Becoming the Dark Lord [LitRPG]

In Luke's hand rested a black blade, the steel so dark it seemed to drink the light around it. Even so, its surface was flawless, polished to the point he could see his own reflection staring back at him. The weapon carried a supernatural weight, heavier than it had any right to be. It wasn't compatible with his class, nor did it align with his attributes. For an assassin, it was useless. But this sword wasn't meant for him. It was meant for Charlie.

[Midnight Sword (Ultra-Rare)
Description: A blade as black as the night itself, forged from the same shadowed steel used by the Midnight Wardens. It once belonged to a Captain, whose strength and discipline still echo within the blade. The steel is hard and unyielding, making it not only a deadly weapon but also a symbol of authority and fear.

[Shield Form (Ultra-Rare): The blade can transform into a round shield of black steel, equally resilient, providing unshakable defense in critical moments.

Requirement: Level 35+ in any Fighter class.]

"It's a fine weapon," Mason admitted. "But you fight with daggers."

"I'll give it to the knight who stood with us," Luke replied. "Truth is, it already went to her inventory. She just let me borrow it to show you the drop."

That was the full extent of the group's loot. And for Luke, that was it. Despite cutting through more Wardens than anyone else, the system hadn't rewarded him with anything of his own. A part of him had hoped for at least one item—most of his gear was still the same battered set he'd used back when he was fighting orcs in the forest.

"I haven't hit my peak yet," Allison said. "Not in race, class, or profession. But I will. It's only a matter of time."

"I just hope we have that time," Mason muttered. His gaze shifted toward Luke. "What about you? Going to tell us your level? We need to know if we're planning to survive the day when they come for us."

Luke no longer saw any point in hiding it. "I only maxed out my profession and unlocked its epic skill. I'm still two levels away from capping both race and class."

Evangeline let out an impressed whistle. "Now it makes sense why you put on that show for us, a nearly peak-rank assassin. That's why your kukri strikes were so fast, the boss could barely react."

In truth, Luke had been fighting like a mantis: a style built on delivering high damage at incredible speed. The tactic was simple, smother the enemy with relentless blows until they fell. They say the best defense is a good offense, and that was exactly his approach. Since Luke couldn't withstand many heavy hits, his only option was to never let the opponent strike at all.

If I'd been the one to kill the Warden Captain, maybe I would've maxed out my rank and reached the peak.

But when else would he ever have the chance to hand a level 70 enemy to Charlie? In the capital, there hadn't been anything that strong. The angel had been the toughest opponent there—second only to the Beast Lord. Once those two were gone, everything else hovered between level 50 and 55, with only rare outliers.

Letting Charlie land the finishing blow had been worth it. Her growth had been explosive, her power skyrocketing before his eyes. And there was something else gnawing at the back of Luke's mind: the notifications of the skills she had unlocked. He needed to see them as soon as there was time.

"For you, it's only a matter of waiting," Mason said. "You maxed out your profession. I'm capped there too, but my class is still lagging below fifty."

It wasn't easy. Most people never reached the maximum level of their profession. Luke doubted he would have either, if not for the knowledge he'd wrestled from the books tied to his path. That was the real difference. Even if someone had the profession for years inside the tutorial, they almost never maxed it—they simply didn't know how.

"How did you manage to push yours all the way to 60?" Luke asked. "You're a blacksmith, right? That can't be an easy climb."

Beyond the complexity of the profession itself, there was also the brutal scarcity of materials. And for a blacksmith, resources weren't just difficult—they were essential.

"I was working in Bastion. In exchange for information, they gave me what I needed. I even helped a guy named Ronan max out his profession," Mason explained.

He went on without pause. "I come from a noble family. When you're raised in that kind of environment, you're told from the start what your role is. I already knew all the tricks that would make leveling a profession easier."

He raised three fingers. "The three pillars of progression, in this order: profession, class, and race. That's how you master a rank."

"I guess Mason and I naturally started way ahead of most people," Allison admitted.

"Yeah, those idiots had the system since childhood. Even if it was limited, they walked into the tutorial with advanced race levels for free," Evangeline muttered.

"But unlike you outsiders, we didn't go through the training grounds. It balances out," Mason replied.

Then he turned to Luke and continued firmly. "Here's the real secret we used to grow stronger, and the same method we'll use to help others later. Always follow the three pillars in that order. First, max out your profession. You can climb 60 levels without ever killing a single monster, just off profession work."

Mason's tone grew sharper as he pressed on. "That gives you a pile of attribute points and free points, plus the indirect bonus of race levels that come with it. It's a cascade effect."

He leaned closer, making sure Luke followed every word. "After that, maybe your class is only level five. But you'll have so many points to distribute that killing monsters becomes trivial, which accelerates class leveling. And as your class rises, your race keeps climbing too, almost in parallel."

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Finally, Mason spread his hands. "You see the loop?"

It clicked for Luke. More than that, it was brilliant. If he'd been level 60 in his profession back when he got lost in the forest with the orc general hunting him, that fight would have ended in minutes. He might even have had the strength to go after the Orc Lord himself.

"I also spent a lot of time running the wall dungeons," Mason added. "Those gave me ores for smithing, and class experience too."

That was the difference between someone with system knowledge and someone without it. Luke couldn't help but think that if he'd reached even level 50 in his profession before facing the ant queen, maybe things would've turned out differently. Maybe Angelica and the others would still be alive.

