Chương 1: I Died With Regret

I just got kicked out today. No place to stay, no money for tuition, nothing. All because my old man gambled everything away. I had used most of my savings to help him pay off part of his debt. Not that it amounted to much, but at least it bought a few weeks before the debt collectors came knocking again. I had been staying at a tiny apartment near campus for three months without paying rent. The owner was kind enough to let it slide, but kindness has a shelf life. So, I packed everything.

A large backpack, a small piece of luggage, and left. There went my dream of… becoming what, again? Oh, right. I didn't have one. Unless getting a girlfriend counted. I guess that was why I handed over most of my savings without much of a fight. Deep down, I had already decided college was pointless. I had majored in business with zero aspiration to actually become a businessman. It was just the safest box to check on the application form. Maybe I'll go back to the countryside and sell vegetables.

Then the Images of me grabbing a handful of cabbages and carrots came into mind as I pushed open the door of a small café. I had called Ivy to meet me here. Ivy was my crush. We met first semester, same class. She was pretty, smart, easy to talk to, and came from a rather well-off family. The kind of girl I had no business liking, basically. I figured I should see her one last time. A clean ending, or whatever people called it. Oh, and she already had a boyfriend. Did I mention that part?

Probably should have led with that. Within fifteen minutes, I had dumped my entire life story onto the table. Even I was a little impressed by how quickly things had unraveled. A few bad turns, and my whole world had flipped upside down.

"So… I won't be seeing you again, Milo?" Ivy asked, taking a sip of her iced tea.

"Probably not. I can't afford college or a place to stay." I looked down at the table, trying to think of what to say next. I had told myself I came here to avoid regret. But now that she was actually sitting across from me, I realized I hadn't said a single thing worth saying. Just poured my bitterness out like she was a drain. Real smooth, Milo. She probably thought I had dragged her out here just to dump my problems on her. Which, to be fair, was exactly what I had done.

"Sorry," I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck.

"There's just a lot going on. I didn't mean to make this weird." She reached across the table and put her hand on mine.

"I know. That's why I'm here. The least I can do is listen and buy you a meal." Man. She really was too nice; w e had barely talked outside of group projects, and here she was, holding my hand in a café while I unloaded my entire mess on her. If Greg, her boyfriend, saw this, he would probably lose it. Honestly, I couldn't blame him. I knew I should change the subject. Ask about her finals, her summer plans, anything normal. But the words wouldn't come out. Instead, the bitter ones did.

"It wasn't fair, you know? My old man's the one who gambled it all away. Why am I the one paying for it?" Ivy didn't answer. She just kept her hand where it was.

"I still have two years of college left," I said into the silence.

"And now I'm about to get kicked out. What am I even supposed to do? Work part-time to chip away at his debt? That'd take me until I'm fifty. Besides—" A phone rang. Hers. She picked it up.

"Oh, sorry. Yeah. Yeah, sure," she said, her voice sliding into that soft, attentive tone she only ever used for him. She looked at me apologetically as she hung up.

"Milo, I have to go. Greg said—""It's okay," I cut in.

"I get it." She slid some cash across the table.

"Don't do anything rash. If you need to talk, just text me."

"... Yeah. Thanks." She left, and I finished my burger alone, seasoned with self-pity. When I stepped out of the restaurant, the evening air felt cold. I realized how pathetic I must have looked. Calling a crush who had a boyfriend, complaining about problems she couldn't fix, all because deep down, I probably wanted her to pity me. I wanted a date I hadn't earned and probably didn't deserve. I stopped in the middle of the street and gazed at the sky. So this is it, huh? Trash grades, no girlfriend, family in debt.

I didn't even get to confess to the girl I liked. A sudden, frenzied honking broke my trance. I turned. A massive wall of metal and headlights was bearing down on me. It was barely five meters away. I thought I saw this phenomenon before. In manga, they call this getting hit by Truc— BAM My vision went white. When I opened my eyes, I was standing in the back of a line. There were three people ahead of me.

At the front were cubicles, each staffed by a person typing furiously while interrogation-style questions hummed through the air. It looked exactly like a busy immigration terminal at an airport. I tried to ask the person in front of me where we were, but I could not speak. My jaw felt locked. Is this the afterlife? If this is like a manga, this is the part where I get granted cheat powers. A spark of excitement flickered in my chest. My old life was a disaster.

No mom, a deadbeat dad, and a permanent status of single. That made me bitter, and that was probably why Ivy was not interested in me and I had zero friends. I was not fond of my life. Maybe that's why I was not panicking at the moment. This could be the fresh start I needed. If I could just get one overpowered ability, I could finally be the one on top. The queue thinned. Finally, it was my turn. I stepped up to the cubicle. Inside was a bald man with pretty blue eyes.

He wore a white tunic and a brown robe, like something out of ancient Greece. I glanced at his name tag. Greg. Of course. Even in death, I couldn't escape the name.

"Okay, Milo Miles," Greg said without looking up.

"Died via truck. Popular way to die lately." I wanted to ask a dozen questions—where I was, what happened to me, if I was being reborn, but my mouth wouldn't move.

