Becoming the Dark Lord [LitRPG]

Erza Grimhart stepped out of the shadows. Her skin was split with deep fractures, her hands chipped and incomplete. Yet with every step she took, shards of porcelain lifted from the floor and drifted toward her, stitching themselves back into place. Piece by piece, she rebuilt herself simply by continuing to walk.

"So you really can survive something like that," Luke said.

"I told you I would. The greater the tragedy for us, the better the result," Erza replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Eleanor stared at her while the last fragments settled into place.

"I thought you were dead," Eleanor admitted.

"Me? Dead?" Erza touched her chest as if genuinely offended. "Just for being torn apart? Darling, I'm half porcelain doll. Breaking is practically a daily routine."

Before anyone could answer, rapid footsteps sounded, and Anne flung herself into Erza, wrapping her in a crushing hug.

"Hey, little doll, there's no need to be upset," Erza murmured, patting her head lightly. "You and I both know how hard we are to get rid of."

Their relationship was strange. Anne wanted to kill Erza. And loved her. Or maybe she didn't want to kill her at all, just felt obligated because of her family. Or maybe she loved Erza so fiercely that trying to kill her had become her way of helping her grow stronger. Luke had no real way to know. But he couldn't deny it was interesting.

Jack, Evangeline, and Mason arrived next.

"So you idiots actually pulled it off," Evangeline said.

More people were pouring into the throne hall now, soldiers, survivors, commanders. Everyone gathering around the throne. The group of them stood together, but no one paid particular attention. Everyone here had the same single desire: to go home.

"Hey, Jack," Luke called, lifting his shirt.

A deep wound ran along his side, the flesh blackened and sealed only by his Dark Blood.

"Mind giving me a hand? I'm kind of dying."

"Y-yeah, of course. By the Goddess of Kindness, Luke, you have barely any HP left."

"You don't have to announce it to the whole hall," Luke muttered.

Evangeline clapped him hard on the shoulder. "Good work, Cinderella. I never doubted you."

Mason stood nearby, missing an arm, looking exhausted. "I barely did anything. Got taken out at the start."

Luke didn't answer at first, breathing through the pain as Jack worked.

"You're lucky," Jack said quietly. "Your organs could have spilled out."

"Lucky… sure. Let's go with that."

Their exchange drew stares. The soldiers nearby watched them like they were witnessing something impossible. But Eleanor was the one who stepped closer, still bewildered.

"How did you do it?" she asked. "For a moment, I truly thought everything had gone wrong."

The group looked at each other. They all had the same hesitation. How do you explain the things you saw when no one else saw them? The system messages only they received. The conversation only they had. The truth they learned face to face with the monster everyone else only glimpsed through a storm of ice and lightning.

Luke exhaled, choosing the simplest truth they could share.

"The Midnight King was cursed," he said. "The same curse that leaves those statues outside sleeping."

A simplification. The petrification wasn't death; it was a seal.

Luke reached into his inventory and drew out the mask. Cracked. Burned. Silent.

"If the creature turned to stone," he said, "it would seal its own power and fall asleep, just like the others."

The angel's mask rested in his hand.

"When I put this mask on, I turn into a statue. While I'm in that form, none of my skills work. Not even my attributes. Any weapon I'm holding does no damage. The statue form was sealing me. So how was I supposed to kill something like him?" Luke exhaled, meeting the soldiers' eyes. "By turning him into a statue too."

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The soldiers around them exchanged looks of sudden understanding, as if the idea had just sparked all at once.

It was a lie. Or half of one. Luke wasn't about to explain the real story here. It was long, complicated, and he didn't have the patience. He'd explain to Eleanor later. She already knew more than most.

The mask was the Witch. And according to the Orc Lord, the Witch was the King's weakness. The mask had granted Luke immunity to the king's petrification — and, at the same time, given him the skill to seal the king. Exactly as the Orc Lord had warned. Exactly as the hidden riddle in the main mission had implied: that the Witch had once been sealed.

Luke placed the mask back into his inventory. Only the soulbound owner of an item could activate its enchantment on another being. The plan had been simple and reckless: give Luke one moment. One second. A single breath between removing the mask from his own face and forcing it onto the king.

If he had turned completely to stone before finishing the motion, the fight would have ended. Everyone would have died. That was why the others fought, why they bought time, why they allowed the king to believe he had already won.

"That's my favorite kind of assassination," Erza said. "Hand the enemy their victory, and then… rip it out of their hands."

Erza and Anne began walking toward the throne.

