Becoming the Dark Lord [LitRPG]

A trusted group from Haven had stayed behind in the Safe Zone while the others went to claim the fortress and activate the mechanism. Their job was simple but crucial: to find out if the people in the first Safe Zone had also received a notification about the second mechanism being activated. If they had, then Bartholomew already knew, and that meant they would have to prepare for the worst.

Half their fighters were injured, healing potions were gone, and everyone was still worn down from the battle. It was the perfect stage for Bartholomew to sweep in and seize the fortress by force. The same dilemma Marshall had once faced was now theirs.

"Are you sure no one was notified?" Mason pressed.

They were in a private room, gathered with Haven's leaders. It had been over two hours since the first scout arrived, and every thirty minutes another one came in. The strategy had been laid out long before the assault: scouts would remain in the Safe Zone near Bastion and cycle back one by one to deliver updates.

"I told you," the fifth scout reported, "I spent the entire night in a tavern near Bastion. No one in the Safe Zone got a notification. And the soldiers? Same routine as always. No unusual movement."

Relief spread across the room. Luke caught it in their eyes, especially Allison's.

"Then we really do have the advantage," Evangeline said.

"Shouldn't we tell the rest of Haven we've secured a fortress?" Quinn asked.

"Of course we should! We finally have a home, a safe place," Eugene argued.

"No." Allison's voice cut through the room.

Everyone turned toward her.

"No one says a word."

"M-mind telling us why?" Miranda asked.

"She's right," Mason added quietly.

Allison paced, deep in thought, then returned to the table. "Bartholomew doesn't know we've taken this place. That's our trump card. The system only notified those of us near the mechanism. We need to use that advantage while we have it."

Her gaze cut to Byron and Eugene as she continued, tone firm. "Rally everyone, even the wounded. Mobilize the ones who can work. Rebuild the damaged sections of the fortress. Get the builders to reinforce the perimeter however they can—we need stronger defenses."

She pressed on without pausing. "Establish patrols at key points. Cut down the trees too close to the walls. If anyone approaches, I want to know before they get near."

Next, Allison pointed at Quinn, her words sharp and commanding. "You go back to Haven. Bring the ones who joined us on the orc expedition—they know how to handle this kind of work. Get Thiara and Cecilia here discreetly. Thiara needs to heal the worst cases."

Her tone didn't soften in the slightest. "The healing potions we found last night—and the ones stocked in this fortress—are only for emergencies. And we have people missing limbs. Potions won't fix that."

As she laid out orders with precision, Luke realized the gulf between common people and those born into nobility. It wasn't just about power or education, it was in the way they thought. Leaders carried a weight ordinary people didn't. Allison spoke with conviction, authority radiating from her in every word.

Luke felt the contrast keenly, even within himself. He thought small, always in terms of survival, of what he alone could do. She thought big. She thought like someone moving pieces across a vast board.

Like a game of chess.

That was the thought that struck him, and the truth was hard to ignore: time wasn't on their side. Their opponent held the better pieces, and far more of them.

"Is there any way Bartholomew could find out?" Mason asked at last. "When we stepped into the mechanism's chamber, the system displayed how many had already been activated. It's only a matter of time before Bartholomew sees it too."

"No. The Second Mechanism is sealed off. He never comes here precisely so no one learns of its existence. He had this entire section of the fortress walled off," Evangeline explained.

Mason frowned, thinking it through. "Even so, all it would take is for him to send a scout here one day, and the secret's gone."

"That's why we need to fortify this place as fast as possible," Allison cut in. She kept her voice firm as she laid out the plan. "Once the fortress is secure, we move to reshaping the city around it. We'll need a scout stationed near Bastion, watching every movement. And we can't bring in large numbers of people all at once, it would draw suspicion."

She carried on, leaving no room for doubt. "We wait until they start moving, then we act. That's the only way. If Haven suddenly vanishes overnight, he'll know something's wrong. We can't tip him off before it's time."

Now that they were certain Bartholomew hadn't been alerted, they had room to breathe. But the truth pressed down on all of them: every second still mattered.

***

"Took me a while, didn't it?" Luke asked as he approached Charlie.

She was leaning against a tree just outside the fortress, arms crossed.

I think she's a little pissed…

"You know, I'm not a big fan of meetings or speeches. But I had to find out if we were all marching into a war or not," he added, trying to ease the tension.

She tilted her head slightly, then seemed to accept the excuse.

"So what's your plan now?" Artemis asked.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

He and Charlie started walking along the inner wall, the fortress looming around them.

"I guess… figure out the next steps. Honestly, most of the plans I've been working on these past months were only meant to carry me up to this point. I didn't think too far ahead. But now, with more people helping, things feel… easier."

As they walked, the sound of celebration drifted through the courtyard. People were still buzzing with excitement over the victory. Some of them had been trapped in the tutorial for years, long enough to lose hope of ever returning to Earth. Yet today, they had accomplished something monumental.

Not everything inside the fortress was intact. Parts of it lay broken, ruins from the battle they had just fought or from failed assaults in the past. Luke passed a group of five scribbling notes onto wooden boards. They were builders by trade, already preparing to repair the damage. Every nail hammered, every wall rebuilt would grant them experience, maybe even unlock new skills.

The core group of leaders had begun exploring every section of the fortress. Evangeline carried a map, far more detailed than the one Luke had pieced together, since she had once lived in Bastion. The layout of the rooms was nearly identical, as if carved from the same mold.

It became clear that the fortresses weren't just about activating the mechanisms. They were designed to make the survivors stronger. Shelves of books held instructions on professions, detailed ways to earn experience, even construction blueprints and technical manuals.

