Becoming the Dark Lord [LitRPG]

The orc collapsed lifeless at Luke's feet, its weapon clattering to the ground beside it. And yet, something felt off. His gaze swept across the battlefield.

The village had descended into chaos, flames licking the shattered remains of cabins, thick smoke twisting into the night sky in choking ribbons. Some of the destruction was their doing. But most of it was the orcs. They fought with savage brutality, tearing through everything in their path. Beasts that knew no fear.

Across the clearing, Allison and Charlie were finishing off the last of them, their blades gleaming with brutal precision in the firelight. Luke took a step forward, and his Perception screamed.

He turned on instinct.

WHOOSH. A spear sliced through the air, grazing his arm with a whisper-sharp edge. Blood welled in a hot, narrow line. Pure reflex. He hadn't seen it coming. The strike came from behind, out of the darkness.

He knew who had warned him: his Demonic Perception.

He pressed a hand to the wound, feeling the sharp sting begin to set in. Then he looked toward where the spear had come from, eyes narrowing. His perception dug into the dark, unraveling what hid beneath the tree line.

They had arrived. From the shadows, a second wave of orcs emerged. Different. Faster. More disciplined. These weren't scattered brutes. They were trained fighters.

Downhill, Charlie and Allison had just cut down their final opponents. But behind them—more orcs stepped into the torchlight. The patrol sent to investigate the forest fire had returned. They froze, their eyes scanning the carnage. Mutilated bodies. Blood in the soil. Slaughtered kin. Silence tightened like a noose.

And then—

"ROOOOOAR!"

The night shook as dozens of orcs roared in unison, a thunderous war cry that tore through the air.

"We've got a problem!" Allison called out, rushing to regroup.

Luke, Charlie, and Allison formed up, backs to one another, weapons raised as the orcs encircled them. And then the charge.

Luke raised his kukris. Allison, his katana. Charlie gripped her longsword in one hand and raised her other, fist clenched. Broken bones or not, the skeletal warrior was still ready to fight.

As the orcs barreled toward them, whistles cut the air.

The arrows came next. Dozens of them.

"Split!" Luke commanded. Charlie and Allison nodded and scattered.

The trio moved at full speed, weaving through the barrage with fluid precision. An orc rushed in—Charlie drove a fist straight into its throat. Allison dropped from above, katana cleaving the beast in a single clean stroke.

Another orc charged—but twin black kukris flew through the night, slicing into its leg and dropping it mid-run. Charlie followed, her fist crashing down with punishing force.

Then—more whistles.

Arrows again.

A cluster aimed directly at Allison's chest.

But he moved like light—dodging mid-leap, steel flashing. His blade was a streak of motion, faster than the eye could follow.

But the orcs were adapting. One lunged, spear aimed straight for Allison's chest.

He turned to counter—too late to see the second orc flanking from the side.

THUD! The blow struck his ribs. A sharp gasp escaped as the air was knocked from his lungs.

Luke sprinted to help, but another orc was already on him. Wild eyes. A crude iron-tipped spear.

He raised his hands, calling his kukris back to block the strike, but... too late.

CRASH! The blow hit first. Luke was launched into the side of a wooden hut. The wall exploded into splinters as his body crashed through it.

"AAARGH!"

He hit the ground hard, rolling, shards of wood embedded in his flesh. The scent of blood and iron filled the air—his own. But he pushed to his feet. His hand ached, wounded.

The orc with the spear charged again.

SWOOSH! SWOOSH! Thrusts came fast, aimed at his chest, throat, eyes. No space. No time. But Luke didn't need time. He needed a clean opening.

He raised both kukris—

CLANG! The blades crossed, trapping the spear's shaft.

CRACK! The wooden shaft splintered in two.

Before the orc could react, Luke rolled beneath its legs.

SHUNK! The kukri slashed cleanly across the backs of its knees. The beast roared, toppling forward just as Luke drove a blade deep into its spine.

SQUELCH. The scream ended in a wet gargle.

[You have slain an Orc Scout – Level 10]

Luke's eyes snapped toward Allison. He was holding his ground. Safe for now. He was bloodied, hurting, but still standing. Still fighting.