Soon after, Ronan, Christine, and several of the maids came rushing in. Ronan hurried to them first. He looked at each of their faces and then took all their hands at once.

"Thank you, my friends. Truly. Thank you."

His voice was thick with emotion.

"When Christine and I have a child," he said, wiping at his eyes, "depending on the gender… I will name them after one of you."

"No, we will not," Christine replied, her expression as flat and unamused as ever.

"We can talk calmly about that later, dear," Ronan murmured.

More survivors filed into the castle.

"Commander Ronan!" someone called.

"I have to go," he told them. "But don't leave yet. We still have time."

Luke checked the timer.

[Estimated Time Until the End: 00 hours : 51 minutes : 11 seconds]

A large notification pulsed in his system interface.

[Your Second Class is being processed… Please wait…]

A loading circle rotated beneath it.

The item he had obtained from killing the Midnight King was still locked.

[???]: You must leave the tutorial first to unlock this item.

Jack was pale and sweating, mana nearly depleted. He kept his wand pressed to Luke's side, trying to stabilize the wound.

"My mana… is almost gone," Jack murmured.

"Don't worry," Mason said. "The system will restore our bodies when we rank up."

He lifted his hand. Three of his fingers were missing. "I broke them while turning to stone. And I still have a spear hole through my gut. I'll be brand new when we return to Earth."

Jack stopped channeling. He had no mana left.

"You can walk, Luke?" Allison asked quietly.

"Yeah," he answered.

They all turned toward the direction of the throne.

"Enough stalling, Cinderella," Evangeline said. "Let's go. Now."

They moved across the ruined roof at a slow, steady pace. Sections of the battlements were caving in. Columns lay shattered, walls scarred by explosions, the floor pitted with holes. The place looked like a photograph of the battle that had just happened.

People drifted through the wreckage, some stepping forward to thank them. Allison received most of the gratitude, her smile tired but real. Nobody else cared about credit; everyone wanted to leave. They understood, too, why no one had activated the portal yet. Maybe it was because the honor belonged to that small group. Or maybe it was because Erza Grimhart stood before the throne, face hard as ever, and no one wanted to approach her.

Luke touched his storage necklace and felt the pocket-dimension spring open in his mind. Angelica's body lay there, still. He would keep the promise he had made. He would bring them all out of the tutorial. The blanket covering her had been shredded; he used a strip of it to bind the kukri to a makeshift arrow, the fabric smelling of ash and blood.

"Make way," Erza ordered the people around them.

They reached the throne. It sat where it belonged, glowing softly.

[Dimensional Portal (Ancient)]: A crystal throne that activates a Dimensional Portal capable of transporting individuals out of the Midnight Terror Tutorial. It is linked to the corresponding universe and planet of those within this tutorial. Once time runs out, this portal will disappear, and this pocket universe will be lost forever.

"That's enough hesitation," Evangeline said, and she was the first to step forward.

The moment hands touched the throne it flared with brighter light. A tear opened in the fabric of reality beside it, white veins of light, the sound of distant thunder, and a doorway ripped into being. Beyond it, nothing but a swirl of blue energy filled the gap.

The portal to Earth had opened.

Cheers erupted through the throne hall, spilling out into the rest of the castle and, likely, out to every person clinging to life outside.

[Only one person can pass through the portal at a time!]

"Let's get the hell out of this place!" someone shouted.

Then everything stopped.

[You failed your objective: the Midnight King was killed. The Winter's power is now unstable.]

Every voice quieted. The same notification blinked on every screen.

[Time Updated!]

[Estimated Time Until End: 00 hours : 15 minutes : 00 seconds]

Allison and Luke exchanged a look. A new, thunderous sound rolled across the sky. A supernatural cold poured into the castle. Floors and walls and air were swallowed by it, and the snowfall outside the windows grew heavier, harder, stinging like needles.

"We failed? What do you mean, failed?" Jack stammered.

[Estimated Time Until End: 00 hours : 14 minutes : 56 seconds]

Voices rose in a confused roar, too many people speaking at once to make sense of any single word.

"The mission," Erza said, addressing them all. "It never said anything about killing the Midnight King. It said: leave this place."

The cold tightened its grip.

"What do we do?" someone called.

"Get out!" the crowd answered in a dozen panicked cries.

Luke's mind went mechanical for a moment, counting.

"Roughly eighteen hundred people…" he murmured, eyes sweeping the hall.

"One person per second means," Allison started.

"Thirty minutes," Mason finished.

It wasn't going to be enough. A large portion of the people there would die.