Becoming the Dark Lord - Chapter 65

The word lingered in the air like a silent verdict.

Bastion… Bartholomew’s military fortress.

Allison crossed her arms, her eyes sharp as she watched Luke absorb the thought.

"If you really think about it... doesn’t it make sense?"

Luke frowned. Something about the equation felt wrong.

"It doesn’t, actually," he muttered. "If he already activated one of the mechanisms, why not just announce it? He could speed everything up..."

Allison let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Because you’re thinking like someone who wants to leave the tutorial."

Luke narrowed his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"You, me, and everyone else here—we want to escape. That’s our only goal. But what if Bartholomew doesn’t want to activate all three mechanisms? Think about it. Maybe he doesn’t want to deal with the Midnight Wardens. Maybe he just doesn’t think he’s strong enough yet."

Silence.

The idea clicked somewhere deep in Luke’s mind.

He’d always assumed everyone wanted out. Desperately. Immediately.

But what if someone was stalling?

Allison’s voice sharpened, focused.

"Angelica and Bartholomew don’t hate each other. There’s something between them... a truce, a shared agenda. You really think she’d be leading a whole faction inside Bastion’s territory without his approval?"

"You think she knows something?"

"I think she knows a lot more than she’s telling us."

If Bastion really was hiding one of the mechanisms...

Then Bartholomew might not be a key to escape.

He might be the wall keeping them trapped.

***

One day later.

Luke returned to the edge of the camp, pack heavy with scavenged supplies. The strap dug into his shoulder, but the pain was a quiet reminder—he was getting stronger, faster, sharper.

He walked straight to Paul, the man in charge of logistics for the Haven.

"Here. Think I got everything on that list."

Paul took the bag and peered inside.

His eyes widened. "Damn... this usually takes our teams weeks. You’re ridiculously fast."

Luke forced a casual shrug, trying to deflect attention.

Too much visibility was dangerous.

"I got lucky this time."

Paul still looked impressed.

Before Luke could change the subject, another figure stepped beside them—silent, small, and familiar.

Cecilia.

She began signing quickly.

Paul tried to keep up. "Uh... something about spices? Oh, right—she says the herbs you brought are used to season food. She works in the kitchen. I think she’s thanking you."

Cecilia smiled and nodded politely.

Luke scratched the back of his neck. "R-right... no problem."

Mission complete, he turned to leave—then noticed someone sitting quietly away from the crowd.

Thiara.

The healer.

She was hunched over a collection of glass vials, carefully organizing them.

Luke hesitated.

His shoulder ached—a dull, biting pain he’d been trying to ignore.

Turns out Basic Blood Regeneration was amazing for cuts and surface wounds... but it didn’t do much for things like fractured bones.

He didn’t want to waste one of his few healing potions.

So he walked over.

"Thiara."

She jumped, nearly knocking over a flask.

"M-Mister Luke! You scared me!"

Luke blinked.

Right. I really need to start making noise when I walk...

He added it to his mental checklist. His stealth was starting to unsettle people.

"Sorry," he said simply.

Thiara took a slow breath. "You... really don’t make a sound when you move..."

He ignored the comment and got straight to the point.

"I need a quick heal. Left shoulder’s a bit messed up. I’m not sure what the payment system is, but I can compensate you after my next run."

Thiara let out a soft laugh.

"Don’t worry, Mister Luke. I heal people for free."

Luke frowned slightly. "For free?"

She nodded. "My class gives me a bit of experience every time I use healing magic. So in a way, I’m already being paid. But... I do prioritize healing Hunters and Explorers first."

That made sense.

If Luke wanted to keep pushing deeper into the Wild Zone, having a healer on his side would be essential.

Thiara gently placed her hand on his shoulder. A faint green glow bloomed beneath her palm. Within seconds, the pain in Luke’s arm faded completely.

He exhaled, the relief almost making him sag in place.

The light dimmed and vanished as she pulled her hand away.

"Incredible..." he murmured, rolling his shoulder. "Even my HP’s fully restored."

Thiara offered a small smile. "That’s how healing magic works."

Luke was genuinely impressed.

Having access to someone like her in this world felt like a luxury.

"You’re incredibly valuable," he said, meeting her eyes.

But her expression shifted.

It softened—grew hesitant.

"I use a lot of mana to heal," she admitted. "And I only really level up my class through healing. I don’t go into combat. I don’t have any offensive skills... so I’m not that amazing."

Luke picked up the flicker of insecurity in her voice.

"Couldn’t you awaken combat skills eventually?" he asked. He’d seen it happen—Charlie developed a punching skill just by fighting barehanded.

