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Chapter 278: Lucy, the Dark Lady
🕑 Added 2025-09-07 19:37:16 +0000 UTCLuke stood outside the well, training again. He had to practice shifting into mist while still in female form. The last thing they needed was for him to materialize as a man in the middle of a dress, or worse, a maid outfit. If that happened during the banquet, Allison wouldn’t be able to bail him out by triggering the necklace’s enchantment.
And honestly… he really didn’t want anyone seeing him as a guy dressed like that.
“What is it, human?” Franky’s voice hissed as Luke pulled the familiar rune from his inventory.
“Take a good look, snake,” Luke muttered. “I’m enduring the greatest humiliation of my life. I’m sharing this moment with you so you’ll understand that we both know suffering.”
The image of the serpent etched into the black stone glowed faintly. “I don’t understand. What humiliation? You look… different.”
“I turned into a woman, temporarily. See? Maybe now that you know we’ve both endured a similar kind of torment, you’ll finally agree to become my familiar.”
A tongue-clicking sound crackled from the stone. “And why is that humiliating to you? You only look like a female human rat. What of it?”
Luke rubbed his forehead. “Fair point. To you, humans are rats. So I guess gender doesn’t really matter.”
“I’m not falling for your tricks, human,” the snake said coldly. “Changing your appearance won’t make me your friend. I hate you. I always will.”
Before the familiar could rant further, Luke shoved the stone back into his inventory.
“Impressive, Luke,” Artemis chimed in dryly. “A snake is more evolved than you, and its society doesn’t even care about gender.”
He let out a long sigh. That had backfired beautifully.
Luke pulled out another item: the angel’s mask. Gray stone, cracked and veined like old marble, carrying the memory of that brutal battle.
[Mask of the Fallen Stone Angel (Unique)
Description: In the final moments of its forsaken life, the angel, abandoned by its own kind, was offered something it never expected: mercy. And that mercy came from a demon. In her final breaths, moved by unimaginable compassion, she sealed all the power she had left into this relic. Not for redemption, but for hope.
“May my Lord realize, when the moment is right, the value hidden in something as simple and frail as this.”
Enchantments:
[Statue Form (Ancient)]: While wearing the mask, you take on the form of the Fallen Stone Angel, becoming indistinguishable from a statue.
[Angel Soul Fragment (Unique)]: A slumbering fragment of an angel’s soul resides within this mask.
Requirement: Soulbound.]
“At least I figured something useful out in this insane situation,” he murmured, turning the mask over in his hands. “It’s possible to activate a soulbound item’s enchantment on someone else.”
He’d been wearing Allison’s necklace, and she had managed to trigger its effect on him. Not every enchantment worked that way, of course. His kukri’s magnetic return, for example, would only pull the blade back to his own hand. But things like Statue Form or even gender change? Transferable.
There had to be soulbound weapons out there with raw damage boosts or magical effects. If the target didn’t suffer the penalty from those bonus damages, then the whole concept would be pointless. He should have realized sooner. Still, it was an important discovery.
“Artemis, what if I gave Charlie a bunch of items and had her trigger the effects on me? That way I’d stack power without the system noticing.”
“It depends,” she replied. “The System is a cosmic force. It can’t be tricked, and it enforces limits. You can only equip ten rings, for example. Try to slip on eleven, and one will just deactivate. Same goes for armor pieces. You can’t wear two chestplates. If you did, the second one would be useless. Try twenty rings, same deal.”
“Then how am I wearing Allison’s necklace and yours at the same time?” Luke asked.
“Because I’m not a necklace, idiot,” she snapped. “I’m the jewel itself. I don’t count as equipment. Open my item in the inventory and see for yourself.”
[Artemis Invention (Unique)
Description: A prototype crafted by Samael, the Inventor.
‘A gift to help you on your journey. Good luck. It was collecting dust in my workshop anyway.’
PS: I am not liable for any discomfort it causes. – Samael
Enchantments:
[Spatial Storage (Ultra-Rare)]: Grants access to a massive pocket dimension. Non-sentient biological organisms can be stored in temporal suspension.
[Artemis (Unique)]: This necklace contains the soul of Artemis.
Requirement: Soulbound]
“The description doesn’t list me as equipment,” she said. “It only mentions the enchantment. That wording came from Samael.”
“I still don’t get it…”
Luke glanced down at the two necklaces around his neck. There was no way he could show up at the banquet wearing both without drawing suspicion.
