Lord Of The Lost

The abandoned mine loomed ahead, its massive, dark entrance resembling the gaping maw of a monstrous beast waiting to devour anyone foolish enough to enter. The air around it was heavy, almost suffocating, as if the mine itself exhaled dread.

"Something is wrong here..." William murmured under his breath, his sharp eyes fixed on the eerie darkness within.

"Don't scare me like that!" Flying Spaghetti; gasped, his face pale. William's serious expression, like he was staring down a formidable enemy, sent shivers down his spine.

This wasn't a joke. Someone of William's reputation, the strongest player, wouldn't come here for a prank.

"The demonic energy... it's fluctuating unnaturally," William muttered, his brows furrowing deeper as he tried to make sense of the strange sensation.

With his Demon Wolf perception, William could feel faint waves of demonic power drifting out from the cave. It made no sense. He knew the truth of the mine, the demons that once lurked beneath had long been dead, their bodies scattered throughout the tunnels, lifeless.

William had been the one to strip the extraordinary traits from the demons in this place. Whatever demonic essence remained should have been nothing more than the natural ebb and flow of residual energy, like tides retreating to the ocean.

But this… this wasn't natural.

The demonic power now seemed alive, overflowing unnaturally, radiating a presence that defied logic.

Without hesitation, William strode straight into the dark, gaping entrance of the mine.

"Hey, wait for me!" Flying Spaghetti called, his voice trembling. Gritting his teeth, he clutched a torch and hurried after William.

As he stepped into the mine's shadowy depths, the only sound was the faint crackle of the torch's flame. Flying Spaghetti quickly noticed something unsettling: William's footsteps were completely silent, but his pace was relentless, forcing Flying Spaghetti to jog just to keep up.

---

It didn't take long for danger to appear.

A pair of glowing eyes glinted in the shadows, a demonized cheetah. The creature had wandered into the mine and succumbed to the corrupting influence of demonic power, transforming into a terrifying predator.

William's sharp senses told him that this cheetah was no ordinary beast. Though freshly demonized, it had already reached level 7, and its potential was staggering. If left to bask in the devil's energy that permeated the mine, it could grow into something even deadlier, perhaps even a devil-class superhuman like the infamous demon dog that once roamed here.

The demonized cheetah crouched in the shadows, its muscles coiled and ready to strike. It waited in complete silence, hidden in the corners of the mine.

But William didn't need to see it to know it was there.

His Demon Wolf premonition flared, guiding him as if the pitch-black tunnels were a sunlit field. Though his night vision was powerful, it was his instincts that made him untouchable here, sharper even than the legendary Devil's Child.

His gaze snapped to where the cheetah hid, and his eyes glinted coldly.

The creature froze as though it had stared into the eyes of death itself. Without a sound, it exploded into motion, its limbs propelling it at an incredible speed. In the blink of an eye, it vanished deeper into the mine.

Flying Spaghetti arrived moments later, panting and holding his torch high. He caught a fleeting glimpse of a shadow darting past and stopped in his tracks, wide-eyed.

"What… what just happened?" he stammered, staring into the darkness.

William didn't answer. He kept walking, his focus fixed on the depths of the mine.

---

Eventually, William arrived at a familiar spot; a small, desolate chamber where the demon dog had once fallen. The curled-up remains of the beast lay lifeless, its body twisted in death.

But something new caught William's eye.

Carved into the ground beside the corpse was a magic circle, intricate and pulsating faintly with residual energy. Its complexity and sinister design made it clear: this wasn't a natural formation.

William studied it in silence, his expression dark. After a moment, he spoke, his voice low and grim.

"Dark magician..."

The words hung in the air like a curse. Whatever was happening here wasn't just the lingering echoes of past battles. Something or someone, was working in the shadows, manipulating the remnants of this place for their own purposes.

The unnatural fluctuations of demonic power, the emergence of new threats like the demonized cheetah, and now the presence of a dark magician's handiwork, it was all connected.

