The Dark Lady's Guide to Villainy [Book 1 Complete] [Dark Lord, School, Romance]

Mo pulled herself to her feet, fighting not to puke right there on Malvolia's wicked shoes, but braced herself to take the leather-bound notebook from Lucian. "Complete," she replied. "Including supplementary evidence of successful implementation."

As Professor Malvolia leafed through the pages, her eyebrows rose incrementally. "Fascinating approach. Most students opt for the traditional 'terror and torture' methodology. This is... unexpectedly sophisticated."

"Traditional approaches seemed inefficient for the situation," Mo said, smoothing her disheveled clothing. "I opted for maximum psychological impact through strategic subversion of expectations."

"And the body count?" Malvolia asked. "We specifically asked for that."

"Zero. Well, maybe one. Provisionally. As outlined in my theoretical framework, unnecessary casualties represent inefficient resource management. I've instead implemented a long-term dependency strategy that ensures continued productivity while establishing psychological dominance."

"And what about that potential one?"

"It needs additional confirmation," said Mo. "We volunteered him to anchor the portal after some… malfunctioning."

"Interesting…" said the professor.

"It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, Professor."

"Is that so?" Malvolia tapped a finger against her lips, her eyes gleaming with something that might have been respect—or calculation. "Using a living anchor for portal stabilization... quite advanced for a first-year. Most consider it graduate-level portal manipulation. The soul-tether technique is particularly noteworthy." Her smile sharpened. "I'll have to mention this to Professor Maleficarum—he teaches our Advanced Soul Arts seminar. He might grant you extra credit for the... creative disposal of an obstacle."

She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper that somehow carried more weight than a shout. "The High Council will be most interested in your... evolving methodology, Lady Nightshade."

Mo, not knowing what to add, suddenly found herself curtseying.

Professor Malvolia closed the notebook, her expression unreadable. "Wholly unconventional," she said finally. "But effectively documented and theoretically sound. I'll have to check it thoroughly, but it seems you've satisfied the assignment parameters, Lady Nightshade. At the least, your reward is that you are allowed to continue your studies. We'll see about everything else later."

As they staggered away from Malvolia's imperious presence, the weight of the past two weeks seemed to crash down at once. Mo's knees nearly buckled, adrenaline finally surrendering to bone-deep exhaustion. Nyx caught her elbow, their form briefly strengthening to provide support.

"Steady there, Dark Lady," they said. "Collapsing in the hallway would seriously undermine that masterful performance."

"You just got academic credit for goblin rights reform," they continued. "That's either the most brilliant manipulation I've ever witnessed, or the most absurd."

"Why not both? After all, strategic subversion with soul manipulation seems to be becoming my major."

***

As Professor Malvolia swept away, her robes trailing shadows that seemed to whisper approval, Mo felt the weight of the past two weeks crash down on her. She'd gone to Blackthorn Keep expecting to help the goblins and fail spectacularly at traditional villainy. Instead, she'd succeeded at something arguably worse: creating her own version of it.

The fluorescent crystals lighting Umbra's corridors seemed dimmer than she remembered, casting pale shadows that danced at the edges of her vision. Did they shy away, sensing the changes within Mo? Or maybe that was just exhaustion making everything look different. Nyx and Lucian flanked her as they made their way back to their dorm, their footsteps echoing off stone that suddenly felt less oppressive and more... familiar.

"Anyone else feel like we just lived through several lifetimes?" Nyx asked, their form finally stabilizing into their currently preferred configuration. "Because I'm having an existential crisis about diplomatic skills I didn't know I possessed."

"You were brilliant," Mo said. As they trudged toward their dorm. "That whole 'Circular Exchange' thing? Quite inspiring. You need to write a paper describing the process. And I'd be happy if you let me co-author it."

