[System]
You are a skilled LitRPG progression fantasy author. Write chapters based on the story bible and instructions provided.

## Premise
Becoming the Dark Lord — a LitRPG progression fantasy. Luke jolted awake, his cheek tingling from having fallen asleep with his face on the ground. His mind was a storm, thoughts tangled and scattered. He glanced around, heart pounding. This... wasn’t his house.

## Main Character
Name: Luke | Gender: male (he/him)
Key supporting characters: He, Points, Luke’s

## World & Power System
level-based progression; class system; skills (e.g. Magnetic Return (Rare), Servant of the Dark Lord (Unique), Notice: Approaching First Floor, Basic Blade Handling (Common), Heavy Strike, You have learned a Class Skill, Servant of the Dark Lord, Basic Chameleon Skin (Uncommon)); stats (Perception, Strength, Intelligence, Endurance, Agility, Vitality)
System notification style: "System’s Annual Integration!]"

## Writing Style
third-person limited narration, past tense. Narration-focused (5% dialogue). Fast-paced, short punchy sentences.

[User]
Write Chapter 253: The Faceless Assassin
Target length: ~2500 words

[Assistant]
Luke stood inside the second fortress of the mechanism, though not in the central stronghold itself. He had chosen one of the side courtyards, the only part of the compound where the ground wasn’t paved over in solid concrete. After escaping the Safe Zone, he had come straight here. Time was already pressing against him. They were probably still hunting for him back in the Safe Zone, and this was the only window of opportunity he’d get.

He was digging. Both he and Charlie. A wide, deep hole. The side yard had real soil instead of stone, and Luke figured that in Bastion’s version of this fortress, it was probably where Bartholomew kept his private little farm.

“Hey, Luke. You’re sweating. Maybe take off your shirt?” Artemis teased.

“I’m not falling for that.”

“It’s not a trick, man, I’m actually concerned. Right, Charlie?”

Charlie froze mid-dig, and through their bond Luke felt the faint ripple of embarrassment from her.

“Leave Charlie alone,” Luke muttered. “She’s pure. Don’t contaminate her.”

“Please. It’s always the quiet ones you gotta watch,” Artemis snickered.

Luke ignored her and moved on. Once the digging was done, he began circling the fortress, firing arrows at the magical alarms fixed to the outer walls. Each one shattered under his shots. He knew they would regenerate in twenty-four hours, constructs of pure mana, but for now, the path was clear. By the time he finished, nothing living lingered anywhere near the structure. He returned to the front gate, pulled out his worn notebook, and flipped it open.

Activating the second mechanism meant triggering the fortress’s event mission. Which in turn meant killing the boss: the Midnight Warden Captain. The Captain wouldn’t come alone. He’d bring an entire host of Wardens with him, and while Luke out-leveled them by a wide margin, he knew better than to underestimate sheer numbers.

“A man can swat one bee without thinking,” he murmured to himself. “But a man won’t last long against a swarm.”

The Warden Captain was level 70 and, on top of that, had the power of invisibility. A dangerous combination. But in a straight-up fight, Luke knew he could handle it. He had racked up profession levels, earned ten Uncommon arrows, and now could even generate Rare ones. The grind of the last two weeks hadn’t been wasted.

But the truth was, he had no interest in fighting that monster himself. He didn’t care about the experience points it would yield. His true goal was far more important: Charlie needed to land the kill.

She was lagging badly behind. Barely level 30 in her race, level 34 in her class, and her second class hovering in the low thirties. In short, she was weak compared to him. Pathetically weak. And it was his fault. He had neglected her growth to focus on his own. Worse, the dual-class system she carried split her experience gains, bleeding her progress even thinner. Every time Luke stole the finishing blow, every time he soaked up the lion’s share of the XP, she fell further and further behind.

The gap between them had grown into a chasm. Right now, he looked like a tank, and she looked like a support that couldn’t keep up. That left him with a dilemma. He could kill the monster himself and maybe squeeze out three more levels, though at his stage, that wasn’t much. Or he could let Princess Charlie land the finishing blow on a level 70 monster and watch her harvest an avalanche of experience.

That was the real plan. Push her straight to level 50 in both classes. That would turn her into a powerhouse, stacking new skills from Death Knight and Pugilist until she became something terrifying. The arrows, the digging, the damned pit, it was all for this. A gift. He was going to hand Charlie the death of a monster on a silver platter.

He already knew what it meant to be this strong past level 50. Now imagine Charlie. He was an assassin, not a tank. No heavy armor, no fortress of steel to hide behind. But Charlie? Give her both classes over fifty, pile on that obscene gear she carried, and she wouldn’t just be strong. She’d be a nightmare for anyone foolish enough to stand in her way. Everything had revolved around that possibility from the start. His entire plan had one purpose: turn Princess Charlie into a walking calamity.

“I’m calling it Operation Skyfall,” he told Artemis after laying it all out while the two of them stared into the pit.

“That’s a solid name,” she replied. “Though it feels… I don’t know, suspiciously unoriginal.”

“You’re imagining things.”

His role was simple: drag the Warden Captain out of the fortress, tilt the odds, and keep it contained. Charlie’s role was simpler still, kill it.

Luke drew a long breath, stepped back into the hole, and kept digging.

***

“Alright, that’s basically it,” Luke muttered, eyes fixed on the table.

He had turned one of the abandoned houses facing the fortress into a makeshift base. Spread across the wooden surface were notes and hand-drawn maps, sketches he’d been working on ever since he first scouted the second fortress.

The plan was simple in theory: separate the Warden Captain from his guards, draw him into a chase, and bleed him out away from support. The problem was that the monster wasn’t some brainless sack of rot, it was a military strategist, a zombie commander. It wouldn’t just wander outside into open ground and walk into Luke’s trap. That was why Luke hadn’t set foot inside the fortress again since his first infiltration. He didn’t want to risk showing his hand, making the creature realize he’d grown stronger, and forcing it to adjust its tactics for the future.

No, he needed the Warden Captain locked in his same defensive routine. Predictable. Stationary. When the operation began, Luke’s plan wasn’t to lure the boss out, but to pull him deeper inside. He would use the staircase near the mechanism chamber, let the Warden Captain think he had the upper hand, and then turn the whole fortress against him.

That was why Luke had been mapping Bastion nonstop. In the middle of chaos, there’d be no time to flip through notes. He’d either memorize every path and passage… or lean on Artemis to guide him.

“Your incredible mind, your ability to devour books in seconds, your spectacular genius, think you can actually help me?”

“Flattery doesn’t work on me the way it does on human women,” Artemis replied. “But food? That works fine. For every single minute we survive in there, you owe me one full meal.”

“One meal per minute? That’s robbery.”

“Oh, should I make it per second instead?”

“…Fine. First deal it is.”

He had no choice but to accept. He needed to reach the marked ‘X’ on his map with the Warden Captain breathing down his neck.

“And don’t think you can just toss me a can,” Artemis added. “I want real food on a plate. Something cooked. I expect to be treated like a little princess.”

“You’re getting demanding.”

Luke leaned back in the chair, sighing, then turned to his dinner. He heated a can of beans, fried up eggs, even bacon, supplies scavenged from weekly chests scattered through the Wild Zone. He plated one serving for himself and another for Artemis.

“Consider this an advance payment,” he said, holding the dish toward her.

“Accepted.” The moment he placed it near the collar, the plate shimmered out of sight, tucked away into her pocket dimension.

Luke pushed his chair to the veranda, eyes locked on the looming silhouette of the second fortress. He bit into a bacon-and-egg sandwich, chewing slowly as he studied the walls.

“No one from Bastion has shown up to look for me yet.”

“They probably think you’re still hiding in the city,” Artemis replied. “Or Bartholomew figures no one, least of all you, could ever finish the fortress event.”

“He’s not wrong,” Luke said. “Why bother stationing guards? To him it’s untouchable. That’s why Marshall never tried to seize it either, not after Angelica’s brother and his whole team were wiped out. Too risky. Too expensive.”

Luke took another bite of his sandwich.

“Getting nervous, human?” Franky’s voice hissed from inside the collar.

“Well, look who decided to speak again,” Artemis drawled. “The little rebel of the group.”

“I’m not a little rebel!” Franky snapped. “And I’m not part of your group!”

“The child’s cranky. Should we put him in time-out?” Artemis teased.

“You gluttonous woman, you’re going to get fat.”

“F-fat?” Her voice sharpened instantly. “You bastard! Who the hell are you to say that to me? You shit-snake!”

“I’m not a shit-snake!” he hissed back.

“Both of you, cut it out,” Luke muttered.

“He started it!”

“She started it!”

The two voices overlapped, bickering like children. Luke pressed a hand over his face and sighed. “I must be cursed.”

His eyes drifted to the collar. “Listen, snake, I’m about to do something dangerous in a few hours. Don’t start getting on my nerves now.”

“For someone who bragged about killing me, you sure sound worried,” Franky shot back.

“I didn’t brag about your death,” Luke replied evenly. “And I’m not worried. I’m preparing something to help an ally get stronger.”

He went back to eating.

“Besides, snake. You saw my fight in the city today, didn’t you? That arrow I crafted? It created an acid cloud.”

“…Yeah. I saw,” Franky muttered.

The snake fell silent.

“Well? Nothing to say?” Luke asked.

“What do you want me to say?”

“Something like, ‘Human, that was amazing. Can I be your familiar now?’” Luke answered, mimicking the pompous tone of the Beast Lord.

Franky clicked his tongue. “I’ll never be your friend!”

Luke scooped a spoonful of beans into his mouth. “Did you hear that guy scream when I splashed acid in his face? Pretty satisfying, wasn’t it?”

Franky stayed quiet.

“Come on, admit it. You thought it was cool,” Luke pressed. “Or do you not like acid?”

“Of c-course I like acid!” Franky snapped.

“Then was it cool or not?”

“…Maybe it was a little cool,” Franky finally admitted. “But I’m still not your friend.”

Luke smirked. “Guess it is kind of funny throwing acid at enemies. Makes sense now why you once said you’d laugh while I melted alive in your acid.”

“Yes. That would’ve been hilarious,” Franky said without hesitation.

“You’re both sick,” Artemis muttered.

***

Landon walked toward a quieter stretch along the edge of the Safe Zone. Few people lingered there. The houses here were abandoned, half-collapsed remnants of old invasions. Even with the new walls that had gone up in recent months, nobody in their right mind would live in the first place to get hit during an attack, or in a spot so easy for criminals to reach.

Landon had come for one man. The contractor who wanted James dead. When he arrived, he slipped a folded letter from his pocket. That was how they handled things: a note left behind with the location of the next meeting. Even though they already knew each other, the man was a notorious criminal. If anyone ever saw a Bastion soldier like him speaking face to face with someone like that, it would be the end of him.

He pushed open the door carefully, stepped inside, and shut it behind him. The place was pitch-black. Landon pulled a lantern from his storage, sparked it to life with fire magic, and crossed the room. At the fireplace, he reached into a hidden hollow in the stone and slid the letter inside.

“Hello, Landon,” a voice said.

He nearly dropped the lantern, stumbling backward.

“Shit, Scott!” He clutched his chest, heart pounding.

“Seems you were planning to arrange a meeting,” Scott said calmly. “Convenient. I was hoping to talk to you as well.”

Landon set the lantern on a crooked table.

“You screwed me, Scott! You sent me after a dangerous bastard, and I lost my men for it!” His anger cracked through his words. Part of him wanted to kill Scott right there, but the man was a thunder mage, one of the dangerous ones.

“I want the damn items you promised,” Landon growled.

“You turned over James’s real identity. Luke, wasn’t it?” Scott replied, setting a helmet and a gauntlet on the table. Payment.

“You knew that little bastard was Luke?” Landon’s jaw clenched, fury twisting his face.

Scott sighed. “You made a mistake, Landon. You should never have raised an alarm about him.”

Mistake? This guy’s insane.

Landon decided then. He’d take the gear, then take Scott’s head. Bastion still had a bounty on him.

“Well, in the end you got what you wanted, didn’t you?” Landon’s voice was low, bitter. “James is being hunted by the Safe Zone. Within hours, he’ll be a dead man. There’s nowhere left for him to run.”

He stood in silence, watching as Scott rummaged through storage. One by one, the man laid out the spoils, a pair of daggers, a battered boot, the gleam of a dented breastplate. The steel caught the faint light, cold and merciless.

“Anything missing from our deal?” Scott finally asked, gesturing toward the grim display.

Landon stepped closer, eyes narrowing as he took stock. His lips pressed into a thin line. “The sword,” he muttered. He turned, and steel kissed his throat.

For an instant he didn’t comprehend the heat spreading across his neck. Then the blade slid deeper, and his breath caught in a wet gasp.

Scott yanked the weapon free. Landon staggered, instinct seizing him. His hand flared with desperate fire, hurling a blazing orb that smashed into Scott’s chest and hurled the man backward.

No… not here. I can’t die here!

Clutching his bleeding throat, he seared the wound shut with a burst of flame. The smell of burning flesh filled the room as he staggered, desperate. From storage he yanked a healing potion, downed it, and started coughing violently.

He stumbled into another room, hacking blood, when something slammed into his back. Pain flared. He turned, dazed, to see Scott advancing with two swords. With a smooth spin, one pierced Landon’s gut and the other rammed through his mouth.