He scanned for his closest ally.

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"Charlie!" he called.

Leaving her alone, especially in her damaged state, was a risk he couldn't afford.

But then—

SWOOSH! Luke's instincts screamed again. He dove sideways just in time. A spear whistled past his head.

He hit the wall of a hut hard. His heart pounded.

He wasn't dodging by luck anymore. This was Perception, maybe enhanced by his level-up or a raw manifestation of his demonic class. Whatever it was, he needed to understand it.

He couldn't rely on luck. Quick reflexes meant nothing if he wasn't fast enough to use them.

Grimacing, he raised his kukris with effort, eyes locking on the source of the spear.

There, another orc. Taller. Stronger. Smarter.

It picked up a spear from a fallen comrade and growled low, voice guttural and cold.

"ROOOOAR!"

The big orc charged, and two others joined him. Luke didn't hesitate. He hurled a kukri at the charging brute, forcing it to dodge. In the same motion, the orc grabbed another spear from the ground. Luke's hand wasn't broken, but gripping the handle hurt like hell.

The orc lunged. Luke blocked the strike, but the pain from the impact surged like lightning up his arm. The orc spun the spear.

WHOOSH!

BAM! The butt of the weapon cracked against Luke's skull. The world reeled. He staggered, stumbling like a drunk. He flung another kukri but missed completely.

Another orc rushed him head-on, slamming Luke into a wall. The second kukri clattered to the ground. Luke grunted, straining and pushing against the orc. He rammed the brute toward a wooden post where a torch burned.

THUD! The orc slammed into it and dropped.

"Shit!" Luke gasped, gripping his bleeding head. "I can't die..."

A wave of nausea hit as Luke tried to steady himself. More orcs closed in. His kukris were somewhere on the ground.

His heart pounded. Weaponless, he turned sharply, reached to the holster on his thigh, and summoned throwing knives.

SWISH! SWISH! SWISH! The blades flew with deadly precision, striking three enemies before they could react.

Luke sprinted toward the advancing orcs, activating Magnetic Return. His kukris snapped back into his hands like shadows pulled on a string, and he launched into the fray.

Below, Allison was fighting hard. His blade clashed against the enemy's with raw powe, but they were outnumbered, forced into a slow retreat. Charlie moved to assist, but there were too many.

Luke stepped forward to join the formation, ready to strike. Then everything changed.

An orc caught Allison in a crushing bear hug, grotesque muscles wrapping around him like steel cables. Bones cracked audibly. He struggled to break free, but the beast's strength was overwhelming.

Luke charged forward. He had to help.

BOOM! A burst of ice exploded outward, shattering the air in a blast of crystalline force. The orc was hurled back, instantly encased in jagged frost. It hit the ground dead, frozen through.

Allison dropped hard but rolled with the fall. Before he even fully stood, he raised a hand.

SWOOSH! Spheres of ice shot from his fingertips—sharp, fast, like magical bullets. They struck the charging orcs mid-step, locking their limbs. Eyes wide in shock. Bodies stiff.

Luke froze for just a breath.

Ice?

Allison had never shown magic before. But there was no time to question it.

The orcs were still coming, roaring, swinging, relentless.

Allison raised both hands. The air shimmered around him.

CRACK! CRACK! The sound of splitting air and snapping frost filled the night. A layer of ice spread out from his feet, crawling across the battlefield. It swallowed the ground beneath the enemy charge.

The orcs slipped, stumbled, and fell as their formation collapsed, panic replacing discipline. That's when Allison moved. He grabbed his katana and spun.

SWISH! SWISH! SWISH! A deadly rhythm. A frozen waltz. Each strike sliced through half-frozen flesh. Blood crystallized mid-air.

Disoriented, slipping, the orcs couldn't hold their ground. They couldn't mount a defense.

Allison's strikes were brutal, efficient, terrifying in their elegance.

"Charlie, stay close," Luke said, moving in beside her.

She nodded, sword rising in one hand.

Arrows rained down from the treetops above.

