Becoming the Dark Lord [LitRPG]

The sun crested over the distant ridge, casting a pale orange hue across the forest clearing. Luke had made his choice hours before dawn. And Charlie had changed.

She wasn't the same skeletal warrior who had risen from a dusty ruin days ago. The pale ivory of her bones had darkened, transformed into a hardened gray—denser, forged rather than grown. Her entire frame carried new weight, not in mass, but in presence.

When she moved, she left behind a trace in the air. It wasn't smoke. It wasn't shadow. It was something wrong with space itself. A subtle distortion, like gravity folding inward around her step. Her movements were utterly silent, yet each one echoed with something far deeper. Power.

Her eye sockets, once hollow and dim, now glowed with a cold emerald fire. It wasn't light. It was presence. Spectral. Unyielding. As if every soul she'd struck down clung to her being, watching through her eyes.

Allison stared, wide-eyed. "Something's different about Princess Charlie."

Luke didn't answer at first. He just watched her. Studied the way she held herself now—taller, more aware of her own power. Then, a slight smile tugged at his lips.

"I'll explain," he said, eyes sliding toward Allison. "If you tell me what that necklace does."

Allison immediately stiffened. "M-my necklace?" His hand shot up to the simple pendant hanging around his throat. "It's nothing! Just sentimental."

The lie clung to the air like a thick fog. Luke raised an eyebrow but shrugged. "Then I guess you'll have to stay curious."

Allison clenched his fists. Hesitated. Then sighed. "It's not because I don't trust you. I just can't talk about it. Not yet. It means too much."

Luke didn't press further. Instead, he opened his system notifications—eyes scanning for the changes.

[Skill Mutation Detected]

[Charge (Common)] -> [Basic Spectral Charge (Rare)]

He tapped the icon.

[Basic Spectral Charge (Rare)]: The Death Knight channels spectral energy into their body, rushing forward with a burst of unnatural force. The dash enhances momentum and impact, dealing bonus damage and staggering the target for a brief window.

He couldn't help but grin.

Even her simplest skills had evolved.

When he checked her full status screen, the confirmation felt even more real.

Name: Princess Charlie
Level: 3
Rank: F
Class: Death Knight (Lvl 6)
Race: Skeleton
Title: [Servant of the Dark Lord]
Health Points (HP): 129/200
Mana Points (MP): 50/50
Stamina: 140/140

Stats:
Strength: 23
Agility: 13
Endurance: 14
Vitality: 20
Perception: 6
Intelligence: 5
Free Points: 1

A single point to spend. It didn't sound like much. But for Charlie, every point meant survival. Luke stared at the numbers. Her strength had grown steadily. So had her health. But something still felt off. She wasn't reacting fast enough. Strong or not, if she couldn't read an enemy's movement, she'd always be a step behind. Strength was meaningless if you couldn't land a hit or dodge one.

He hovered over [Vitality]. Then hesitated.

If her awareness improves, she won't need as much HP. She'll avoid the damage in the first place.

He tapped [Perception].

Stats Updated (Princess Charlie):
Perception: 6 -> 7
Free Points: 1 -> 0

Just one point. But it was the right one.

"She's going to move differently now," he murmured. Not just stronger. Not just deadlier. Smarter. Sharper. Faster.

He closed the screen, the faint glow of system light fading into the sunrise. Charlie turned to look at him. And for a moment, Luke could swear the green fire in her eyes flickered. As if she understood. As if she approved.

***

They stood before the sewer entrance. Silence. Weapons drawn. Eyes sharp. Every step echoed with eerie resonance against the damp stone walls. The tunnel was circular, wide enough for two to walk side-by-side, but narrow enough that it felt suffocating. Faint magical torches lined the walls—too far apart. The dim light left long patches of absolute darkness where shadows pooled and refused to move.

Then, "There," Allison whispered. "A red arrow."

Luke narrowed his eyes. "Painted in blood," he said. "Orc work, probably."

The tunnel stretched ahead, a single path… until it wasn't. A fork in the road. Two directions. Two unknowns. One tunnel had another red arrow drawn on the wall, pointing deeper into the dark. The other? Nothing.

Allison hesitated. "What if the arrow's a trap?"

"Exactly what I was thinking," Luke replied.

They chose to check the unmarked tunnel first. Charlie took the lead, blade at the ready. Her new form moved like a phantom—silent and unnerving, her glowing green eyes scanning the shadows ahead.

Halfway in, they found something. Another red arrow. But this one had a thick X marked over it. Below, a crudely painted set of eyes. And beside it—a skull. A warning. Death awaits.

Allison exhaled slowly. "So… what now?"

