Becoming the Dark Lord [LitRPG]

Luke felt a chill coil along his spine. The situation was worse than he'd feared. The system glitch hadn't just thrown him into some random pocket of the multiverse, it had dumped him into a dungeon swarming with psychotic criminals. Criminals who had already awakened classes. Already gained power.

Then came the sound, sharp, cutting, precise. An arrow struck Walter in the chest. He reeled backward with a strangled cry, blood blooming across his shirt. A second arrow hit a breath later, embedding deep into his shoulder. The third found his throat.

Walter dropped to his knees, eyes wide with panic, hands grasping at the wound as blood poured through his fingers. He tried to speak, but all that came was a wet, gurgling rasp before his body collapsed. Still. Staring. Lifeless.

It had all happened in seconds. Luke hadn't even moved, hadn't even drawn breath, when footsteps echoed against the stone path. Slow. Intentional. Then came the voice, mocking, smooth, laced with venom.

"Well, well... look what we found. The amazing Officer Walter."

Luke turned. A group emerged from the shadows. Prisoners!

His blood turned cold. Tattoos. Scars. Insane eyes. Some were massive, others sickly thin, it didn't matter. They all radiated something monstrous. One of them held a crossbow, the same one that had just killed Walter. His face was covered in a tribal tattoo. He smiled.

Luke swallowed. "Oh, shit…"

There were at least fifteen of them. They wore makeshift armor and carried swords, spears, and bows—each with the eyes of someone who had killed, and enjoyed it.

A tall man stepped forward, hair long and tangled, his smile as sharp as a blade. "Looks like we've got fresh meat."

The group laughed. Luke glanced at Walter. Dead. His stomach turned. One of the criminals, with a scar over one eye and ink covering half his face, locked eyes with him.

"Name's William," he said with a grin. "Me and my friends spent a little too long in solitary. Seeing someone new? Kinda therapeutic."

Luke tried to stay calm. He forced a smile, though adrenaline was burning through him. "We're all… tutorial companions, right?"

One of them laughed loudly, spinning a hatchet in one hand. "Companions?"

Another spat on the ground. "Ain't nobody here going to any tutorial."

Luke's heart skipped a beat.

"We've analyzed this place," one said. "We don't need to leave. We just wait for the government to mark us dead. A year or two, tops. Better than death row or life inside a box."

"There's a dungeon. There's loot. There's time," said another.

"This place will be our new home," William murmured. "Way better than that damn solitary."

Luke looked around, scanning for any exit. He was surrounded. He was about to die.

"Maybe… I can just go get the portal key and pretend I didn't see anything?" He smiled, nervous.

Silence. The prisoners glanced at each other.

Then William laughed. "What do you think? Should we let the only witness just walk away?"

Luke sighed. "Yeah... didn't think so."

A brute grinned. "You guessed right."

"Can we just kill this punk already?" one growled, twirling a short blade.

"Oh no..." William shook his head. "He's still got a lot to learn."

His eyes locked with Luke's. A shiver ran down Luke's spine.

"Fair head start, kid. Five seconds."

Panic exploded in his chest.

William raised his hand and started counting, too fast. "Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Time's up!"

An arrow ripped through the air. Luke rolled to the side, reaching for Walter's fallen sword, but more arrows came. No choice. He bolted.

"Get him!" William shouted.

Boots pounded the dirt. Arrows zipped past, slamming into trees and stones. A knife sliced the air, grazing Luke's face before lodging into a tree. Without thinking, he ripped it free and kept running.

"Come on, kid! Let's play!" one of the prisoners jeered.

Luke dove through a ruined house, leaping through a shattered window and landing hard on the wooden floor. The impact knocked the wind from his lungs, but he didn't stop. Stairs ahead. No time.

Footsteps thundered behind him. "Where are you, boy? Let's talk!"

He slipped into a dark hallway, heart pounding. He had one knife… and a damn apple. Footsteps again. He peeked around the corner. A man with an axe was checking rooms, slow and deliberate.

