Dark Lord: Rise to Power

Arin backtracked his path to reach the site of last night's massacre. The sight was a sharp contrast to the lush green surroundings. The green grass had turned black due to dried blood. A simple person might not understand the kind of mayhem that had been unleashed here. However, an experienced instigator, someone well-versed in bloodshed and gore, or someone with enough magical acumen to trace the lingering dark energy, would realize that a seed of chaos had been planted here, destined to loom large over the entire continent. However, neither the Old World's Old Guards nor Chaos incarnate himself was aware of the turbulent times they were about to usher in. Ironically, the Chaos Bringer was desperately searching for his way to the bastion of Order right now.

Arin tried to remember from which direction the guards had come, and he went that way. After wandering for a while, he found a metal road; after walking on it for a few hours, he eventually found a bigger road. It was wide and well-maintained, leading him to believe it was the main road to a proper and significant settlement. Arin wished to come across a caravan or at least a cart traveling to a nearby major settlement. Then he could accompany them into town. He had no intention of avoiding people on the road. After all, there was no point in hiding himself when his main objective was to blend in with potentially hostile people in the town.

As he walked down the quiet, lonely road, a distant clatter grew louder, accompanied by the unmistakable clip-clop of hooves. Arin felt excited and looked behind him. To his joy, he saw a horse-drawn cart approaching.

"Greetings, traveler!" the cart driver, a bulky man with a big mustache and an even bigger smile, addressed Arin. "Might you need a ride to your destination? My cart has room for another if you have the coin for the ride."

"Indeed, I do," Arin replied, pulling his hood down further to cover more of his face.

"Then hop on," the driver said as he stopped the cart in front of Arin. Arin glanced at the cart and sat inside. The cart was mainly stuffed with various goods. Arin made a place for himself among the goods and started a conversation with the driver.

"You are either very brave or very naive," Arin said jokingly.

"Why, because I gave a ride to a suspicious fellow who could kill me and steal my goods?" the driver smirked.

"Am I wrong?" Arin replied, faking an embarrassed face.

"Indeed. If you were really a smart bad guy, you would not rob my cart when we are so close to Siterion." The driver laughed.

Arin felt a bit relaxed. Convincing someone of your idiocy often can help you avoid many dangers—it was something Arin had learned from his days of conning others.

"You are wise indeed, Sir…" Arin paused.

"Bohan," smiled the driver. "Not Sir, just Bohan." Then he gave Arin an inquisitive look. "Are you really thinking I'm a knight? A burly old man driving a cart as a knight?" He turned back to look at Arin better. "Are you new in this region? Even your dialect is a bit strange; I cannot recall having heard it anywhere!"

"What are you trying to say?" Arin smirked.

"I have a feeling you are willing to go to the settlement knowing well it is not a very safe endeavor for you," Bohan chuckled.

"And what if you are right? Are you planning to hand me over to the authorities?" Arin asked.

Bohan twirled his mustache. "If I had such a plan, I would not alert you and would just keep you busy in talk until we approached the guards!"

By now, Arin had realized that this man was not a simple cart driver but likely related to smugglers, shady elements of town, or in league with the rebels. From his experience in his past life, Arin could understand that the man wanted Arin to seek Bohan's help and then extort good money in exchange.

Money was of least concern for him anyway. He had twenty gold coins in his pouch and forty-three in his backpack. So Arin decided to step into Bohan's trap willingly because it was his only opportunity to make his way to the city right now.

"Then, can you help me enter the town?" Arin asked him.

"How were you planning to enter if you had not met me here?" Bohan asked in return, instead of answering him.

"First, I would try to enter through the front gate, and if that didn't work," Arin answered, "then find another way."

"Then you are not a wanted criminal," Bohan rubbed his chin, "but someone who would still be denied entry for…"

"Can you help me or not?" Arin interrupted him.

Bohan shuffled his side-bag for a while and showed him a mask. "This will help you."

Arin looked at the mask and asked, "Wouldn't the guard ask me to take it down when entering?"

"Don't talk like a fool," Bohan chastised him. "You think I would not think of that?"

"Beg your pardon," Arin apologized.

"This is a magical mask. You have to imagine a face while taking it down, and you will wear that face for the next fifty steps," Bohan explained.

"I didn't get you," Arin was really confused this time.

"As expected," Bohan spoke with a tone mixed with frustration and humiliation. "Kindly pay heed as I explain, for I do not like repeating myself."

Although this was going as Arin had wished, Bohan's attitude and condescending nature were getting on his nerves. But he needed his help, so he nodded obediently without uttering anything, as if afraid to open his mouth and reveal his stupidity further.

Bohan scoffed and continued, "This effect will continue on your face as long as you are still, standing, sleeping, or sitting. But as soon as you start changing your location, this illusion starts to wear off, and around the fiftieth step, its effect completely wears off until you wear the mask again, walk another fifty steps, and repeat the process. Am I clear? I hope I am, for I am not repeating myself again."

"Yes, you are," smiled Arin. "Thank you so much, my generous lord."

Bohan probably appreciated this small flattery and smiled. "Mention not, my good man; but you see, I am a tradesman, and I am not going to give it to you out of sheer generosity!" Bohan raised his left arm and rubbed his thumb against his index and middle fingers to express his desire to get paid.

Arin spoke with a dejected tone. "Oh! But I am really poor, and I am afraid I cannot pay much for this marvelous item."

"How much do you have?" Bohan asked with disappointment.

"I have only this much," Arin showed him the pouch he was carrying. "Only twenty gold, and I have to eat, find a place to sleep, and purchase things as well!"

"Don't worry about that," Bohan taunted him. "Undead don't need to eat."

At that moment, Arin realized that this man had become too dangerous for him to continue living. He quickly tried to grab Bohan's neck, but with an agility that was a sharp contrast to his bulky physique, Bohan grabbed Arin's neck instead. "I just need to tighten my grip a bit, and your rotten neck will crush instantly."

Arin was at a loss and did not know what to do. He felt like a helpless rat trapped in a ratcatcher.

Bohan shook Arin a bit and freed him from his grip. "I am letting you go because it was your first offense, and it was evident since the start that you are an idiot. However, I am now going to take the whole pouch," and he snatched the pouch from Arin. "I actually had thought of charging 10 gold coins," he continued, "but after the foolish stunt you pulled, I am charging it all."

Bohan tossed the mask to Arin and ordered him, "Get down from my cart and walk straight for the rest of the path," and he stopped the cart.

Arin did not make any protest or excuse and obediently got down from the cart.

Bohan had stopped the cart, so Arin started walking, leaving the cart behind.

Suddenly, Bohan started speaking to him behind his back. "Patience is a virtue core to undeath, for they have time; unlike humans, whose lives are fleeting, and thus are always in a hurry and thereby commit mistakes."

Arin did not look back but lowered his speed. Bohan continued, "As you walk towards Siterion, think of all the mistakes you have made the whole day." Suddenly, Arin noticed that Bohan's voice was changing to something very otherworldly. Arin stopped in his tracks. "These types of human-like mistakes are not expected of someone who has been bestowed with the title of Hem'netjer Nerthazir. You are no more a human, so don't act like one anymore!" Bohan spoke in a commanding voice. A shiver ran down Arin's spine as he looked back, but no one was there anymore—neither Bohan nor his cart.

Arin murmured spontaneously, "My Lord, you!"