Lord Of The Lost

The First Knight, who died thousands of years ago, had long been reduced to a skeleton, buried beneath the weight of time and dust.

What animates him now is not life, but flesh and blood brimming with a frenzied will, a force that compels him forward. His voice, harsh and obscure, clawed its way into the air.

"Flowers… in the soil… rot. Memories… in the wind… dissipate."

The words carried a deep sorrow, like the whispers of something once beautiful now decayed. William listened, struck by the imagery, the petals of withered flowers falling to the mud, breaking apart and becoming part of the soil, slowly decomposing into nothingness.

"They call me the First Knight," the Death Knight continued, his tone devoid of pride or nostalgia. "But that name… it does nothing for me."

He seemed to struggle, as if trying to grasp at the edges of a memory. He wanted to remember the glory and splendor he once embodied, but it was like staring at flowers through a dense fog; vague, fleeting, and unreachable.

"Everything I see now feels strange…"

Only fragments of the past flickered in his mind: battles fought to quell chaos, victories over darkness. Yet the world before him had changed beyond recognition.

"The only thing that remains…" his gaze fixed on the vast fields of gold, "are the ears of wheat."

---

The Death Knight's hollow eyes stared out over the endless wheat fields. Waves of gold swayed gently in the breeze, the sound of wind rustling through the stalks carrying a warmth that seemed almost out of place.

For a moment, the mad chaos in his soul seemed to calm.

William recalled what Metatron had told him: after the Original Knight's death, his body dissolved into the soil, and the immense power within him nourished the land. This power had transformed the knight's fiefdom into a haven of fertility, where golden wheat grew abundant year after year, untouched by famine or disaster.

Watching the Death Knight gaze silently at the fields, William's thoughts wandered.

He remembered the Forum Master mentioning something peculiar outside Shadow Castle, traces of massive hoofprints, as though left by a great beast. Nearby, a demon-like figure had stood motionless, staring at a desolate and lifeless wheat field for an uncomfortably long time.

The resemblance to the Death Knight now, staring at these golden fields, was undeniable.

---

Suddenly, the Death Knight let out a bone-chilling howl.

"That vampire!" His voice was filled with fury. "Dark clouds blot out the sun, choking the light from the wheat! The dry, cracked soil cannot nurture seedlings!"

The skeletal Pegasus snorted, as if sharing its master's rage.

"No golden ears of wheat will grow again… That Earl should have been executed by me, immediately!"

William blinked in surprise.

According to the 'Human Skin Book', the Vampire Count had been on the brink of transforming into a shadow being but had failed at the last moment. Was this failure caused by the withering wheat fields?

'All this… over wheat?'

William couldn't help but wonder how the Vampire Count would feel, knowing his demise had been decreed not by some grand conflict, but because of the Death Knight's obsession with golden wheat.

"This Death Knight," William muttered to himself, "is like an unstoppable mudslide."

It was both terrifying and absurd, the mix of ancient power and eccentric fixation creating a storm of chaos wherever the knight turned.

From that moment on, William decided to tread carefully.

Forget challenging the Death Knight; he wasn't sure he could survive a kick from the skeletal Pegasus.

The steed, once a legendary Pegasus, was a creature of myth: pure, fearless, and radiant, with wings like a glimmering veil of light. Now it was a shadow of its former self, a twisted echo of its glory.

William hesitated, then asked, "Did you… kill a strange black magician?"

The Death Knight's hollow voice rumbled like distant thunder. "Hope."

William's eyebrows shot up. "You know him?"

"Notes… fragments… they told me," the Death Knight growled. "That lunatic—tamed… but crazy!"

As he spoke, a cold and suffocating aura swept over William. The sheer madness emanating from the Death Knight sent shivers down his spine.

It struck William then: the Death Knight wasn't as composed as he appeared. His black armor wasn't just a symbol of power, it was a prison, holding back a festering insanity that threatened to consume him.

"Is he still a 'knight'?" William murmured to himself, his thoughts racing.

This wasn't just about a fallen warrior. The Death Knight had died a thousand years ago. Did he still retain the essence of a knight's honor and strength? Or had he become something entirely different?

William knew one thing: those who followed the path of flesh and blood inevitably succumbed to madness.

"He was researching the path to godhood," William said cautiously. "His findings are hidden in his notes."

"I know that already," the Death Knight replied, his hollow gaze piercing through William. "Are you here for the notes?"

The knight's eyes seemed to peer straight into William's soul or perhaps into the demon wolf within him.

"If you're willing to give them to me… great," William said, keeping his voice steady. "If not, I'll leave now."