“Bastard…” Landon choked as he crumpled.

His thoughts fractured. Scott was supposed to be a mage. Why the hell was he wielding twin blades? Landon fumbled toward his storage bracelet, but Scott’s boot crushed his hand.

“You shouldn’t have exposed Luke,” Scott said coldly. “I needed him distracted, not warned.”

The blades burned inside him, fire gnawing his insides. The last thing Landon saw was Scott raising a hand to his face, then peeling it away. Skin tore like fabric. The man removed his own face as though it were a mask.

[User]
Write Chapter 254: Death Behind the Mask
Target length: ~3200 words
Key events: level-up occurs, dungeon content, combat-heavy

[Assistant]
Night had fallen, but Luke hadn’t stepped into the fortress. No one from Bastion had come after him either, which was strange. Still, it gave him time to do what he always did before facing something new: train.

Delaying the mission meant sharpening himself and, more importantly, preparing Princess Charlie. She needed to master Force Infusion. If she was going to duel the Warden Captain, she had to be ready for it. Luke passed her on the training grounds. Charlie was hacking at rocks, cleaving through trees, her sword cutting with raw power. At her current strength she could already manage that much, but with Force Infusion flowing through her, her destructive potential was terrifying.

She charged with her blade raised and slammed into a half-collapsed structure. Stone burst apart, chunks flying in every direction. Luke analyzed the display with a cold eye. The Wardens’ ability to hurl their spears with such brutal speed and power was likely tied to a skill similar to Force Infusion. That explained why, back when he was weaker, he’d seen them carve through squads like butchered cattle. They were masters of stamina manipulation. And, ironically enough, it was that very skill he’d used to kill his first Warden.

While Charlie trained, Luke hunted. A guttural roar split the air. Charging at him was a pack of enormous crocodiles. He remembered them from his days fleeing the orc general, beasts like these had once guarded the dam he destroyed.

[Crocodile Commander – Lvl 30]

[Crocodile Commander – Lvl 30]

[Crocodile Commander – Lvl 30]

Even at level thirty, their sheer size made them dangerous. Luke sprinted across the terrain, the monsters barreling after him, and focused on what he really wanted: testing the limits of his Acid Blood Arrow.

He conjured one in his hand, drew back, and fired. The arrow hit the ground ahead of the charging crocodiles. A hiss split the air as a green mist erupted, swallowing them whole. The creatures shrieked, thrashing in agony, their armored hides bubbling and splitting open.

[You have slain a Crocodile Commander – Lvl 30]

[You have slain a Crocodile Commander – Lvl 30]

The third one hurled itself into the river, vanishing beneath the surface.

“Smart creatures…” Luke muttered.

The river boiled with life. It was swarming with crocodiles now, likely left unchecked ever since the orcs abandoned the lowlands for the mountains. No one remained to cull the threat.

Luke conjured another arrow in his palm, studying it carefully. He’d learned his boundaries: three in quick succession. Push for a fourth, and his heart screamed in pain. Worse, he couldn’t store them. They weren’t items; they were mana given form. The arrows rejected storage, dissolved if placed in his storage item, and faded within ten minutes if left unused. He couldn’t even keep them in his quiver. There was another problem he hadn’t ignored, the cost.

Each blood arrow devoured a thousand mana. An absurd, dangerous price to pay in any real fight. For a moment, he realized just how reckless he’d been back in the Safe Zone, firing them off without even tracking his mana reserves. If he had bottomed out, things could have gone very, very badly.

His mana pool was 4500. Four arrows alone were enough to leave him with little mana left, the bar dipping close to empty. That was the curse of an epic skill: overwhelming power, paid for in blood and spirit. Each shot drained 100 HP from his own body, and his heart could only withstand conjuring three arrows in quick succession. And on top of that, there was the high mana cost.

They weren’t weapons to be used freely. They were trump cards, meant for moments that demanded a killing blow. He weighed the limitations and found himself almost grateful the price in blood wasn’t worse. A hundred HP per arrow was dangerous, sure, but if it had demanded a thousand instead of mana? He would’ve written the skill off as worthless, an epic skill wasted on something he’d never dare use.

If only the system displayed mana costs when presenting skill choices. That single detail would make every decision so much easier in the future.

Still, it wasn’t all bad. The cost was steep, yes, but the destruction those arrows unleashed more than justified it. And, as a bonus, being rare-tier meant they could also be amplified through Mana Infusion. He pulled up his system interface.

Name: Luke

Level: 47

Race: Half-Demon

Rank: F

Class: [Demonic Predator (Lvl 57)]

Profession: [Guardian Botanist of Mother Freya (Lvl 60)]

Titles: [Dark Lord]

Bloodline: [Bloodline of the Dark Demon]

Health Points (HP): 3913/4130

Mana Points (MP): 2128/4450 (4500)

Stamina: 2111/2570 (2770)

Soul Fragments: 87/1000

Stats:

Strength: 658

Agility: 478 (528)

Endurance: 257 (277)

Vitality: 413

Perception: 434 (444)

Intelligence: 445 (450)

Free Points: 12

Class Skills: [Advanced Blade Handling (Uncommon)], [Profane Knife Throwing (Uncommon)], [Twin Blade (Common)], [Basic Dark Dash (Rare)], [Basic Blood Regeneration (Rare)], [Predator’s Mark (Rare)], [Demonic Blade Dance (Rare)], [Wraith Form (Ultra-Rare)], [Force Infusion (Rare)], [Advanced Stealth (Rare)], [Assassin’s Tracking (Rare)], [Mana Infusion (Rare)], [Basic Archery (Common)]

Profession Skills: [Herbology of Mother Freya (Ancient)], [Precise Extraction (Common)], [Basic Potion Crafting (Common)], [Corrupted Plant Growth (Rare)], [Plant Sensor (Uncommon)], [Botanical Bond of Mother Freya (Rare)], [Seed Conversion (Rare)], [Plant Manipulation of Mother Freya (Rare)], [Corrupted Blood of Mother Freya (Ultra-Rare)], [Thorn Mutation (Uncommon)], [Soil Analysis (Uncommon)], [Botanical Purification (Uncommon)], [Acid Blood Arrow (Epic)]

Race Skills: [Identify (Common)], [Demonic Perception (Uncommon)], [Dark Blood (Uncommon)], [Meditation (Common)], [Demonic Endurance (Uncommon)]

Bloodline Skill: [Servant of the Dark Lord (Unique)]

Servants: [Princess Charlie (Skeleton) - Lvl 27], [Servant Slot Available]

Luke had never cared this much about his mana pool. Not until now. One Acid Blood Arrow cost a full thousand mana, which meant he could only conjure four of them. Four. The skill was far too powerful to be shackled by such a limit. He had wiped out ten assassins with only three arrows. And if he could conjure twenty? The thought made him reevaluate the true worth of mana.

He had twelve free points left and didn’t hesitate to funnel them all into Intelligence.

Stats Updated:

Intelligence: 445 (450) -> 457 (462)

Free Points: 12 -> 0

[Mana Points (MP): 2248/4570 (4620)]

Satisfied with the allocation, he let the menu fade and tightened his grip on the Acid Blood Arrow in his hand. His new goal was simple: become a factory for these devastating arrows.

“Come on, Charlie.”

He loosed the arrow skyward. It arced and landed among the trees, detonating in a cloud of hissing green. Crocodiles burst from hiding, fleeing the spreading acid fog. Some stumbled, others collapsed mid-run, their hides peeling as the corrosive mist ate through their flesh.

[You have slain a Crocodile Commander – Lvl 30]

[You have slain a Crocodile Commander – Lvl 30]

[You have slain a Crocodile Commander – Lvl 30]

[You have slain a Crocodile Commander – Lvl 30]

[You have slain a Crocodile Commander – Lvl 30]

[You have slain a Crocodile Commander – Lvl 30]

[You have slain a Crocodile Commander – Lvl 30]

[You have slain a Crocodile Commander – Lvl 30]

A guttural roar snapped his attention to the side. Another crocodile barreled from the brush, tail lashing like a whip. Charlie sprinted straight at it, vaulting high with her blade. She spun midair, cleaving off one of the beast’s legs before it could react. The creature snapped its jaws, lunging to swallow her whole, but Charlie met it with a brutal punch across the snout. The crocodile rolled, belly exposed. She drove her sword deep and pummeled it again and again until the thrashing stopped.

[Princess Charlie has slain a Crocodile Commander Lvl 30]

*The [Pugilist] 2nd Class of Princess Charlie has reached Level 32! (+3 Strength, +2 Endurance, +2 Agility, +2 Vitality, +2 Perception, +2 Intelligence, +2 Free Points.)*

**[Princess Charlie has reached Level 28! Skeleton (Rank F)] (+1 bonus point to all attributes, +1 free point)**

The monster lay dead. Luke pulled a potion from his pocket dimension.

[Healing Potion (Common): Restores 150 HP]

He drank it down, the bitter liquid spreading warmth as torn flesh stitched itself back together.

[Health Points (HP): 4063/4130]

That had been his last stockpile potion scavenged from Safe Zone chests. He had drained them all during the siege. Now, he had only three left, ones he’d brewed himself.

[Healing Potion (Common): Restores 503 HP]

“Better than nothing,” he muttered.

Those three would be reserved for emergencies. Once the second fortress was cleared, weekly chest rewards would solve that problem. Charlie strutted over, beaming, pointing at the crocodile’s corpse and then at her fist, raising it like a trophy.

“Yes, you took that thing down cleanly,” he admitted.

She was glowing with pride, but he could tell she was also remembering the dungeon in the temple, how close they’d come to dying to a crocodile half that size. Luke pulled up her system interface, ready to allocate her new stat points. By nightfall, once he meditated, they would step into the fortress.

Name: Princess Charlie

Level: 28

Race: Skeleton

Rank: F

Class: Death Knight (Lvl 35)

2nd Class: Pugilist (Lvl 32)

Title: [Servant of the Dark Lord]

Health Points (HP): 2030/2030

Mana Points (MP): 1570/1570

Stamina: 1920/1920 (2320) Stats:

Strength: 304 (374)

Agility: 159

Endurance: 192 (232)

Vitality: 203

Perception: 133

Intelligence: 157

Free Points: 9

Class Skills: [Basic Weapon Handling (Common)], Heavy Strike (Common), [Basic Spectral Charge (Rare)], [Crescent Slash (Uncommon)], [Whirlwind Strike (Uncommon)], [Spectral Chain (Rare)], [Spectral Barrier (Rare)], [Doomblade (Rare)], [Mark of Doom (Rare)], [Force Infusion (Rare)]

Second Class Skills: [Advanced Hand-to-Hand (Uncommon)], [Steel Fist (Rare)], [Stunning Punch (Uncommon)], [Battle Roar (Uncommon)], [Concentrated Kick (Uncommon)], [Power Punch (Uncommon)], [Pugilist’s Leap (Uncommon)], [Muscle Reading (Uncommon)], [Movement Echo (Uncommon)], [Flame (Common)]

Race Skills: [Demonic Servant Perception (Uncommon)], [Basic Bone Regeneration (Rare)], [Bone Endurance (Rare)], [Iron Bones (Ultra-Rare)]

Rune Skill: [Berserker Flames (Rare)]

That was one of the main reasons he wanted her to land the killing blow on the Warden Captain. The gap in power between them was a canyon.

Stats Updated (Princess Charlie):

Strength: 304 (374) -> 313 (383)

Free Points: 9 -> 0

If they hadn’t already been discovered, he might have waited another day or two. Maybe pushed Charlie to hunt Midnight Wardens in the Wild Zone, grind a few more levels before throwing her against a level 70 monster. But time was gone, the chance wasted. The plan had to move forward now. And he trusted her. More than that—he had a few cards hidden up his sleeve.

“Looks like all our loose ends are tied up,” he said, watching her shadowbox, fists cutting the air with her newfound strength.

She nodded once. And together, they headed toward their objective.

***

Luke stopped at the fortress gate. Charlie remained within his soul space. He had spent the last few hours sitting in meditation, refilling both stamina and mana. Now he drew the bow from his inventory. This would be his tool to dismantle the fortress alarms. He couldn’t risk alerting the Wardens too early. Stealth was everything if his plan was to succeed.

“The bow of Angelica…” he muttered, staring at it.

With this weapon, he would activate the second mechanism. He would finish what she couldn’t, complete the mission she had left behind. He took his first step inside. A crow’s harsh cry split the night. Something cut through the darkness from his right. A knife.

Luke shifted back, dodging just in time. Behind him stood a woman.

The ninja!

“Are you actually stupid?” Her voice carried irritation, sharp and clear. “I told you to wait for me before barging into this place.” She lowered her mask with one hand, flicking open a fan with the other.

Luke raised his bow, arrow drawn, his tone cold and threatening. “Tell me who you really are, and how you found me.”

She smiled faintly, snapping the fan shut.

“My name is Evangeline. Like you, I’m a fugitive from Bartholomew. And I’m also one of the four survivors who activated the first mechanism.”

***

The day before, while Luke was running through the Wild Zone, Eleanor moved briskly through the Safe Zone, playing her part as if on patrol. In truth, it was all for show. Most still believed Luke was hiding somewhere in the district, and soldiers were tearing through houses and shops in their hunt for him. Out of caution, she had switched her outfit through the system, making sure no witness could connect her with the woman who had helped him escape.