"Thank you. I'll add 'Diplomatic BS' to my skill tree." Nyx's form rippled with amusement. "Speaking of BS, we need to talk about our progression system. Those measurements we've been using? It was fun assigning arbitrary numbers to our studies. But in the real world? They're about as useful as a chocolate teapot. Nothing in our charts hinted that you'd be able to do what you did in that ritual chamber. Seven hells, I was surprised Lucian and I were able to support you there. What was it? Some sort of transformed succubus energy sucking?"

Mo winced. Nyx wasn't wrong. The trio had been operating on vague levels and arbitrary numbers, treating magical growth like some simplified game mechanic. The reality had proven far more complex.

"Tomorrow. After I sleep for approximately a dozen years."

But tomorrow came far too quickly, announced by an official-looking raven that crashed into their window at dawn. The bird dropped a scroll on Mo's face before perching on her headboard with an air of judgment that rivaled her ancestral throne's vibes.

She unrolled the parchment, squinting at the elaborate script:

Lady Morgana Nightshade,

The Academy formally acknowledges your successful completion of the field assignment.

You are required to attend remedial classes to recompense for your absence (see the list attached).

Professors Darkthorne and Maleficarum have expressed particular interest in your "unorthodox techniques."

Additionally, we invite you to address some of the rumors concerning the senior students and the "Midnight Trial incident." They are getting slightly out of hand.

May your return herald glorious suffering and appropriate academic devastation.

- The Administrative Council

P.S. Failure to meet the required obligations will result in disciplinary measures.

Before Mo could even set the scroll down, another raven swooped through the window, barely missing her head. This one carried a leather pouch stamped with the Blackthorn crest. Inside was a neatly bound report with Grimz's seal. It reminded Mo of that crude sigil she saw on his previous letter, but this time it was definitely reworked by the Keep's engravers.

"Your first daily briefing, my lady," read the accompanying note. "As agreed, these reports will continue each morning to keep you apprised of all Keep matters. Today's highlights include productivity statistics, union negotiations, and our new holiday proposal."

"Great," Mo muttered, flopping back onto her pillow. "Now I have to read goblin productivity reports with my morning coffee. Which I soon won't have any left. Because we're in villain school, where happiness goes to die."

The raven croaked in what sounded suspiciously like agreement.

***

The morning's classes passed in a blur of accusatory stares and pointed questions. Professor Grimthorn's Intimidation Theory lecture kept circling back to "the importance of traditional methods," while every example seemed specifically designed to highlight what Mo had done differently—or rather, plainly wrong—at Blackthorn Keep.

During Calculated Cruelty, she caught herself doodling portal diagrams in her notebook margins. The irony wasn't lost on Mo—Professor Dreadmire droning on about theoretical cruelty while she had actual experience turning a living being into raw magical energy. The memory of Aldric's form dissolving into the portal haunted her thoughts, but there was also an unsettling sense of confidence. After what she'd done, the professor's academic theories felt hollow, incomplete.

"Miss Nightshade," Professor Dreadmire's voice cut through her thoughts. "Perhaps you'd care to enlighten us about the optimal approach to undermining economic stability in rival territories?"

"Why bother with subtle economic warfare when you can just turn problematic advisors into portal anchors?" Mo replied before she could stop herself.

A collective gasp rippled through the classroom. Professor Dreadmire's eyebrows shot up. "I see your field assignment has given you... unconventional perspectives."

Throughout the day, Mo felt her patience eroding like sand against acid. A second-year sneered as she passed in the hallway: "Heard you went soft on the goblins, Bookworm," and something snapped inside her.

Without conscious thought, rose-gold energy coiled between her fingers. She didn't even gesture, just let a tendril of power slip outward, whispering directly into his mind: Stumble.

His foot caught on nothing, sending him sprawling across the polished floor, textbooks skidding in all directions. The satisfaction that bloomed in her chest was immediate and intoxicating.

The student looked up, confusion giving way to fear as he met her gaze. "You... you did that," he whispered, scrambling backward. "From across the hall. Without a word."

