HP: Bad Intentions

Blake let out a sigh of relief. "Thankfully, it's optional," he thought, recalling the option to give up his physical body to become a Lich King.

As thrilling as the idea of becoming a demon king might be, the Lich King?

No, that wasn't his style. Giving up all the pleasures of life—good food, fun activities, and the possibility of a future family—just for the sake of immortality seemed like a terrible trade.

"No thanks," he muttered under his breath, still reeling from the gravity of the system's offer.

After calming down, Blake noticed a strange sensation flooding his mind—a rush of new knowledge that felt both exhilarating and overwhelming.

This wasn't the kind of information you could just memorize. It was deeper, almost ingrained into his very being. As the pieces fell into place, he realized that the power within his soul had surged dramatically.

His spiritual sensitivity was heightened to the point where he could feel it like a tangible force. Before, a simple stun spell would have floored him, leaving him helpless.

But now, such attacks seemed insignificant. He could sense his soul's newfound resilience, as though nothing could rattle him anymore.

Closing his eyes, Blake allowed himself to focus, carefully examining the knowledge that had implanted itself into his mind. A smirk slowly crept onto his face as the details of his new abilities became clear.

He was a Necromancer now, a master of dark arts capable of summoning and controlling the undead. This power was both terrifying and impressive. The deeper his understanding became by levelling up, the closer he would come to an even darker transformation—sacrificing his own body to become an immortal lich.

But this wasn't just any necromancy. It was power ripped from the deepest recesses of dark magic, the kind Voldemort himself might have envied. With it, Blake could summon undead spirits and create armies of the dead to do his bidding.

He could even refine corpses and skeletons into puppets, turning the deceased into powerful weapons. But it wasn't without risks. The overuse of necromantic magic would drain his vitality, leaving him weak, pale, and possibly even twisted mentally. That was a danger Blake wasn't willing to face lightly.

Blake had to say that this diamond treasure chest really deserved to be the treasure chest that Voldemort provided. It was very dark, very spooky. Immortality sounded tempting, but losing his physical form? No way. He had his limits.

He grabbed a mirror, checking his reflection to make sure he hadn't already begun to show signs of decay. Thankfully, his complexion was still normal, a healthy flush to his cheeks.

"I'd better be careful," he mused, resolving not to abuse the dark arts unless absolutely necessary.

Yet, even with its risks, the ability to summon the undead seemed incredibly useful. He couldn't help but see the tactical advantages it could offer. Summoning spirits in battle could give him the upper hand, and the fact that he could do it without enslaving them—thereby avoiding backlash—was an added bonus.

Once he felt confident in his mastery of necromancy, Blake's curiosity got the better of him. He wanted to try summoning an undead right away, but a momentary hesitation stopped him.

He didn't know who to summon, and it felt inappropriate to summon the dead without a clear reason. Deciding to hold off for now, he turned his attention back to the system. There were still two treasure chests left to open: a Diamond Chest and the coveted Supreme Chest.

Blake's excitement built as he mentally commanded the system. "System, open the Diamond Treasure Chest!" he said, his voice barely containing the thrill of anticipation.

The system responded instantly.

[Ding! Opening the Diamond Treasure Chest for the host!]

Blake held his breath as the system continued,

[Ding! Congratulations to the host for obtaining the ultimate biological technology!]

Blake blinked in surprise. "Biotechnology? And ultimate?" He had expected something more straightforward, maybe a weapon or an artefact, but biological technology?

As the thought sank in, an intense flood of knowledge surged into his mind with such force that it knocked him to the ground. His body gave way, and the next thing he knew, he was unconscious.

When he finally regained consciousness, Blake sat up, rubbing his aching head. "How long was I out?" He checked his watch. Only five minutes had passed, but it felt like he'd been out for hours. Taking a deep breath, he began to sift through the newfound knowledge in his mind.

"Cloning technology, biological cultivation, life culture dish designs… this is insane." His eyes widened in shock as the enormity of what he now knew became clear. He could create new life, an entirely new species, based on his own ideas and specifications.

Blake realized he now had access to biotechnology far beyond anything that existed in the current world. "This is future technology," he marveled, the possibilities spinning in his mind.

With the knowledge he had just gained, he could even recreate extinct species—dinosaurs, for example—with nothing more than a few fossils. "I could actually make a dinosaur," he whispered, half in awe, half in disbelief.

The more he thought about it, the more Blake understood the true power of what he had just acquired. This was no ordinary reward—it should have even belonged in the Supreme Chest.

Creating magical creatures like basilisks or even dragons was now within his grasp. But unlike the rogue beasts in movies, his creations wouldn't turn against him. His druid abilities, along with the power of the Poke Ball, would ensure that whatever he made would remain loyal. "Jurassic Park's got nothing on me," Blake chuckled, his mind drifting to the terrifying but exciting prospect of creating a massive dinosaur.

Suddenly, his gaze fell on his own hand. "Wait… I am an artificial lifeform, so I can make myself?" The idea hit him out of nowhere, but it felt disturbingly plausible. The combination of Grindelwald's alchemists and Muggle scientists had always been at the cutting edge of creating artificial life.

His memory flickered back to the vague figure who had left him at the orphanage all those years ago. He hadn't been able to see the person clearly, but now he wondered if that figure had been the key to his creation.

Blake jotted down the thought in his notebook. This was something he couldn't solve right now, but it was too important to forget. One day, he would get to the bottom of it. For now, he put the idea aside, focusing on the last, and most enticing, treasure—the Supreme Chest.

His heart raced as he approached the chest, the one item that had caused so much trouble. Voldemort had undoubtedly wanted it for himself, but now it was in Blake's hands.

"System, open the Supreme Treasure Chest!" Blake commanded, his voice trembling with anticipation.

The system responded instantly.

[Ding! The Supreme Treasure Chest is being opened for the host! Congratulations to the host for obtaining the Supreme Lord of the Rings!]

Blake's eyes went wide. "No way…" he whispered, as the ring materialized in his hand. The golden band was unmistakable, with its fiery red inscriptions glowing faintly. "Is this… Sauron's ring? The actual One Ring?" He could hardly believe it. The words from the legend echoed in his mind:

"One ring to rule them all, one ring to find them, one ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them."

The realization of what he held sent a shiver down his spine. But something didn't quite make sense. There were no other Rings of Power in this world, so how could the One Ring exert its influence?

As if in answer, another rush of knowledge poured into his mind. It was a method to create other Rings of Power—rings that he could distribute to his most loyal followers. With those, he could control them, just like Sauron had controlled the other ring-bearers.

"Wait a minute… does this make me the Dark Lord?" Blake's voice was barely a whisper as the truth dawned on him. "I didn't sign up for this…"

Yet, despite the realization, a strange desire stirred within him, an urge to slip the ring onto his finger. It was a subtle, almost unnoticeable temptation, but it was there, growing stronger by the second. Slowly, Blake raised the ring to his hand, his fingers trembling as they inched closer.

But just as the ring was about to touch his skin, Blake stopped. A grin spread across his face as he whispered,

"Nice try, but I'm not falling for that."

With a flick of his wrist, Blake activated his necromancy. The dark magic surged through him, and for a brief moment, he heard a faint scream emanating from the ring. Then, silence. The One Ring, now powerless, lay still in his hand.

Tapping it lightly, Blake couldn't help but chuckle. "From now on, I'm your master," he said. "Any objections?"

The ring, of course, had none.

Satisfied, Blake slipped the ring onto his finger. With all the treasure chests opened and his power now greater than ever, he felt an overwhelming sense of accomplishment.

=============

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