Think. Think. Think.

Luke hurled the apple into a room farther down.

"I found you!" the man shouted, charging toward the noise.

As the thug passed, Luke swept his leg out. The man stumbled, crashed hard against the stone floor. A split-second later, pain tore through Luke's shoulder—a crossbow bolt drove deep, nearly spinning him around. He gasped, stumbling backward, blood already seeping into his shirt. Two more prisoners charged down the corridor. One had a crossbow, already raised. Luke didn't think. He moved on instinct—arm snapping forward as the knife left his hand in a blur.

"Ah, shit!" the man shouted, stumbling back as the blade struck.

Luke couldn't believe he hit him, but he didn't stop. He spun, bolting up the stairs, gritting his teeth as he tore the bolt from his shoulder. Pain burned through him. At the top, he grabbed a table and shoved it over, knocking down whatever he could before sprinting into a room and slamming the door shut. He locked it, then dragged a heavy dresser in front of it, his shoulder flaring with pain as he forced it into place.

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"OPEN THE DOOR, KID!" The axe slammed into the wood.

"Shit, shit, SHIT!"

Luke looked around—only a window. His chest rose and fell in pure panic. No way out. He did the only thing he could. He opened the system screen.

"Give me a class! Anything! NOW!"

Another slam from the axe. Footsteps outside. Time was running out. And then...

[Choose your class wisely. It may mean the difference between life and death.]

"I KNOW!" Luke screamed, desperation cracking his voice. The axe struck again. The system screen flickered to life. Class options began cycling in front of him, fast.

[Knight: A resilient and honorable warrior, the Knight stands at the front lines, shielding allies through a mix of strength and discipline.
Stat Bonus: +2 Endurance, +1 Strength, +1 Agility, +1 Vitality, +1 Free Point
Starting Equipment: Sword and Shield]

Luke was drenched in sweat. Sword and shield?

He looked at his arms. No chance.

The weight alone would drag him down. He wasn't built for brute force. Carrying both while running? Slowing down now meant dying.

Next.

[Archer: A ranged combat specialist, the Archer is swift and precise. He keeps a safe distance from the frontline, striking enemies from afar with deadly accuracy.
Stat Bonus: +2 Agility, +1 Vitality, +1 Perception, +1 Intelligence, +1 Free Point
Starting Equipment: Bow and Quiver]

Archer… attacking from a distance sounded like the best option. But what if I run out of arrows?

"I could die with no ammo."

The door creaked. A hole splintered through the wood.

"There you are, little man!" A mocking voice oozed through the gap.

Luke inhaled sharply and skipped to the next.

[Thief: Agile and stealthy, the Thief relies on tricks and quick strikes to catch enemies off guard.
Stat Bonus: +2 Perception, +1 Vitality, +1 Agility, +1 Intelligence, +1 Free Point
Starting Equipment: Bandit's Cleaver and three Lockpicks]

He stared at the door. A criminal's class… to fight criminals?

Ironic, but the class didn't seem strong enough.

Next.

[Mage: Master of the arcane arts, the Mage trades physical strength for magical power. Though physically fragile, his spells are feared from afar.
Stat Bonus: +2 Intelligence, +1 Vitality, +1 Agility, +1 Perception, +1 Free Point
Starting Equipment: Arcane Staff and One-Time Spell Scroll]

"No… if I run out of mana, I'll be left holding a stick."

The dresser slid. The criminals were laughing on the other side. Last option.

[Assassin: For the Heir of Shadows and Child of Assassination. The Assassin uses fast, lethal strikes to eliminate targets. He avoids prolonged fights, relying on ambush tactics to guarantee victory.

Stat Bonus: +2 Agility, +1 Strength, +1 Vitality, +1 Perception, +1 Free Point
Starting Equipment: Throwing Knives and Three Smoke Bombs]

Luke felt something shift inside him as he read it, as if the class had been waiting for him.