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Others in the corridor fell silent, creating a bubble of space around Mo that hadn't existed before. She could taste their sudden wariness—metallic and sweet on her tongue.

In Villainous Ethics, Professor Thornwick's voice dripped with condescension as he questioned her absence. "Perhaps Lady Nightshade believes herself above Essential Villainy readings?"

Mo leaned forward, her smile sharp-edged. "I was wondering, Professor—does revolutionizing an entire Keep's governance structure qualify for extra credit in Ethical Villainy? The assignment asked for 'maximum psychological domination with minimal resource depletion'—and I maintained the workforce while establishing complete compliance through perceived benevolence. Or would the Ethics Committee have preferred I followed the Grimmvald Doctrine of 'demonstrative cruelty'? Section four, paragraph thirteen clearly states that 'performative ruthlessness must be balanced against long-term resource sustainability.'"

Thornwick's quill snapped between his fingers. For the first time, he seemed to actually see her—not as a rebellious student who had gone AWOL on Earth, but as something potentially dangerous. The class held its collective breath.

"That would... depend on your documentation methods," he finally managed, voice strangely tight.

Mo caught sight of several of Darian's cronies huddled with Professor Maleficarum before lunch, casting significant glances in her direction. They were clearly reporting her behavior, but Mo found herself caring less and less.

"They can report whatever they want," Mo said as Nyx raised a questioning eyebrow. "I turned my advisor into a magical battery. A detention slip seems rather anticlimactic at this point."

As they settled at their usual table in the dining hall, Mo pulled Grimz's morning report from her bag, scanning the meticulously organized sections again. Resource allocation. Productivity metrics. Educational initiatives for younger goblins.

I actually have an evil empire now, she thought, pushing mystery meat around her plate. With goblins. Who have union representation. And apparently a literacy program. Isn't that a dream?

"You're brooding," Nyx said, stealing a specifically mobile piece of meat from her plate. "And not in the approved villainous manner. More like... existential crisis brooding."

"Just processing," Mo said. "Two weeks ago, I was worried about failing Combat Applications. Now, it's like daily reports on worker satisfaction rates and the state of my empire are scheduled for me by Grimz…"

"That doesn't sound too bad," Nyx said, their form elongating slightly as they stole another piece of meat from Mo's plate. "You could always use the reports to kindle our fireplace. Very dramatic, very villain-appropriate. The flames would cast such vividly ominous shadows."

"…and I'm wondering if turning someone into a portal anchor counts as innovative leadership, creative problem-solving, or murder."

"From a strictly magical perspective, it's an elegant solution," Lucian said. "My father would call it 'resource repurposing.' We should have probably calculated the energy redistribution for our report. I wouldn't be surprised if the loss was minimal, with your manifested powers and the link to the ritual chamber."

"I'd call it inspired improvisation," Nyx said, their form briefly mimicking Aldric's pristine appearance before settling back. "He was so perfectly awful. Did you see his face when he realized what was happening?"

"That's not helping," Mo said, but found herself smiling despite everything. "The worst part is, I'd do it again. That's what scares me. A month of villain school and I'm already disposing of my enemies."

"Welcome to the family business," Nyx said. "I've heard the benefits are killer."

Mo groaned and threw her napkin at them. "That was terrible, even for you."

***

The afternoon classes dragged on much like the morning ones—pointed questions, sidelong glances, and professors who seemed determined to highlight the "proper" villain methods Mo had ignored. By the time they reached they got to Hexes & Curses class, the last one for the day, she was practically vibrating with irritation.

"I can't wait to get back to the dorm and start our system revisions," she whispered to Nyx as Professor Malvolia droned on about "traditional curse implementation." At least, this day there was no practical work, only theory. Julian was walking around the classroom, checking the students' notes and offering thoughtful comments and marking errors in the formulas.

"Sounds like you've been making progress."

