I Became the Black Knight

Dale lowered his head. It wasn't by his own will—his head simply bowed on its own.

The smoke filling the room soon took shape.

Pale white feet and long black hair that reached the floor.

Though Dale, with his head lowered, could only see the feet, he still felt that the presence before him was beautiful.

Dale spoke calmly.

"I told you last time—I'm not your son."

[All children who follow the night are my offspring. Since your gender is male, isn't it only fitting to call you my son? Or would you prefer I call you 'my prince' with a bit more affection?]

"..."

Dale let out a silent groan inwardly, and the Goddess of the Night spoke again.

[But really—only coming to see me after a whole year? Do you know how sad this goddess has been? Now, let me see your face.]

Dale removed his helmet and tucked it under his arm.

His hair, white as snow, flowed down over his shoulders.

The goddess let out a sigh of admiration.

[Honestly, who did you take after to end up this handsome? I'm worried some wicked wench might snatch you away.]

Dale ignored the remark and continued speaking.

"I lost my way while coming from Russell to this place. I wandered through the mountains, and time slipped by."

[…My son is truly hopeless with directions. From now on, make sure to travel with a guide.]

Though he hated to admit it, Dale nodded slightly.

He hadn't come here just to exchange idle banter.

"I offer the souls I've gathered."

Dale extended his right hand forward. A soft yet cold hand reached out and held his.

He felt something being drawn out from deep within.

[That's quite a large amount. With this, an ascension in rank is well within reach. First, I shall bestow a blessing corresponding to your offering. Choose.]

Three options appeared before Dale's eyes:

"Strength Increase"

"Armor Enhancement"

"Soul Augmentation"

'This part really is exactly like the game.'

Depending on which option he chose here, his growth direction would diverge significantly.

First, Strength Increase.

Just as the name implied, it enhanced physical power. It had the most direct effect on combat performance.

Next, Armor Enhancement.

For a Dark Knight, armor was no different from their own body—growing and evolving alongside its wearer.

Enhancing the armor didn't just mean making it tougher. It could also involve increasing its weight, enlarging its size, or activating hidden features. For example, parts of the armor could be transformed into blades or other sharp weapons.

Lastly, Soul Augmentation increased his total mana capacity.

Dark Knights were surprisingly versatile as a class. Though they gave up much of their humanity, they were granted by the Goddess of Night not only exceptional physical prowess but also considerable magical aptitude.

With the right growth path, they could even wield high-level dark magic.

'And mana can be used in so many different ways. It becomes even more important in the later stages.'

Having leveled multiple maxed-out characters before, he knew just how critical mana became in the late game.

Dale hesitated, deep in thought. Choosing between the three options wasn't easy.

After all, this was his first time raising a Dark Knight.

The Goddess of Night patiently waited for his decision.

No—she even seemed pleased, as if enjoying the extra time spent with him.

Finally, Dale made his choice.

"I'll put everything into Strength."

[Are you certain?]

"Yes."

At this early stage, increasing raw strength was the right call.

If his strength was lacking, armor enhancements wouldn't matter—he'd still end up getting pummeled. And boosting mana now was premature.

'Sure, I could dump everything into defense and play the tank role…'

But that would require finding exceptional allies he could trust to watch his back.

But Dale was a Dark Knight.

It wasn't just difficult to find "exceptional" allies—it was hard enough finding any allies at all.

In the end, he needed to be capable of handling everything on his own.

Dale made his choice, and the goddess accepted it. A faint mist wrapped around him.

Crack.

His muscles twisted and pulsed as if screaming, though there was no pain. Dale simply waited calmly.

Moments later, he could feel it.

'I've gotten stronger.'

The density of his muscles had increased. After offering up an entire year's worth of gathered souls, the difference was stark.

The goddess spoke with a satisfied tone.

[Seems like you're pleased.]

"Yes."

[Then I shall raise your rank as well.]

"I'd be grateful."

The goddess gently caressed his helmet.

That was all it took.

[Dale]

Rank: 2

Class: Dark Knight

Strength: 40

Endurance: 20

Mana: 10

Stamina: ―

Willpower: 10

[Skill List]

Vital Drain: Absorbs remaining life force and lingering souls from corpses.

[Traits]

Half-Human, Half-Undead: Sensations such as pain, taste, and touch are dulled. However, you never tire. All biological functions such as sleeping or eating become unnecessary.

Unholy Senses: Aside from dulled pain, taste, and touch, all other senses are heightened. Highly sensitive to hostility, killing intent, and the scent of blood.

[Title]

―

Dale slowly read through the information.

Strength at 40, Endurance at 20. For someone at Rank 2, those numbers were exceptionally high.

'Dark Knights really do have strong stats.'

According to the lore, Dark Knights were once honorable knights who became corrupted and twisted.

They received a direct baptism from the Goddess of Night, and their souls and bodies were bound to armor infused with dark power—an unholy existence.

What mattered most was that they used to be knights.

In this world, knights were practically human weapons.

So, naturally, a Dark Knight—formerly a knight—would possess outstanding stats.

As Dale carefully reviewed his information, the voice of the goddess echoed in his ears.

["Now that your rank has risen to 2 and your strength stat has surpassed 35, you've met the conditions to change your class to Death Knight. What do you intend to do, Dale?"]

As soon as the goddess finished speaking, a prompt appeared before his eyes.

"Would you like to change your class to Death Knight?"

Death Knight—one of the advanced branches of the Dark Knight class. It's known for significantly enhancing physical abilities.

'My strength would probably increase by at least 1.5 times.'

But Dale shook his head without hesitation.

"I won't change classes. A Death Knight is a complete undead, isn't it?"

