Becoming the Dark Lord - Chapter 75

A spider dropped from the ceiling like a living nightmare.

[Aracna, Guardian of Artemis – Lvl 20]

Too many eyes. All of them glowing red. Its body was pure obsidian, armored in darkness. Its legs—long, curved blades, sharp enough to gut a tank.

Something stirred in Luke’s chest.

Fear.

Not now…

Since the dungeon, he’d realized he had... arachnophobia.

The creature shrieked.

FWOOOSH!

A massive strand of web launched from its mouth like a harpoon.

Charlie moved. She surged forward—Spectral Charge activating. A silver blur cut through the air, slicing the web mid-flight and using the momentum to drive a punch straight into the spider’s face.

Luke sprinted, weaving from pillar to pillar, flanking the beast. Knives flew from his hands in precise arcs, slicing into exposed joints.

The spider hissed—then leapt. From ground to ceiling. From ceiling to floor. It bounced like a living spring.

Charlie was knocked away, her armored body crashing through a bench.

Luke’s gut twisted. This thing’s on the same level as the Orc Captain.

The spider spewed a barrage of sticky orbs across the room.

SHHHHH—BLAM!

One slammed into the tiles near Luke, bursting like a grenade of glue. He dove behind a stone pillar.

A split-second later—

CRASH!

The beast landed where he’d just been.

Luke gritted his teeth. He could feel it. He was stronger now. Charlie too.

He triggered Basic Dark Dash. His body blurred into darkness—

FWIP!

A strand of web sliced through the air in front of him. He twisted mid-air, reappearing above the spider’s face—and struck.

But the spider did something he didn’t expect.

It charged.

THOOM!

The impact sent him flying like a ragdoll. He smashed into a column—stone fractured on contact.

Charlie dropped in from above.

CLANG!

Her blade smashed into the spider’s leg. A chunk went flying.

The beast shrieked. Another web shot—PFFF!

Charlie was pinned to the floor.

The spider coiled back—then lunged.

A shadow flew toward Luke. He barely dodged. Behind him, the column exploded into rubble.

The spider skittered back, then launched sideways across the wall, moving at unnatural speed as it fired web after web.

Luke responded with a flurry of throwing knives. Ten blades spun through the air—

CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.

They struck the carapace and rebounded, spinning back into his hands.

Charlie struck again, using Spectral Charge. The spider dodged—barely.

But that had been the plan.

Luke appeared. A shadow leaping like a wolf onto its back, blades aimed for the joints.

Then—

The spider twisted. Its legs bent backward. Its head rotated a full 360 degrees. Suddenly, Luke wasn’t on top anymore. He was underneath it.

Shit.

The legs slammed down around him like spears. From between them, web fluid burst in a sticky dome.

A trap.

Luke hurled his kukris into one leg and vaulted sideways—barely avoiding the cocoon forming where he’d stood. Now, a fully sealed web pod.

The spider screeched and turned again.

Luke landed beside Charlie. They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to.

They ran straight at the creature.

At the last second—they split.

The spider tried to follow both. It couldn’t.

SLASH!

Two of its legs were severed clean off.

It collapsed, shrieking, slamming against the wall.

The two of them had done it. Together.

Aracna slammed its fangs into the ground, screeching something that sounded like a curse.

It reared back—

And fired.

A web orb the size of a shield exploded from its mouth.

BOOOOM!

Webbing scattered like shrapnel across the entire hall.

Luke was caught mid-step. So was Charlie.

What?!

He struggled. The web clung like cement. His arms refused to move. His legs stuck fast.

Charlie fought, slicing at the threads, but they were layered. Reinforced. Too thick.

The spider curled into itself—then launched.

THOOM!

The impact hit like a battering ram.

Luke flew, his body slamming into the stone floor, skidding across cracked tiles before coming to a hard stop.

Dizzy. Rattled.

He pushed himself up, barely able to focus—and then he saw her.

Charlie—trapped beneath the monster’s massive weight. It was crushing her.

Luke clenched his teeth and flicked his hand.

Nothing.

The kukris didn’t return.

Caught in the web.

“Damn it...”

He sprinted, ducking beneath one of the spider’s legs as it reared back. Its shadow loomed.