Mo turned to find Julian standing next to her table. His usual exhaustion was suddenly nowhere to see. Maybe that was a consequence of him not being a hex target today.

He nodded toward their notes, standing close enough that she caught the faint scent of old books and something herbal—rosemary perhaps—that clung to his clothes. Their fingers brushed as he leaned down to examine her calculations, sending an unexpected jolt of awareness through her.

"That's not what Professor Malvolia is explaining right now."

"We're completely reworking our progression measurements," Lucian said quietly.

Julian's eyes lit up. "Is it a scientific research? Quantifiable Magic? Calculated Arcana? This is serendipitous! I've been researching something similar in the archives. Found some fascinating precedents in pre-Academy magical quantification."

"Really?" Mo leaned closer.

"I'll show you. Your dorm? After classes?" Julian asked, careful to keep his voice below the professor's hearing.

Mo nodded, trying to ignore the unexpected flutter in her chest.

By the time they gathered in their common room that afternoon, Mo felt like she'd been wrung out and hung to dry. Nyx and Lucian had brewed some coffee—her stash was getting smaller with each hour—and the familiar aroma helped ground her as they spread their progression charts across the table.

"The problem," Lucian said, creating tiny ice sculptures to demonstrate, "is that we've been thinking too abstractly. 'Level 3 Emotional Projection' means nothing without context and reference system."

"Exactly!" Nyx said, their form rippling dramatically as they shifted between several emotional states in rapid succession. "When I adapt to someone's emotional frequency, it's not some binary switch like these quaint little charts suggest. We're dealing with resonance depth, adaptation speed, mood saturation indices—the deliciously complicated metrics of manipulating how others feel! Plus, the color schemes on these charts are tragically uninspired."

Mo stared at their crude skill trees, thinking about the real-world applications she'd faced at Blackthorn Keep. They'd been playing at systematization without actually understanding what they were measuring. It was really nothing more than a game before. But now, the villainy was becoming surprisingly real.

"Okay," Mo said, pushing aside their old charts. "Let's start over. When I project emotions, what am I actually doing?"

She closed her eyes, reaching for that rose-gold energy that had become so familiar. The power responded eagerly, warming her chest like expensive whiskey. But now, instead of just using it, she tried to understand it.

"Range," she murmured. "When I influenced the seniors during the Midnight Trial, I could affect everyone within... maybe thirty feet? But with the platform amplifying..." She opened her eyes. "Fifty feet, easy. Full spherical coverage. Took about twenty seconds to saturate the area."

Lucian's ice sculptures shifted, forming concentric circles. "And targeted influence?"

Mo thought back to her confrontation with Darian. "More precise, but shorter range. Fifteen feet for full effect… Maybe even less. I could influence Darian, but someone else in that dorm? Doubt it. And the distance would probably be even smaller if there are barriers—emotional, physical, arcane... whatever."

"Time to effect?" Nyx asked.

"Varies. Surface emotions, almost instant. Deeper influence..." Mo swallowed, remembering Valerius's entranced expression. "Minutes. And it lingers. Valerius was still affected hours later."

"This is infinitely more useful," Nyx said. "Though I must note with a professional curiosity that you've conveniently omitted quantifying your accidental chamber-wide emotional striptease during the duel. Was that under 'Catastrophic Public Humiliation' or 'Unintentional Mass Entrancement'?"

"Some things are better left unmeasured."

A knock at their door interrupted what was sure to be Nyx's witty retort. Mo opened it to find Julian, looking unusually animated and clutching a worn notebook. His normally tired eyes held a spark of excitement that made her pulse quicken.

"Hi, I've brought some papers," Julian said, showing Mo a heap of papers he had in his hands.

"So… Atypical for you not to have all of them organized," Mo said. "Come in. We're redefining our progression system. Turns out arbitrary levels aren't particularly helpful when facing actual challenges. Want to see?"