The tunnel curved, vanishing into total black. No more torches. No sound. No signs. Just a lingering sense that something waited beyond the bend. They backed off. Returned to check the other path. At the end of the arrow-marked route, they found their answer. Collapse. Massive rocks blocked the way, forming an impassable wall. Limbs jutted from the rubble—orc corpses, crushed and broken.

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"Was this the trap?" Allison muttered.

A trap for others… that ended up catching the ones who set it? Or was this the real path? Did it collapse naturally?

Luke didn't reply. It didn't matter. They had only one way forward now: the death-marked tunnel. They returned, passing the crude warnings, the painted skull and eyes. The tunnel twisted, leading into a narrow stream of flowing water. It was shallow, ankle-deep, but cold and constantly moving. Luke eyed it warily; it looked clean, but no one dared drink it directly, of course.

It wasn't necessary. Allison had a better plan. They had a pot in their bags, ice made with magic, fire conjured by the ring, and boiled water. Basic survival.

***

They kept walking. The water on the floor flowed toward a hole in the wall, and now all that remained was the dirty ground, covered in dust and cobwebs. The tunnel widened, and a chamber opened up before them—large and silent. Almost... reverent. Crates were stacked in one corner. Old. Dusty. Possibly valuable.

But what truly caught their attention were the statues. Dozens of them. Stone angels. Lined along the walls. Each one carved in intricate detail—eyes closed, hands folded in prayer, wings curled inward like guardians at rest. Cold. Still. Watching.

Luke's skin crawled. He hadn't liked statues since the dungeon in the Forgotten Temple. Too many bad memories.

"Think there's food in the crates?" he asked, slowly approaching one.

Allison folded his arms. "Could be. I've only heard of storage chests, but... in a civilization with a system? I wouldn't be surprised if there are other methods of preservation, like these crates."

Luke knelt and placed his hand on the top of a crate, fingers curling under the lid. He pulled—then a sharp sound split the air. Not from the crate. From behind. He froze and slowly turned his head as the sound of fast, sharp footsteps echoed through the corridor.

Torches flickered and began to die. Luke and Allison spun around, blades ready, eyes scanning. Nothing. Just the statues.

Another sound followed, quieter this time. More footsteps. More torches snuffed out. Still, no one in sight.

Allison's grip tightened around his katana. "Something's here. And it's hiding."

A sharp whistle cut the air. Luke dove to the side instinctively—an arrow slammed into the ground where he'd stood a heartbeat before. He looked up. Half the chamber had already been swallowed by darkness.

"They're putting out the torches!" Allison shouted.

Luke narrowed his eyes. Demonic Perception—activated.

Nothing.

His senses were blinded by the sheer number of unmoving objects. The statues were everywhere, cluttering the room, masking everything else.

More torches died. More movement. More silence.

"Damn it."

A new wave of arrows rained from the dark. Charlie raised her blade and deflected two midair. Each deflection rang like a hammer on stone. The last corner they stood in was still lit. The rest? Pure black.

Another volley flew. Luke spun, deflecting with his kukris, then hurled ten throwing knives at once. They shimmered in midair, duplicated. Twenty blades struck the darkness.

Nothing hit.

"They dodged them," Luke growled. "They're fast."

Again, he focused. Demonic Perception. This time, a flicker—a silhouette twitched among the shadows. He lunged. Kukris flashed, and a statue collapsed backward, crashing into the ground.

Luke didn't stop. He grabbed a torch from the wall and tossed it toward the center of the room. The firelight scattered the darkness, illuminating only the statues. There was nothing else there but them.

Still, something felt off. The dust on the floor had footprints. Luke followed the marks with his eyes, and they led to... a statue. He took a step forward and stared at the statues.

[Identify] – activated.

[??? – Level 11]

[??? – Level 10]

[??? – Level 11]

Luke stepped back, distancing himself from the statue. He remembered the markings they'd seen in the tunnels—the painted eyes on the wall. And then he realized.

"The enemies are the statues," Luke muttered. "They move... when we're not looking."

Stone shattered.

[Princess Charlie has slain a Deep Sleep Angel – Lvl 10]

Silence. And then—

The heads of the other statues turned. First to the shattered remains. Then to Charlie. Then… to Luke. Their once-placid, sculpted expressions twisted into pure wrath. Swords of stone were drawn.

Allison exhaled. "Yeah… I don't think they're gonna play by the rules anymore."

Arrows whistled again. Luke ducked, recalled his kukris midair, and hurled them toward one of the statues. They struck from behind—the statue cracked.

