Becoming the Dark Lord [LitRPG]

Luke crouched at the edge of the ridge, spying on the fortress below. Midnight had swallowed the world whole; the moon hung alone in a sky of ink, casting pale light across the frozen earth. The air was sharper than he remembered, colder than the old nights, and the wind whispered through the trees like a blade dragging across stone.

His eyes flicked to his interface, to the item he had received when he killed Kruger.

[Acolyte Assassin's Garb (Epic)

Description: Crafted by the most skilled artisans of the Assassin Order and finished by the hands of Lakarion himself, the God of Assassination, this garb is a rare and special gift, granted only to those in whom the god sees true potential.
It is more than clothing; it is a symbol of recognition, a mark that you have been chosen to walk a path beyond ordinary shadow. A step toward the true art of assassination.

"My invitation still stands, Luke, ever since I gave you the mission to kill the Orc Lord. My hand remains extended. This item would have been your reward. Come to me, child… and I will make you what you were born to be. I will give you power." Lakarion

Enchantments:

[Basic Shadow Camouflage (Rare)]: While the user remains still in low-light areas, the garb adapts to the surroundings, distorting their silhouette and dimming their presence.

[Crowd Shadow (Ultra-Rare)]: When near a crowd, the garb can alter its pattern and texture to create the illusion of different clothing, allowing the wearer to blend seamlessly with others and disappear even under watchful eyes.

[Iron Shadow Fabric (Ultra-Rare)]: Though extremely lightweight, this enchanted fabric offers protection comparable to iron armor. It preserves full mobility and flexibility without sacrificing defense. The name "Iron Shadow" reflects its nature: it is not solid iron but magically reinforced fabric that shields silently like an invisible iron shadow, blending strength and stealth in perfect harmony.

[Shadow of Ignorance (Epic)]: As long as the assassin is not directly seen, their presence remains hidden from perception fields or magical detection. While not absolute against beings of great power or extreme sensitivity, it is a powerful tool for silent assassinations and deadly infiltrations.

Requirement: Soulbound.]

He stared at the text, realizing how strange it felt to see the entire outfit listed as one piece. Until now he'd only ever received fragments, boots here, gloves there, bits of armor cobbled together. This was an entire set in a single slot.

Right. I do have another full set, the Adventurer's Outfit.

[Novice Adventurer's Outfit (Common)
Description: A basic starter kit for all rookie adventurers entering the Training Grounds. Includes a plain shirt, brown pants, sneakers, and yes—underwear. Even brave warriors deserve comfort. The pants are brown... for obvious reasons.]

It had been so simple he'd almost forgotten. That outfit had given him a shirt, trousers, and boots back at the very start of his journey. Now, this new one waited to be worn, still untouched. Part of him hesitated, thinking of Allison.

How would you feel if a friend showed up wearing something crafted by the one who killed your mother?

The question echoed, sharp and quiet. He pushed it away and studied the item again. The first thing he noticed was its rarity, epic. The second: no attribute bonuses. No agility bump, no resistance boost. Maybe that was the point. Maybe a true assassin was meant to lean on their own stats instead of free numbers from their gear.

When he clicked on the garb, a warning flashed across his interface:

[Equipping the Acolyte Assassin's Garb will remove your current equipment.]

The words hung there like a dare.

That included his prized gear: the Orc Captain's breastplate with its bonus to endurance and agility, the jump-enchantment leggings, the boots, even his Black Bat cloak. All of it would be stripped away, along with every stat boost they gave.

The cloak alone added +5 Agility, the gloves +10 Agility, the breastplate +20 Endurance and +10 Agility, the boots another +10 Agility, and the ring +5 Intelligence. Losing all of that at once felt like peeling off layers of himself.

But the Assassin's Garb was different. Its benefits were far beyond any single piece of equipment he owned, and it was SoulBound. Whoever had sent it clearly had no intention of letting him trade or sell it. What still unnerved him was who had made it. Partly crafted by the God of Assassination himself, the garb came with a personal message: an open hand, waiting for Luke to join his order.

Why tie this item to Kruger's death? Luke had no answer. Maybe Lakarion dropped the same gift for anyone who landed the kill, swapping in a name to make the message feel personal, just another way to harvest followers. But the note had been too specific. It referenced the Orc Lord mission from long ago, the offer he had turned down back when he was still struggling to adapt to the tutorial.

That detail stuck. The god's interest wasn't generic. It was him. Lakarion knew Luke was Allison's friend, the same Allison whose adoptive mother he had slaughtered, yet still extended the invitation. Luke had no appetite for divine orders. But an Epic-tier item? He wouldn't say no. The sooner he tested the enchantments, the better. He clicked Equip.

His old gear began to vanish piece by piece, not in the usual blink and swap flash but in something slower, stranger. A ripple of shadow bled from the interface, crawling up his arms, wrapping around his torso, stitching itself together as if the darkness itself were weaving new clothes. In seconds, the entire outfit had formed over him, black fabric breathing like a living thing.

The first thing he felt was the weight, or rather the absence of it. The bulky breastplate, the reinforced boots, all gone. The new garb felt like wearing nothing at all, yet every inch of it clung with perfect precision. It wasn't ordinary black. It was shadow, a deep onyx shimmer with a pulse beneath the surface. The gloves echoed his old pair but sleeker, fingerless, blending seamlessly with the sleeves. A long coat of living night hung down, half tattered yet stylish, with a hood pooled at the back of his neck.

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Then he noticed something else.

"A mask?" he muttered, tugging at the fabric.

It rose from the collar to cover his throat and mouth, stopping just below his eyes, a true assassin's mask. Boots, trousers, coat, gloves… every piece formed of living shadow.

My old gear's really gone.

Then a thought hit him. "My necklace…"

"I'm still here, dummy," Artemis quipped in his head.

