Lord Of The Lost

Werewolves are monsters of sheer power, capable of overwhelming their opponents in one-on-one combat. For William, facing them head-on without relying on [Stealth] would drain him of precious energy and time he couldn't afford to lose.

Across the border town, the extraordinary defenders had formed lines of resistance, but even these carefully constructed defenses crumbled against the relentless might of a small pack of werewolves.

The battle spread like wildfire, literally. Border Town was ablaze, its streets filled with chaos and bloodshed. No one could escape the conflict.

---

William flew swiftly toward the Black Forest, the glow of the full moon lighting his way. From above, he spotted a battlefield below: four or five werewolves locked in a fierce skirmish with a group of extraordinary individuals.

At the center of the clash stood Metatron, his robes gleaming in the moonlight, holding the Moonlight Codex. On this full moon night, the Codex; usually just excellent-grade equipment; shone with a brilliance that elevated it to a top-tier artifact.

The Forum Master, having formed his heavy cavalry to chase down the fleeing werewolves, had also mobilized the extraordinary forces in the town. Metatron, who had once worked closely with the circus's eccentric "clowns" and "magicians," had now pieced together an improvised team for survival.

---

The Circus Duo

The Clown, a colorful figure in outlandish attire, had two traits:

- [Gaudy]: Enhanced flexibility and agility, allowing for incredible acrobatic feats.

- [Throwing Knife Skill]: Near-perfect accuracy with thrown objects, capable of hitting any target.

The Magician, draped in a black coat and gloves, brought his own unique tricks:

- [Magic Tricks]: Preplanned stunts that created effects mimicking real magic.

- [Deceptive Perspective]: The ability to misdirect opponents' sight using props and illusions.

Despite their eccentric abilities, neither was a true fighter. They were performers, not warriors, but tonight, they had no choice but to turn their tricks into weapons.

---

[Light of Purification]!

A powerful beam of condensed moonlight, three or four meters wide, shot down from the sky. Its brilliance engulfed a hybrid werewolf, tearing at his skin and flesh as if he were burning alive. Blood poured from his body, his agonized howls filling the night.

Swish!

The clown sprang into action. He hurled a silver fork an enchanted weapon retrieved from Shadow Castle; straight at the werewolf. The fork whistled through the air before piercing the beast's throat with deadly precision.

The werewolf collapsed, blood pooling beneath him.

[Recover the Flying Knife]!

The clown raised his hand, and as if alive, the silver fork yanked itself free from the werewolf's corpse and soared back to its owner's grasp.

Whoosh!

But there was no time to celebrate. Another werewolf darted into the fray, charging toward the inner circle of defenders. The magician, startled, raised his long black coat like a curtain, blocking the beast's vision.

Tear!

The werewolf slashed through the coat, shredding it into four pieces, but his claws found only air. The attack had hit nothing.

The magician reappeared a few meters away, standing with theatrical flair as though he were on stage. His gloved hands stretched outward, and between his fingers, he held eight cards.

[Magic Flying Knife]!

With a dramatic flourish, the magician flicked the cards into the air. The eight cards became sixteen, then thirty-two, multiplying and spinning as they spread out like a deadly cloud of razor-sharp paper.

The cards swirled around the werewolf, slicing through the air with precision.

Puff, puff, puff!

The cards struck, embedding themselves in the werewolf's fur and muscles. Thin trails of blood appeared where the cards landed.

But the werewolf growled, shaking his massive body. The cards that had pierced him fell harmlessly to the ground, leaving only shallow wounds.

The magician's confident expression faltered. He had hoped for more, but the werewolf was barely fazed.

---

Clowns and magicians weren't meant for combat. Their skills, impressive as they were, had been designed to entertain crowds, not fight monsters. Using cards, colored balls, and tricks to face down werewolves was little more than a desperate joke.

The clown and magician were trying their best, but against these supernatural beasts, their efforts felt like throwing stones at a raging storm.

---

Metatron, however, held his ground. The Moonlight Codex glowed brighter, its power amplified by the full moon. Another beam of [Light of Purification] seared the battlefield, forcing the werewolves back.

But William, watching from above, could see that this fight was far from over. The werewolves were relentless, their raw strength and fighting instincts unmatched.

Even with the extraordinary talents of the defenders, victory was far from certain.