He rushed forward, skidding low beneath a spear sweep, and vaulted over a broken crate. One statue lunged with a trident. Luke blocked with his kukri—metal clanged against stone—and countered with a savage kick that knocked the statue backward. Without pausing, he threw both kukris again. They shimmered, duplicated mid-flight, and four blades impaled the target.

Stone exploded in a burst of dust and fragments. The rest of the angels shrieked and charged all at once. Allison blurred through the battlefield, slicing through limbs and weapons like wind through dry leaves, while Charlie was being pushed back—her blade deflecting heavy blows, bones rattling with every strike.

Luke spun between them. He slid across the floor, flipped midair, and slammed his kukri into a statue's skull. Fragments rained around him.

"There!" Allison pointed. "A door!"

At the far end of the chamber, two statues stood guard, each wielding a massive stone spear—sentinels. Luke turned in time to see Charlie hurled into a wall, bones cracking from the impact. He rushed over, pulled her up by the arm. She nodded—still functional.

All three sprinted for the exit, footsteps pounding against the cold floor. Behind them, a wave of statues gave chase, stone feet thundering in unison. But Luke didn't look back. He kept his eyes forward. Focused. Alive.

The two statues guarding the door loomed ahead—nearly three meters tall, towering sentinels of carved stone. Charlie and Allison veered left, rushing one side. Luke went for the other.

His kukri slammed into the statue's hand, shattering it on impact as he drove forward full force, knocking the guardian off balance. A sharp, dry shriek echoed from the living stone.

Arrows flew from the dark. Luke felt the impact as one slammed into his back. Another struck Allison. Gritting his teeth, he ignored the pain, grabbed the statue's stone spear, and with a grunt, hurled the massive guardian straight into the others. The weight crashed through a cluster of advancing statues, sending limbs and rubble flying.

On the other side, Charlie launched herself at the second sentinel. Her fist, gleaming with iron, struck the statue's face like a cannonball, and cracks spread across its skull in a spiderweb of destruction. Allison swept low, slicing clean through its legs. The statue collapsed like a felled tree.

Luke turned. The door behind them was jammed shut.

"Push it open!"

The three threw their weight against the thick wood. Arrows rained around them. A stone spear whistled past Luke's face, narrowly missing his cheek. Charlie pivoted, holding the line as more statues surged forward. She stood alone, keeping the horde back with sheer force.

"I'm helping her! That skeleton can't hold them off alone!" Allison shouted, katana spinning as he charged.

Luke kept pushing against the door. Something heavy shifted on the other side.

"Almost… there…"

The door gave in, revealing a narrow passage.

"Now!" Luke yelled.

Charlie was losing ground. Pieces of bone chipped off with every strike she endured.

"She goes first, or she's gonna die!" Allison shouted.

"Go. Trust me." said Luke.

Allison didn't argue. He sprinted toward the passage, but just as he reached it, a stone hand grabbed his leg.

"Dammit!" he cried, dropping his sword as the statue dragged him backward, tearing his shirt.

Luke spun his kukri and struck. The arm shattered. The hand dropped to the floor, still clutching the fabric like a trophy.

"Move!"

Allison grabbed his blade and dove into the passage. Charlie turned to Luke, gave a final glance—and vanished, returning to his soul space.

Luke made to follow, but something caught his eye—a gleam on the ground. Allison's necklace. He bent down, scooping it up just as a shadow moved. A statue lunged for the passage, stone arms reaching, trying to block the exit.

"Not happening."

[Basic Dark Dash].

Luke blinked forward in a blur, kukris flashing. Both blades embedded deep into the statue's head—it exploded into fragments. Without pausing, he darted through the doorway and spun around.

"Help me seal it!"

Charlie materialized from his soul. Together, the three shoved a massive crate across the entryway, using every ounce of strength. Stone arms reached through, clawing, shoving—but the door slammed shut. Luke panted, chest heaving. On the other side, fists hammered against the wood, trying to break through. Charlie pointed to the latches while holding the crate firm. Luke rushed over and locked them in place. The pounding didn't stop. But they weren't getting in. Not anymore.

"Crap… my necklace!" Allison gasped, reaching for his neck, panic rising in his voice.

Luke, still catching his breath, held it up. "I grabbed it."

But as he turned to face Allison, he froze. The scrawny, black-haired boy was gone. In his place stood a woman: long blonde hair, bare upper body.

"My necklace!" the girl cried out, panicked.

Luke stood there, stunned. Shock hit him like a wave, freezing his thoughts, but not his eyes. They moved on their own, instinctively locking onto two large, round shapes in front of her.

And before his brain caught up to his mouth, the words were already out:

"Your boobs are beautiful!"