William straightened, his claws tightening around his weapon. This mine wasn't just dangerous. It was a fuse waiting to be lit. And someone, somewhere, was about to strike the match.

This kind of intricate and complete magic array could only have been crafted by someone deeply skilled in magical knowledge.

But that raised a troubling question: no transcendental magician had been seen in the border town for years.

Immediately, a particular group came to William's mind, the black magicians.

They were the closest organized group of magic users to the border town and, more importantly, the most likely culprits. No, scratch that, they were the only ones capable of such a thing.

But what was this magic circle for?

William studied its flowing, pulsating energy. It radiated with powerful dark energy, unlike anything he had encountered before. He stood at the entrance to the deepest mine tunnel, where the demon dog had once guarded the way.

"Are they trying to revive the ancient demon?" William muttered, narrowing his eyes.

Just as he prepared to step over the circle, he noticed a sudden shift. The air around him thickened, and the magic circle activated. Dark energy began pouring out of it, bubbling up like a black spring.

A figure rose from the ground, an iron golem, its massive body glinting coldly under the dim light.

---

[Battle Notification: You have encountered an Iron Golem]

[Iron Golem: A construct created through alchemy. Magicians use local materials to craft a protective guardian, designed to absorb natural elements and defend its master's secrets.]

---

William let out a derisive snort. Without hesitation, he drew the Spear of Evil, its tip already brimming with dark energy.

[Piercing Attack]!

[Destruction]!

He thrust the spear forward in one smooth, calculated motion. The energy erupted from the weapon's tip, striking the iron golem like a lightning bolt slamming into rock.

Boom!

The golem's hard, metallic body quaked violently under the impact. Cracks spiderwebbed across its surface before it shattered completely, its remains collapsing into a pile of rubble that scattered across the mine floor.

William didn't stop.

With a single fluid motion, like a calligrapher painting the perfect stroke, he slashed the spear diagonally. Sparks flew as the tip of his weapon tore through the complex pattern of the magic circle, splitting it cleanly in two.

The array fizzled out, its energy dissipating like smoke.

William didn't spare the wreckage a second glance as he stepped forward into the tunnel's darkness.

---

Behind him, Flying Spaghetti stood frozen, wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

The Iron Golem had been terrifying; far stronger than any player Flying Spaghetti had ever seen. Its strength had to be transcendent, far beyond his reach. And yet William had destroyed it as if it were nothing more than a nuisance.

Finally snapping out of his shock, Flying Spaghetti gripped his torch tightly and hurried after William, his footsteps echoing in the eerie quiet of the tunnel.

The deeper they went, the more treacherous the path became. The tunnel sloped sharply downward, forcing them to tread carefully to avoid slipping. Each step felt like they were descending into the very heart of the earth.

---

After only a short distance, Flying Spaghetti began to feel it, the cold.

At first, it was subtle, a light chill brushing his skin. But with every step, the temperature dropped, creeping into his bones. Soon, it felt as though winter itself had invaded the mine.

Unable to withstand it, Flying Spaghetti held the torch closer to his chest, desperately trying to warm himself with its flickering flames.

Even William felt the sudden drop in temperature, though he showed no sign of discomfort. His heightened senses detected an unnatural presence. The air seemed to bite at his skin, and he could almost feel the sharp sting of snowflakes brushing his face.

But this was impossible, there was no wind here, no movement of air at all. It was a phantom cold, an unnatural phenomenon that defied explanation.

The mine had become like an ice cellar, its frigid atmosphere pressing down on them.

For most players, even those at levels 9 or 10, this deep freeze would be unbearable. Their physical bodies would falter, and their minds would begin to shut down from the numbing cold.

Only players with exceptional talents or abilities might stand a chance of reaching the tunnel's end. William knew this and he also knew he couldn't afford to falter any more.

He continued forward, his focus razor-sharp, as the cold closed in around them like an invisible predator.