Julian's hands trembled slightly as he spread their notes across the table. Mo had never seen him this animated—the perpetual exhaustion that hung around him like a shroud had vanished, replaced by a feverish intensity that transformed his entire being.

"This is..." His finger traced one of Mo's diagrams where she'd mapped emotional influence radius against power expenditure. "You've intuitively discovered something I've been trying to prove mathematically for years." He pulled out his own notebook, flipping to a page covered in complex equations. Where Mo had drawn concentric circles of influence, Julian had derived the same pattern through theoretical formulas.

"Look here," he said, sliding closer until their shoulders touched. "You're measuring output against effect, creating a practical taxonomy of magical expression. I've been approaching it from the opposite direction—trying to quantify the underlying principles that govern magical transformation."

He flipped a page to reveal a diagram that mirrored Mo's calculations with uncanny precision. "Two paths to the same revelation. You through application, me through theory."

His enthusiasm was infectious, his eyes alight with a passion that made Mo momentarily forget the darkness that had been growing inside her. Here was someone who saw magic not as a birthright or a weapon, but as a system that could be understood—democratized, even.

"What if magic isn't about bloodlines at all? What if it's a universal language that just needs the right translation key?" Julians' fingers brushed Mo's as he reached for another page, and Mo felt a jolt of connection that had nothing to do with her succubus nature and everything to do with finding a mind that worked alongside her own.

"That would upend everything they teach here," Mo said, suddenly understanding the revolutionary implications of his research. "The entire hierarchy of…"

"Exactly," Julian said, eyes darting to the door as if checking for eavesdroppers. "That's why I've had to work in secret. But with your will to experiment..." He trailed off, the unspoken possibility hanging between them.

The synchronicity of their independent research felt like more than coincidence. In her darkest moment, when she'd embraced the coldest parts of her nature, she'd found someone whose mind worked alongside hers—but toward light rather than shadow. The attraction frightened her almost as much as it thrilled her.

"You've been working on this alone?" she asked, leaning closer to see his neat handwriting.

"The Academy archives have references to similar attempts," he said, his shoulder brushing hers as he pointed to a particular passage. The contact sent an unexpected warmth through her. "But they were always abandoned or suppressed. The establishment prefers keeping magical education... selective. And for you average demon, they seem not to need a system like that."

His passion for democratizing magical knowledge resonated with something deep inside her. Here was someone else who saw the problems with the system, who wanted to change things for the better.

"Wait here," Mo said suddenly. "I have something you need to see. Your framework reminded me of something."

She returned from her bedroom with an armful of books from her collection. "These are from Earth. Progression fantasy, LitRPG novels. They're fiction, but they explore exactly what you're talking about—systematic approaches to magical growth. And that's also how we came to the idea of tracking our progress by quantifying the skill and magic."

Julian's eyes widened. "May I?"

"Of course."

Nyx and Lucian exchanged knowing looks as Julian eagerly dove into the books. Nyx shifted into a dramatic form with exaggerated eyebrows that wiggled suggestively in Mo's direction.

"Well, isn't this cozy?" they said, draping themselves artfully across an armchair. "Our resident research assistant, suddenly so interested in Mo's basic… stats."

Lucian's frost patterns spiraled in what Mo recognized as his version of an eye-roll. "Perhaps we should focus on the actual work," he said, freezing the surface of the coffee in Nyx's cup. "Julian, what specific metrics have you been tracking in your research?"

Mo shot Lucian a grateful look. Ever since the ritual chamber with Aldric, something had shifted inside her—a darkness rising where before she might have pushed it away. Her true nature, long suppressed, now seemed almost eager to find connections, as if seeking an anchor in the aftermath of violence. Julian's intellectual passion offered something to latch onto that wasn't soaked in power games or manipulation. The attraction she felt toward him was intensified by this newfound darkness within her, like her heart was desperately seeking balance by racing toward any light it could find.

Focus, she told herself firmly. This is research, not a date.