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Becoming the Dark Lord - Chapter 172
🕑 Added 2025-07-17 04:35:02 +0000 UTCLuke sat in an armchair beside Samael—a true god, a servant of the Darkness that had granted him his bloodline. And now he knew something crucial: the Darkness had a name. Azazel.
Footsteps echoed down the hall. Luke turned toward the corridor as a woman approached.
“Don’t worry. She’s with me,” Samael said calmly.
She wore a pristine white maid’s dress. Her skin was porcelain-pale, her fiery red hair nearly orange, her face dusted with freckles. She carried a tray and moved with the grace of someone who had been doing this for centuries.
“Master Samael,” she said with a bow, placing the tray gently on the table in front of them. Fresh bread. Golden, warm, perfectly shaped. The rich aroma filled the room.
Luke watched in silence, trying to make sense of the situation. Every word spoken here could carry weight—and he knew, deep down, he was still only scratching the surface of what this meeting really meant.
“Oh, Kalysto. It’s been a while,” said Artemis, her voice echoing from the necklace, almost casual.
“L-Lady Artemis?” The maid froze for a moment, startled, visibly nervous. There was reverence in her tone.
Lady?
“What… what is my Lady doing... bound to a miserable human...?” Kalysto asked sweetly, though the polite tone barely masked the disgust behind it.
“Long story,” Artemis replied. “But hey, can you hand me one of those rolls?”
“O-Of course.” Kalysto picked up one of the small breads and approached Luke with deliberate care. Her gentle eyes left no doubt—she despised him.
“Guest... would you be so kind as to deliver this to Lady Artemis?”
The way she said guest felt like an insult.
Luke took the bread without hesitation. “Here, chatterbox. Knock yourself out.” He shoved the roll into the necklace, where it vanished instantly.
“Cha-cha-cha-chatterbox?!” Kalysto stuttered, stunned. “H-He called... my L-Lady a chatterbox?!”
She backed away, visibly shaken—as if the laws of the universe had just been rewritten.
Inside the necklace, Artemis was making very unladylike sounds of satisfaction as she chewed. “This’ll go perfectly with that canned sausage... it’s practically a hot dog. Can I eat the sausage, Luke?”
“No,” he replied flatly. “It’s for emergencies.”
“Ohhh, you’re so mean...” Artemis pouted—or at least sounded like she was imagining doing it.
Kalysto stood off to the side, trembling. “H-He... denied food to my Lady...” she whispered, horrified.
Samael calmly picked up a roll for himself. “You may leave us now, Kalysto. I’d like some privacy with our guest,” he said with a wave of his hand.
“Y-Yes, Master Samael.” She bowed again, then looked once more at the necklace. “I’ll prepare something special for Lady Artemis.”
“Oh, I’ll be waiting eagerly,” Artemis replied, her tone suddenly regal.
Kalysto’s expression lit up for a second—then went cold again as she glanced back at Luke. Her eyes were empty. Lifeless. She left the room without another word.
“These are the perks of you opening the gate,” Samael said casually. “I was able to bring in an assistant.”
“Excellent work, Luke! Keep doing more of that... I want more food,” Artemis chimed in, completely absorbed in the tray.
Luke sighed as he placed a few more rolls into the necklace. Samael watched him with quiet curiosity.
“So,” Samael said, leaning back in his chair, “what exactly do you want to know about this tutorial? Your last question was a bit... too broad.”
Luke paused for a moment, thinking. “What’s the purpose of this tutorial?”
Samael smiled. “Much better. Clear question, clear answer.” He gestured toward the tray of bread on the table. “Look. Imagine the tutorial is this tray. And the participants...” — he picked up a piece of bread and held it up — “are the bread.”
Luke watched carefully.
“A century ago, in your world, something happened. A major event. The System emerged. And with it, twenty percent of the global population vanished for several months. Chaos, I imagine. Apocalypse theories, conspiracy spirals... total panic.” He took a bite of the bread before continuing. “Five months later, those people came back. Or... some of them. Many had died. But the point is: that group was selected by the System, chosen to be integrated into the first tutorials of your universe. And those people were...?”
