Becoming the Dark Lord - Chapter 74

The plaza was packed. People moved in all directions, voices overlapping in a constant murmur. Makeshift tents lined the square—stretched under patchy tarps and stitched-up banners flapping in the wind.

The air was thick with the stench of leather, sweat, and metal.

Anna and Cecília were already heading toward the fenced-in area near Bastion’s military fortress. A soldier in light armor blocked their path, barely looking at them.

“Line starts there,” he said flatly, jerking a gloved thumb toward a cluster of weary-looking survivors.

Luke watched from a distance, leaning on a broken stone pillar.

At the end of the line, he saw Oswald—tall, broad-shouldered, and severe as always—inspecting the resources people brought in: skins, handmade tools, jagged monster teeth. For some, he handed over ration tokens or nodded toward the food tent. For most… just a stiff nod and a dismissive grunt.

Bastion’s tribute system was simple.

A weekly offering in exchange for the basics:

One room.

One hot meal per day.

One barrel of clean water.

That was the deal.

They accepted almost anything. Beast remains, scavenged scrap, usable gear. It felt weird at first—kill a monster just to trade it for food?

But Luke had figured it out.

People hunted in groups. Everything got split. And even if you could eat the raw meat…

A real cooked meal? Something hot, seasoned—prepared by someone who actually knew what they were doing, not just boiled meat and burnt roots?

That was worth more than just calories. It was a return to normalcy. To dignity. A reminder of what it felt like to be human in a world constantly trying to reduce you to something else.

With the tribute paid, you were entitled to a room in one of the inns, houses, or buildings surrounding the Bastion fortress, and that meant real protection. It was a safe roof over your head, guaranteed security, and, of course, protection against the frequent monster invasions.

If a person alone craved that kind of safety in such a chaotic world, imagine how much more it meant for someone with a family. A father, for example, could venture into the Wild Zone to gather resources with peace of mind, knowing his wife and kids were safe in a room at the heart of the Safe Zone.

Those who didn’t have goods to trade?

They worked.

Sweeping alleys. Guarding gates. Carrying supplies.

In this world, staying alive had become its own kind of currency.

Then Luke saw him.

Kruger.

Leaning casually against the stone wall near Oswald. Cloaked in black, skull mask locked in place. His arms were folded. He barely moved. But his presence?

Like a shadow that thought. Watched. Waited.

The Phantom Assassin.

Nobody really knew what Kruger did. Only that when he appeared… things ended. Fast. Always.

When will I be that strong…?

The thought hit Luke like cold iron.

But he knew the truth.

To get there...

He’d have to go deeper.

Far deeper.

And maybe leave something behind.

***

A few days later

The bell rang.

6:00 a.m.

Its metallic echo rolled through the ruins like a funeral toll for the night. Luke stood on the roof of an old building at the edge of the Safe Zone.

From up there, the city unfolded like a dying labyrinth—blocks of crumbling stone, weeds cracking through every gap, trees clawing through windows long abandoned.

This was how he scouted.

He climbed. Watched.

Marked churches.

Listened to bells.

Luke narrowed his eyes.

In the distance, the Midnight Wardens returned from their patrols—tall, black-armored knights moving with unnatural precision, leaping from rooftop to rooftop like wraiths in metal.

He tracked them with care, as they scattered across the ruined district.

Some vanished into cracks between broken buildings.

Others descended into the dark mouths of underground tunnels.

“Three dens... all near the border,” Luke whispered. “Three… just in this sector alone.”

He exhaled slowly, memorizing every movement. Every route. Every entrance.

This is it.

He realized he was missing his bag. He used to carry papers, pens, and hand-drawn maps everywhere. He’d bought everything with effort, just to map out Bastion and its surroundings with precision.

But today, he had none of it.

Down below, on the cracked street level, Princess Charlie stood waiting.

The red-bladed greatsword on her back caught the faint light of sunrise, casting an ominous gleam across the stones at her feet.

Luke turned from the rooftop.

“Time to visit the church.”

He jumped.

A branch cracked under his foot, but his body moved fluidly—rooftop to rooftop, wall to ledge, landing with precision no untrained human could match.

His reflexes had sharpened.

His body had adapted.

This is what I need.

More control. More power.

