Lord Of The Lost

In Metatron's vision of the future, the fate of the border town hangs in a precarious balance, a 50% chance of survival, a 50% chance of destruction.

The full moon night marks a critical turning point.

"The werewolf is coming for Sofia," Metatron had said, "but will the Wolf Lord of the Black Forest allow it?"

The roots of this tension stretch back ten years to Witch Night. It was then that the werewolves betrayed the witches, but the betrayal fractured their own kind as well. The old Wolf Lord, unwilling to follow the others down their dark path, parted ways with her pack. She took Sofia and disappeared, effectively severing the future of the werewolves.

Since then, the werewolves, now considered one of the dark races, have been unable to set foot in the border town. Snowstorm City, with its fearsome Blizzard Knights, acted as an impenetrable shield.

But recently, something changed.

An elite werewolf, a Sequence 8, had been sighted. If that was the case, then the Wolf Lord, a Sequence 7, would not be far behind. Not every werewolf can claim the title of Wolf Lord, but there are more than one among their ranks.

The werewolves had struck a deal with the black magicians, using a passage from Shadow Castle in exchange for helping eliminate the gatekeepers of the Black Forest. This pact set a dangerous chain of events into motion, and William knew it was imperative to speak with the Wolf Lord.

---

The last two times William visited the Black Forest, he had seen a kind, elderly werewolf lingering at the forest's edge, a figure unmistakably marked by werewolf features but with a calm, almost gentle demeanor.

This time, there was nothing.

The forest loomed vast and silent, cloaked in a thin, ghostly fog. William searched its outskirts, but the emptiness was suffocating. Not even the wind or the hum of insects broke the silence. It was as if the forest itself had stopped breathing.

At the edge of the woods, William paused. He saw the Wounds of the Earth; jagged cracks in the ground that pulsed with danger and his instincts as the Demon Wolf screamed at him to stay back. Something deep within the forest was wrong, threatening even for him.

Finally, he called out into the emptiness, and a voice responded.

"Kid, what are you doing here?"

The voice was calm and kind, yet it came from everywhere at once, as if the Black Forest itself were speaking.

William answered, "The werewolves will arrive here tomorrow."

A heavy sigh echoed through the trees. "Don't concern yourself with this, child," the Wolf Lord said, the sadness in her tone unmistakable. "Stay away from the Black Forest tomorrow. Wait for the full moon night. When it comes, take Sofia and leave."

"Where is she now?" William asked.

The Wolf Lord's voice softened, laced with sorrow. "She's asleep in my arms. She's been working tirelessly to create the werewolf potion, it takes so much time. Poor Sofia, why must her life be filled with so much hardship? How many more trials must she endure?"

A strange unease crept over William, an instinctual premonition from his Demon Wolf form. It felt as though the one speaking to him wasn't the Wolf Lord at all, but the land itself, the ancient forest, untouched by the corruption seeping into it.

William pushed forward. "Give me the invisibility cloak. I'll take her away."

He suspected that Sofia; Little Red Riding Hood, could be the Wolf Lord's greatest weakness.

But the Wolf Lord refused. "No, child. She is safest here with me. The invisibility cloak cannot hide her from a Wolf Lord's blood sense. I know what you are, your Demon Wolf blood allows you to harness the hidden powers of the cloak. But you are still young. You lack control over your abilities."

William frowned, frustration building. The Wolf Lord not only knew where the werewolves were but clearly had her own plans and she wasn't about to let him interfere.

Her dismissal wasn't unexpected. William had only recently transitioned into his Demon Wolf form and hadn't yet developed his full powers. To the Wolf Lord, his potential might be great, but his current self was just a pup in her eyes.

The Wolf Lord's voice was calm, yet filled with mystery. "The Demon Wolf is a creature of myths and legends. When it matures, it surpasses even the gods in mystery. If you wish to unlock the full power of the Demon Wolf, you must go to the Lost Labyrinth. Legends say the secrets of the Demon Wolf are buried there."