Luke pulled open the system interface mid-run, heart pounding. He tapped the blades in his inventory.

A flash of light—the kukris reappeared in his hands.

“Round two,” he growled.

Beneath the beast, Charlie braced. With both hands gripping her blade, she drove it deep into the spider’s underbelly.

CRACK!

The creature shrieked.

Luke didn’t hesitate. He launched himself forward, Dark Dash activating mid-air, carrying him straight into the creature’s flank.

The spider spun with terrifying speed and fired another blast of silk—

FWWWWSSHH!

Luke blurred to the side, vanishing just before the thread struck.

The spider staggered, stumbling back, two legs dragging lifeless behind it. It shot more webs—wide, wild, frantic.

Luke hurled his blades.

SHHK! SHHK!

Mid-flight, they split into four. Each one struck. The spider screamed.

Charlie advanced like a juggernaut of bone and steel. Her Spectral Charge carried her in bursts between patches of webbing.

She leapt, spinning into the air. The spider fired again—but she didn’t flinch.

Whirlwind Strike activated mid-air.

SLASH. SLASH. SLASH.

The webs shredded.

Luke appeared at her flank—

SHHK!

One leg gone.

Another.

The spider tumbled, then lunged at Luke in a last-ditch frenzy, mandibles wide.

Charlie dropped from above, fist cocked back—

BAM!

A clean hit to the skull.

Luke rolled aside, landed on one knee, and slashed deep into the creature’s side.

It shrieked, flailing.

CRACK!

A leg shot forward, piercing his side.

Pain exploded—but he didn’t flinch. He drove both kukris into the leg and sawed until it tore off.

Charlie flung her sword upward and started punching.

BAM. BAM. BAM.

Her iron fists hammered the spider’s face, crushing the exoskeleton inch by inch.

The sword fell—she caught it mid-drop, spun the handle in her palm, and drove it down.

THUNK!

Right through the skull.

[Princess Charlie has slain Aracna, Guardian of Artemis – Lvl 20]

Your class [Demonic Assassin] has reached Level 15! (Class Bonus Points Acquired)

*[Princess Charlie has reached Level 6 – Skeleton (Rank F)] (+1 bonus point to all attributes, +1 free point)*

[You have unlocked a new Class Skill]

[An item has been added to your Inventory]

Luke staggered back, panting, chest rising and falling.

The beast was dead.

The room was quiet—only the sound of dripping silk and broken stone remained.

That was... brutal.

But it hadn’t felt as impossible as the Orc Captain.

Why?

“Is it because we’ve grown stronger…?” he murmured, catching his breath. “Or maybe... that orc had a high-tier class?”

He opened his system.

[New Class Skill Unlocked!]

Five choices appeared.

Only one could be chosen. He scanned the list.

[Ricochet Dagger (Uncommon)]: The assassin throws a dagger that, upon striking a target, ricochets to a nearby enemy, dealing reduced damage. Ideal for handling two opponents quickly and with precision.

Luke exhaled slowly.

“Not bad... but no way it beats Blood Regeneration.”

He kept scrolling. Then stopped. And smiled—quietly, to himself.

Now that… that was more like it.

[Bloodshot (Rare)]: The assassin fires a bullet formed from condensed blood, launched at high velocity. This skill consumes both HP and mana, sacrificing vitality for a brutal, ranged attack that’s fast, vicious—and highly unpredictable.

Luke’s eyes widened.

“Bloodshot…?”

His mind immediately began to race. A ranged ability. Finally. Something deadly, and from a distance. That alone made it tempting. He’d needed a skill like this for a long time.

But the cost…

“It drains health? That’s risky…”

Worse—there was no clarity on how much.

“A double-edged blade. And the System won’t even tell me how deep it cuts.”

He hesitated, then flipped to the next skill.

[Extended Blade (Uncommon)]: By channeling mana, the assassin generates an energy blade that extends over their daggers, temporarily increasing their length to that of a sword. Ideal for direct strikes and extended reach during intense combat.

Luke exhaled, unimpressed.

“My kukris are already curved and short for a reason. Turning them into swords? That’s not my rhythm.”

It didn’t match his tempo. Not his style.

He moved on.

And then he paused.