He wasn't naive. The Death Knight wouldn't be fooled by such simplicity. William only hoped the ancient warrior wouldn't utter the dreaded words: '"Since you're here, you're not leaving."'

Instead, the Death Knight shook his head slowly. "The Madman… walks toward his doom. All successors follow that path!"

The skeletal Pegasus, Rocinante, shook its bony head violently, as though protesting its rider's cryptic statement.

William's chest tightened. Did the Death Knight think 'he' was destined to follow Hope's path into madness?

"I just want answers," William said. "Clues about the Black Forest."

The Death Knight's glowing eyes turned toward the distant forest.

"That forest… it was lush and thriving a thousand years ago," he said, his voice colder than ice. "Now it is scarred, wounded. I've seen it. I've always been watching."

The chill in the air deepened as the Death Knight's aura grew darker, more oppressive. A suffocating stench of death filled the air, wrapping around William like chains.

"There is no point in seeking knowledge," the knight said, his voice a booming verdict. "For in the end, all things go mad!"

William flinched at the finality of his words. This wasn't a warning; it was a declaration.

"The wounded forest grows its roots in stillness," the knight continued. "But where… is it going?"

Even Rocinante seemed uneasy. The skeletal Pegasus let out an irritated snort, shaking its head as if trying to shake off its own discomfort.

Then, without warning, it coughed, a grating, metallic sound and out of its skeletal mouth came a crumpled, complete page of a book.

William stood there, utterly speechless.

The culmination of Hope's groundbreaking research, painstakingly compiled; was being used as horse feed? Even if the recipient was a Pegasus, this was absurd.

'What a waste.'

At least Rocinante, the skeletal Pegasus, didn't seem capable of digesting it.

With care, William picked up the crumpled page and unfolded it. His eyes widened as the words came into focus:

'[Constructing the Initial Template of the Flesh and Blood Path: The Potion Formula]'

His heart raced. This was no ordinary fragment. Hope had indeed unlocked part of the Flesh and Blood Path, and this page alone contained knowledge of immense significance.

A divine path.

A road to godhood.

Where would it lead? William couldn't help but wonder. All paths were hidden mysteries, but this one; new and untamed, seemed to carry both immense promise and unimaginable danger.

Before William could process it further, the Death Knight's voice thundered through the air:

"No matter where it leads, it can't reach the end!"

The knight's tone was venomous, filled with fury and defiance.

"If madness is destiny; if becoming a god means losing everything to insanity, then I will strangle that destiny myself at the very end!"

His skeletal hands clenched tightly as his voice grew louder, filled with righteous wrath.

"Everything depends on sunshine. Wheat seedlings grow with rain and dew!"

"This land does not need madness! It does not belong here! There is no place for it in this world!"

His words weren't just a declaration; they were a condemnation. The hatred in his voice was visceral, raw, and unwavering.

---

The Death Knight continued his patrol, tirelessly surveying his fiefdom. His presence was both protective and menacing, like a guardian who could turn executioner at any moment.

William trailed behind, silently taking in the knight's unrelenting resolve.

Before long, they reached a forest. A dark silence hung over it, oppressive and foreboding.

It wasn't just any forest, it was the 'Black Forest'.

But something about this part of the forest was worse. Far worse.

The ground beneath William's feet was a sickly brown, bare and stripped of life. What should have been fertile black soil was instead barren, resembling a festering wound.

The forest floor was covered in grotesque patches of what could only be described as blight, leaving ugly bald spots where life had been choked out. The trees, oblivious to the ground's affliction, stretched skyward, their roots dug into corruption.

William's brow furrowed deeply.

'[Main Quest Hint: You have encountered the Wound of the Earth.]'

'[Wounds of the Earth: The land bleeds, nature suffers, and everything alienates. It crawls, creeping forward in silent agony.]'

The demon wolf's premonition surged through William.

His [Desperate Situation] ability heightened his senses, amplifying his attributes. The danger was close, imminent, and suffocating.

Then it hit him.

There were no farmers here.

Despite the vast, perfectly aligned wheat fields, no one was tending them.

The wheat fields stretched to the edge of the forest, where the land seemed to transform. At this eerie border, William saw something that sent a chill down his spine: a tomb, collapsed and in ruins, its remnants scattered like shattered bones.

In front of the tomb stood a weathered monument, its inscription etched deep:

'"The Terminator of the Dark Ages."'

'"The Pioneer of the Knight's Path."'

'"The Original Knight Sleeps Here."'

William's breath caught. The legend of the First Knight had come full circle, but here, at the edge of the corrupted forest, his resting place was anything but peaceful. It was a battleground between life and madness, light and shadow.