Shooting Kruger had been a crime. She knew exactly what that meant. But was the story about James being a criminal actually true?

The fact that Kruger and his assassins had gone after him inside the Safe Zone didn’t fit the narrative being spread around. Rumor had it Luke was in league with the surviving Renegades, trying to activate the mechanisms recklessly, dooming everyone in the process. Most wanted him alive, if only to learn the truth about those mechanisms. No one would kill the man who had actually managed to find them after eight long years of this tutorial. But Kruger? He had tried to kill Luke. That was suspicious as hell.

Luke had done bad things, sure. But he hadn’t killed anyone from Ronan’s camp when he left the fortress, though he had hacked off arms, legs, and fought Ronan head-on. From his perspective, he had crossed the barrier and run into a military squad trying to capture him.

The only people he killed were Kruger’s soldiers.

Those deaths stood out. And then there was the reckless stunt of sneaking into the Safe Zone, pretending to be a lumberjack. Eleanor couldn’t make sense of it. It was so absurd, so illogical, that no one even thought to look for him working right under Bastion’s nose, hidden in plain sight. It was exactly the kind of idiotic move that had kept him undiscovered for more than two weeks, while everyone else wasted their time combing the Wild Zone.

Her judgment was split. She had known James, the fool, and then discovered he was also Luke, the wanted criminal.

I’ll have to find Jack. He knows something.

The duality between his two identities was too strange to ignore. But she had seen Luke fight. The first time was near Ronan’s camp, when he clashed with her commander and she had tried to kill him with an arrow. The second was his escape from the Safe Zone. In both cases, the only ones he killed were Kruger’s men.

Eleanor hadn’t known their true identities, but their reputation was common knowledge in Bastion. Butchers. They killed for sport. No one dared question it, since Kruger was Bartholomew’s right hand. Fear was his weapon, keeping order in the Safe Zone. As long as they only targeted criminals, people tolerated it. After all, many of those assassins had once protected them from the Renegades. Everyone claimed to share the same goal: going home.

It had been four years since Eleanor was dragged into this world. Since then, she had climbed slowly through Bastion’s ranks, earning recognition for her precision with a bow. It was the only path available. If she wanted even a chance of returning to Earth, she had to stay on the “right” side. The Haven had grown comfortable in its illusion of survival. The Renegades were seen as nothing but doomed criminals. Which left Bastion, with its iron-fisted politics, as the only real option. If she tried to live as a civilian, she would be swallowed whole by apathy, like so many others.

“Search every house on this street again! Break down the doors if you have to!” a soldier barked as he sprinted past her.

Eleanor crossed the empty market. Most of the townsfolk had locked themselves indoors the moment the alarms rang. But a thought gnawed at her. Do Bartholomew and the others really have no intention of activating the mechanisms?

That question wouldn’t leave her mind, and it made too much sense to ignore. If James truly knew the location of every mechanism, why would they try to kill him outright? She had seen the assassins hunting him, and she knew them well enough to recognize their intent. They hadn’t come to knock him out. They had come to finish him. That was why she’d stepped in. She needed to understand what was really happening.

Looking back now, it all felt staged, like they had been trying from the very beginning to make it look as if James had launched some kind of attack inside the Safe Zone. Word was that Kruger had gone to talk, to negotiate. But before long, he was hurled through the wall of the inn, chaos erupted, and in the confusion the assassins moved in.

If James died during the pursuit, it would all be easy to explain. He attacked, they defended, and Bastion walked away with the clean story: the lone madman, another Marshall, stopped before he could drag everyone into disaster.

That would be the tale told. James refused to negotiate, cut down soldiers in cold blood, and had to be contained. But reality hadn’t matched the script. James hadn’t killed any of those trying to capture him. The only ones who fell were Kruger’s assassins, and their bodies had disappeared. Someone in Bastion had made sure of that. Eleanor could guess why. Maybe they didn’t want anyone knowing Kruger’s men had been beaten. Maybe they didn’t want Bastion’s image of untouchable strength to crack. Whatever the reason, the truth had been buried.

At least she knew one thing: she’d done the right thing. She’d pulled James out of the Safe Zone, kept more people from dying. Whether the story about the mechanisms was true or not, she had chosen to give him the benefit of the doubt.

More than ever, I need to find Jack Bean. He’ll know something.

She kept moving along her patrol route when something slammed into her back. The impact threw her against a wall, pain flaring through her ribs. By instinct she spun around, just in time for more bolts to tear into her. Three buried themselves deep in her stomach. She staggered, fighting to pull her bow free, when a shadow loomed in front of her.

A hand clamped around her throat. Cold steel pressed against her neck. Kruger.

“Bitch.” His voice was a growl, dripping venom.

He slammed her harder against the wall, eyes blazing.

“You think I didn’t notice?” he snarled.

“What are you talking about?” Eleanor forced the words out, her voice steady despite the agony radiating through her body.

Kruger raised the knife and drove it into the wall beside her face. His masked features were twisted, and through a tear in the fabric she glimpsed raw flesh, half-rotted, half-burned.

“Before that masked archer hit me, I marked him,” Kruger hissed. “And guess who’s carrying that mark now?”

His grip on her throat tightened, cutting off her air.

“One way or another, I’ll take a life tonight.”

He ripped the blade free. The knife arced downward. Eleanor’s eyes went wide. She tried to move, but her body was too slow, too broken. The last thing she saw was the gleam of the blade descending toward her face. Then nothing but darkness.

[User]
Write Chapter 255: The Lost Survivor
Target length: ~2000 words

[Assistant]
In the dim glow of the street, the ninja woman stood before him. The dark fabric of her clothes seemed to drink in the light of the distant torches. In one hand, she flicked a fan open and shut with lazy precision, as if bored by the tension weighing down the air.

“Evangeline?” Luke’s voice was low, wary. He had heard that name before, from Angelica herself. The memory struck sharp now, like an echo from the past.

She stepped forward. Her eyes were half-lidded, playful sparks glinting in them, an odd contrast to the knife-edge atmosphere. Instinct tightened his muscles. Luke pulled the bowstring back farther, the arrow aimed steady at her chest.

“Isn’t it obvious by now, idiot? I’m not with Bartholomew. You lived inside the Safe Zone for almost three weeks, your identity was discovered by me. If I were on his side, you’d have been exposed, or dead, a long time ago.”

His eyes narrowed.

“You still haven’t explained how you tracked me here,” he said flatly. “Not then, not at the market, even after I stripped off the tracker.”

Evangeline’s lips curved in a sly smile, as though she had been waiting for that exact question. A shadow cut across the night sky. A black crow descended with a smooth glide, perching neatly on her shoulder as if it had done so a thousand times.

“This is Jerry. My familiar.”

“Jerry!” the crow croaked, head cocking as its beady eyes fixed curiously on Luke.

A familiar. Of course.

“You didn’t need a tracker. That damned thing can follow me from the air,” he muttered.

“Exactly. I’ve known where you were since the first time we crossed paths. Jerry’s been tailing you ever since.”

Luke lowered the bow slightly, eyes locked on the bird. Jerry tilted its head back at him, unblinking. Then Luke’s grip shifted. He raised the bow again, this time, the arrow pointed straight at the crow.

“In that case, I just have to kill Jerry.”

“K-Kill Jerry?” the bird squawked, wings flaring in alarm before it clumsily fluttered off into the night.

Evangeline let out a long sigh, the sound of someone all too used to this kind of nonsense. “Fine, Jerry’s a coward. But he’ll come back eventually. And if you kill him, it’s a pain bringing him back to life.”

Luke studied her in silence for a long moment before lowering his bow once more, this time for real. Her presence was strange, layered with contradictions, but pieces of the puzzle he had been chasing were beginning to click into place.

“You’re from the first generation of this place?”

“Yes. I was eighteen when I got pulled into this tutorial. That was eight years ago. I was one of Bastion’s founders. When we entered the first fortress, there were fifty of us. We triggered a special event, fought hordes of Dead Watchmen led by a Midnight Warden. It was brutal. A massacre. In the end, only four of us survived. I was one of them, obviously.”

Her gaze hardened slightly, though her tone stayed light. “Noticed the parallel? Back then it was Wardens. Now, in the second fortress, we face another swarm, plus a Warden Captain. The difficulty’s scaled up. Like this world is adapting to us, or maybe to our stubbornness.”

Her eyes slid back to his, a playful spark returning. “So? You going to keep staring at a beautiful woman on your doorstep, or are you going to invite me in?”

Luke raised an eyebrow. “I don’t have a house. And we’re standing in the middle of the street.”

“You still don’t trust me, do you?” she said, folding her arms.

“Can you blame me?” Luke’s voice was sharp. “We barely know each other.”

Evangeline closed her fan with deliberate calm. “Fair enough.”

She stepped closer. “But I know you well, Luke of Maine.”

In an instant, the bow was up again, the string tight, the arrow aimed straight at her chest. “How the hell do you know where I’m from?”

“Because a few months ago, Angelica came to me,” Evangeline replied smoothly. “She said someone named Luke from Maine had gone missing, and she asked for my help finding him. You vanished for a month and then showed up claiming you’d gotten lost in the orc forest. Ring any bells?”

The pieces fell quickly into place in his mind. That had been during the time he had tracked the renegades and ended up stranded deep in orc territory.

“I owed Angelica a huge favor,” Evangeline went on. “One I could never repay in full. She helped me fake my death when I needed to disappear. So when she asked, I did as she wished. I started digging. To do that, I needed to know everything about you. Everything she could tell me. That way, I could trace your way of thinking. Angelica had a knack for reading people. She said you were an idiot, but not a bad one.”

She moved another step forward. “Then you came back from the dead out of that orc forest. I kept investigating, trying to figure out what had happened there. And somehow, that territory had… quieted. I had traveled through those lands before, and trust me, they were never peaceful.”

The fan flicked open again in her hand. “So I pushed further. I even went into the Orc Lord’s territory. First time in all these years I dared to do that. And then? I return, and I find out the ants invaded… and Angelica died.”

She closed the fan and took another slow step toward him. Luke shifted back, refusing to let her get too close.

“And I learn that Angelica’s killer was you. And that Paul had gone missing. Do you know what happened to him?”

Luke didn’t flinch, didn’t bother with excuses or pretty lies. His answer was plain. “He’s dead. I killed him.”

For a moment, Evangeline just studied him, weighing the words, the way he carried them.

“The story you told back at the Haven,” she said at last, “was that Angelica had been poisoned, betrayed by Paul, working under Bartholomew. I half believe it. After all, I was betrayed by Bartholomew once too.” A faint smirk touched her lips. “He thought I was Marshall’s spy at the time.”

Her story held together. Or at least, it seemed to. But Luke couldn’t ignore the gaps. Small rips in the fabric of her logic, threads she never pulled. Especially her silence about the mechanisms. If she knew so much, why hide it for so long?

“Then why didn’t you ever tell the truth about the mechanisms?” His voice cut sharp, steady. “Why keep up the lie, when you knew Bartholomew never had any intention of activating them? Why didn’t you warn anyone that he doesn’t want us leaving this world?”

Evangeline’s expression twisted into something caught between exasperation and mockery, as if the question were almost insulting.

“It’s painfully simple,” she said. “Simpler than everything else you’ve been breaking your head over.”

She paused, drifting a few steps to the side as if arranging her thoughts before setting them loose. “I’m not an idiot, Luke. You really think I could go around shouting the truth to everyone? That I’d paint a target on my back for Bartholomew, for Kruger, for every lunatic who’d rather stay chained to this world?”

She gave a bitter laugh, low and sharp. “Then there was Marshall, and the renegades… they all knew, and they all helped bury the truth. If I had opened my mouth back then, it would’ve been me against all of them. And you know what one person alone can do?”

Her gaze sharpened. “Nothing.”

Her tone softened, though the edge didn’t vanish. “Sorry, but I value survival. After I faked my death, I enjoyed my retirement. I was alive. I was free. And alive, even in hiding, beats dead and noble any day.”

Luke said nothing, his eyes locked on hers, absorbing every word.

“Back then, young padawan,” she went on, lips curling into a half-smile, “it really was just me against the Empire. There were so few people in this tutorial, and most of them were fresh recruits, barely awakened to the system.”

She spread her hands. “What’s one Jedi supposed to do alone against the whole damn regime? I had to wait, for more people to arrive, for them to grow stronger, or at least to see whether Bartholomew and Marshall would tear each other apart.”

Her jaw tightened. “And don’t think I didn’t try to trigger the second mechanism. I nearly died a dozen times in there. Alone, it was impossible. Especially once I hit the rank limit.”

“Rank limit?” Luke asked, curiosity flashing.

She smiled slyly. “The free info ends here. From now on, I only talk if Batman agrees to join the Justice League.”

Evangeline stepped back, letting the silence stretch, leaving questions dangling like bait on a hook. Luke weighed her words, trying to fit them into what he already knew, but too many gaps remained. Especially where Bartholomew and the mechanisms were concerned.

“I didn’t know back then that Bartholomew never planned to leave this world,” she admitted. “I thought his inaction was fear, that Marshall would kill him the moment they left the fortress. So I stayed neutral.”