“The first pieces of bread on the tray,” Luke finished.
“Exactly,” Samael said, clearly pleased. “Your universe was integrated into the multiverse. Every universe connected to the System becomes part of this greater network. And yours is a newcomer. Very recent. But that’s not a bad thing. It’s an opportunity. Because a freshly integrated universe is fertile ground...” He locked eyes with Luke. “And do you know who gets to reach out and pick from the tray?”
Luke already knew the answer. “Gods.”
“Correct. There are gods who love to spread the words of their divine orders — and your universe became a prime target for that.” Samael crossed one leg over the other, his tone as casual as if he were discussing weather. “During that initial event — when twenty percent vanished — the gods were watching. Closely. They were the ones who designed some of those tutorials, in fact. Of course, the System sets the boundaries of what’s allowed. But the gods create the challenges within those limits. That whole thing was a test. A first harvest. They wanted to see… which pieces of bread would catch their eye.”
Luke listened in silence.
“Those chosen ones — the most promising among the batch — became the first generation of what you now call the World Government.”
He’d already suspected parts of this. But now he was seeing the other side — the divine logic. These gods hadn’t shown up to help Earth out of kindness. They had their reasons. They always had. It made sense. Why would immortal beings bother with something as fragile as humanity unless there was something to gain?
“These gods invested in their chosen ones. Guided them, empowered them, showed them how to interpret the System... and together, they founded what you now know as the World Government. Even while competing among themselves, they cooperated out of convenience. A shared interest. Churches were formed—or rather, clans, guilds, families. The foundation of their faith. And through that faith... their power.” Samael took another bite of bread. He chewed calmly, as if he were narrating a grand performance.
“It’s just like politics in your world. A politician needs the people’s favor to gain power. It’s the same for gods. Some want followers for pride. Others for survival. Others... for raw dominance.”
Luke absorbed every word. The names, the symbols, the patterns—they were all starting to make sense.
“And that’s how the families of the World Government were born,” Samael said. “Forged by divine hands, they became the most skilled users of the System. It’s no wonder they remain at the top.”
Then something clicked in Luke’s mind.
A connection. A missing piece.
“Wait,” Luke interrupted. “The tutorials. You can influence how they’re created? How the challenges work?”
But he wasn’t thinking about his tutorial.
He was thinking about his mother’s.
Samael paused before answering.
“Not all of them. Some are entirely generated by the System itself—cold, impersonal. But over the years... many gods began crafting their own tutorials. Custom challenges, designed to handpick their ideal ‘bread.’ It became an efficient way to test and shape future chosen ones.”
Luke was trying to understand how that worked on a global scale.
“The fact that extremely dangerous criminals in your world are given the chance to accept System integration—potentially escaping prison through it—that’s not an accident. It’s something your world’s rulers allow. A separate tray of bread,” Samael explained. “Some gods want both good and evil among their followers. That’s why your World Government doesn’t execute those criminals. It’s much more useful to hunt them after they’ve accepted the System. That way, they generate experience points.”
Luke raised an eyebrow. His mind flashed back to the Forgotten Temple Dungeon. He remembered how surprised he was to discover that criminals had entered the ‘training ground’ with him.
He’d always assumed some people had been sentenced to death.
But maybe... they never were.
Maybe they’d just been kept out of sight, hidden from society—saved for moments like this. Placed into the System’s path to challenge those willing to take the risk of being chosen by a god—or by something else entirely.
And if they weren’t chosen?
They were still walking experience bags.
“Of course, every challenge is scaled to its participants,” Samael continued. “A tutorial is always difficult—whether for a rookie or a veteran. Difficulty is relative. Just like a level 1 struggles against a level 20... you would struggle against a level 100. Understand? The complexity scales.”
Luke nodded. That part made sense.
But one question still lingered—sharp and heavy.
“And this tutorial... mine. Who created it?”
Samael smiled.
Not just any smile.
It was the kind of smile that said: now we’re getting to the interesting part.
“This tutorial is unique, Luke. Because it wasn’t proposed by a god.”
He paused.
“Maybe... this is the place where the System itself was born.”
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