Thiara looked away. "I could. But..."

She hesitated.

"I’m scared."

Luke said nothing for a moment.

He understood.

Facing death changed people.

He gave a small nod. "That makes sense. It’s dangerous out there... but knowing someone like you’s here, ready to help us recover—honestly, that gives me more courage than you realize."

Her eyes lit up at that.

He smiled. "Anyway, I’m glad you’re here. Next time I take a serious hit, I know exactly who I’m running to."

"It’s my pleasure, Mister Luke," she said warmly.

He turned to leave.

But then, he felt her gaze linger.

"...Mister Luke," she said quietly.

He paused. "...Yeah?"

She glanced around, as if checking to make sure no one was listening.

Then she leaned in closer—close enough to whisper by his ear.

"I saw it... that day... what was inside Mister Allison’s bag."

Luke froze.

She saw it?! The... women’s clothes?!

A cold chill crept down his spine.

Shit.

But then—Thiara placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

And smiled.

"It’s okay, Mister Luke. I don’t judge gay couples."

His brain flatlined.

WHAT?!

***

Days had passed.

Luke and Princess Charlie continued tearing through monsters, pushing their levels higher with ruthless efficiency.

And now...

He was here.

Hidden in the shadows. Eyes like a predator.

He watched the bandit camp from his perch, motionless, silent.

They were still there. Even after losing several of their men, they hadn’t moved.

It didn’t make sense—until Luke overheard fragments of their conversation.

There was a rift forming. One of the men wanted to ally with the Renegades. The others didn’t trust him.

So that’s why they haven’t left...

Luke kept watching, memorizing every patrol route, every shift change.

The camp sat just outside a ruined mansion—positioned exactly at the border between the Safe Zone and the Wild Zone.

A neutral zone. A limbo.

The Midnight Wardens didn’t cross into it. Luke had noticed it days ago—they avoided the forests and ruins around the mansion entirely.

Why?

Then the realization clicked.

Each Lord controlled territory. The Midnight Wardens likely avoided stepping into the domains of other Lords.

He narrowed his eyes. His decision had already been made.

Luke opened his system. It was time to allocate his free points.

Because tonight, none of those bastards were walking away alive.

Name: Luke
Level: 6
Rank: F
Class: [Demonic Assassin (Lvl 11)]
Race: Half-Demon
Profession: —
Titles: [Dark Lord]
Bloodline: [Bloodline of the Dark Demon]
Health Points (HP): 510/510
Mana Points (MP): 288/330
Stamina: 231/250
Soul Fragments: 21/1000

Stats:
Strength: 47
Agility: 55
Endurance: 25
Vitality: 51
Perception: 48
Intelligence: 33
Free Points: 4

He was stronger than he had ever been.

Not just in stats. In mindset.

He wasn’t the same person who arrived in this nightmare.

He eyed the floating system window and made his choice without hesitation.

Stats Updated:
Intelligence: 33 -> 37
Free Points: 4 -> 0
Mana Points (MP): 288/330 -> 328/370

Heat surged through him as mana pulsed beneath his skin.

The more mana he had, the more vitality he could drain. Eventually, he’d reach a point where he could drain an enemy’s entire life force.

His eyes locked onto the camp.

Time to begin the hunt.

The crossbowman stood guard near the forest, stationed atop a crumbling outpost.

Farther ahead, the other bandits laughed and drank around a fire as night began to fall.

Then a soft whistle cut through the air.

The sentry turned his head, alert.

He didn’t even have time to raise his crossbow.

Something grabbed him from behind.

A cloth was slammed over his mouth, silencing his cry as he was yanked backward—disappearing into the dark behind the structure.

His back hit the ground hard. Vision swam.

He blinked, dazed—until he saw it.

A skeletal figure loomed over him, raising a glinting blade.

Moonlight kissed the edge of the sword.

Then it fell.

Swift. Final.

Darkness claimed him.

[Princess Charlie has slain a Human – Lvl 5 (Crossbowman – Lvl 10)]

The [Death Knight] class of Princess Charlie has reached Level 8! (Class Bonus Points Acquired)

[Princess Charlie has gained a new Class Skill]

Luke smirked from the shadows.

Charlie was evolving.

Now she could equip the higher-tier armor he'd been saving.

But more importantly—a new skill.

His eyes gleamed.

No longer would they rely on stealth alone.

Now it was time for the offensive.

His voice was a whisper against the night.

"We’re done hiding." He drew a blade. "And now... we bring chaos."

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