Her voice dropped. “But Marshall’s dead now, and that bastard still sits on his throne, doing nothing. Angelica’s death weighs on me, and here we are, just us, staring down Palpatine.”

A crooked smile touched her lips. “Lucky for us, though, we’ve got a Skywalker.”

Luke ignored the jab.

“Answer me this,” she pressed. “Were you really planning to go in there alone and fight those things? What’s your brilliant plan, and why the hell did you dig that hole?”

“Secret,” Luke muttered.

She let out a long sigh. “So, allies or not?”

“Tell me something first. When did Bartholomew change? And why?”

One brow arched. “Free info again? Hate to break it to you, but the trial period’s over.”

Luke exhaled through his nose, irritation flaring but not surprising him. He was already used to her games. He studied her face a moment longer before asking, “Is it really just us two? Or do you have more?”

A mischievous smile curved her lips. With a flourish, the fan vanished from her hand. “Jerry counts. That makes three.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I. But fine, jokes aside, like I said, the Justice League already exists. You’re just the missing member, the loner making trouble all over the place. By the way, the chaos you stirred in the Safe Zone? Impressive. The only reason I took so long to find you is because Jerry lost track of you, and we thought you were still hiding there.”

“Who are your allies?” Luke pressed.

She tilted her head, expression playful. “Oh, you don’t know?”

Her voice dropped a little as she stepped closer. “Your friend Allison is with us. Practically all of Haven is. She sent me a message for you, actually. Said, ‘I haven’t forgotten the promise.’ She told me to repeat it word for word. Thought it might earn your trust, or at least make you think about it.”

Evangeline leaned back, studying his reaction. “So, what’s it going to be? Will you come with me to my hideout and meet them? Or keep playing Han Solo in the Safe Zone?”

Some of you were a little confused about who the guy was that attacked Landon. Scott 😄 You probably skipped Jonathan’s POV in chapter 215 (naughty, skipping the story huh? I’m watching you!).

And do you know what you missed in this wonderful Jonathan POV, the character I know you all love? An important reveal about the Fallen Stone Angel, Jonathan’s Familiar, and his current goal. Plus it showed that Jonathan has a pretty dangerous weapon or power in the tutorial.

[User]
Write Chapter 256: The Cursed Gift
Target length: ~2800 words
Key events: level-up occurs

[Assistant]
Luke followed Evangeline as they left that stretch of forest behind. They climbed back up through the ruins and made their way toward the city. Her hideout was farther than he expected. Instead of heading deeper into the Wild Zone toward the capital, they had to circle back toward the Safe Zone and then skirt its walls, continuing forward without ever stepping inside. Even as he trailed her, he never let his guard down. Every step could still be leading him into a trap.

“You really did make a mess back in the Safe Zone,” she remarked.

They had stopped for a moment atop the shell of a crumbling building, gazing down at the Safe Zone. From there, Luke could see the glow of torches cutting through the dark, soldiers still combing the streets as if refusing to give up the hunt. Wooden watchtowers loomed, their silhouettes broken by the figures of guards scanning for any trace of him.

“And what was it like?” he asked. “Conquering Bastion.”

The wind tugged at their clothes as they leapt down from the structure and broke into a run, weaving through shattered stone, collapsed walls, and the occasional beast wandering the ruins.

“It took almost a year,” she said, not even pausing to think. “Maybe a little less, maybe more. I don’t keep track of dates. But it was before the second wave of newcomers arrived. Imagine this place without a Safe Zone, nothing but Wild Zone, wall to wall. A nightmare. Now imagine discovering that once night fell, the Midnight Wardens appeared out of nowhere. Chaos. And on top of that, surviving at level one, alone. That was my reality when I first got here.”

Her voice dipped lower. “And the few humans you might stumble across? The kind who’d rob you, kill you, or worse. So, I had to depend on myself. For a long time.”

She gave a faint smile. “I only had my shadow to trust.”

“My thief class gave me a head start here,” Evangeline added, with just enough pride to color her tone. “Stealth, tracking, moving without a sound. I could climb a tree, grab fruit, and be gone before a pack of raptors showed up. At night, I was already holed up somewhere safe before the Wardens emerged.”

“Sounds brutal, handling all that on your own. Coming from a normal life and being dropped into this,” Luke said quietly.

“I was used to it,” she replied, her voice casual, though the words carried weight. “I’m an orphan. Since I was twelve, I lived on the streets. Honestly, it wasn’t much different from this place.”

Luke kept his eyes forward, but his fists clenched at his sides.

“Running from predators, kidnappers, abusers, that was my day-to-day. Stealing food, outrunning cops. And orphanages?” She snorted. “Worse than the streets, depending on who ran them. So, I chose the streets.”

Luke thought of his own life. If he hadn’t been taken in by the Baumanns after his mother disappeared in the tutorial, he would have ended up in one of those orphanages too.

“As for surviving here,” she continued, “after a few months in the wild, I ran into a group of survivors led by a soldier. His name was Marshall. He brought order to the chaos.”

She glanced at him briefly. “He didn’t come here alone. He had fellow veterans, their kids, also military, wives, even elders. They all landed in this tutorial together. So I joined them. And that’s when I met Bartholomew. And Kruger.”

The Safe Zone was shrinking behind them now, and in the distance ahead Luke could already make out the outline of the towering wall.

“After some time, we discovered a statue that gave us a quest. It stood before a fortress. That’s when we learned there was a way out of this nightmare: activate three mechanisms, then reach the portal inside the castle. The first mechanism was right there, inside that fortress by the statue.”

She paused for a moment, watching the empty street stretch out before them.

“The rest you already know. Fifty of the strongest walked into that fortress and faced the mission event inside. Only four of us came out alive, me, Bartholomew, Kruger, and Marshall. That’s when the Safe Zone was born, after the first mechanism was activated.”

They kept running through the ruins. By the time dawn crept in, the bells rang in the distance, and they saw the Midnight Wardens retreating into their dens.

“How much farther?” Luke asked.

“Almost there,” Evangeline replied. “For now, it’s just going to be the two of us at my hideout.”

Luke stopped in his tracks. “What do you mean?”

“Allison and a few others from Haven are on a special mission. Something that’ll help us get out of here. Not many know the details, keeps Bartholomew from sniffing it out.”

He stared at her in silence, his gaze heavy, unblinking.

She raised her brows, suddenly uncomfortable. “What? Gonna just keep glaring at me like that?”

“In that case, I’m out.” He turned his back.

“Wait, what? Where are you going?”

“Leaving.”

“Hey!” She rushed after him, frustration sharpening her voice. “You’re really walking away?”

Luke turned, his expression like stone. “Yes. You lied to me. If a partnership starts with lies, I’d rather work alone.”

Her eyes widened, just for a second, before the sarcasm returned like a mask. “I didn’t lie. I said I’d take you to meet them. I just didn’t say when.”

“Oh, right. Not lying, just omitting every important part. And letting me walk into an empty burrow.”

“They’ll all be there once their mission’s done. Meanwhile, I’ve been babysitting the Safe Zone, keeping an eye on you, ready to drag you out if you got yourself caught. Instead of enjoying my hideout, I had to shadow you. You should be grateful.”

“I don’t owe gratitude for something I never agreed to.” He gave her one last look before turning away. “When they actually get back, I’ll swing by.”

Evangeline sighed. “I told you my tragic backstory. You could at least give me some credit.”

“I grew up with a family of lawyers. We’ve seen every kind of con artist there is. It’s always the same trick, spin a sad tale, earn sympathy, then go for the con. I’m not falling for it. Goodbye.” He jogged off without looking back.

She darted ahead and blocked his path. “The idea wasn’t mine. Take it up with Princess Allison when she comes back. And for the record, it’s your fault things had to be rushed, the order was to kidnap you if necessary.”

“Princess?” Luke frowned.

“Sort of. She’s heir to one of those families that run the world,” Evangeline said with a shrug.

“Right. Forgot about that little detail. The word ‘princess’ just… reminded me of someone,” he muttered, resuming his stride.

“You’re really leaving?” she called after him.

“I am.” He shrugged and kept walking.

“I bet you’re just nervous about seeing them again,” she teased, the sarcasm curling back into her voice.

“You’re wrong.”

“Oh no, I can see it. You’re nervous.”

“Think whatever you want.” He vaulted over the ledge of a crumbling house and dropped into the street below.

She followed, keeping pace at his side. “Or maybe you’re nervous about seeing Allison again?” she asked, her tone sly, almost sing-song.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Luke said flatly, striding forward without slowing.

“Hm… looks like I was right,” she said, examining her nails with exaggerated boredom. “You know, this sort of thing doesn’t happen by accident. You met her out there in the frozen desert, outside the walls, just the two of you stranded for days, any minute one of you could’ve died. Then you ended up here, where trusting anyone is a gamble. Feelings happen. Especially for a virgin boy like you.”

Luke narrowed his eyes. “Did she tell you how we got here, or did you pry around until you figured it out?”

Evangeline met his stare. “You really don’t believe I’m working with Haven?”

“I do believe it. But honestly, I’m not in the mood to be interrogated or forced to prove myself to anyone. I’m not going to beg for friendship or jump through hoops to show I’m trustworthy. I just want to get the mission done and get out of this place. When they come back, then I’ll talk to Allison.”

She let out a long sigh. “You really are an idiot.” Evangeline pointed toward a well tucked away between the ruins. “That’s the entrance to my hideout. Now stop brooding, Snow White. We need to sit down and plan. They’ll be here in a day or two at most, and we have to decide our moves before we trigger the second mechanism. Because that means facing Bartholomew.”

She strode to the well, flipped open the hatch covering it, and started down.

“We’ve been walking past your hideout this whole time?” Luke asked.

“Yep.”

“And why?”

“Because I wanted to make sure you knew they weren’t waiting inside like it’s some kind of welcome-home party.” She was already halfway down the steps when she glanced back. “So, are you coming in to talk strategy and swap intel, or do you plan on standing out there sulking all night?”

Luke exhaled, peering down into the dark. Then he followed.

“Lock it from the inside,” her voice called up from below.

He slid the bolt shut and descended. At the bottom, a narrow tunnel opened in the stone wall.

“Come on already, Snow White,” she teased.

Luke ducked inside. Behind them, Evangeline reached out, extended her ring into the well’s opening, and began pulling chunks of rubble, planks, and broken beams from her storage. She piled the debris until the passage looked sealed again.

Turning back to him, she dusted her hands. “There. Usually I just slip through the gaps with my shadow skill, but since I was dragging you along, I had to clear it first.”

Her hideout opened into a surprisingly spacious chamber, carved out and patched together into something that looked halfway like a home. A battered sofa sat crooked in the corner, opposite a bed piled with mismatched blankets. Rugs of every color covered the stone floor. Tables were cluttered with sketches, half-finished designs, and stacks of books. Weapons of all kinds leaned against the walls, clearly scavenged trophies. Dozens of clothes hung on makeshift racks, some neat, others draped haphazardly, with wigs perched like silent guardians on crude stands. Needles, spools of thread, and bolts of fabric were scattered everywhere.

Luke took it all in. “What is all this?”

She was already changing, her ninja garb vanishing with a shimmer from the system. With a casual flick, she tugged something from her head. A blonde wig. She hung it neatly beside the others, revealing her true hair: black, and natural. She shook it loose.

“Much better.”

Luke couldn’t help staring as she slipped the wig into place on its rack.

“My profession’s tailoring,” she said with a smirk, sinking into a chair. “I picked up skills to help me build disguises. Every piece here? Made by me. Clothes, wigs, props. Don’t judge me, James Bond, but I still sneak into the Safe Zone sometimes. Disguises make that possible.”

Luke wandered among the mannequins draped with outfits, running a hand across the stitching. “Impressive.”

“Yes, go on, praise my work. It was a pain to pull off,” she said, standing and moving toward a makeshift counter.

Evangeline pulled a lit torch from her inventory and touched it to the firepit until flames caught. “There’s airflow down here. The smoke from the wood and the smell of cooking don’t get trapped,” she explained, pointing to small vents carved into the stone wall.

“This place… it’s part of one of those dungeons where the Dead Watchmen patrol, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I converted one of the side chambers.”

He let out a low whistle. “Me and Allison ran into one of these.”

“They’re only near the outer walls, connecting inside to out. I sealed the entrance to this room.” She tugged open a set of curtains, revealing a collapsed passage choked with rubble. “At least the air still finds a way in, wherever it’s coming from.”

Then she let the curtain fall back into place. “The corridors deeper in are completely sealed. No chance one of those undead knights hears us down here.”

Luke’s gaze drifted toward the wigs hanging neatly in rows. “How did you even make those?”

“At first? With real hair. Back when I worked as a hairdresser in Bastion, I started saving what I cut. Later, I picked up a profession skill that lets me transform fabric into hair. After that, I could make my own wigs.”

She stepped closer, narrowing her eyes at him. “By the way, how did you bleach your hair blonde? It’s naturally black.”

“I made the dye myself, using what I know from my profession.”

Her eyes widened. “Seriously? Can you make some for me? Like… a lot? Can you dye fabric too? Could you do it right now? What colors can you produce? How much at once? Do you know how to make hair relaxers? Shampoo? I could help with the process! Will you teach me?”

The questions tumbled out so quickly she was almost tripping over herself.

“Whoa, slow down.” He pulled his hands free when she grabbed them in excitement.