"Let's see," Greg continued, his fingers dancing across the keys.

"Barely any talents. Lacks social skills. Chronic complainer. High levels of negativity." Hearing it out loud was brutal.

"For a gloomy, talentless soul like yours, the role of a Dark Lord is a perfect fit." He hit the enter key with a flourish.

"And a world in need of a Dark Lord to balance the scales is… Lycora." He finally stopped typing and looked at me.

"Any questions?" If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Suddenly, the tension in my jaw snapped.

"Where am I? What's a Dark Lord? Where is Lycora? Am I getting superpowers?" I blurted it out, terrified the silence would return.

"This is the Human Afterport," Greg said, taking a slow sip of water.

"We assign souls to new worlds based on their previous lives, potential, and the current needs of the different worlds. As for the Dark Lord details, an assistant will explain that later. We're very busy." He gestured to the line behind me, which had grown to hundreds of people. Tiny orbs of light were appearing every second, coalescing into confused-looking humans.

"What about cheat skills? Do I get any?" I pressed.

"Like Unlimited mana? Legendary summons? Anything?"

"You'll have powers befitting your role," Greg said flatly.

"You'll be powerful, but it would take a bit of time. However..." He paused, checking his screen.

"We grant one wish for every 100th soul. You happen to be the 300th today. Congratulations."

"A wish?" My heart raced.

"Anything?"

"Within reason. What do you want?"

"Can I have the power to create anything and everything I want?" Greg gave me a weird look as if he was disgusted, "Oh, you're another one of this type of human. Unfortunately, no. It would disrupt the balance of the world. Wish for something more reasonable." He then looked at his watch.

"You have 5 seconds to decide. One, two, three…" I thought of the one thing I wanted.

"Well, when I was alive, I just wanted a girlfriend. Someone who would actually listen to me, someone who—" My mouth snapped shut mid-sentence.

"Running out of time," Greg sighed.

"Girlfriend. Got it." He reached under the counter and produced a small, pink circular charm with an eye symbol etched into the center.

"This is the Eye of Love. Any female native to the world of Lycora will fall in love with you unconditionally the moment they see its eye. It's a single-use item. Don't waste it." I took the charm, my fingers trembling.

"Now, walk toward the light," Greg commanded. Since I couldn't speak, I obeyed. I walked toward a gate of blinding white radiance. As the light enveloped me, I could feel my consciousness fading away. Would I reincarnate? As a baby? He said Dark Lord, so would I be a demon baby? My vision went white again.

"... up." A girl's voice?

"ke... up!" Wait, did I reincarnate as a girl? Was this a gender-swap story? But I was not speaking so it shouldn't have been my voice.

"WAKE UP!" A sudden, violent force slammed into my ribs. I was sent flying through the air, my back connecting with a tree trunk with a sickening thud. Strangely, it didn't hurt as much as it should have. But as I slid down the bark and fell onto the grass, I heard a sharp crack. I scrambled to my feet and checked my pocket. My heart sank. The Eye of Love was in my hand, but a jagged crack now ran right through the center of the pink eye.

"NOOO!" I screamed, clutching the charm.

"This is the thing that could grant my wish!" Would it still work like this? It looked like it would not work. I looked up, ready to roar at whoever had kicked me, but the words died in my throat. Standing a few meters away was a girl. She had short, layered black hair with bold streaks of electric blue. Two small horns curved from her head, and her eyes were a striking, molten gold. She was slender but toned, wearing a sleeveless leather top with heavy buckles and a short skirt. She was… incredible.

Easily one of the most beautiful girls I had ever seen.

"It's about time you woke up," she snapped, crossing her arms. Her voice was like ice.

"I can't believe a pathetic loser like you is supposed to be the Dark Lord." My jaw dropped.

"Who are you?"

"Huh? Didn't the staff at the Afterport tell you?" She rolled her eyes.

"I'm your assistant to help you balance the world, and you should listen to me so you don't get killed by the Hero and leave me with more paperwork."

"So, Miss... assistant?" I asked, carefully tucking the cracked Eye of Love back into my pocket.

"Name's Nyxara," she said curtly.

"Okay, Nyxara." I walked toward her.

"Greg told me you'd explain this whole Dark Lord situation to me." She groaned, a long, dramatic sound that made it very clear she would rather be anywhere else. I thought assistants were supposed to be loyal and supportive, but Nyxara looked like she was about to file a complaint with HR.

"Basically," Nyxara said, hovering a few feet off the ground. I noticed two small, leathery demon wings sprout from her back, flapping lazily to keep her airborne.

"A Dark Lord is the anchor of a world. You, Milo Miles, are the figurehead of fear and terror."

"Why do we need fear and terror?" I asked as I sat down on the grass. It felt like this was going to be a long lecture. She zipped through the air, stopping so close to my face that I could see the golden sparks in her pupils.

"Don't interrupt me. You listen until I grant you a Q&A session. Got it?" I nodded frantically, leaning back to avoid her horns.

"Every world needs balance," she continued, resuming her slow, graceful float.