[Knifeweb (Rare)]: The assassin throws a blade that unravels mid-flight into threads of mana, forming a magic web. The trap ensnares enemies for a few seconds, halting movement and leaving them wide open to a finishing blow.

Luke’s gaze drifted toward the dead spider behind him.

“Of course… this one showed up because of that fight.”

The System didn’t do coincidence. It responded to stimulus. Context. Battle. Pattern.

But even so...

“Would this even work on something that size? Maybe it could stop a kobold, tops. Not worth the gamble.”

Useful? Maybe. But not enough.

And then he saw the last one.

[Demonic Blade Dance (Rare)]:

A dual-blade combat style in which you gain proficiency in fast, devastating attacks. Your movements become more agile, and your strikes hit harder, causing continuous bleeding damage to enemies. The skill also enhances your defensive capabilities, allowing you to block and evade more effectively during combat.

(Secondary Effect: Dancing Mimic): When the skill’s secondary effect is activated, your speed increases, and a dark afterimage forms—a dancing mimic made of pure darkness that follows your every move, mirroring the intensity and fluidity of your attacks.

Luke stared at the screen.

“…A fighting style?”

This wasn’t just a move. It was a full evolution. A system of motion. Technique. Pressure. Precision.

He read the description again, slower this time.

Bleed damage over time.

“That syncs perfectly with Basic Blood Regeneration…”

But the real kicker—

The secondary effect.

Pacing. Darkness. A visual echo to every movement. Not just damage—style. Presence. Fear.

“A dancing mimic made of pure darkness…” he whispered. “It’s like leaving a phantom behind with every step.”

This wasn’t just an upgrade.

It was a leap.

He took a breath and looked at the two finalists:

Bloodshot—a new weapon for ranged lethality.

Demonic Blade Dance—refinement of everything he already was.

A weapon…

Or mastery.

He already knew.

He didn’t need to reach further.

He needed to sharpen what he had.

[You have acquired the Class Skill: Demonic Blade Dance]

Luke closed the interface and exhaled slowly. Power wasn't enough. Not here. Not anymore. He needed technique. And now… he had it.

The moment he selected the new skill, something exploded inside his mind—a surge of memory. No—impressions. Flooding his senses like a dam breaking.

Hundreds of images. Movements. Poses. Breathing patterns. Footwork etched into instinct. Blade paths drawn in muscle memory.

An endless stream of fighting forms crammed into his head like a violent download.

He saw a figure in a mask—dancing in the dark, surrounded by candles.

Spinning blades traced arcs of death through the air.

Each motion seamless.

Each strike beautiful.

It was overwhelming.

The pain hit right after—a spike behind the eyes. Sharp. Sudden. Blinding.

And then—gone.

Luke stumbled a step back and opened his eyes, panting.

“Holy...”

He looked down at his hands—still gripping the kukris. But they didn’t feel the same anymore.

He didn’t feel the same.

It wasn’t just power coursing through his body. It was clarity. And shame.

Shame for how he’d been fighting until now. How clumsy he’d been. How... loud.

“I was just flailing,” he muttered. “A brawler with sharp toys.”

Now he knew the difference. Between someone who used blades… and someone who became them.

Luke inhaled deeply, then began to move.

One step forward.

One twist of the hip.

A low slash cut through the air.

His body turned with it, fluid.

The next strike flowed from the last.

Then a pivot.

Kukris reversed in his hands.

Another slash—higher this time.

A drop of the shoulder.

A sweep.

A ghost step.

He didn’t have to think. His body already knew the rhythm. Knew the spacing. Knew the dance. Every muscle cooperated. Every breath landed on time. Each motion was a stroke of artistry and threat—a performance designed to kill.

Shhhk— The sound of the air splitting beneath his blades rang out like steel.

It wasn’t a fight. It was choreography.

He wasn’t attacking. He was performing.

Luke spun, blades tracing a circle, and came to a stop.

CLACK.

The kukris settled in his hands with a final, satisfying click.

He stood there in the silence, chest rising and falling.

“…So this is what it means to be a blade.”

There was a dull ache in his knee. A small injury from earlier.

The reminder made him wince.

Right. He had something else to check.

“Almost forgot... I got an item.”

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