“You’re really not going to help your friend with some dyes?” She gave him a pitiful, wide-eyed look.

“Don’t make that face. You look like a stray cat begging for scraps.”

“I have to use every trick I’ve got,” she replied, smirking as her usual expression slid back into place.

She dropped into a chair, pulling a few cans from her storage. “I’ll make breakfast. In the meantime, you can tell me exactly how you brewed that miracle dye.”

She hummed while she set the cans in a pot of water and hung it above the fire.

“Let’s stay focused,” Luke cut in. “The goal is finishing the tutorial.”

She settled into a chair, pulling out needles, scraps of fabric, and a spool of thread.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Sewing. Talk while I work.”

He let out a long breath. “You really don’t take things seriously…”

“I take them very seriously. I’m making a new shirt. Ask whatever you want while I stitch.” Her hands were already moving, the needle flashing as she pulled the thread tight.

“Where’s Allison? This expedition of hers—where is it, and why? What does it have to do with getting out of this tutorial?”

Evangeline glanced up from her work. “It has everything to do with it. What level are you in your class?”

He hesitated, weighing whether to answer.

“Have you reached level fifty in your race yet?” she pressed.

The questions hit like a trap. To reveal his race, class, and profession levels would be to reveal far too much. He tried to parse her angle before responding, but she’d asked so directly it left no room for excuses.

“I’ll be blunt,” she continued. “At some point, you won’t be able to level up anymore. Not your class, not your race, not even your profession.”

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“You thought leveling was infinite? There’s a ceiling.”

A ceiling. A damn level cap?

“It applies to everything. Race, class, profession. Eventually, no matter how many powerful monsters you kill, the experience just stops sticking. I’ve hit the cap across the board, and even then I don’t trust myself to survive the event tied to the second mechanism. The third one? Or the castle? Forget it.”

The revelation hit harder than he wanted to admit. His plan had been clear: clear the fortress alone, grow stronger, push toward the capital. But if there really was a limit—and if it was low compared to the monsters ahead—then…

Then I’m stuck in this world. No matter how much I grind, I’ll never be strong enough to break through. Unless…

“Now you see my side of things,” she said quietly. “That’s why I’ve been trapped here eight years. The cap is set too low for one person to face everything alone. On our own, we’re weak.”

He looked at her sharply. “So what is the cap? At what level do class and profession stop giving skills?”

Her sewing slowed, and she fixed him with a steady look. “It’s not just the cap. There’s also a… gift that comes with reaching it.”

“A gift?”

“A Rank skill.”

[User]
Write Chapter 257: War in the Shadows
Target length: ~3500 words
Key events: dungeon content

[Assistant]
Evangeline explained the concept of limits to Luke. It wasn’t exactly a level cap, but something tied to the rank of his race. Since they were both still at Rank F, the ceiling was clear: Race Level capped at 50, Class Level at 60, and Profession Level at 60. No matter how many monsters he slaughtered or how many acres of farmland he cultivated, he wouldn’t gain a single point of experience beyond that.

“This is bullshit!” He shot to his feet, pacing furiously across the room. “A damned limit!"

I doubt I would’ve been able to beat the Beast Lord in a duel without that trick, even if I’d maxed everything out.

Then a darker realization struck him. He slumped back down, scowling. Franky’s snake had only been the second Lord. There was still the third one, stronger than the last. And after that, the Witch… and finally, the King.

With a grimace, Luke pulled up his system interface.

Name: Luke

Level: 47

Race: Half-Demon

Rank: F

Class: [Demonic Predator (Lvl 57)]

Profession: [Guardian Botanist of Mother Freya (Lvl 60)]

Titles: [Dark Lord]

Bloodline: [Bloodline of the Dark Demon]

Health Points (HP): 3913/4130

Mana Points (MP): 4570/4570 (4620)

Stamina: 2547/2570 (2770)

Soul Fragments: 87/1000

Stats:

Strength: 658

Agility: 478 (528)

Endurance: 257 (277)

Vitality: 413

Perception: 434 (444)

Intelligence: 457 (462)

Free Points: 0

Class Skills: [Advanced Blade Handling (Uncommon)], [Profane Knife Throwing (Uncommon)], [Twin Blade (Common)], [Basic Dark Dash (Rare)], [Basic Blood Regeneration (Rare)], [Predator’s Mark (Rare)], [Demonic Blade Dance (Rare)], [Wraith Form (Ultra-Rare)], [Force Infusion (Rare)], [Advanced Stealth (Rare)], [Assassin’s Tracking (Rare)], [Mana Infusion (Rare)], [Basic Archery (Common)]

Profession Skills: [Herbology of Mother Freya (Ancient)], [Precise Extraction (Common)], [Basic Potion Crafting (Common)], [Corrupted Plant Growth (Rare)], [Plant Sensor (Uncommon)], [Botanical Bond of Mother Freya (Rare)], [Seed Conversion (Rare)], [Plant Manipulation of Mother Freya (Rare)], [Corrupted Blood of Mother Freya (Ultra-Rare)], [Thorn Mutation (Uncommon)], [Soil Analysis (Uncommon)], [Botanical Purification (Uncommon)], [Acid Blood Arrow (Epic)]

Race Skills: [Identify (Common)], [Demonic Perception (Uncommon)], [Dark Blood (Uncommon)], [Meditation (Common)], [Demonic Endurance (Uncommon)]

Bloodline Skill: [Servant of the Dark Lord (Unique)]

Servants: [Princess Charlie (Skeleton) - Lvl 28], [Servant Slot Available]

Looking over his levels, Luke felt a cold weight settle in his chest. He was practically brushing up against the limit. He was level 47, close to 50. His class already 57, creeping toward 60. His profession, maxed out. No more levels. No more new skills. Grinding further was pointless.

“There’s no way I can take on what’s coming by myself,” he muttered, eyes narrowing.

Especially not with the Midnight Lord and the Midnight King as mandatory bosses in this so-called tutorial.

“I told you,” Evangeline said softly.

“Then tell me this. Can we evolve our rank? The cap applies per rank, right?” Luke asked.

Artemis remained silent. Evangeline already knew the truth about the talking necklace, but Luke asked mentally anyway. The reply came in her clipped, dry voice: 'At my current knowledge level, I don’t have that information. Remember? They nerfed me intellectually.'

Which meant Luke was left in the dark.

“It is possible to evolve rank, and keep leveling,” Evangeline finally said.

“You know how?”

“It’s not about knowing how. The rank limit exists so our bodies don’t explode from too much power crammed inside. When you evolve to a higher rank, your body strengthens and adapts. It adjusts to handle the attribute boosts, the mana surge, and everything else.” She hesitated. “At least… that’s how I learned it, back then.”

Luke nodded slowly. It lined up with things he’d read in Samael’s library. “Our human bodies, every time the race level goes up, they get blasted with that wave of mana during instant regeneration. Plants do something similar, absorbing ambient mana and evolving into magical species. We’re just doing it with our flesh instead of roots and leaves. That regeneration bonus is how the body becomes magical.”

And then a thought hit him, sharp and dangerous.

“Wait. If we hit the cap, we lose that benefit. No more instant regeneration, because there’s no level-up trigger anymore.”

He went still.

“If I break bones… lose a limb…” His voice turned low. “That’s it. Game over.”

Or if my body got eaten away by the Beast Lord’s acid…

“Now you understand why I had to wait here all this time? Alone, there was nothing I could do.”

She exhaled, shaking her head. “I had to wait for new people to show up, and most of them were just civilians. They’re terrified of leaving for the Wild Zone, let alone setting foot in the capital.”

Her eyes narrowed. “So I waited, hoping that once Marshall and Bartholomew killed each other, something could finally be done. Honestly, I was betting on Marshall. After he got his revenge, I figured that bastard and the other renegades would finally focus on getting out of this place.”

Luke weighed the information against what he already knew. “Do you think Marshall and the others hit their cap?”

“They spent years living like lunatics out in the forest.” Her tone hardened. “They could’ve planned to take down the Orc Lord or something, but they chose not to. So the Safe Zone would keep being attacked.”

She paused, almost grimacing. “I don’t know if they all managed to hit the rank limit, but at the very least they maxed their professions. After that, they tried to invade Bastion… and lost.”

Luke’s thoughts darkened. So Marshall had held back on purpose, just as he suspected. Their hatred was personal. Killing the Orc Lord would’ve weakened his small army, and Luke doubted the other cutthroats he recruited would’ve risked it. Only his core group, the ones who shared his grudge against Bartholomew, would have gone along. But that left Marshall trapped at a crossroads: lose his people in the second fortress, blow the capital’s gate too soon, or kill the Orc Lord and sacrifice his best men. Either way, Bartholomew would come out ahead.

As insane as it was, the strategy of letting monsters keep hammering the Safe Zone was clever. Marshall kept wearing them down, sabotage after sabotage, slowly cutting down Bartholomew’s soldiers. Then, when the Safe Zone was already weakened and the next great wave of monsters arrived, he struck the fortress. But Bartholomew defeated him. Obsession and short-sighted planning had led Marshall straight into ruin.

“So basically,” Evangeline said, “my plan to hitch a ride when Marshall and his crew decided to finish the tutorial went straight down the drain. Because Bartholomew won that little game instead.”

Luke gave her a hard look. “Then tell me. How do you rank up? From Rank F to Rank E. Do you know?”

“I do. When I hit level fifty with my race, I got a notification saying I’d already fulfilled part of the requirements. There’s a whole list of them for rank evolution. But one of them I’m still missing.”

“And what’s that?”

“Completing the tutorial.”

Luke let out a sharp, sarcastic laugh. “What a joke…”

“I imagine it’s supposed to be the easiest requirement. Back on Earth, everyone finishes the tutorial.”

“Except we drew the short straw and landed in this insane version. Which means we’re all stuck in the same sinking boat.”

So one requirement was completing the tutorial. But what about someone born from parents who already had the System? That person wouldn’t get sent to a tutorial at all. They’d just be born with their own System. Luke guessed the requirement probably didn’t apply in those cases.

Still, did Earth even have as many monsters, or opportunities to level, as this place? That question had been gnawing at him. This tutorial was special in a hundred ways, but one of the biggest was how fast it let people grow. He’d taken less than a year to reach his current point, right near the peak of Rank F. Sure, it helped that he’d been reckless enough to constantly throw himself into life-or-death situations, but more cautious people had still made it, just slower, safer. People like Bartholomew, or Kruger.

How many years would it take an ordinary person to reach the same level of strength?

Evangeline cracked open one of the cans of food and slid it across the wooden table to him.

“How long did it take you to hit the rank cap? I mean, aside from the Wardens, most monsters here are pretty low-level. I can’t imagine how long you’d have to keep grinding them just to max out.”

“I’ve been stuck in this place for eight years.” Her voice carried both weariness and defiance. “I hit the limit about two years ago. It was a mix of everything, clearing out dungeon creatures, and, yes, fighting humans who had crossed the line.”

She tilted her head, watching his reaction. “Did you know killing humans gives far more experience? At least at our stage of power. Race, class, and profession all at once.”

Her lips pressed into something closer to a grimace than a smile. “Honestly, I tried a bit of everything. I fought so much in this dungeon that I even managed to come out of it with a familiar.”

Six years. That’s how long it had taken Evangeline to crawl her way to the peak of Rank F. A painfully slow progression. Luke compared it to his own path. He’d taken mere months to reach the same point. Eight months, counting the time he’d wasted just exploring Haven, and later the capital, where he’d even allowed himself a short vacation.

Months for him. Years for her. The gap was staggering. The difference between the Luke who arrived in Haven and the one sitting here now was a chasm.

Which meant Kruger and Bartholomew had to be at least on par with him. That realization was worth more than gold. In terms of raw strength, he’d finally caught up. Sure, class styles varied, and each had their own tricks, but he’d reached what he wanted: equal footing with his enemies.

“Reaching race level fifty is a trap,” Luke said, his tone sharp with analysis. “The instant regeneration stops the moment you stagnate. If I were in your place, I would’ve considered holding back. Keeping a few race levels in reserve, just in case something went wrong.”

Evangeline’s lips curved into the faintest smile. “Hitting the rank limit was my goal. It was the only way I had any chance of progressing in the tutorial. Back then, I thought maybe I could take another shot at the second fortress on my own. And if we really want to escape this hell, we’ll need as many people as possible at that level of power.”

“Even at the cost of losing complete regeneration?”

“The reward in exchange is power.”

Luke’s eyes narrowed. “Attribute points?”

He knew the truth. Once you pushed past level fifty in both class and profession, attribute bonuses skyrocketed. That surge had been the single biggest reason he’d become so much stronger.

“Or is this where the epic skills you mentioned come in?” he asked.

She nodded.

“If you max out everything in a rank, you gain three powerful skills: one epic skill from your class, another from your profession, and a special rank skill once your race hits fifty. If each of us can secure those three, then together we’ll have the strength to face the final threats of this tutorial. And after that, we return to Earth.”

***

Jonathan stared at Landon’s corpse sprawled across the ground. In his hand, he held a mask of flesh, Scott’s face, stolen long ago with the help of his familiar’s power.

“You shouldn’t have ratted out Luke,” he muttered to the dead man. “I needed that bastard distracted a little longer.”