“I’m not equipment. Samael just added a chain to make me look more personalized. What I really am is a magic gem. Think of it this way: the System only lets you wear one crown at a time, right? But you can embed multiple enchanted jewels into that crown to make it stronger. It’s still a single item, but boosted by accessories.”
Her voice carried a hint of pride. “I fall into that same category. If you ever wanted to pop me out of the necklace and slot me into a ring, I’d still work. Call it a gray area in the System’s rules. Samael’s an item crafter, after all. He knows how to bend the framework.”
Luke studied the gemstone set in the necklace. It was obviously larger than a ring stone, but if Artemis insisted it could fit, then the System probably shrank it down or adjusted things somehow.
“Then why give me a stone instead of a proper necklace?” he asked.
“Because… let’s just say interesting things might happen someday if you learn how to fuse items.” She chuckled softly.
He let the subject drop, tucking the angel’s mask back into his inventory. The angel woman said nothing; she was asleep.
“Now that it’s just the two of us, and you’re still in the form of a woman, I wouldn’t judge you if, say…” Artemis began.
Before she could spin her thought into some deranged perverted suggestion, Luke turned on his heel and headed back to the hideout.
***
“Try the dress on, Luke,” Evangeline said, patient in that pointed way that meant she had already asked three times.
“Not a chance.” He stepped back as if the fabric radiated poison.
“You’re already transformed. I need to see the fit so I can adjust it.”
“I refuse.” He turned sharply on his heel and started for the door.
“You’re going to jeopardize the mission over a tantrum?”
He groaned, spun back around, and snatched the gown from her grip. “Fine. Give me the damn thing.”
Stalking toward the makeshift changing area, he shoved the curtain aside with all the grace of a condemned man.
“I’ll help,” Allison offered, moving in.
“Not necessary. I’ll handle it.”
“You’ll be shirtless until you get the dress on. Remember the rule: don’t look at your own chest.”
Luke exhaled a long, exasperated sigh. “We’re infiltrating one of the most dangerous places in this world, and that’s what you’re worried about?”
“Lucy’s privacy,” Allison said, dead serious.
“Great. Now I actually feel embarrassed.”
Evangeline reclaimed the dress, stepping in with brisk efficiency. “Dramatic. Come on, I’ll help.”
He gave in. He didn’t wear the necklace all the time, only during training, so Luke was still a man most of the time. But when he was a woman, he still kept his loyal war companion. The necklace didn’t completely alter his gender, so he still kept his little friend. In the same way, when Allison used it in the past, her private parts weren’t changed either.
Out of paranoia, he had even run tests in the last few days, quiet, careful experiments to make sure there wouldn’t be any permanent side effects on little Luke Jr. The results had been reassuring. His blade was still sharp, should the day ever call for it. Artemis, thankfully, had been denied the chance to make jokes during the process.
When Evangeline finished adjusting the top, she stepped back with a smirk, letting him fumble through the rest. Then Lucy emerged from behind the curtain. The sleek blue gown clung in all the wrong ways. For exactly three seconds, the room was silent.
“This thing has a neckline,” Luke said, his voice straining between indignation and horror.
Evangeline exhaled sharply through her nose, shoulders trembling as she tried to smother a laugh.
“What’s next, a slit up the leg? Fantastic,” he muttered darkly.
That broke her. Evangeline turned aside, hand pressed to her mouth, a smile breaking free.
Lucy stormed forward, glaring. “You did this on purpose.”
She lifted her brows in mock innocence.
Allison, slipping in beside them, tried to be kind. “Actually… the dress looks great on you.”
Luke collapsed into the nearest chair, burying his face in both hands. “That is officially the worst thing a woman can say to a man.”
This time Evangeline didn’t bother hiding it, her laughter filled the room, rich and unrestrained. She leaned against the wall, enjoying herself openly, while Allison tried and failed to shush her.
“I’m not wearing this,” Lucy muttered through her hands. “I feel… exposed.”
“It’s just a neckline,” Evangeline teased. “Nobody’s going to attack you over that.”
“My entire back is bare!”
“Trust me. Bare backs are sexy.”
Lucy went pale. “Sexy?!”
“You needed something to make up for the lack of natural femininity. Think of it as a modern Cinderella.”
Luke shot her a murderous glare. “You think you’re hilarious, don’t you?”
“I even made the shoes,” she said sweetly, flourishing the heels like a prize.
Lucy stared at them, horror hardening into vengeance. “I’ll get revenge for this.”
“You’ll have to do it in heels,” Evangeline replied with a grin.
***
Mason stood at the gates of Bastion’s fortress. He had already spent the night inside, securing his place among the guests, but now he waited outside, tense, watching the crowd flow past. Luke couldn’t enter without him.
