My body hurt, my stats were trash, my name was already spreading through player channels as a cautionary joke. Ryan got cursed. Ryan got abandoned. Ryan is farming bats like a lunatic.
Good. Let them laugh while I built an empire out of everything they were afraid to fight after dinner.
The next night I stopped hunting small things. I went to the moonlit crypt.
It was not a dungeon most players cared about. The rewards were strange, the mobs were annoying, and the boss only spawned between midnight and two. A perfect waste of time for people who needed beauty sleep. A perfect training ground for me.
The crypt entrance was a stone mouth half buried in a hillside. Inside, blue flames burned without heat. Coffins lined the walls, and every time I passed one, something inside knocked politely as if asking permission to murder me.
I gave permission.
The coffins exploded. Ghost knights came out in rusted armor carrying swords long enough to cut a horse in half. I know what that sounds like. Armor, knights, boring. But these were not the usual walking tin cans. They moved like regret had learned swordplay. Their blades phased through stone, split into afterimages, and sang when they missed.
The first one nearly killed me. Its sword passed through my guard and carved a line of cold across my soul. My health barely moved, but my stamina dropped like I had sprinted for an hour. Ghost damage did not care about muscle. It attacked intention.
So I changed my intention.
Instead of trying to block the sword, I let it pass through my arm and stepped into the knight's chest. The cold hit so hard my teeth rattled. Then I used my own shadow like a hook, wrapped it around the knight's spine, and pulled. The knight came apart like smoke caught in a fist.
Undead warrior conquered. Shadow guard formed.
It rose behind me, kneeling, sword lowered. That was new. Bats obeyed like animals. The ogre obeyed like a depressed furniture mover. The ghost knight obeyed like a soldier.
I grinned in the dark. Then I kicked open every coffin in the hallway.
The next twenty minutes were insane. Ghost blades flashed through walls. My bat scouts screamed directions into my senses. The ogre shadow ripped coffin lids off and used them like shields. Grave rats swarmed skeletal ankles. I dodged one sword by bending backwards so far my cloak brushed the floor, then stabbed upward through the knight's chin with a dagger coated in corpse moth ash.
A ghost knight tried to flank me. My newly conquered guard stepped in front of it and parried. The sound was beautiful, like two funeral bells insulting each other.
I realized something important right there. I was not just collecting monsters. I was building roles. Scouts, guards, carriers, distractions. If I treated every conquered night creature like a tool, I would become strong. If I treated them like pieces on a board, I could become unfair.
And unfair was exactly my style.
By the time I reached the crypt's inner chamber, twelve ghost knights marched behind me in silence.
The boss was waiting on a throne of broken swords. The Moon Baron had no skin, no eyes, and far too much confidence. A silver rapier floated beside him, moving without a hand. When he stood, the entire crypt bowed. Coffins lowered. Flames dimmed. Even my shadows stiffened.
The Moon Baron pointed his rapier at me. A pressure slammed down on my army. My bats fell from the ceiling. My rats curled into smoke. The ogre dropped my bag and tried to kneel.
Domination magic. Of course the first real boss I challenged would also be a control freak. The Moon Baron was trying to command my conquered shadows by using a higher undead authority.
For a second, it worked. My ghost knights turned their helmets toward me, their swords lifted.
I felt the curse in my chest twist. Not in fear. In anger.
If user conquers the night, curse becomes crown.
The line echoed inside me like a dare.
I did not fight domination with strength. I did something smarter. I bowed.
The Moon Baron froze. My ghost knights froze. I bowed low, like a servant, like a fool, like a cursed player who knew his place. Then I looked up and smiled. Because while the boss focused on my surrender, my bat scouts had flown behind the throne and found the source of his authority — a moon nail driven into the wall, a relic pinning his soul to the crypt.
I snapped my fingers. The corpse moths detonated against the moon nail. The chamber flashed black. The Baron's domination broke, and every shadow I owned stood back up at the same time.
I pointed at him. My army moved.
The Moon Baron was fast, elegant, and deadly. He stabbed through three ghost guards in one blur. He split my ogre shadow in half and kicked the pieces away. His rapier drew silver lines in the air that exploded a beat later.
I should have been terrified. Instead, I started laughing. Because I could see the rhythm. One thrust to test. One slash to punish. One step back to reset. A nobleman's duel repeated forever.
So I ruined the duel.
I threw grave rats at his face. He recoiled in pure offended silence, and I used that tiny break to slide beneath his rapier and drive both daggers into his knees. My ghost guards pinned his arms. My bats covered his skull. The ogre shadow, now stuck together with black smoke and poor attitude, lifted the entire throne and smashed it over him.
The Moon Baron collapsed. I placed one boot on his chest. He looked up at me with empty sockets, and I felt his will strike mine like a sword hitting a locked door.
He wanted to serve nobody. Respectable.
I leaned down and said, "Then serve the night, and remember who owns it."
The curse flared. The Moon Baron's shadow tore free and sank into mine.
Night boss conquered. Ghost captain formed.
A taller knight rose behind me, rapier lowered, tattered cloak drifting in wind that did not exist. My stats changed. Night command increased. Shadow capacity increased. Sunlight rejection unchanged. Holy vulnerability increased.
I stared at that last line for a long moment. The curse was not being kind. Every gain came with a sharper weakness. Every step into darkness made the day hate me more.
Fine. The day could stand in line.