The fortress itself was a crucible, a place to gain knowledge, train, grow stronger, and prepare for what came next. It had everything a survivor needed: solid shelter, steady food, reward chests filled with potions, and a Safe Zone that kept the worst dangers at bay. Woodcutters had their forests, builders had materials, artisans had tools. The forges glowed, the training grounds waited, the study halls brimmed with texts. There was even a greenhouse, which immediately caught Luke's eye.

The whole place existed to forge survivors into something sharper, stronger, more dangerous. Bartholomew could have activated the second mechanism long ago. He had the means, the manpower, the resources of the first fortress. He could have used them to help others grow strong enough to claim this place. But he hadn't. Because he didn't want anyone else stronger than him. Keeping everything centralized, keeping the second fortress sealed, meant keeping control. It was easier to reign alone than to risk raising up rivals who might one day devour him.

When he and Charlie slipped into the shadows, he pulled her back into his soul. They had agreed it wasn't safe to let her wander too far in this place. Keeping her inside him was simpler, and it spared them the trouble of explaining her presence.

Luke stopped in front of a section of the second fortress that had an open skylight, letting sunlight filter in. The place was neglected: wilted plants, sacks of soil, workbenches, and shelves lined with dusty books. This was clearly where people once practiced agriculture and other plant-based professions.

He brushed his hand across a bench, letting the dirt crumble between his fingers. Several storage chests sat against the wall. When he cracked one open, he found packets of seeds—everything from common vegetables to full-grown trees. There were shovels, gloves, and tools he recognized instantly, the kind used for mixing and preparing soil.

He let out a low whistle.

"We'll have enough resources to feed everyone," came a voice behind him.

Luke turned to see Allison leaning casually against the doorway.

"Yeah. Between the seeds here and what they're pulling from the event chests outside, we can turn the courtyard into farmland. I spotted a few decent plots."

"Vegetables, grains, all that. Shame you can't plant meat," she said dryly.

Luke chuckled. "If you ever find a plant that does, let me know."

She walked deeper into the greenhouse, scanning the rows. "So this really is your profession. Taking care of plants. I'll admit, I'm a little surprised. I didn't think you'd pick something like this."

"And what did you think I'd pick?" he asked.

She tilted her head, considering. "Gravedigger, maybe? Something suitably grim."

He frowned. "Not sure how to feel about that. Anyway, if you ever need help setting up a farm, I know a thing or two."

Allison perched on the edge of a bench.

"And what about you? What's your profession?" Luke asked.

She lifted her hand, and a chill gathered in her palm. White frost condensed into a perfectly shaped cube of ice. "I'm a Sculptor."

"Sculptor? That's… actually perfect for your ice skills," he said, impressed.

"It has great synergy," she admitted, and the cube in her palm crumbled into falling snow. "Right now I'm working on shaping larger structures faster. Efficiency matters."

Luke found himself genuinely impressed. Her profession was worlds apart from his. Where he nurtured growth, she carved cold permanence from ice.

"That could be used in combat in more ways than I can count," he murmured, already thinking.

His mind drifted back to months ago, one of their last conversations before everything changed. That was when she had revealed her bloodline.

"Ice Dragon, right?"

She nodded. "That's right. I'm half ice dragon."

Luke let out another whistle. "And here I thought I was impressive."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Speaking of, what's your race? How did you even get your bloodline? You told me once your family was completely ordinary."

He busied himself with the soil, adjusting an empty pot before answering. "Demon."

Silence hung in the greenhouse. For him, it was strange to finally say it aloud to someone else. Strange and unsettling.

"Well," she said after a pause, her voice thoughtful, "I guess that explains a few things. Your class does come with some… unusual powers. Now it actually makes sense."

He turned to her. "I'm just glad you don't think it's weird… or, I don't know, evil."

"I'm half dragon. If you really want to put it that way, then you and I are both monsters," she said with a soft laugh.

"I honestly don't know how I'd ever explain this to my family if we make it back to Earth…"

"That's going to be one hell of a conversation," she replied. "First they'll faint from shock just seeing you alive again."

"Yeah. And then I'll have to leave out most of the truth," he admitted, sinking into a chair.

"There's no way to tell them even half of what we've seen. Or done."

He studied her quietly for a moment. "What about you?"

"I ran away from home, remember?"

"So did I, if you really think about it."

Her gaze drifted upward, following the light filtering through the ceiling. "At least I won't have to sit down with my family and drop the 'oh, by the way, I'm half dragon' bomb." Her voice trailed off, distant.

"What do you mean?"

She met his eyes. "There's something I need you to understand. Maybe it'll help you make sense of me. You probably noticed, from the way Mason talks about nobles and progression, that I don't have nearly the same depth of knowledge he does, even though my family outranks his."

He had noticed. But he'd kept the question to himself, until now.

"I wasn't a child they wanted. I spent my early years with my family, but later I was taken in by my mentor, who treated me like her own daughter. And then… you know the rest. She was murdered by Lakarion."

A thousand questions surged through his mind. "Your mentor, was she a real dragon?"

"Yes. A true dragon." Her voice held no hesitation. "Because I wasn't raised by my blood family after those early years, I never learned what I should have. I carry their name, Rhiannon, but that's all. Publicly, I exist, but to them, I'm worthless. Less than a servant. They never laid a hand on me only because they feared my mentor, but once she was gone… well, you can guess. That's why I ran. That's why I'll never go back."

And suddenly, all the scattered pieces about her fell into place. The gaps, the half-answers, the silences, now they made sense.

"Luke, there's something important you need to know," she said at last, her expression sharpening. "About the world government. About bloodlines. About how things really work."