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Becoming the Dark Lord - Chapter 190
🕑 Added 2025-07-26 00:14:18 +0000 UTCA few days had passed since Luke acquired the Plant Sensor skill. It changed the way he explored the forest. As a botanist, he could gain experience by analyzing plants, especially new or rare specimens, and now, he could do it remotely, within the radius of his perception field. Of course, the experience gain wasn’t anything dramatic. As his profession advanced, the system demanded more to level up.
Still, Luke wasn’t one to turn down help, no matter how small. He spent entire days combing through the undergrowth, scanning flora, planting different species, and pushing his Plant Growth skill to its limits. It became a cycle: plant, feed with mana, observe, repeat. He did it all randomly, deep in the wilderness, not with the goal of building a farm, but to better understand how his ability worked.
With each attempt, he not only grew more familiar with the skill itself, but also sharpened his control over mana. He started feeling its flow within him, like tracking the path of blood in his veins. Subtle, but constant. Tangible. He was close. So close to understanding how to channel mana into his physical body, just as he’d learned to do with stamina.
In the meantime, he threw himself into antidote production. And the only way to test them? Poisoning himself. He applied small doses of toxins to his arm, then drank the antidote and studied the effects. Sometimes it left him dizzy. Other times nauseous. But every reaction gave him data, refining the recipe, tightening the formula. Until finally…
[You have successfully created Putrid-Noctora Poison (Uncommon)]
The notification flashed, followed immediately by another:
Your profession [Botanist of Mother Freya] has reached Level 15! (Bonus attribute points acquired)
[You have acquired a Profession Skill]
Luke let out a breathless laugh, exhausted but satisfied. “Days of testing… and failing… but here we are.”
He stared down at the small vial filled with a murky green liquid. It wasn’t a huge batch. But it was something. And more importantly, it was real progress. With that poison in hand, he could now create a powerful antidote. Ironically, the antidote had been his goal from the start… but first, he’d needed the poison. The process had taught him more than he expected. Not just about toxins, but about potion crafting in general. About reagents. About preparation. Even his healing potions had improved.
He opened his system interface and looked at the numbers. He had a lot of unspent points waiting.
Name: Luke
Level: 18
Rank: F
Class: [Demonic Assassin (Lvl 29)]
Race: Half-Demon
Profession: Botanist of Mother Freya (Lvl 15)
Titles: [Dark Lord]
Bloodline: [Bloodline of the Dark Demon]
Health Points (HP): 1514/1550
Mana Points (MP): 838/1220
Stamina: 703/800
Soul Fragments: 62/1000
Stats:
Strength: 165
Agility: 156 (206)
Endurance: 60 (80)
Vitality: 155
Perception: 176 (186)
Intelligence: 122 (127)
Free Points: 43
Class Skills: [Basic Blade Handling (Common)], [Profane Knife Throwing (Uncommon)], [Twin Blade (Common)], [Basic Dark Dash (Rare)], [Basic Blood Regeneration (Rare)], [Assassin’s Mark (Rare)], [Demonic Blade Dance (Rare)], [Wraith Form (Ultra-Rare)], [Force Infusion (Rare)]
Profession Skills: [Herbology of Mother Freya (Ancient)], [Precise Extraction (Common)], [Basic Potion Crafting (Common)], [Plant Growth (Uncommon)], [Plant Sensor (Uncommon)]
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 14], [Servant Slot Available]
Luke finally faced the pile of unspent stat points he’d been hoarding. More out of vanity than strategy. There was something deeply satisfying about watching that number grow. He couldn’t explain it, but it scratched some weird itch in his brain.
“So this is why supervillains always laugh before triggering their final plan…”
Smirking, he started allocating: 25 to Strength, 10 to Endurance, 4 to Vitality, and 4 to Intelligence.
Stats Updated:
Strength: 165 -> 190
Endurance: 60 (80) -> 70 (90)
Vitality: 155 -> 159
Intelligence: 122 (127) -> 126 (131)
Free Points: 43 -> 0
Once he confirmed the distribution, he tapped the ability notification. Five skill options popped up.
[Advanced Potion Crafting (Uncommon)]: The botanist, with refined mastery over measurements, ratios, and manual precision, executes every preparation with surgical accuracy. Each dose, blend, or concentration is meticulously adjusted, ensuring maximum stability, purity, and effectiveness. Your concoctions become stronger, longer lasting, and safer, reflecting knowledge well beyond mere practice.
