Becoming the Dark Lord [LitRPG]

The war council stretched on in the throne room. A table had been brought in, covered with maps, sheets detailing mineral rich caverns, lists of tree types across the regions, even diagrams of cannons and siege weapons. Servants drifted in and out with trays of food, but no one paid them much attention.

Erza still hadn't given her approval. She listened, occasionally dropping a sharp suggestion, but made no commitments. Luke's plan to draw the three final bosses together had already been scrapped. Not because it was bad, everyone agreed it was brilliant, but it hinged too heavily on luck. The Midnight Lord would almost certainly march with his army in the final battle, leaving the Witch and the King entrenched in the castle. Even if fortune favored them, the problem remained: Luke's so called mana missile was a one shot weapon. One Beast Lord fang, one arrow. Nothing else would match that quality.

The consensus was to save it for the very last enemy.

That meant Luke had to be careful. He couldn't burn through his mana recklessly before then. The final challenge was projected to last six hours. Naturally, he regenerated two hundred and eight mana per hour. With enough potions, he could recover a thousand every twenty minutes, but still, they needed to set strict limits. His job was to endure until the end. If circumstances forced him to use his epic skills early against the first two bosses, then so be it. But ideally, his strength had to be preserved.

He explained, without going into too much detail, that his epic class skill, Demonic Predator Hands, amplified any weapon he wielded. He wasn't entirely sure how effective it would be, but if he combined it with his mana missile, its power might double. The explosion could be catastrophic.

The rest of the strategy built on what they had theorized before. The survivors' army would clash with the enemy's horde. A smaller, elite strike team would break through to confront whichever boss stood at the head of that army. Once the leader fell, he enemy army would lose its strength and the survivors could win the first stage, the battle on the field.

Then would come the second stage, the castle invasion. The path ahead would hardly be easy; the fortress was expected to have its own military strength. There was no certainty about it, but for now, they were preparing for the worst.

The strategy remained the same. The army would storm the walls, while the elites carved through key targets. By then, most of the survivors would have leveled up from the first stage, their race regeneration restoring them to peak condition. All except, of course, those who had fought the Midnight Lord. For them, there would be no more leveling, no convenient bursts of healing. Still, healers and potions could carry them through.

Once inside, the group would face the Witch, supported by Erza's handmaidens, Haven fighters, and Bastion's hardened soldiers Ronan trusted. If they struck together, without an army at the Witch's back, she could fall. And when she did, only one enemy would remain.

The Midnight King. The strongest foe of the entire tutorial.

The final boss would be something far stronger than the Beast Lord. No one could predict what kind of powers it might unleash. The closest guess was that the Midnight Lord could be undead, given his command over the Wardens. But the Midnight King was different. He embodied the apex of the tutorial's challenge, an ordeal known as the Midnight Terror.

The plan was simple in theory: restrain the creature with every epic skill available, then Luke would fire the mana missile. No hesitation, no chance for the monster to react or trigger some devastating skill. One shot, meant to kill. He would trigger his Epic class skill in the process. That meant losing five hundred mana instantly, plus a constant drain of five per second while it remained active. In return, it might double the missile's destructive force.

Whether it would truly double the effect, Luke couldn't be certain. He hadn't had time to test it thoroughly. Still, the plan felt solid. And if the monster somehow survived the explosion, whatever remained of it wouldn't be at full strength. The survivors could finish the job.

"Even knowing you killed the Beast Lord, hearing you explain it makes the whole thing more terrifying," Eleanor admitted.

She drifted closer while the others argued over preparations.

"I didn't have a choice," Luke replied. "If I hadn't done something, I'd have died either way."

She took a slow sip from a mug of water. "So you really were faking that loss in the knife contest."

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That memory surfaced, their first encounter.

"And honestly, I still don't believe you went through all of that just to map the fortress," she said.

"And now I'm here," Luke answered. "Life's strange sometimes."

He tilted his head back, staring at the high ceiling of the throne room. It hadn't even been a full day since they entered this place, yet it felt like weeks.

