Accidental Overlord

In a cry of triumph, Sir Fate Darkbane lunged forward with all his might, sword in hand gleaming with the light of his faith and determination in equal measure. The blade pierced the menacing armor and imposing figure of the greatest threat to the land in millennia. This was the final blow, he knew it in his heart when the evil king let out a knell, screaming as the radiant light from Fate’s attack spread through his body between the gaps in his armor.

At last, in a burst of iridescent light that would have blinded Fate were it not for his purest conviction, the armor shattered across the room in all directions. Each piece melted like ice and became the very shadows themselves in the grand and dark hall and likewise swiftly burned away in the glorious light.

It was done.

Years and years of training, traveling, fighting, and struggling had come to an end, and Fate Darkbane had vanquished the evil that had threatened to corrupt and consume the known world. He scarcely knew how to react. He beamed.

“I did it! I actually defeated him; the Dark King is dead by my hand!” If not for his armor, he would have jumped for joy. Instead he quickly took a knee, kneeling onto the ground with his sword in both hands and said a silent prayer to his goddess who had guided him on his journey and gave him the strength to do what needed to be done.

Now he could return home, he would be heralded as a hero! The king would surely grant him the request to marry Princess Aria, the woman he’d loved since the day he’d met her. Surely the journey home would be far less perilous, it was like a downhill walk from…

… Why was the ground shaking?

The rumbling of the very stones beneath his feet woke him from his daydreaming. Was the castle coming down around him now that its master had been slain? He shot back to his feet, prepared to turn tail and run as quickly as he could, but as soon as he had turned in place, he suddenly froze. He could not move.

A glance at the ground beneath him told him why, a glowing purple runed circle appeared at his feet. A trap? Some kind of magic ward? He should have expected the Dark King would try something like this, to bring Fate down with him in a final act of evil.

But what the young knight felt in that moment was not pain or anguish, instead he felt something much the opposite. He felt power, incredible power rushing through his body, the likes of which he couldn’t even fathom in his wildest dreams. His armor and clothes burned away in an instant flash of pale violet flames, not even ashes left behind. Even his sword seemed to melt away until nothing but a glowing ball of magic was left floating in front of him.

He saw the shadows of the room around him begin to creep toward him like tendrils, eventually slithering up his legs like strange cold snakes seeking to consume him whole. When the shadows began moving across his bare skin in inky waves, he could feel his mind burning with anger. Not just his own anger—and truth be told there wasn’t much, only confusion—the anger of the Dark King. But not just that one, dozens of Dark Kings before him. He cursed the world and its cruelty to him, that he would be destined for this instead of what he rightfully deserved. To revel in the darkness instead of bathe in the light.

The shadow was close to enveloping the entirety of his body, and with it his sanity and willpower. He didn’t know what was happening, but he did not want it to. He did not want to become corrupted with these dark and terrible thoughts. So, he looked to the glowing ball of light that had once been his sword. A blade that he found in the tomb of a great and ancient hero. A blade that legend said could be used to slay the very shadows themselves and banish them from the mortal world. A blade that had served him well as his constant and loyal companion. He pleaded with it, that glowing ball of light, to stop whatever it was from taking his very self away from him.

With a suddenness that would have made Fate jump if he was able, the ball of light suddenly collided with his chest, and he felt a wave of warmth pulse through his body. In that moment, he felt yet another surge of power within him, one that was an equal to the darkness that was trying to consume him.

The agony of two conflicting forces clashing within his body, and the chaotic energy that arose within it, was almost too much to handle. The conflict physically manifested as electricity in the air around him, thundering and striking various points in the grand hall in brilliant arcs of either iridescent light or neon violets. The feeling went on for what felt like hours though in truth only seconds had passed, and he couldn’t help but cry out in confusion and pain. Two distinct pairs of wings sprung forth from his back. The top pair were radiant and feathered, while the bottom pair were bat-like and webbed but translucent like shadows.

When at last the feeling subsided, the lightning, the wings, and the runes below him vanished. He collapsed to the stone floor in a heap, panting and writhing as the aftershocks of the war that was just waged within him shook him to the core but slowly began to fade away as well. When he had the willpower to open his eyes and attempt to stand up, he was struck by what had become of his body. His extremities, namely his hands, forearms, feet, and calves were completely covered in black, like shadows against his skin. At the center of his chest, however, was a lightly glowing white orb surrounded by his ordinary fair skin. In between these two extremes were many strange swirling flourishes like tendrils of shadow crisscrossing his body in an intricate latticework.

“What in the hells…?” he was likewise struck by his own voice, which had become slightly deeper.

“Aha! Fool!” a haughty feminine voice called from the direction of the throne, “You have awoken me from my slumber, now prepare to face your doom, mortal!”

Fate expected to see someone very imposing given the manner in which they announced their presence, so he was quite surprised to instead see someone that he actually mistook for a child at first glance. She was very short, if she reached five feet in height it would surely only be barely so. She wore a typical dark kingdom mage’s garb, which was fairly revealing but didn’t do much for the girl as while her physique was not child-like, it was definitely very petite and had little curves to speak of.

Atop her head was a witch’s cap, pointed and only lightly worn with age, and over one of her bright red eyes was a black eye-patch. A curtain of lavender hair in a cute bob came out from under the wide brim of her hat, and she carried in her hand a pure black staff with a floating purple gemstone at the tip.

“Those who dare challenge the Dark King will be scorched alive by my hellfire! I am the royal court archwizard, the greatest sorceress in the land!” As she spoke, she was moving her hand in an arcane gesture, and a blazing ball of fire began to emerge from the very air in front of her, growing rapidly.

Fate looked around at his environment, he was standing in the center of the hall, the nearest cover was a pillar that was too far away. Even if he sprinted, he would likely still get caught in the blast, especially with a fireball of that size before he even reached cover. Instead he braced himself for impact, keeping his stance low and hoping she aimed high, so he had a chance to dodge out of the way.

“You will fear the name Kazuli Laziirathala!” she shouted and then let out bellowing, almost childish and haughty laughter as she launched the ball of flame toward him. It was going much faster than he anticipated, he didn’t have time to dodge before it came into contact.