A solid skill. Practical. Precise. His recent work had paid off. Days spent brewing every kind of potion imaginable had shaped his system to adapt, unlocking skills directly tied to that focus. The system offered plenty of doors, but only opened them in response to the user’s knowledge and effort. The time he’d sunk into studying poisons had fed into this, an evolution that could support all kinds of potion-making. And still… he dismissed it without hesitation.
“The fun of experimenting is in the discovery, the screw-ups and surprises. That’s how I found the Darkness Mixture formula. If I start doing everything perfectly, I’ll just turn into a robot.”
He preferred creative chaos. Sure, it came with the risk of failure, but also the thrill of breakthroughs. Unexpected outcomes. Real magic. Freya’s Herbalism skill still guided him. Gave him nudges, hints. But it didn’t smother him. There was room to explore, and that room was what made him feel like a true witch.
“I think that’s what witchcraft really is,” he muttered. “Trying, failing, learning, testing. Growing from your own understanding.”
He moved on to the next option.
[Botanical Purification (Uncommon)]: Using magic, the botanist can purify any natural water source, removing both physical and energetic impurities. Essential for crafting potions and mixtures that require an ultra-pure liquid base.
Luke glanced at the pot where he usually boiled water before brewing anything. That had been his go-to method… until now. This skill looked basic, but useful. Cutting out an entire step in the process meant more time, more precision. And in tight situations, that time could be everything. The next one made his eyebrow twitch.
[Plant-Based Gastronomy (Uncommon)]: Specializing in the culinary use of plants, the botanist understands edible ingredients and their effects on the body. Able to craft dishes that provide magical effects, blending flavor with functionality.
He rubbed his chin, thoughtful. It intrigued him, more than he liked to admit. Ever since upgrading his class to Botanist of Mother Freya, his Herbology skill (now Ancient-tier) had been offering up increasingly valuable insights… but almost all of them revolved around potion-making. That was the problem with focus.
If he widened the scope to culinary applications, he might unlock an entirely new branch of knowledge. Knowing which plants could be safely eaten, how to prepare them, and more importantly, how to combine them for magical effects… that could completely change the way he operated. And with Herbology of Mother Freya guiding him, these dishes wouldn’t just be food. They’d be weapons. Shields. Maybe even edible enchantments.
[Plant Capsule (Uncommon)]: The botanist crafts natural capsules from compacted plant matter, used to store potions, medicines, or poisons in a practical, portable form. Ideal for quick use or precise dosing in the field.
At first glance, it seemed like a minor skill, almost forgettable. But Luke knew better. Without his storage item, still in Samael’s hands for modifications, he’d been forced to carry vials around in a regular pouch. In combat, that was a real problem. Potions clinked and rattled. They were heavy. Even grabbing one mid-fight took time he might not have.
Plant capsules, though? They were elegant. Compact, lightweight, easy to consume. He could pop one in the middle of battle without missing a step. It made sense. Especially since he eventually wanted a stash of antidotes, and this would streamline that plan.
He read the description again. “I’ll have my storage item back soon…”
A reluctant sigh escaped him. “Wouldn’t make sense to waste a slot on this.”
Even though he saw the potential, he passed on the skill, for now. Still, the weight of the decision sat heavy on his shoulders. Every chosen ability pushed him down one path… and closed off others.
“Man… picking profession skills is way more analytical than I thought.” Muttering to himself, Luke scrolled to the final option. And stopped. His eyes widened slightly. This… was different.
[Botanical Bond of Mother Freya (Rare)]: Due to your bond with Mother Freya, you’ve developed an instinctive connection with nature. You can sense the emotions of nearby plants and communicate with them in a limited way. Trees, flowers, and roots share simple impressions of recent events, like the presence of creatures or injuries suffered. In your presence, plant life grows more vigorously, seeds germinate effortlessly, and any flora you tend becomes a loyal ally, responding with life and devotion.
This was the escape hatch he’d been hoping for, the chance to move beyond the narrow path he’d trapped himself in by focusing too much on potion-making. Maybe, just maybe, this was the knowledge he needed.
“Another skill from Mother Freya…” Luke murmured, eyes narrowing as he studied the description.
Unlike the others, this skill didn’t promise immediate power. No flashy effects. No combat stats. It was mysterious, almost poetic. And yet… something about it tugged at him. The other skills had been clear-cut.
[Advanced Potion Crafting] offered raw technical mastery.
[Botanical Purification] gave him control over his water supply, an essential base for brewing.