"We've been in this crazy routine since early morning. We cleared the third mechanism fortress, got ambushed by Kruger, reclaimed the second fortress, and seized the first one," he said.

"It's been a very long night," she agreed, snapping her fingers idly as she leaned against a pillar. "And now we're close to finally going home."

"That's all I want," Luke admitted. "If I could, I'd march to that castle right now."

She fell quiet for a moment before speaking again. "And what about that man, Jonathan? He's still out there."

"I know. Once things settle, I'll try to find him. Before the ant disaster, he was a good man," Luke said.

His fingers brushed against the necklace at his chest, eyes flicking inward to the pocket dimension within. Angelica's body rested there beneath a blanket.

I still care about her. Once I explain what happened that day, maybe he'll understand. That's the last unfinished piece. That, and getting everyone out of this world. Only then can I keep the promise I made to Angelica.

While Luke and Eleanor spoke quietly, the debate across the hall grew louder.

"I'm not training civilians," Erza told Allison flatly.

"If everyone at least gets basic training, our chances rise," Allison countered. "We need to teach them to use stamina, at the very least, and give them a foundation for combat."

"You're asking too much." Erza sank into her throne with a sigh. "But the plan in front of us is solid. I can have my attendants train the women of the Safe Zone in basic knowledge. Beyond that, it's on you."

Allison didn't push further. "Does that include archery training?"

"No," Erza replied without hesitation.

"All right, that I can help with," Eleanor said. "Now that we no longer risk being cut down by Bastion soldiers every time we train outdoors, we can organize archery sessions for everyone. Even those who won't fight directly can still support us from a distance."

"But there aren't enough enchanted quivers for all of them," Erza pointed out. "They'll need arrows, and a lot of them."

Mason glanced at the notes scattered across the table. "With free access to the forest and caves, we can manage it. War machines, arrows, everything."

It was a perfect chain. Lumberjacks would gather wood, miners would bring in stone and ore, blacksmiths would forge weapons, specialist smiths would craft armor, artisans would produce lighter gear, and armorers would see to the rest. Builders could turn their skill toward siege weapons like catapults, and cannons could be made where rune bearers infused each shot with stamina for devastating force. Boatwrights would craft vessels for transport. Meanwhile, the third fortress had to be secured and the surrounding area cleared of threats, preparations for the battlefield laid long before the war began.

Every profession would move in concert, each supporting the other.

"We'll set up archery drills across the Safe Zone. Ronan can work the soldiers harder, strengthen the core," Eleanor continued.

"We also need easier passage between both Safe Zones," Allison added.

"We could start with the boats," Evangeline suggested. "Build docks on the river here and in our Safe Zone, establish a steady flow of transport. Wood, stone, ore, it'll all move easier by water."

Allison let her gaze linger on the maps, then turned toward Erza. "So, Erza. You've seen our plans. You know some of our epic skills. The question is simple: can I count on you? Because I don't just need your help preparing the Safe Zones. I'll need you in battle, and your attendants as well. Do we have an agreement?"

The room fell quiet as every eye turned toward the throne. Erza tapped her chin, then rose and crossed the space to stand in front of Allison.

The silence stretched, sharp as a drawn blade, until Erza finally extended her hand.

"I, Erza of House Grimhart, swear upon my name and family that I will contribute and aid Allison Rhiannon, so that together we may leave this tutorial."

Allison clasped her hand without hesitation. "I, Allison of House Rhiannon, swear upon my name and family that I will honor this alliance." Her voice firmed. "Do we have an accord?"

Erza exhaled, slow and deliberate. "We do."

Allison kept her composure, but the flicker of relief on her face betrayed her.

"With one condition," Erza added, stepping back and sinking onto her throne.

Allison's suspicion sharpened. "What condition?"

"Oh, something quite simple." Erza's lips curved into a playful smile. She lifted a finger and pointed. "He stays."

He who?

Luke glanced over his shoulder. No one was there. Which left only one possibility—the only person standing in the direction of Erza's finger.

Him.