William's interest piqued. "I've heard Calcifer mention this place before."

The Wolf Lord nodded. "Few dare to explore the Lost Labyrinth, but it may be exactly where you belong."

"What makes it so special?" William pressed.

The Wolf Lord hesitated for a moment, then answered, "In ancient times, this land was ruled by a mighty kingdom. Under the eternal glow of the primordial moon, the kingdom thrived, until the ground split open, swallowing its capital and turning it into a maze of ruins. The chaos that followed was unimaginable. A war of gods erupted, and divine blood was spilled there. It is said that from that very chaos, the Moonlight Goddess was born."

William's eyes widened. A war of gods? A buried kingdom? The origins of the Moonlight Goddess? It was more than he had expected. But when he tried to learn more, the Wolf Lord raised a hand, cutting him off.

"That's all I can tell you," the Wolf Lord warned. "Speaking too much of these things risks drawing the attention of the gods. When you are weak, you must avoid their gaze at all costs. Once they notice you, whether it will bring you blessings or destruction, no one can say."

The weight of the warning hung heavy.

The Wolf Lord then spoke of the werewolves' origins, recounting how the first werewolves emerged in humanity's primitive age. Over time, their bloodline gave rise to a clan. When they abandoned their human identities, their devotion to the moon turned them into a dark race, forever bound to the shadows. Their heritage ran deep, granting them knowledge of secrets even gods dared not speak of, secrets that extended to both the gods and the Demon Wolves.

But the Wolf Lord's tone turned firm. "Now, leave. You've heard enough."

William had no choice but to comply, his black wings carrying him away. Yet as he flew, frustration gnawed at him. Leaving felt wrong. He had come so far, there had to be something more.

His gaze shifted toward Crow Ridge.

---

The black crows of Crow Ridge were still recovering, scattered across the hills. As William approached, a strange yet familiar aura filled the air, stirring unease among the flock. Their cries pierced the sky as a shadow rose from the mountains.

Emerging from the ridge was a massive creature with a wingspan of four or five meters. Its legs were thick and powerful, like those of an elephant, and its black feathers gleamed like scales under the dim light. It resembled an enormous eagle, yet far more menacing.

This was the Black Crow King.

It fixed its piercing gaze on William, who hovered mid-air with his own black crow wings spread wide. The creature let out a deafening cry, and in an instant, the sky darkened as though storm clouds had blanketed Crow Ridge.

A surge of mental energy radiated from the Black Crow King, flooding the area with powerful confusion-inducing waves. Even William, now a superhuman, felt its effects. His thoughts wavered for a moment before his resistance kicked in.

Thanks to his Demon Wolf passive skill [Desperate Situation], which increased his mental fortitude in the face of danger, William steadied himself. Though the Black Crow King's mental attacks were potent, William's unique abilities gave him just enough edge to resist.

He narrowed his eyes at the massive bird. The creature was ancient, its life level likely between Sequence 17 and Sequence 18. William had encountered it once before, in a battle that ended with the Black Crow King chasing him for a hundred miles before he narrowly escaped using a knight's lance and a developing lantern.

Now, the king loomed before him again; its size dwarfing William's transformed crow form by at least five times.

But this time, William didn't panic.

Reaching into his gear, he pulled out the Slender Evil Spear. The weapon gleamed menacingly, its sharp, pencil-thin tip designed for precision strikes.

Swoosh!

Both creatures flapped their wings, the air trembling under their force as they launched forward, accelerating toward each other. The sky above Crow Ridge became a battleground, the clash of predator and prey about to unfold in a storm of feathers, claws, and steel.

At that moment, William folded his wings tightly, clasped his claws together, and gripped the slender evil spear with both hands. His entire body transformed into a living weapon, a straight, sharp projectile powered by lethal intent.

The tip of the spear radiated an aura of absolute sharpness, exuding an unstoppable energy.

By the time the Black Crow King realized the danger, it was already too late.

The two collided in mid-air with a thunderous impact.