"This..." His voice was barely a whisper. This was the one. The only real chance at survival.

Knight? Too slow. Archer? Limited. Mage? Risky. Thief? Weak early on. Assassin…? Knives to attack. Smoke to escape.

Fast. Light. Lethal.

The dresser collapsed. Footsteps surged forward.

"Found you, boy!"

Luke clenched his fists. His heart was pounding like a war drum. "Assassin! I choose Assassin!"

[You have acquired the Assassin class!]

Something ignited inside him. His body trembled as a strange heat surged through his veins. His muscles felt lighter, his mind sharper. For a moment, something stirred within him, as if he were standing on the edge of becoming something else, something better.

[Skills are awakening. Please wait...]

The door burst open.

"Oh my god, fuck this!" He dove through the window. Wind slashed across his face. He landed in a pigpen.

"Shit..." he groaned, but the mud softened the fall. No time for disgust. He sprang to his feet. His eyes locked onto the forest, toward the dungeon—the only exit. He had to make it.

"GET BACK HERE!" a voice shouted.

Luke turned. One of the prisoners had spotted him.

"HE'S OVER HERE!"

He bolted, feet barely touching the ground, adrenaline burning through his blood. Then a thug jumped in front of him, brandishing a cleaver.

"No way out, kid!"

Luke ducked low, rolling under the blade and slipping past with unnatural speed. He sprinted toward the forest, until he froze. Five prisoners blocked the trail.

"Damn it!"

No choice. Luke veered toward the riverbank. Arrows sliced through the air, thudding into the dirt around him. His chest burned. His lungs screamed.

Where do I go?!

Then he saw it—the waterfall, the cave beyond, the roar of crashing water echoing through the trees. He didn't get a chance to weigh his options. A fireball erupted in front of him, scattering sparks across the clearing. Flames licked at the grass and caught a nearby tree, smoke curling skyward. Luke skidded to a stop, eyes narrowing as a figure stepped from the cave's shadowed mouth. William.

He twirled a staff between his fingers. "Looks like I found our little runaway."

Luke swallowed hard. Behind him, the other criminals closed in. Archers and crossbowmen raised their weapons.

William smiled and stepped closer. "What do we do with him, boys?"

"Kill him!" one growled. "We can't let the kid awaken skills and just walk out of here."

Cold sweat ran down Luke's back. William tilted his head, amused.

"So, kid?" he grinned. "Quick death or slow?"

Luke's eyes darted around, desperate. More prisoners emerged by the second. There was no way out. The mage was toying with him.

Luke drew a breath. "Quick death."

The criminals laughed.

William showed his teeth. "Unfortunately... it won't be quick."

He pointed the staff. "GET HIM!"

They charged and arrows flew through the air as Luke ran. There was no other option. He weaved past the bolts, his body moving faster than it ever had before. That strange heat still burned in his veins. Something inside him had changed, but there was no time to stop and think about it. His mind raced as fast as his feet: the cave, the river, the waterfall. He remembered the statue's words. Two paths. The dungeon trail. And...

The Leap of the Brave.

"Kill the boy!" The words rang out like a gunshot, sharp, cold, final.

Luke froze, breath caught in his chest, heart pounding so loud it drowned everything else. He looked back at the men behind him, their faces twisted in a mix of rage and disbelief, then turned to the edge. Wind howled. The drop was sheer. For a second, he hesitated. His body tensed, brain screaming to stop, to think, to do anything but what came next. Then he exhaled.

"Screw it." And he jumped.

Shouts broke out behind him, panic, confusion, someone screaming, "He really did it?!"

But the voices blurred into noise as the air rushed past him and the water rose fast. It hit him like concrete, cold, unforgiving, violent. The impact tore the breath from his lungs and yanked him under.

And then he fell, deeper still. Not just through water, but into silence. Into darkness. The surface vanished. The light disappeared. The world above became a memory. And the abyss, wide and ancient, took him whole.