William tightened his grip on his spear and descended lower, the full moon casting his shadow over the battlefield. The night was still young, and the fight for survival raged on.

The werewolf charged at Metatron with ferocious speed, its keen instincts identifying him as the leader of the group.

The magician, desperate to protect him, gritted his teeth and threw his top hat toward Metatron.

The hat sailed through the air, landing neatly on Metatron's head and then something unexpected happened.

As the hat slid down, Metatron's body seemed to vanish piece by piece. First his head disappeared, then his torso, and finally his legs. Within seconds, he was gone, leaving only the top hat lying innocuously on the ground.

The werewolf snarled, its voice cruel and mocking. "You can't hide from a werewolf's sense of smell!"

Leaping high into the air, it raised its claws, ready to tear the ground and the hat, to shreds with a single devastating strike.

Swish!

Out of nowhere, a spear shot through the air like a thunderbolt.

[Piercing Attack]!

The werewolf's eyes widened in shock as the spear slammed into its chest with an unstoppable force. The momentum hurled it backward, sending it flying dozens of meters before it crashed into the ground, impaled at an angle.

Nearby, a gambler; wearing claws stolen from the werewolf path, had been preparing to assist. But seeing the werewolf dispatched so decisively, he exhaled in relief and turned his focus back to holding the defensive line against two other werewolves.

---

William landed heavily, his wings folding behind him. His breathing was labored, the exertion from his piercing attack draining his energy reserves.

Without missing a beat, he kicked the black hat aside and reached down to pull Metatron out of the shallow pit where he had hidden himself.

"Are you okay?" William asked, his tone brusque but concerned.

Metatron nodded weakly, though his expression was dejected. "Don't worry about me. You need to head to the Black Forest, now!"

William frowned. "What's the situation?"

Metatron steadied himself, gripping the Moonlight Codex as he spoke. "The mayor has used the [King's Code], and the archbishop is wielding the [Divine Prayer Book]. They've managed to hold back two Sequence 8 werewolves for now…"

But then his voice dropped, his tone grim. "The Wolf Lord hasn't made a move yet. He's saving his strength for Sofia's grandmother."

William nodded in understanding. If Wolf Lord Mott had the overwhelming power to crush the town single-handedly, there would have been no need to bring an army of werewolves. This invasion was clearly focused on reaching the Black Forest.

---

The werewolf attack wasn't just a raid; it was an all-out invasion.

Border Town, already teetering on the edge of survival, was forced into full-scale defense. The fires of battle raged everywhere, but it was clear that the Wolf Lord's destination was the Black Forest, a place shrouded in mystery and danger.

No one in Border Town understood the Black Forest better than its residents.

Ten years ago, the kingdom had sent a detachment of royal guards to suppress a catastrophe deep within the forest. Nearly the entire force was wiped out; only a handful returned, haunted by the horrors they had seen. After that, the kingdom had abandoned Border Town entirely, refusing to respond to any pleas for aid.

Only the arrival of Wolf Lord Iris had stopped the taboo forces of the forest from spreading further. Now, with the werewolf clan mobilizing all their forces, it was clear they were making a desperate attempt to recover Sofia at any cost.

Elite and ordinary werewolves alike tore through defensive lines, sacrificing themselves to clear the path for the Wolf Lord.

Metatron's voice cut through William's thoughts. "The Wolf Lord is about to reach the Black Forest."

The defenses, though valiant, kept crumbling under the werewolves' relentless assault. The strategy was simple: divide and conquer. The werewolves were scattered across multiple battlefields, their numbers dwindling as they broke through line after line of resistance.

But despite the losses, two elite werewolves still flanked Wolf Lord Mott.

The people of Border Town were terrified. If Wolf Lord Iris fell, there would be nothing left to stop the Wolf Lord or the tide of destruction that would follow.

---

William gave Metatron a firm nod, his face set with determination. He unfurled his heavy wings, gripping his spear tightly.

With a powerful leap, he took to the skies, his wings beating hard as he flew toward the Black Forest.

The air was sharp with the scent of blood and smoke, and the ground below was littered with the scars of battle. As he approached the forest, something caught his eye, a lone heavy cavalryman astride a warhorse, standing vigilantly atop a hill, silhouetted against the moonlight.

The battle was far from over. William tightened his grip on his weapon, his eyes locked on the horizon. The Black Forest awaited, and so did the Wolf Lord.