[Plant-Based Gastronomy] opened a new avenue entirely, blending food and natural magic.
[Plant Capsules] gave him mobility, speed, and field efficiency.
Each of them had a clear purpose. Combat. Support. Utility. But this one? It stood apart.
“Well… I guess it could help track enemies or monsters,” he said aloud.
But deep down, he knew it was more than that. The paths tied to Mother Freya had already proven to have hidden depths, like his Ancestral-tier Herbology. This was no different. Picking this skill meant diving into something few would understand… but that might unlock doors no one else even knew existed.
[You have acquired the Profession Skill: Botanical Bond of Mother Freya]
Luke drew a deep breath. He knew exactly what he was doing. The truth was simple: every skill he picked became a branch on his specialization tree. And this one? It was a bet. A long shot. A quiet kind of strength. This choice didn’t just shape his present, it shifted his entire future. And right now, he was choosing the rare path. The forgotten path. Just like the gods always said: Investment.
They tossed coins in the form of knowledge, legacies, and opportunities, waiting for someone bold enough to pick them up and turn them into something more. For Luke, this choice was exactly that. A personal investment. Silent. Risky. But that was how he wanted to play this game. On his own terms.
***
Bartholomew sat motionless on his throne, wrapped in the heavy silence that blanketed the room. The audience with the merchants had ended moments ago, but his mind was already elsewhere. He was waiting for the visitor, Jonathan, with the measured patience of a man who trusted no one. Under no circumstance would he have ever invited a stranger into his fortress. Not willingly. But times had changed.
Since Marshall declared war, he could count on one hand the number of times he’d left the fortress. He hadn’t stepped outside the Safe Zone in years. He knew full well the enemy wouldn’t hesitate to kill him the moment he crossed its borders, even if it cost them their lives. The consequence was clear: his growth had stalled.
For a long time, Bartholomew had been frozen, with no progress in his class or race level. But on the night he wiped out the Renegade leadership, everything shifted. The weight that had been crushing him finally lifted. He’d taken them all down in one brutal assault, combining an Ultra-Rare skill from his mutated class with his Epic-tier profession ability. It was a reckless move, bordering on suicidal, but it worked. That night, he ascended. One act of calculated violence had pushed him into the upper ranks of the Tutorial’s elite.
And with it came a surge of experience, enough to awaken both his Epic Class Skill and, at long last, his Rank Skill. The latter was a rare privilege, reserved only for those who reached the highest level of their race. When his Rank Skill revealed itself, it wasn’t just powerful. It was absolute. It demanded nearly all of his mana just to activate, but even then, it was worth every drop.
[Death Painting (Rank-F):] Born from a deep-rooted fear of death and an obsessive desire for control, this ability grants a fragmented glimpse of your own end. Not a literal vision, but a cryptic, symbolic painting, an abstract portrait of your final moment. Understanding it requires intuition, interpretation, and a willingness to face truths hidden in metaphor. Deciphering the work may offer a chance to rewrite fate and avoid the inevitable.
In a strange way, he considered himself fortunate. That skill hadn’t been chosen, it had been born from his soul. Unlike class or profession skills, a Rank Skill came from lived experience. It was personal. Irreplicable. Singular.
But lately, that so-called blessing had begun to feel more like a curse. Using it drained him completely, not physically, but mentally. The mana he could recover. One day of deep Meditation was enough to restore his pool. The real cost came after. The obsession.
Every activation summoned a vision into his mind: a living canvas, slowly painted by unseen hands. The images were always abstract. Symbolic. One day, a bleeding clock. Another, a cage made of roots. Sometimes animals. Sometimes ruins. Never direct. Never clear. And every action he took, every decision made, reshaped the painting. Death rearranged itself into new metaphors, new omens. The worst part? He never knew when it would come. Could be now. Could be tomorrow. Could be ten years from now. That uncertainty, that was what got under his skin.
He was caught in a twisted cycle of activation and interpretation. Like an addict chasing the next dose, not for the high, but for the fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of what couldn’t be stopped. The skill was consuming him. He couldn’t let it go. Maybe that was the true curse of Rank Skills: they were born from the soul’s deepest layer, and they dragged the user down with them.
Lately, the painting had shown only one thing. A panther. Black as pure night, eyes glowing in the darkness. Always watching. Always waiting. That was how he would die. The painting left no doubt. But who was the panther? And why did it haunt him? That was the question he had to answer before it was too late.
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