He shoved the body into his storage item, then let out a long, tired sigh. One by one, he swept the equipment off the table and stored that too. He’d been tracking Luke for days now, ever since the man reappeared at the second fortress after leaving the capital.

The moment Jonathan learned Ronan had crossed paths with Luke again, he rushed straight for the fortress of the second mechanism. He knew Bartholomew would never waste resources posting guards there. From what Jonathan had pieced together, only Kruger and Bartholomew knew the fortress’s location, and both were too paranoid to share it. Not even Bartholomew had told Jonathan, and he had kept pretending he didn’t know.

He only had that knowledge thanks to Luke and Allison themselves. They’d revealed the location back during Haven, on the night of the ant invasion, the same night Jonathan had lost Angelica. He’d scoured the region countless times since, searching for Luke. But once he learned Luke had returned, Jonathan knew exactly where he’d go. Either looking for Allison Rhiannon… or heading straight to the fortress.

Banking on that, Jonathan took the gamble and waited at the fortress. Bartholomew had no idea Luke understood the truth about the mechanisms. The so-called King of Bastion was too paranoid, too fearful of losing Kruger’s protection. He trusted no one, not even his allies, and his constant dread of death blinded him to certain dangers. That paranoia created the gap Jonathan needed. Bartholomew refused to spread word of the second fortress, refused to let anyone watch over it. He kept Kruger leashed at his side out of fear. And in that mistake, Jonathan found his chance.

When Ronan returned claiming he’d fought Luke, Jonathan went straight to the fortress. He spent an entire day hidden in a house nearby, until at last he saw him, his old “friend,” Luke, staring up at the stone walls. The man looked different now, his hair longer, his presence heavier. Jonathan watched him take down two crimson tyrannosaurs with nothing but a kukri throw, as casually as if he were slaughtering sheep. In that moment, he knew the rumors were true. Luke had become terrifyingly strong.

Jonathan marked him with a tracking skill and kept watch as he entered the fortress. That was when things grew interesting. Out of nowhere, a knight appeared at his side, Charlie. He could’ve sworn she was dead. Then he realized what had really happened: she hadn’t walked up to Luke, she had emerged from him. A familiar. Another secret, buried deep. Luke was hiding more than Jonathan had imagined.

He stayed hidden, waiting, observing. Hours passed before a woman in black, dressed like a ninja, appeared at the fortress’s entrance. Jonathan watched as she cursed out loud, eyes locked on the ground, on the tracks leading inside. She knew Luke had gone in.

And she wasn’t alone. A raven perched at her side, her familiar. Jonathan leaned forward, curious. Who was she? For a moment, he even wondered if she was one of Bartholomew’s assassins. He knew Kruger’s network well, yet something about her didn’t fit. He studied her all the same, suspicious, until the truth became clear.

When Luke finally emerged from the fortress and spoke with her, Jonathan understood. She wasn’t Bartholomew’s pawn at all. She was something else entirely.

He watched her step partway inside, then retreat into the shadows. Moments later, Luke emerged. And that’s when things got interesting. The ninja woman confronted him, robbed him clean, and he chased her down.

When they finally split paths, Jonathan noticed something else: Luke was still being tracked. The woman’s raven circled above, keeping its unblinking watch. Jonathan let them both get ahead, tailing from a safe distance. His mercenary tracking skill left him an edge, no matter how far the target ran, the mark left behind faint, glowing traces only he could see. Hours passed that way. It wasn’t easy. More than once, he thought he’d lost Luke entirely. The man barely left footprints, moved without sound, and sometimes sprinted with unnatural speed.

Jonathan’s saving grace was the raven. As long as he kept an eye on it, following became simple.

The trail led him to a ruined church deep in the Wild Zone. The bird lingered there for hours, staring at the structure, before finally vanishing, likely to alert its mistress. Jonathan never moved. He stayed outside, watching the church, the thought gnawing at him: walk in and kill Luke right then and there. But reason stopped him. Luke’s strength was no longer in question. Charging in meant certain death.

So he waited. Then something strange happened. The mark he had placed on Luke vanished. For a moment, panic flared. Had Luke died? But then Jonathan remembered. Kruger had pulled a similar trick once. The phantom assassin had stripped the mark away and even mocked him for it.

Why hadn’t Luke done it sooner? That was what unsettled him. The possibility that he had been lured here on purpose crawled beneath his skin. Hours later, Luke finally emerged from the church, but his hair was blond now, and an eyepatch covered his face.

The days that followed turned into a game of shadows. Jonathan tailed him relentlessly, keeping his distance but never letting him slip away. More than once, he considered tipping off Bartholomew, but the thought curdled in his chest. He didn’t want the King of Bastion winning every hand. No, he wanted all of his enemies to fall, every last one. So he kept Luke for himself.

Close surveillance turned personal. His familiar’s gift allowed him to swap faces at will. That trick let him shadow Luke up close, sometimes walking the same streets, even renting a room at the very inn Luke stayed in.

And one night, he pushed his luck further. He followed Luke into a tavern, only to find him laughing, competing in knife throws with a woman like some charming rogue. The sight made Jonathan’s blood boil. Angelica’s face flashed in his mind. He knew, he knew, that bastard must have used the same tricks on her. That’s how Luke had stolen her away from him.

Fury coiled inside him. Jonathan stepped outside, peeled away the disguise he wore, and reentered the tavern as himself. He was ready to confront him right then, to tear the mask away. But something in him hesitated.

Moments later, Luke left the tavern in a rush. Had he seen him?

For days afterward, Jonathan cursed himself, convinced he’d made a fatal mistake, that he had shown his hand and Luke would vanish beyond his reach again. But nothing happened. The man stayed. He kept his routine. He even picked up work as a lumberjack.

That was when Jonathan began to move. He watched Luke playing lumberjack, and under the face of Scott, he hired Landon’s services. Months of working with Kruger and leaning on his familiar had taught him plenty about Bastion’s underworld. With the skill to swap faces, Jonathan had infiltrated gangs, smuggling rings, even positions inside Bastion itself, always under their noses. It was through that network he learned that some Bastion soldiers ran their own criminal outfits, Landon being one of them.

His plan for Luke carried a double edge. He wanted to measure Luke’s strength, and more importantly, test the skills of his familiar, Charlie. That was why he brought Landon into it. On the day of the kidnapping, Jonathan was there, hidden in the forest, watching from a distance as Landon’s men captured Luke. He couldn’t risk getting too close, but he caught glimpses of Charlie in action. And what he saw confirmed it: if he ever intended to kill Luke, he’d first have to deal with her. She was dangerous. More than dangerous. She wore the helm and breastplate of a Midnight Warden. Jonathan had no idea how a familiar could equip something like that, but if she was humanoid enough, maybe it was possible.

Jonathan had planned to kill Landon afterward, once he’d gathered all the information he needed. But Landon ruined everything. He went and exposed Luke’s disguise as James. That wasn’t the outcome Jonathan wanted, though deep down he knew Luke would slip away somehow. He always did.

If time had taught him anything, it was that the bastard had a talent for survival. He’d once left Luke at the mercy of a Midnight Warden with nothing but scraps of power, and the man still crawled back alive.

Now, standing outside that dark house, Jonathan shoved Landon’s body into his storage item. Then his slime familiar spread across his face, molding into new skin. A different face stared back at him in the reflection.

“I’d wager things are about to get interesting,” Jonathan whispered, his voice now identical to Landon’s. This was his new mask.

He knew Luke would eventually activate the second mechanism. He had tried once before and failed for some reason, but when he succeeded, war between him and Bartholomew would be inevitable. And when that happened, while both sides were locked in their clash, Jonathan would be there. Close. Wearing a new face. Right where Luke least expected him.

“I’ll strip everything from him, right in front of his eyes.”

Allison. Charlie. Anyone Luke cared about, they would die. For now, he would remain in the shadows, waging his silent war. With a smile tugging at his lips, Jonathan walked away, already plotting how to weave his next plan into motion.

[User]
Write Chapter 258: The Demon and the Dragon
Target length: ~4100 words
Key events: combat-heavy

[Assistant]
Luke understood where she was going with this. “Someone with three epic skills… could go very far in the tutorial. Well, two epic skills, plus that extra rank skill”

“That’s exactly why I want as many people as possible at that level of power. For the challenges ahead, it’s practically mandatory. How do you expect us to get through the third mechanism event, and then the castle, if we’re dragging weaklings along? Epic skills are how we’ll dominate this tutorial.”

For the first time, things were starting to click for him. The rank limit finally made sense now, especially paired with the reward of epic skills. Out of the three, he had already secured one.

I got Acid Blood Arrow, an absurdly strong power. And there are still two more skills waiting. I’ll need to choose carefully.

He stared at the glowing system interface, his eyes fixed on his epic profession skill. An offensive force unlike anything else he possessed. The strongest skill in his arsenal, aside from Mana Infusion, but that one depended on having a weapon strong enough to channel it. Acid Blood Arrow, though, was pure destruction. Yet it was tied to his profession, a category never meant for offense in the first place. Which begged the question: what would his class-based epic skill look like? And since it came from his Demonic Predator class, every part of it would exist for one purpose, killing. It had to be something devastating.

His precious arrow had been born from scraps of weak skills: Plant Growth, Mother Freya’s Blood, Dark Blood, Thorn Mutation. On their own, they had been laughably minor, practically useless for battle. Thorn Mutation was designed to sharpen plants for gardening, and yet now it served as the foundation for a deadly weapon, shaping the arrow’s razor tip. If something so trivial could evolve into Acid Blood Arrow, what kind of nightmare would his class skill become?

Then something clicked. “You said there’s another skill you get at race level fifty, right? I thought the system stopped granting anything after that.”

She shrugged. “Don’t ask me to explain the system’s logic. That one came when I maxed out everything, race, class, and profession. I didn’t choose it, it just appeared. It felt… personalized, like the system itself tailored it for me. And it wasn’t even the same rarity as the others. Mine is Rank F.”

That detail was gold. Immediately, his thoughts turned to Bartholomew and the enemies in Bastion. No doubt they had their own epic skills. Kruger almost certainly did.

“Alright then, Snow White. Let’s talk about what you saw past that barrier,” Evangeline said.

“Snow White?” Luke frowned. “Why do you keep calling me that?”

“Because you’re pale as death. With that face, you look like some porcelain doll.”

“I can’t tell if that was supposed to be a compliment…”

She sat down beside him, smirking. “What you’re missing is grit. Eat more. Put on weight. Build some muscle. Grow a beard, cut that hair. You’ll do better with women.” She gave him a once-over. “And dress better while you’re at it. You look like a homeless nomad.”

“That’s not the point,” he muttered.

“There’s always time to talk fashion.”

He exhaled through his nose. “And what about your fetish for dressing up like a ninja?”

Her smile widened. “That’s my class. I evolved from Thief into Shadow Kunoichi.”

Evangeline pressed a finger to his chest, trailing upward slowly. With her other hand, she tugged at the collar of her shirt, revealing the curve of her breasts. “What do you think of this? Care to sneak a peek?” she whispered seductively against his ear.

Luke caught her wrist and twisted hard.

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” she cried out, wincing in pain. “Let go of my hand!”

He released her. “I’m not falling for your tricks.”

She stood, flicking open a fan with a snap. “Female ninjas are trained in seduction. It’s one of the advantages of my class. I know exactly what to say, how to move, how to make my voice sound more alluring. Body language, tone, presence… I can make any man I want fall in love with me.”

“Who would fall for you? Certainly not me.”

Her eyes lingered on him as she traced her hand along the curve of her own body. “Funny… that’s not what your heart is saying.”

She leaned closer, fingers sliding under his chin. “From the moment I first saw you, I was drawn to you. That quiet restraint of yours pulls me in. What do you say we continue this conversation…” her voice dipped into a whisper, “…under the sheets?”

“As I already told you, I don’t fall for tricks.”

Her seductive mask slipped. Frustrated, she began pacing. “I swear I used all the magic words that should make a virgin boy like you tremble.”

Grabbing a notebook, she started scribbling. “Maybe it’s the way I say it. Do I need to be less direct? Maybe shy works better in certain scenarios…”

“I’m not your lab rat, you know.”

With a flick of her hand, she closed the notebook and stored it away.

Then her fingers slid to her shirt, unbuttoning slowly. Her voice softened, timid now, a different shade entirely. “The truth is… I’m nervous. This would be my first time. But if it’s with you… I’d accept it.”

“You do realize I heard you thinking about changing your approach, right?”

She huffed and dropped back into her chair, scooping a spoonful of beans from the can. “Anyway, that’s how Kunoichis operate. A class that blends espionage, theft, assassination, and seduction.”

Luke dug into his own can of food in silence.

“Still, admit it,” she teased, “not even a little flutter in your chest? Not even a blush?”

“No.”

“Seriously? Why not?”

He leveled a look at her. “Because you don’t have anything that attracts me.”

“And what is it that attracts you in a woman that I lack?” she asked, notebook and pencil already in hand.

‘Big breasts. Maids. Elves.’ Artemis’s voice chimed dryly in his thoughts.

For a brief second, Luke wanted to crush the necklace in his hand.

“Remind me why the hell we’re even talking about this?” he asked.