Though he had ended up like this, Dale still wanted to remain human.

Even if it meant gaining more power, becoming a full undead was out of the question.

'Death Knights are good in the early game, but their growth potential is low.'

The Goddess of Night seemed pleased with his decision.

["Yes. I wouldn't want you to become an ugly undead either."]

"Then, I'll take my leave now."

There was nothing more to be done.

Dale straightened his knees and rose from where he had been kneeling. As he did, the smoke that had formed the figure of the goddess dispersed in all directions.

With his current level, Dale was not yet permitted to see the goddess's true form. Just as he was about to leave the prayer room, her voice called out to him from behind.

[You're doing well, Dale. Continue your efforts just as you have. If you do, you'll surely obtain what you desire at the end of your journey.]

Dale paused, his hand resting on the doorknob.

What Dale desired…

'To return to Earth. And to become human again.'

If he could achieve those two things, there was nothing Dale wouldn't do.

Without a word, he left the room.

Behind him, the goddess's voice echoed faintly:

[Come back again soon, Dale! Don't you dare make me wait another whole year like this! If you do, this goddess will cry her eyes out!]

***

Dale walked toward the center of the temple. The same scene as before unfolded before him.

Thick darkness. A skeleton swinging its sword off to one side. And the high priest, smiling strangely.

The priest spoke to Dale.

"It seems you've gotten what you were looking for."

Dale gave a silent nod. He was about to leave the temple when a sudden curiosity made him turn his head.

"Can I ask you something?"

"If it's something I can answer, by all means."

"The goddess… is she always like that?"

For some reason, from the very first time they met, the Goddess of the Night had taken an oddly strong liking to Dale—so much so that it felt overwhelming.

What was it she'd said again?

'That I'm special,' or something like that?

Well, it was a good thing to be viewed favorably. But perhaps the goddess's friendliness was… a bit too much.

Dale couldn't help but wonder—was she like that with everyone?

A knowing smile formed on the high priest Ariel's lips, as if he understood exactly what Dale meant.

"Don't worry. The goddess treats everyone the same way."

"Ah, I see."

"You know, the goddess rules over death, right? Death is cold and quiet. So even if the goddess sometimes seems icy as a glacier, don't let it get to you too much."

"?"

Apparently, the way the goddess acted around Dale was… different from how she treated others.

Nodding to himself, Dale stepped out of the temple.

And immediately, he scowled.

The sun was high in the sky, scattering its light in all directions.

He hurriedly put on his helmet and lowered the faceguard.

Only then did Dale start to feel a little better.

He began walking again. Now that he had finally arrived in Irene, the main stage of the game, there was a lot to do.

First of all, he needed to buy a new longsword.

Dale carefully retraced the same path he had taken on the way in, just in case he got lost.

Irene at midday was bustling with life. People of various races were moving busily through the streets, yet a sense of ease could be seen on their faces.

It was a scene he hadn't witnessed in a long time.

People living near areas overrun by demons always wore grim expressions.

It was truly a moment of peace he hadn't felt in ages.

But good times never lasted long.

As Dale walked past, the people on the street suddenly stiffened—as if on cue.

Then they began whispering to each other.

"...It's a Black Knight."

"Why is one in the middle of the city, and not at the front lines?"

"W-We could get hurt if we get involved. Let's get away."

Though light and darkness had formed a truce, the deep rift formed by years of animosity had not yet healed. Those who followed the Goddess of the Night were still met with wariness and hostility.

Dale realized his hand had unconsciously reached toward his coat.

As a Black Knight, sensitive to hostility, his instincts drove him to reach for a weapon.

'Come to think of it, I think I once heard that Black Knights sometimes snap and stab people out of nowhere.'

Was it Haken who had said that?

Either way, in an atmosphere like this, he could almost believe it. Other Black Knights likely didn't have Dale's level of self-restraint.

Dale quickened his pace. People backed away from him in fear, which made it easier to move through the crowded streets. As he focused on getting through, Dale eventually came to a stop in front of a tavern. Through the wide-open door, he spotted a familiar back of someone's head.

ChatGPT bilang:

'Haken.'

Come to think of it, Haken did say he was going to drink.

Dale stepped into the tavern, thinking he might say hello.

Conveniently, Haken was sitting at the table closest to the door.

Or rather—he was slumped over it.

'Drank himself into a stupor, huh.'

Dale reached out to wake him, then stopped.

Haken's shoulders were trembling.

"Ugh... hic... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Haken was crying.

"I'm sorry... Quil, I'm sorry..."

"..."

He was a cheerful, lighthearted, and admittedly crude man—but that didn't mean he was immune to grief.

Losing a close comrade must have been unbearable. Yet during the entire journey into the city, Haken hadn't shown a hint of it. That was probably his professionalism as a mercenary. Or maybe it was just stubborn pride—unwilling to show weakness to a fellow companion, no matter what.

"..."

Dale paid silent respect to Haken's demeanor.

He didn't speak to him or make his presence known—just turned around and walked out of the tavern.

Today, Dale had seen nothing inside that tavern. As he stepped back onto the road, he was once again reminded of the kind of world he had fallen into.

***

The most pressing issue Dale had to resolve was his identity.

Estel had vouched for his background, but he couldn't rely on her forever.

If, by sheer misfortune, Estel were to die, Dale would be immediately expelled from the city.

'To establish an identity, I need to belong to an organization…'

But who would willingly accept a Dark Knight as one of their own?

In this massive city, there was only one such place. A place constantly overwhelmed with work—so much so that they'd even welcome the hands of a half-dead corpse.

Dale knocked on the door of the Mercenary Guild.