"I practically lived in those dungeons. When I found out Allison was in this tutorial too, I was surprised," Mason went on. "I got thrown here the same way you did, straight into the ice desert. I think the system scattered those of us with better gear and advantages far from the wall to make things more 'fair' for the rest."

Pieces started to fall into place. It explained why Luke had arrived with so many advantages, and why the system had forced separation.

"And your epic skill?" Allison asked suddenly. "Is it useful for what's coming?"

All three of them turned to him.

"There's no one else here," Evangeline said flatly. "No point in hiding it. You've already seen ours. If Bartholomew comes, we'll need to face him together."

Luke hesitated. But strategy demanded information, and for that to work, he'd have to share something in return.

"First answer me this—how does your epic skill work?" Luke asked Mason.

"My epic comes from my blacksmith profession. Both my hands heat up, glowing like burning coal. It boosts the damage of fire skills and speeds up casting. So when I pair that with something simple, like a basic fireball…"

Luke caught on immediately. "A damn fireball minigun," he muttered under his breath.

"You got it," Mason confirmed. He went on without hesitation. "As for the times I can fire a yellow flame, that's tied to my lineage. Not going into details. But in practice, I use three main skills: yellow fire, standard fireball, and my blacksmith epic. Together they give me high burst damage, but I can't sustain it for long."

Mason's expression hardened as he explained further. "And when I trigger the blacksmith skill, my body locks up. I can't move properly. The target has to be pinned down first."

Allison turned to Evangeline. "And your mana? Without race regen from level-ups, you've got to be running dry."

That was the trade-off. Once someone hit the peak of their rank, there were no more level resets to restore everything.

"I'm at sixty percent," Evangeline replied coolly. "Enough to use my epic twice more. The real problem is my arm. It's broken."

She had poured most of her points into agility and a fair share into intelligence. Living in the shadows for years demanded speed and mana above brute strength.

Luke pulled a vial from his storage item. "I've got three healing potions left. One should at least set your arm back in place."

They had to prepare. Bastion's retaliation was only a matter of time.

"Someone's already gathering the event chest rewards. If we're lucky, we'll pull mana potions out of it and you can top off," Mason noted.

"You think Bartholomew will come himself?" Allison asked.

"Hard to say," Evangeline admitted. "He's cautious. But for a fortress? For a mechanism? He wouldn't leave it to chance. He'll show."

As they laid out their skills and resources, something nagged at Luke. "And what about your rank skill?" he asked. "What even is a rank skill? It doesn't seem tied to class or profession."

"Don't dodge," Evangeline shot back. "You still haven't told us yours."

He exhaled, conceding. "I only have one epic skill, like I said. It's from my profession. I can create an arrow that bursts into an acid cloud on impact."

Their eyes fixed on him.

"Okay… that's both badass and terrifying," Evangeline said flatly.

"Acid? Real acid?" Mason leaned forward. "Perfect against clustered troops. Could it kill outright? Have you tested it?"

"Not much," Luke admitted. "I only got it recently. But yeah, it's ideal for wiping groups."

"And your precious Snow White profession?" Evangeline pressed, smirking.

Even Allison perked up, curious.

"I'm… a botanist," Luke muttered.

The three of them stared, brows furrowed.

"You mean like… you take care of plants?" Allison asked.

"Something like that," he said with a shrug. "Actually, no. Exactly that."

Evangeline stifled a laugh. "Wait… all that mystery for this? Seriously, I thought you were about to drop something terrifying. But hey, who am I to judge? I'm a tailor, after all."

Mason folded his arms, considering. "Makes sense why you said it wouldn't help much against the boss. Especially in a cramped room with too many allies, you'd have melted half the team. Still, against Bartholomew's soldiers? That's going to be useful."

Luke's eyes shifted back to Evangeline. "Your turn, ninja. What are your epic skills?"

"You've already seen one. Class-based: Shadow Hand Prison. From my profession, I can throw a ball of threads. When it bursts, the strands wrap around a target. Weaker than the shadow version and it only catches one person at a time. And my rank skill is this…"

Something tugged at his neck. Luke blinked as his necklace lifted on its own, floating toward her.

"You can… make things float?" he asked, watching her pluck it from the air.

"No. I generate an invisible hand. Purely for stealing. Zero attack power, vanishes if struck. That's all it does."

Luke snatched his necklace back, scowling.

So that explains all the times she stole from me…

"And what's the logic behind rank skills anyway?" he pressed. "If they're unlocked at the peak of a race rank, shouldn't they be tied to the body somehow? Like enhanced memory or something physical?"

Allison shook her head. "No. Rank skills are system-based. They're awarded according to your overall progress up to that point."

"You don't even get to choose," Mason added. "You're granted one skill that reflects how you've used your rank. Every time you max out a rank, you'll get another."

A skill born from my entire progress? What kind of thing am I going to end up with?

"I'm the only one here without an epic," Allison admitted. "But I'm close to maxing all three, profession, class, and race. Feels like it'll happen almost simultaneously."

"Yeah, but you're also the only one with a legendary weapon from a lord," Mason pointed out. His gaze shifted toward Luke. "Well, you and him. So? What's your item?"

"Nothing useful in a fight. That's all I'll say."

"Got it. So, equipment," Mason muttered, already theorizing.

Before anyone could say more, a sharp knock rattled the door behind them.

"He's back!" a voice shouted from the other side. "Our scout's returned!"

The moment had come. Now they would learn whether war was waiting for them. And the soldier's answer was…