Evangeline set the notebook aside. “You already know I’m a tailor with the Shadow Kunoichi class. I’ve reached the peak of Rank F. Maxed everything. I was courteous enough to lay my cards on the table first. As partners, you should show yours.”

“I’m not saying anything. You should’ve told me your real motive before this. I never agreed to share.”

She took another spoonful, unbothered. “I already know your class is Assassin. Princess Rhiannon told me as much, trying to convince me you could be trusted. That leaves your profession, if you have one. I need to know whether you’ll actually be useful for the plan. We’re all marching into hell together. The least you can do is tell me what you specialize in.”

“When Allison gets here, I’ll tell you my profession.”

From what Luke knew, Allison would return in just a few days, fresh from her mission against the Orc Lord.

“Did they kill the Orc Lord or not?” Luke asked.

“I don’t know,” Evangeline admitted. “Someone from the expedition dropped a note in a spot Jerry could find in the forest. The note itself was blank. That’s how we communicate.”

“That’s a bizarre method,” Luke muttered.

“The point isn’t the message, it’s the act of leaving it.” Her tone firmed. “It means they’re alive, at least, and on their way back. We can’t risk anything leaking to Bartholomew. What if he’s been watching the places we used to pass messages these past few months? Allison being a noble, and Mason working alongside her, it draws too much attention. Especially after vanishing for so long.”

She shifted in her chair. “There have been too many eyes on Haven lately. Ever since Marshall was taken out, things have been… off. Do you think Angelica was the only one targeted that night? During the ant attack, plenty of merchants and influential people died.”

Her gaze darkened. “Coincidentally, or not, they were the same ones who had their own groups planning to search for the mechanisms. Local leaders, small factions. Even some strong fighters who were actually contributing. All wiped out in one night.”

She tapped her fingers against the armrest. “Whether that was chance or something deliberate, we still don’t know. But it was strange. Very strange.”

Finally, she rose from her chair. “Once they get closer, out of the forest, Jerry can carry a letter directly to Allison. That’ll make things easier.”

***

Luke and Evangeline sat by the edge of a river, catching their breath. They’d stirred up quite the mess. Sneaking all the way to the gate that led toward the capital, they had slipped into the guard camp under cover of night. Luke had hurled a kukri charged with mana, blasting apart the barricade again, and then cloaked the chaos in a thick fog, leaving the soldiers stumbling in confusion.

After that, they ran.

The two of them bolted like madmen until their lungs burned, finally stopping only when the river cut across their path.

“We bought ourselves some time,” she said.

Their insane little plan had worked, or at least, it looked like it would. Either way, they’d pulled it off.

“You really think Bartholomew will believe I went back to the capital? That this will actually convince him?” Luke asked.

“Better than letting him keep his armies focused on the Wild Zone. If we leave him unchecked, he might send his trusted scouts to keep watch near the second mechanism while we’re there. This way, at least he’ll split his pursuit, thinking you returned to the capital.”

It was the kind of scheme the two of them only could’ve come up with while killing time, waiting for Allison and the others to return.

“And besides,” Evangeline added, “he’ll never believe we’d try something this stupid.”

“That much I’m sure of.”

Luke let out a long sigh. “Now we’ve got to march seven hours just to circle back to where we started. He’d never think we were dumb enough to pull this off, and honestly, I can’t even argue with that.”

***

Evangeline had just sent her familiar, Jerry, off with a letter for Allison. According to the raven, they’d already made it out of the deeper parts of orc territory.

“I’d say within twelve to twenty-four hours, Allison will be here,” she said.

Luke wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Part of him was grateful she’d been on an expedition far from the Safe Zone, it made him feel a little less guilty for not going after her while he wasted time chopping wood.

Evangeline moved toward the table. It was a disaster zone: spools of thread, wigs, even neatly folded underwear scattered across it. He’d tried tidying the place more than once, though only within the limits of what could actually be called “tidy.”

He’d also learned she had the habit of sleeping in nothing but bra and panties. When he complained, she told him it was his fault for staying in her house in the first place, so she wasn’t changing her habits. Luke was almost certain she did it just to mess with him.

“Let’s go over the plan again,” she said, pointing to a map.

The crude sketch showed the second fortress.

“The mechanism is right in the center. Once it’s activated, we have to be ready for the worst: the system might notify everyone, including Bartholomew. And if that happens, you can bet he’ll mobilize part of his army to come here.”

She tapped the map. “That’s why Allison, Mason, and I agreed on this beforehand. Before we seize the mechanism, a group of trusted people will head out to the Haven to bring the others here. Which is why the activation has to happen at night. That way they can cross the Wild Zone under cover of darkness, without running into Wardens at sunrise.”

Her finger traced the area around the fortress.

“This place will become a Safe Zone. Our hope is to convince anyone Bartholomew sends that this zone really is secure and that we’ve activated a mechanism. That puts him in a corner. What will his army, so desperate to return to Earth, do once they realize the truth?”

She gave a thin smile. “Either way, that’s our goal.”

She pointed to the forest next. “Part of the orc territory will fall inside the Safe Zone. And guess what? It’s filled with trees. Do you know why that’s important?”

“Because… it’s a forest,” Luke said flatly.

“Remember that river we saw?” she asked. “After eight years stuck here, I know exactly how to move hundreds of people through the Wild Zone. And believe me, it’s a lot better than digging some tunnel. My solution is simple: boats.”

“Boats?” Luke raised a brow.

She tossed him a sheet of paper. The sketch was a stick figure standing on a crooked little raft.

“Really? That’s awful. You didn’t need to draw it, I got the point.”

He slapped the grand ‘boat plan’ back down on the table.

“You worked as a lumberjack, so you already know how this goes,” she said. “We’ll harvest wood from the forest around the fortress to build boats, while another group clears out the crocodiles along the river until its end.”

Now it clicked. Luke finally understood one of the reasons the Orc Lord had been marked as a priority target. The river cut straight through orc territory. Back in Morvat’s time, this plan would’ve been impossible. But now, with the Orc Lord likely dead, using that territory as part of their strategy was finally on the table.

Evangeline tapped a crude drawing of chests on the paper. “At the same time, we’ll be collecting potions and other resources for the second half of the plan. But Allison will explain that part herself.”

Her finger slid toward the sketch of the capital. “The main group’s task was to hunt down the third mechanism. Oh, wait, scratch that. You already did the work for us.”

A faint smirk tugged at her lips.

“All that’s left is preparing to kill the serpent guarding the third fortress, and of course, bracing ourselves for whatever event the fortress triggers.”

She leaned back, considering. “My bet is that once we take down the Beast Lord, we’ll be strong enough to handle it. Not to mention the rewards we’ll get from its death.”

Luke kept silent. How was he supposed to tell her that part of the problem was already solved? The Beast Lord was dead. That left only the event itself, and it meant the end of the tutorial was closer than ever. Most of the biggest obstacles had already fallen.

“But we won’t advance until we’ve stockpiled enough healing potions,” she continued. “For you, sneaking around the capital is one thing. For a full party, it’s another story entirely.”

Luke paused, considering. “Healing potions don’t work miracles. If the second fortress was tougher than the first, then the third will be far worse.”

“Better than nothing,” she countered.

“What about a healer? Their magic can mend fractures, set bones, sometimes even regenerate organs.”

“I thought of that. Some of Bartholomew’s healers might volunteer. But would you really trust your life to one of his people?”

Luke wouldn’t. Even if a healer wanted desperately to return to Earth, there was always the chance they’d turn out to be another Paul, or a Kruger, or even Bartholomew himself, sabotaging everything just to cling to the tutorial.

“What about Thiara? She’s trustworthy,” Luke suggested.

“Thiara’s terrified of combat. She didn’t even join the expedition. She’s too valuable to risk. We’d need a healer reckless enough to follow us into certain death.”

“Like some zealot obsessed with his goddess, determined to get back to Earth just to spread her word?” Luke asked.

Evangeline frowned, thrown off. “I… suppose that would work.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips. “I think I know the perfect healer.”

***

Allison walked with the members of Haven as they returned from the expedition that had finally brought down the Orc Lord.

“What do you think happened?” Quinn asked Gilbert as they trudged along the path.

“Evangeline said we needed to get to her hideout immediately. I keep thinking maybe Bartholomew found us out,” Miranda muttered.

While they speculated, Allison remained silent. She already knew the truth. Evangeline’s raven familiar had reached her and delivered a letter. Inside was a summary of everything that had happened. Luke had reappeared after all those missing months, and not only that, he had caused absolute chaos in the Safe Zone.

Evangeline’s warning had been clear: they couldn’t go back to Haven, at least not all of them. It would draw too much attention. She and Mason, being recognizable figures, couldn’t afford to be seen. It would be too suspicious for Allison to suddenly return at the exact moment Luke launched an attack on Bartholomew’s soldiers.

If that happened, if both she and Mason resurfaced now, Bartholomew would piece things together. He would guess their intentions and order the second fortress watched, ruining any chance of surprise. Time was against them. Allison and the others would have to seize the second fortress as quickly as possible.

She had wanted to wait at least a week, to give the group time to recover. But every minute lost would only make things worse. That night, ready or not, they had to face the fortress event.

What made it worse was that Allison hadn’t managed to improve Luke’s image with Haven’s leaders. Her original plan had been simple: conquer the fortress first, then smooth things over once Luke returned. But now everything had collapsed into a handful of hours. Luke’s situation, the fortress event, both had to be dealt with at once.

In the end, they devised a bold plan, the only plan left to them. Luke would have to surrender himself to Haven’s leaders and tell his side of the story. There was no other way. What use was conquering the fortress if her friend couldn’t even live there?

It had to be done like plunging into icy water all at once: a single shock, no drawn-out hesitation, no half-truths. They owed that much to her and to Luke. Without the two of them, Haven wouldn’t even know the second fortress existed. They had been the ones to find the mechanism’s location. And without their pressure on Angelica, she never would have revealed the truth.

Allison had protected them from Bartholomew by doing something she had sworn she never would, she revealed herself as Allison Rhiannon. For the people of Haven it had been a revelation, but for her it was agony. To speak that family name aloud had cost her more than they could imagine. But because of it, Haven was safe. Because of it, no one from Bastion dared to march into their settlement and act as if they owned it.

And after that, she had nearly died killing the Orc Lord.

After everything she had done for them, surely they would do this one thing for her. If she told them to trust Luke, to protect him, then they should. They owed her that much. Without her, most of them wouldn’t even be alive. Beast Captains, Orc Captains, the Ant Queen, the Orc Lord, she had been there for every single one of those battles, fighting at their side. Why, then, couldn’t they stand by her now?

She froze for a moment, noticing the faint curl of white mist escaping her lips.

Dragon’s pride? She drew a steady breath. I need to calm down.

It was the curse of her dragon’s heart, strengthened even further by the icy draconic skills she carried. At times, her temperament flared too easily. Pride. Impatience. Harshness that cut sharper than she intended.

Her mentor’s words echoed in memory: dragons are proud, impatient, possessive, arrogant, territorial. To balance those instincts is the key. Some learn to temper them so deeply that they’re called wise. But she was still young, still closer to human than dragon, and wisdom felt far away.

“I think we’re here,” Miranda said, breaking her thoughts.

“All the wells look the same in this area. But yes, this is the one,” Quinn replied, rapping his knuckles on the hatch, firm, precise, the exact rhythm of the code.

Soon, Evangeline would emerge. And… Luke.

Strange. It had been months since she’d last seen him. Her own journey, through the wall dungeons, then into orc territory, had been so relentless that time blurred. Was it four months? Five? Long enough that she’d spent more time alongside Haven’s people than with Luke himself.

And yet, did she even consider them friends? The people of Haven called her one, but she didn’t feel it. With Luke, it was different. He was the first person she had seen after fleeing home. They had walked through hell together. But to Haven’s people, she wasn’t Allison. She was Allison Rhiannon.

The hatch creaked open, and Evangeline climbed out. The Haven members greeted her warmly, voices overlapping after so long apart. Allison barely noticed. Her eyes were locked on the dark opening, waiting. For a second, she felt something cold, an absurd thought that no one would climb out. But Evangeline glanced at her, then toward the hatch, and Allison knew. Luke appeared, hauling himself up and out of the well. After all this time… there he was.

And he looked different. Not just physically, though she couldn’t quite put it into words. His skin was still pale as snow, clearly he hadn’t seen the sun wherever he’d been hiding. His hair was longer now. His eyes were the same, sharp and unreadable. His face carried that same permanent scowl of disdain.

“What the hell is he doing here?” someone shouted.

That was her cue. Allison pushed through the crowd before anyone could do something stupid. Memories surged as she walked toward him. Was she nervous? She couldn’t tell. She also didn’t know how deeply Luke had agreed to the plan.

“Hello, Allison,” Luke said, calm. Too calm.

Hello, Allison? Really? After all this time? The last time we saw each other you knocked me out and disappeared, and that’s what you open with?

So she matched him, word for word. Calm. Cold.

“Hello, Luke.”

And then… nothing. He just stared at her in that infuriating, familiar way. The same stubborn idiot who vanished for months and left her to clean up the mess he’d made. She didn’t waste another second. In one swift motion, she pressed the blade to his throat and carried out the plan.

Oh no. That might’ve come off too cold.

But it was too late. Evangeline caught his arm.

“He can’t turn into mist if someone’s touching him,” she said quietly. “Same rule applies to me when I use shadows.”