If he was really going to face the Orc Lord, he couldn’t rely on skills alone.

Not even Charlie would be enough.

He needed more.

More strength.

More gear.

More everything.

Hidden orbs, monster drops, bonus missions—whatever it took.

And today...

Today was about the Artemis Invention.

A special reward tied to a special orb quest.

A hidden treasure from Samael, the Inventor.

What exactly did it do?

No clue.

But if it was tied to a special mission, it wasn’t just some random drop.

It was the kind of thing only a person crazy enough to challenge a Lord would earn.

And Luke…

He was getting close to that point.

***

They reached the outer edge of the ruined cathedral.
And froze.

“Kobolds?” Luke muttered.

But not the kind from the Forgotten Temple.

These were different.

Taller. Bulkier. Their scales burned with a dim, molten glow—like living embers. Long tails curled behind them, spiked like whips.

[Flame Kobold – Lvl 14]

They stood in front of the church entrance like guards, pacing in tense, silent patrol.

Luke narrowed his eyes.

The doors were sealed shut. Of course.

“Princess Charlie.”

She already knew.

She nodded once—

And vanished.

The first kobold didn’t even scream.

Her armor flashed silver, her greatsword drove through its chest with such force that the body slammed into the wall.

The others shrieked—high-pitched, gurgling noises—and spun around.

Too late.

Charlie twisted mid-air.

Whirlwind Strike.

A spinning storm of blades.

Three heads hit the ground before the bodies realized they were dead.

One kobold in the back raised its hand—flames igniting.

Fireballs streaked toward her like comets.

Charlie dodged.

Slide. Jump. Spectral Charge.

The caster kept flinging bolts of fire, panic overtaking precision—but she was a blur of steel and silence.

She closed the distance.

A punch cracked its snout sideways.

Flames gathered in its hand again.

Charlie grabbed the burning limb with her armored gauntlet—Gloves of the Crypt Guardian. Fire-resistant.

Without hesitation, she drove her sword straight through its chest.

Another kobold appeared behind her—more fire.

She didn’t turn.

Instead, she yanked the corpse off her blade and threw it, using the dead weight as a shield. Then she ran.

The caster flinched.

Bad idea.

Spectral Charge.

She vanished—
And reappeared with an upward strike that launched the kobold into the air.

She jumped with it.

Airborne kick—impact.

The kobold hit the ground with a crash. Boxes exploded on impact.

Before it could scream—

Steel sank into its chest.

Silence.

The last few kobolds hesitated.

Charlie turned toward them.

That was all it took.

They fled.

She didn’t.

One fell to a flying blade.

Another was cleaved in half mid-sprint.

And then… silence.

Steam rose from blood staining the broken tiles.

The smell of charred scales lingered in the air.

Luke dropped down beside her, landing softly on the blood-slick stones.

“Nice work.”

He hadn’t helped for a reason.

She needed the XP.

Fast.

Charlie lifted a hand.

Luke sighed.

“Alright… just this once.”

He slapped her hand—a quiet, echoing high five.

Her fist closed with satisfaction.

They turned toward the church doors.

Tall. Heavy-looking. But light enough to push.

With a groan of old wood and a whisper of dust, the twin doors creaked open.

Lit torches lined the inner walls. Shadows danced across stone columns, flickering in and out of view like ghosts.

And there—hovering above the altar—was a necklace.

A sapphire gem pulsed at its center, glowing with a soft blue light, beating like a living heart.

Luke took a slow step forward, pulse rising with each breath.

“No way… After all this time…”

He moved closer, eyes locked on the artifact.

“I think this is it. The treasure.”

The Artemis Invention!

He reached out.

That’s when the doors behind them slammed shut with a deafening boom.

The sound echoed through the chamber like thunder in a tomb.

Wood groaned from above.

Cracks spread across the ceiling.

Dust fell in a fine mist.

Something was moving.

Something massive.

A chunk of the upper balcony shattered. From it—

Descended a creature.

Long, spear-like legs struck the floor one by one.

A bloated body bristling with hair. Crimson eyes glowing in clusters. Mandibles dripping with saliva that hissed where it hit the stone.

A spider. No—

A monster.

[Aracna, Guardian of Artemis – Lvl 20]

The real treasure wasn’t unguarded.

The true trial… had just begun.

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