Charlie ducked low, dodging, then surged forward, her blade plunging into an orc's chest while her other hand tore across his side. Another enemy charged, and she activated a skill.

'SLASH!'

Luke, Allison, and Charlie moved as one. Every strike, every dodge, every kill flowed into the next, a deadly symphony of motion and steel. Their rhythm was merciless. Precise. Devastating.

Orcs fell one by one, cut down, crushed. Then the last one charged, a monstrous brute with muscles thick as armor, gripping a serrated spear with both hands. His eyes burned with rage, radiating raw bloodlust.

Luke recognized him. Even injured, he didn't hesitate. But a hand moved in front, Charlie. She gestured for Luke to stay back and stepped forward alone.

Wounded, Luke and Allison stood still, watching as she raised her sword and advanced. The orc locked eyes with her, raising his spear, and they ran straight at each other.

Their blades met in a blinding clash. Sparks flew, steel screamed against steel. Power met precision. Neither gave ground.

The orc snarled and lunged, swinging his spear in a wild, crushing arc. Charlie stepped in to meet it head-on.

BAAM! The impact shook the earth beneath them as her fist rocketed upward, shattering the orc's jaw with a thunderous crack.

CRACK! The sound echoed like a gunshot. The orc staggered, blood pouring from his mouth, but he didn't fall. He wiped his lip with the back of his hand, rage burning in his eyes.

He was the last one standing, and he wouldn't go down easily.

Charlie raised her blade. The orc roared. They charged.

The clash rang across the ruined village. Sword against spear. Tactics versus fury.

Charlie slipped past each strike, her blade whispering against metal, controlling the rhythm of the fight. The orc answered with raw strength, every blow heavier, more reckless, but Charlie was faster.

Luke wanted to intervene. Wanted to help.

But he stopped. He knew this fight belonged to her. She'd told him, without words, without expressions. He felt it, deep in their soulbond: 'Let me do this.'

And so he did.

With a final roar, the orc pulled back, preparing one last charge. Charlie tightened her grip on the sword. They rushed at each other.

WHOOSH! The spear sliced through the air with deadly precision, but Charlie wasn't there.

At the last moment, she moved. A subtle shift. A fraction of a second. Just enough.

The spear's tip slid harmlessly along her ribs, missing completely.

A fatal mistake.

Charlie fought dirty. She had no flesh to pierce, and she used that to her advantage.

SLASH! Her blade came down in a clean, precise arc.

SHNK! The orc froze, eyes wide as blood burst in a crimson arc. His weapon dropped. Hands clawed at his throat, useless.

But Charlie wasn't done. She raised her sword with both hands. A pale light shimmered along the edge.

[Heavy Strike - activated]

BAAM! Her blade came down like judgment.

CRACK! The orc's skull split clean in two. His body crumpled in silence.

[Princess Charlie has slain Orc Patrol Commander - Lvl 13]

*The [Warrior] class of Princess Charlie has reached Level 6! (Class Bonus Points Acquired)*

And then silence. The clash of steel faded into nothing. Wind howled through the broken village, sweeping past shattered bodies and splintered weapons. Smoke drifted lazily between collapsed rooftops.

They stood surrounded by carnage. And nothing moved.

They had won.

"We did it," Allison said, his voice finally breaking the silence, followed by a breathless, almost disbelieving laugh of relief.

Charlie raised her skeletal hand in celebration. Without hesitation, Allison met her hand with a solid high five, smiling.

Luke stood a few paces behind, kukris still drawn, scanning the battlefield. But there was nothing left. No movement. Just blood, smoke, and the eerie quiet of aftermath.

Ahead of them, the entrance to the sewer tunnel stood exposed, dark, open, waiting.

The path to the walled kingdom was finally clear. They could complete the tutorial mission and return to the world.

Luke exhaled deeply, but then something flickered at the edge of his vision. His system lit up. No, not his. A wave of notifications poured in, flooding his interface.

His brow furrowed.

They weren't his alerts. They were coming from Charlie.

And then—

A single message hovered in the center of his view:

[WARNING: Princess Charlie's Warrior class has undergone a MUTATION]