Finally, everyone, we’ve reached the time skip! Now Allison’s and Luke’s storylines have finally converged, and I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for sticking with me on this journey.

From this point on we’re heading into completely unknown territory. Before, because of the time skip, we already knew a few things that were bound to happen. But now everything is brand new, and I can promise you plenty of exciting surprises along the way.

We’re moving into the stretch that leads toward the book’s final events. This isn’t the last arc yet, since there are still the two fortresses to activate and of course the castle. But the tutorial itself is drawing closer to its end, since, as we’ve seen, Luke is already reaching the rank’s level cap. There’s no more room for growth in that place.

And what can you expect before the book ends? Well, a lot of intense and fun stuff. I know, I sound like Saul Goodman hyping things up haha. But there’s one thing I can tease without spoiling: Luke’s Rank Skill. As we’ve learned, this kind of skill is born from both the strengths and flaws of the individual, and it will definitely be interesting once his is revealed.

Thank you so much for reading up to this point!

[User]
Write Chapter 259: The Lord Slayer
Target length: ~2500 words
Key events: dungeon content

[Assistant]
Allison stayed in one of the houses near Evangeline’s hideout. There was no way that many people could climb down the well and cram into her little room, so they had set up camp here instead. It was close to the wall, snow falling heavily outside, the air sharp with cold. Inside, though, the real chill came from the constant arguments.

“Are we seriously going to protect that bastard?” Gilbert asked, his hand tight around the hatchet he carried.

Luke had been dragged into the house as a prisoner, bound so tightly upstairs he could barely move. Most of Haven had wanted to kill him the second they saw his face. But Allison had given her order: no one laid a hand on Luke. She had unfinished business with him.

No one dared push back, because she had spoken as Allison Rhiannon. Her voice left no space for debate, clipped and authoritative. After killing the Orc Lord and saving their lives, she had earned that weight. To many, she was already a leader. They obeyed her in public. But here, in the quiet of this cramped house, the defiance bled out.

Through it all, Mason stayed silent. This wasn’t his fight; he had come too late to carry the same grudges.

Allison laid out her reasons. Why Luke wasn’t just the monster they thought he was. Why he had been as wronged as any of them. Evangeline had helped her sharpen the argument, but it wasn’t easy. Not after Luke himself had all but painted the target on his back, claiming he’d killed Angelica and threatening to cut down anyone in his way before vanishing. Explaining his side of the story was… complicated.

“Why should we listen to him at all?” Miranda asked, arms crossed.

“He killed a Warden when he was still low-level,” Evangeline said. “Then he crossed to the other side of the tutorial and survived there for months. No one else has ever done that.”

Gilbert slammed his hatchet onto the table and leaned forward, glaring at them.

“And that’s supposed to impress me? So he killed a Warden, so what? We can do that now. He went to the other side of the tutorial? Big deal. We can go too. Nothing’s stopping us anymore.”

Eugene, who had been sitting quietly in the corner, pushed himself to his feet.

“He really killed a Warden back then?” he asked, skeptical. “If he did, it was dumb luck. And even if it wasn’t, he’s nothing compared to us now. We don’t need him. Not as a guide, not for anything. He’s locked upstairs, probably pissing himself right now.”

Allison exhaled, long and tired. The arguments went in circles, no end in sight. She glanced at Evangeline and nodded toward the stairs. Enough was enough. It was time to bring Luke down and settle this before they lost the night entirely.

“From this point on, time is against us,” Allison said, her tone cutting through the noise. “We can’t waste it arguing. Don’t trust him? Fine. Then trust me. Understand this: conquering the fortress is our priority.”

Moments later, Evangeline descended the stairs with Luke in tow. The bickering didn’t stop, but Allison knew she had to put more steel in her voice. The others couldn’t be allowed to spiral.

The meeting carried on, turning to updates and the one question everyone wanted answered: what lay beyond, on the other side of the tutorial.

“What does the serpent look like? How big is it?” Gilbert asked.

They were talking about the Beast Lord.

Evangeline hesitated before answering. “In terms of length… about the size of a subway train.”

“And exactly how long is that supposed to be?” Dustin pressed.

“Somewhere between five hundred and a thousand feet,” Mason muttered, grim-faced.

“Shit,” Gilbert wiped the sweat from his brow. “The Orc Lord was bad enough. How the hell do you kill something that size?”

This Lord wasn’t just a problem, it was a nightmare, far worse than the Orc Lord had ever been. Killing that monster had already pushed them to their limits. Now they were staring at the idea of a colossal serpent. No one in the room looked confident. They all knew what it meant. They had just returned from the expedition; they knew exactly how brutal these fights could be.

“I already killed it,” Luke said.

For a heartbeat Allison thought she’d misheard him. But then she caught the faint smile on his face, the calm way he said it, too matter-of-fact to be a bluff.

He killed the Beast Lord? How?

“You really killed it?” Evangeline’s voice was level, but her eyes sharpened with curiosity.

“Yes.” No hesitation, no wavering.

“Bullshit,” Dustin, the bald giant, growled, folding his arms across his chest. “He’s lying.”

“It took all of us to bring down the Orc Lord. There’s no way he took out the Beast Lord on his own,” Gilbert added, suspicion dripping from every word.

But Allison knew. He wasn’t lying. Luke never would about something like that. He had killed it. Alone.

During her trek back through the forest, Allison had told herself she’d gloat to Luke when they finally met again, pretend the Orc Lord had been an easy kill, just to rub it in. But now, knowing he had slain the Beast Lord single-handedly, that petty competition she never voiced was already lost.

The meeting dragged on, tense and uncertain, until Luke finally stepped out of the house. Shortly after, Allison followed, and the group pressed on toward the fortress of the second mechanism. They moved through the Wild Zone in silence, careful and alert.

“You really believe he killed the Beast Lord?” Eugene asked as he caught up to her, pushing through the undergrowth at her side.

“That fang he carries is proof enough,” Allison replied. “Even if he won’t say what reward he got for it.”

“I’ve been thinking with Quinn,” Eugene said. “The monster’s a serpent. Snakes shed skin. Wouldn’t be hard to grab a piece it left behind near the capital. He could be faking it, just to impress us. Or intimidate us.”

Allison’s pace quickened. “No. He killed it. Only an idiot like him would be reckless enough to try something like that alone.”

***

They had finally reached the fortress of the second mechanism. Tonight, they would enter. Inside her tent, Allison sat alone, the faint clanging of steel echoing from outside. Smiths worked tirelessly through the cold, forging new metal shields and repairing the ones battered during the battle with the Orc Lord.

In front of her rested a massive block of ice. She had conjured it herself, shaping it with mana. Lifting her katana, she began to carve. Each strike was swift, precise, the blade slicing away layer after layer of frozen crystal.

It was one of the ways she advanced her profession as a Sculptor. She had chosen it herself, one of the few ties she still allowed between her bloodline and her craft. She’d started small, wood, then clay, eventually stone. As a magical profession, Sculpting rewarded not brute force but calm, patience, and delicate control. Skills that doubled as anchors against her volatile draconic emotions. A lumberjack split trees, a miner shattered stone, but her art was different. It demanded vision. To sculpt, she first had to see the form within, then coax it into existence.

Her dedication had granted her a mutation of profession, evolving into an Ice Sculptor. With it came new creations, new powers drawn directly from her bloodline.

[Heart of the Ice Dragon (Ancient)]: A bloodline skill passed down through the Rhiannon clan, one of the oldest among the Ice Dragons. Upon awakening this power, the heir’s heart cools, transforming into a core of eternal winter that fuels every frost-bound spell with the cruel, lethal force of draconic cold. The bearer inherits both the nobility and the ruthless chill of their kind, amplifying their magic and becoming a true heir to the legacy of the Ice Dragons.

The profession also harmonized with her class, offering techniques that sharpened her use of the katana.

Before her stood a perfect cube of ice, smoothed and polished from the larger block. Sitting cross-legged in front of it, she closed her eyes, placed both palms against its surface, and drew in a deep breath. Sweat trickled down her brow almost instantly. This was delicate work. She wasn’t cutting now; she was bending the cube to her will with nothing but magic. The cube shuddered under her touch. She clenched her jaw, lungs tight, mind screaming against the order to empty itself. The more she tried to clear her thoughts, the louder they grew.

Then an old memory surfaced. The cube cracked.

It was the image of someone from her family, a master of ice so skilled they’d developed a kind of telekinesis to control it. The cube splintered further as the memory pressed down. She remembered watching that figure conjure hundreds of blades of ice and, with a single thought, send them tearing into a target.

The cube shattered completely, scattering into shards across the floor.

The memory laughed at her. She was nothing compared to that person. At the same age, they had already achieved the extraordinary. A genius. A prodigy. And Allison… she was a shadow. That memory was one of the many reasons she despised her family.

Frustration simmered, and she pushed to her feet. Enough of that exercise. She focused instead on another.

[Ice Katana Creation (Rare)]: The Ice Sculptor can shape the essence of [Ice] into a temporary blade. While ephemeral, the weapon is as real and sharp as steel, though its power is capped at [Common]. Yet, when imbued with the ancient strength of the [Heart of the Ice Dragon], the katana burns with draconic winter, colder, sharper, deadlier than any mere conjured weapon.

She concentrated on her hand, willing the cold to gather, to solidify. It wasn’t as easy as flicking open a system menu; she had to create it herself. The spell was more like a recipe, ingredients, steps, precision.

Slowly, the shape of a katana formed. She wanted it sharper, faster, more brutal. She wanted a blade that appeared instantly, firm and unyielding. The truth was she had only forged a perfect ice katana once, against the Orc Lord, when death clawed at her throat and her dragon heart had awakened. The battlefield had been littered with grotesque ice sculptures, her rage and desperation strengthening her craft in ways she could never replicate on command.

That weapon had been born from luck, fury, circumstance. Not from steady skill. Now, she chased that perfection again. Progress by progress. Slow, but real. Sculpt, create, control, command. It was the only way forward.

***

After finishing her training for the day, Allison had to rejoin the meetings. She couldn’t afford to burn through too much mana anyway, the fortress challenge was drawing near.

When she approached the main tent, raised voices carried from inside.

“I’m here,” she said as she stepped in.

A small table was cluttered with piles of paper.

“Take one of these. I know you already have a copy, but I wrote out several more and I’m not throwing the work of my beautiful hands into the trash,” Evangeline said, sliding a sheet toward her.

Allison didn’t need to look to know what it was. For months during their expedition, the Haven group had held meeting after meeting about that same document. A transcription of the fortress event:

[Special Event: Midnight Siege]

Description:

The Midnight Wardens have sensed your presence. Your intrusion has not gone unnoticed. They remained hidden, lurking within the fortress walls, waiting for you to wander deeper into their domain. Now they march, intent on hunting down and eradicating anyone who dares defile their stronghold. Their forces, led by their commander, have begun their assault to reclaim this territory.

Objective:

Eliminate the invasion leader and secure control of the fortress.

Status:

Event in progress.

(Warning: Access to the mechanism will remain locked until the territory is fully secured. The door will only open upon completion of the event.)

“Everyone out there is reading one right now,” Evangeline remarked. “Except Luke, of course. He’s got his in the system, same as me.”

The notification only triggered once someone approached the mechanism’s gate. Anyone who stepped into the fortress without it wouldn’t even realize they’d been pulled into an event until the Wardens came for them.

“The strategy’s going to be the same as with the Orc Lord, right?” Miranda asked.

“Only this time, we add Evangeline’s epic skill into the mix,” Mason replied.

“Which means I’ll be saving your asses from a lot of trouble,” Evangeline said with a smirk as she dropped into a chair.

Dustin leaned against the wall in the corner, silent until now. He was technically a newcomer to Haven, having joined not long after Angelica’s death, but most of them already knew him. He’d even shown up a few times at the wall dungeon to lend a hand.

“My ultra-rare seismic skill will carry its weight,” he said. “My only concern is that kukri-throwing guy. He’s not going to kill us, right?” He let out a laugh.

Evangeline tossed a sketch onto the table: the Warden Captain.

“Invisibility. Backup from the other Wardens. And worst of all, he’s smart. That’s our enemy,” she explained. “The good news is you’ve all gotten stronger since the last time I saw you. So, are we going in or what? Because after eight years trapped here, patience is the one thing I don’t have anymore. I’m more eager than ever.”

All their work over the past months had been leading to this. Training until their bodies ached, growing stronger, obtaining a powerful item by killing the Orc Lord. And now, finally, stepping into the fortress.

“Let’s go,” Allison said.

***

They had gathered everyone who would enter, checked over gear, and distributed the handful of healing potions Evangeline had managed to secure. Everything was ready. Night had fallen, the sky heavy with stars, and fittingly, it was close to midnight.

The camp burned bright with firelight, torches and bonfires throwing long shadows across steel and faces. Allison had been forced to give a speech, something she hated, but there was no way around it. This was no different from the Orc Lord: just as dangerous, and this time their enemy wore armor that could shrug off most blows.

They all knew it wouldn’t be easy.

When the moment came, she shouted, and the others roared back with her. She broke into a run, leading the charge, the Haven fighters thundering after her. Luke was only a few steps behind. And the instant they crossed into the fortress, the truth settled in every heart: they would claim this place, or they would die trying.