"For a Hero to shine, there must be a Dark Lord. For people to appreciate happiness, they need to taste suffering. If a world becomes a perfect utopia where everyone is happy all the time, reality would not function properly." She landed softly and pointed a finger at me.

"That's where you come in. You exist so the Hero has something to overcome. You provide the threat that brings hope to Lycora. And because we're on a tight schedule, you kept your original body. We can't wait twenty years for you to grow out of diapers." I looked down at my hands. My outfit had definitely changed. I was wearing heavy, dark robes with intricate gold trim, looking like the leader of some shady cult. But as I touched my face, the features were the same. The same average nose, the same tired eyes.

There went my secret hope of being reincarnated as a supermodel.

"So... I'm the villain?" I asked. Nyxara shot me a playful, almost predatory glare.

"Yes. But in a cosmic sense, you're a hero. Since without you, there would be an imbalance. If the balance shifts too far toward too sad or too happy, the Order steps in and erases the entire world."

"Who is the Ord—" Nyxara's index finger snapped onto my lips. It was ice-cold, but the sudden contact sent a jolt of warmth straight to my stomach. My previous life had been so devoid of female contact that a single finger on my mouth was enough to make my brain short-circuit.

"The Order governs everything. That's all you need to know," she whispered.

"Pry too far, and who knows what might happen to you." She pulled her hand away.

"There are plenty of ways to spread terror. You can start small, raze a village, cause a few high-profile deaths, the usual."

"Wait, what? I can't be a murderer!" Granted, I was a loser in my previous life, but I was not a monster. Nyxara shrugged, turning her back to me.

"Then there's no fear. Everyone stays happy, the world loses balance, and everyone dies when the Order hits the delete button." She started flying away, picking up speed.

"Hey! Wait! Where are you going?" I scrambled to my feet, chasing after her.

"Leaving," she called back over her shoulder.

"You clearly don't have the stomach for this. The Hero will probably end you in a day or two anyway. I would rather go back and wait for a candidate who isn't a coward."

"How would the Hero even find me?" Nyxara stopped mid-air. She let out a sigh so heavy it practically bent the grass beneath her. She turned around, looking at me with pure exhaustion.

"Because you are currently vibrating with dark energy, dumbass. You're like a giant neon sign for evil. You're physically strong enough to rip a tree out of the dirt, and the Hero? She can sense that." Wait, she?

"So you are saying I'm actually overpowered, and the hero is a girl?"

"Well, I wouldn't say you are overpowered at the moment. You are strong, yes, but the Hero could probably one-shot you at your current state."

"Is the hero a girl?" I repeated my other question. Nyxara stared at me, her expression shifting to one of pure disgust.

"No. The Hero is a massive, muscular guy with a waxed mustache who loves bear-hugging enemies into dust. He's going to love a guy like you."

"What? Are you serious?" I felt the blood drain from my face.

"Are you actually stupid?" she snapped.

"I called the Hero a she! Of course she's a girl! Are you so desperate to see a girl that you've lost the ability to process basic pronouns?"

"Look, in my old life, no one wanted to befriend me! I had no mother, so my only wish was—""Spare me the backstory of your sad life, I don't care." She turned to fly off again.

"Ugh, why did I get stuck with this pathetic excuse for a—" Before she could finish her sentence, she bounced backward after hitting what seemed like an invisible wall in the air.

"Ouch!" she yelped, clutching her forehead. Suddenly, the clouds above us parted. A blinding, celestial light poured down, and a colossal figure began to emerge. It wasn't a god, though. It was a giant, floating, bald head with piercing blue eyes. It was Greg.

"NYXARA!" the giant head bellowed. The sheer volume of his voice made the ground tremble.

"Stop fooling around! The Big Boss is asking why Lycora's balance is still in shambles!"

"But!" she shouted back, rubbing her red forehead.

"This guy isn't cut out for the job! He's a disaster!"

"The assignment is final!" Greg's eyes flashed with fury.

"Make Milo Miles a proper Dark Lord, or I'm getting fired. And if I go down, I'm firing you first!" With one last threatening glare, the giant head descended back into the clouds, and the sky returned to normal. Nyxara was trembling. Probably half from anger, half from the fear of unemployment. For a second, I actually felt bad for her. It seemed like the afterlife had some crappy management issues. I stepped closer and tentatively touched her shoulder.

"Um, Nyxara... I'll try. Really. We'll figure it out together. Also, Nyxara is kind of a mouthful. Can I just call you Nyx?" She turned around and slapped me so hard I saw stars. I went sailing through the air again. As the ground rushed up to meet me, I performed a mid-air contortion, twisting my body so I landed on my shoulder instead of my pocket. I hit the grass hard, but I let out a breath of relief. The Eye of Love was safe. Well, if it would still work with the crack and all, that is.

"What was that for!?" I yelled, rubbing my stinging cheek.

"I said I'll try!" Nyx floated over, looking down at me with narrow, condescending eyes.

"That was for almost making me lose my job." Pretty sure that was on her. She was the one who had refused to help and tried bailing out. She sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Whatever. It looks like I'm stuck with you. Let's get you ready to terrorize the world."