Dozens of finely dressed guests streamed in, silks and jewels flashing in the torchlight. This wasn’t just Bastion’s inner circle, merchants with influence had been summoned too, men and women who carried Bartholomew’s whispers into the veins of the city. Through them, he shaped public opinion, feeding rumors like seeds, pulling strings without ever showing his hand.
It was easy to control a Safe Zone when you owned its gossip.
“Waiting for someone, Mason?” a guest asked as he brushed past.
“A woman,” Mason replied simply.
The man chuckled and gave him a nudge. “Finally found someone, huh? Keep chasing levels and you’ll die single.”
Mason forced a polite laugh, though it tasted bitter. He had no watch, but he knew Luke was late. Too late. He lingered near the two guards at the gate, unwilling to leave his post.
Then the murmurs began.
“No way…” someone whispered.
“Who is that?” another breathed, craning for a better view.
Mason tried to see, but the line of soldiers blocked his sight. The crowd shifted, parted, and a woman stepped into the open, stealing every gaze.
“Allison?” Mason breathed, his composure cracking.
She moved toward the gates in a gown that caught the firelight, elegance flowing in every step. Mason swallowed hard. He knew her as a warrior, armored and unflinching. But this, this was a different kind of weapon. Dressed in grace, she was impossible to ignore.
The guards stared, uncertain. One stepped forward, barring her path. “What’s your business here?”
Her voice was calm, carrying the weight of certainty. “Inform Bartholomew that I’ve come to the party.”
“And who are you?”
“Allison Rhiannon.”
Recognition struck like lightning. The guard’s eyes went wide; his partner stiffened beside him. “C-call a superior. We need confirmation this is really her.” He stumbled over the words, bowing quickly. “Lady Rhiannon, I’ll make sure your entry is approved immediately.”
Mason’s thoughts raced. This wasn’t part of the plan.
She slipped up beside him with practiced ease, her smile serene, as if nothing about this was unusual.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he muttered under his breath.
Still smiling, still staring straight ahead with noble composure, she whispered, “Giving you a distraction.”
For a heartbeat, he thought her reckless. But then the brilliance struck him. Allison’s sudden appearance, unannounced and impossible to anticipate, was its own weapon. If she had warned Bartholomew, the shock would be gone. Now, every eye in the fortress would be drawn to her.
“And… Lucy?” Mason asked, his stomach tightening.
“She’s coming,” Allison murmured.
That was when the whispers ignited again, not just the guards, but the entire street. Conversations died mid-word. Heads turned. Nobles strained for a glimpse.
The sharp click of heels echoed down the avenue.
Out of the crowd emerged a woman in a flowing blue gown, black hair rippling as though it carried the night wind itself, pale skin glowing beneath the torches. Her eyes burned with a wild, untamed spark, a beauty so arresting it silenced the street.
Mason’s throat tightened.
She moved with effortless poise, hair shimmering as she tossed it back, perfume trailing faintly in her wake. Reaching the gate, she paused, fan snapping open in a flourish, and stood there, waiting.
The avenue held its breath.
Mason, still reeling, tore his eyes from her and glanced back at the crowd.
“Where the hell is Luke?” Mason hissed under his breath. If they arrived too late, the delay would draw more attention than anything else.
“What are you talking about? He’s right in front of you…” Allison murmured.
Mason looked ahead, and froze.
The woman in the blue dress was staring straight at him, her presence commanding the entire street.
“Good evening, darling. Sorry I kept you waiting.” She flicked her fan open with a sharp snap, then closed it again with practiced grace.
Her fingers slid through her hair, the dark strands catching the lamplight like silk. “I hope I haven’t made you lose interest in me.”
Mason’s throat tightened. So did the guards’. He could feel them staring too.
No. Impossible. That man had turned into… this? A spectacle that walked, breathed, and smirked at him as if born for it? There was no way.
“Well? Are you going to keep me waiting?” she asked, extending her hand.
“N-no,” Mason stammered, the nerves cracking his voice. “L-let’s go inside, my dear.”
She smiled, radiant, sharp, lethal. “I hope tonight will be special for the two of us, my love.”
Why the hell is my heart beating faster?
Linked arm in arm, they advanced toward the fortress gates. Every step carried weight, every glance a risk. The mission was underway, and one wrong move would mean death.
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Comments
Punchlinex7
I am suffering second hand reading this. Well done Author
AturatoWriter
Luke is suffering 🤣
Sylphie
Dude I can HEAR Luke's agony lmao