So not everything had been stripped. Good.

I can still re-equip other items?

The question hung there, as much to himself as to the system, as the shadowed fabric flexed over his hands like a second skin. He tried slotting the boots and breastplate back on through the system, but no dice, unless he unequipped the entire outfit. The ring, however, slid back on without issue.

Okay. Clothes no. Accessories yes. Makes sense.

The first enchantment he tested was Basic Shadow Camouflage. The knowledge of how to trigger it unfurled in his mind. It was night, deep in the forest, already low light. Perfect conditions. He activated it and blinked in surprise. His body melted into the shadows and vanished.

What the hell?

It wasn't just the armor. Even the tips of his exposed fingers dissolved into darkness, as if the shadows themselves had eaten him whole. He took a single step and the concealment snapped off instantly.

So moving really does break it. Limited. But still lethal.

The other two enchantments, Crowd Shadow and Shadow of Ignorance, weren't exactly field-test friendly out here. But Iron Shadow Fabric was. Luke drew his kukris and drove one hard into his forearm.

Holy shit. It's like stabbing iron armor.

He pressed his fingers to the fabric. It felt soft, pliant, like cloth. But a flick of the blade or a strong tap rang off it like steel. The stuff was absurdly tough. That's when it hit him. Kruger never wore anything like this, and he had been a key figure in Lakarion's order during the tutorial. Why hand something this strong to someone who didn't even serve him, someone who killed one of his own? The God of Assassination wasn't just watching. He was courting.

Luke kept experimenting with the shadow camouflage, checking if the effect covered his ring. It did. Opening his system, he clicked through old gear, bracelets, boots, but nothing else slotted in. Not that he cared. The new suit was far tougher. But then he tapped the Black Bat cloak and it equipped.

"It worked."

The cloak gave him +5 Agility and the ability to glide. Perfect for quick escapes. But when he triggered Shadow Camouflage, the cloak's fabric stayed visible.

"Only accessories get the effect. Not worth it," he muttered, unequipping it.

The cloak offered no defense anyway, just a mobility perk, something he could swap in at the last second if needed. He pulled the mask higher, covering his nose, and jabbed at it with a kukri. It held like iron. Pulling the hood up over his head wrapped the same protection across his skull.

Screw bonus stats. This thing's insane.

Then he tried something else. Luke gripped Angelica's bow and activated Shadow Camouflage.

"This is weird," he murmured.

The bow stayed visible, a ghostly silhouette betraying his position. He switched back to his kukris, eyes narrowing. For the first time in a long while, he activated Identify on his own blades.

[Demonic Twin Kukris (Rare)

Description: These blades were forged as a gift for the rise of a demon. Symbols of the horns he never grew, these twin kukris are bound to their master, walking beside him on his path to the throne of tyranny.

Enchantments:

[Magnetic Return (Rare)]: A demon should never be without his horns. These blades are bound by a magnetic link, allowing them to return to the user's hand after being thrown. The effective range scales with the Perception stat.

[Shadow Presence (Uncommon)]: The blades passively absorb ambient light, becoming harder to detect in dark environments. Increases the effectiveness of stealth attacks.

Requirement: SoulBound]

Luke's eyes went wide. Shadow Presence. No way… does this sync with my gear?

He triggered the shadow camouflage while gripping his kukris. The blades dissolved with him, vanishing into the dark.

Holy shit.

He let the invisibility drop and stared at the fortress in the distance.

"I'm taking my fortress back."

Too much blood, too many sacrifices had gone into claiming that place, his whole trek through the capital, the fights against living statues, the angel, the Beast Lord. He wasn't about to let a pack of opportunistic thugs steal it from him. No. Luke was going to take it back, and every last one of them would regret ever laying hands on it.

***

He finished circling the fortress along the forest's edge. Every watchtower had more than one guard stationed at the top. On the city-facing side, the defenses were stiff but orderly. Out here, on the forest side, it was packed.

From his crouch in the undergrowth, Luke took it all in. Soldiers stood at the parapets, more milled around the base, and a civilian camp sprawled outside the walls. Refugees from the Safe Zone? Relatives of the soldiers? Desperate souls from Bartholomew's territory hoping for a better spot? Or just stray members of the Haven. Whatever they were, he didn't care.

He dropped lower, as quiet as a stalking cat, and activated Shadow Camouflage. The darkness swallowed him whole. He stayed there, still and silent, until it was time to move. A soft meow broke the night. His soul-bound cat leapt from him, landing on a passing civilian. In an instant, Luke was seeing through their eyes and hearing through their ears.

Three soldiers outside. Two more up on the watchtower. But it was the camp he needed to understand. As the woman moved through the tents, he confirmed what he'd suspected: no obvious criminals. Just ordinary people. He severed the link, his mental map already filling in.

Circling back through the trees, he reached a section of wall facing the forest. Torches blazed here, casting long pools of light. At the top of the tower, a man cradled a crossbow. Luke could have taken him out with a single arrow. But the risk of the body pitching off the tower and alerting the camp below was too high. He exhaled slowly, then called up his epic skill. Dark Blood surged from his palms, morphing his hands into clawed, demonic weapons. He broke into a sprint, chaining Dark Dash again and again, until he reached the base of the wall.

His claws sank into the stone like hooked talons. Sticky power wrapped his limbs, and he scaled upward like a spider. At the top, the crossbowman was still peering into the treeline, oblivious. Luke launched himself upward, slamming the blade into the man's neck. Acid hissed as it ate through flesh; his other hand clamped over the mouth before a sound could escape.

[You have slain a Human…]
[+1 Soul Fragment acquired]

Below, the bandits strutted about like they owned the place.

"Every one of you is going to regret taking my fortress," he murmured.