky I let those rats anywhere near the castle.”

“But the human let them sleep in my bed.”

“And I’m sure that came with a massive list of rules.”

They had already learned what happened when Franky fell asleep. The moment he lost control, the rats reverted to ordinary animals and scattered throughout the castle. Her lord had been forced to track them down using [Assassin’s Tracking]. Meanwhile, the snake boy had spent most of the night crying, convinced his subordinates had abandoned him because he was a terrible boss.

Angie gave the rats a long look. “Get those rats washed. You’re getting cleaned up too. You’re filthy.”

Franky froze. “What?”

Then he turned to run. Angie scooped him up and tossed him into a wooden tub. She dumped soap into the water and scrubbed him without an ounce of gentleness.

Franky hated baths.

“Have you learned to use the toilet yet?” she asked.

Franky curled in on himself. “D-don’t talk to me about that. Only Human Luke can help me.”

“I washed the sheet you pissed on during the trip.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose! I was asleep! Human bodies are weird.”

Around the tub, the rats leaped into buckets filled with soapy water. For a moment, it almost looked like they were scrubbing their own fur.

“I’d rather bathe by myself,” Franky complained.

Angie sighed and stepped away. She didn’t go far. She sat nearby and returned to her notes, keeping an eye on him while he talked to the rats.

“Do you guys think I’m an amazing boss?”

The rats nodded.

Franky’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

They nodded again.

“Do you think you’ll get strong enough to defeat the Jealous Rat someday?”

The rats glanced her way. Angie kept her eyes on her notes. They nodded.

“Really?”

They nodded a third time.

Angie peered over the top of the page. These rats are far too smart.

Later, Angie put Franky to bed. His rats followed him inside and piled onto a small bed made from scraps of cloth. Once the door was closed, she opened her system interface. Her Willpower was at 2,199.

And I barely invest in it. If I had his power, I could control more than two thousand rats.

What could Franky do if he pushed the attribute to five thousand?

An army of rats, huh?

Angie looked at the closed bedroom door.

I may have underestimated the snake boy.

***

Garen Voss and his soldiers rode hard for the Kingdom of Solvar.

The journey had been as peaceful as the roads got these days, until the signs began appearing: broken branches, deep tracks in the earth, and far too much silence among the trees.

“Orcs!” Orvan shouted.

Arrows tore through the night toward them. The orcs were hiding high in the trees, some firing from the shadows while others leaped down to block the road.

“Scatter!” Garen ordered.

The scaled striders broke formation, claws tearing into the dirt as they veered between the trees. One of the orcs landed directly in front of Garen and spread his arms, an axe in each hand.

“Where do you think you’re going, human?”

The orc’s axe struck Garen’s strider in the chest. The creature collapsed with a sharp screech, throwing Garen to the ground. He rolled through the dirt, the impact rattling his entire body, but rose with his sword already drawn.

“For the sun and the crown of Solvar!”

He charged the orc without waiting for reinforcements, his sword breaking through the orc’s guard. Around him, his soldiers reacted quickly, bringing down the archers in the trees and forming a defensive line among the panicked striders. The creatures crouched low, tails whipping behind them as they snapped at anything that came too close.

Moments later, Garen brought the orc down, and an uneasy silence returned to the forest.

“It was an ambush,” Dorian said.

“Who knows how many they’ve killed like this,” one of the men muttered.

Garen stared into the woods. It was night, and the darkness belonged to those creatures. There could be more of them out there. Many more.

“First the Empire. Now orcs,” Orvan said quietly.

Garen wiped his blade clean and sheathed his sword.

“Solvar will stand. Whatever comes, we’ll defeat it. We always have.” He looked over his men. “So far, we’ve only seen scattered raiding parties.”

His gaze shifted toward the dark woods. “We’ll report the attack when we reach Solvar. If they’re this close to the border, more could follow.”

They had lost three striders, and the rest of the journey would be slower and far more dangerous.

Then the ground began to pulse beneath their boots, steady and rhythmic. A moment later, chanting rolled through the forest.

“What the hell is—” one soldier began.

“Quiet,” Garen said.

The remaining striders lowered themselves toward the ground, claws digging into the earth as low hisses escaped their throats.

“Put up a silence barrier around the striders,” Dorian said.

The mage raised his staff, and a hush settled over the creatures, swallowing every hiss, scrape, and click of their jaws.

Garen and Orvan slipped between the trees and descended the hill. The sound grew louder and deeper until it was impossible to ignore.

It wasn’t just noise. It was an army on the march.

“This isn’t what I think it is, is it, sir?” Orvan whispered.

The two men peered through the trees and froze.

“Gods,” Garen murmured.

Thousands of orcs marched through the night in row after row, torches held high, weapons pounding against shields, and voices roaring together as one.

“Orc Lord! Orc Lord!”

The chant shifted into something darker, a song of death sung by an entire horde.

“Glory to the Orc Lord!” shouted an orc mounted atop a massive beast.

“We will trample them all!”

“Trample them all!” the horde thundered back.

Orvan swallowed hard. “They’re all...” His voice failed.

Garen finished the thought.

“They’re marching on Rosemark.”