Lord Of The Lost

The voice; calm and unyielding, responded. "Mott, do I frighten you?"

Mott's growl turned into a crazed shout. "No! You're just a ghost! Werewolves fear no ghosts! We killed you once when you were alive, and now you're nothing but a shadow!"

The Black Swan's voice carried a deadly calm. "You killed me on Witch Night, during my coming-of-age ceremony. Your werewolf soldiers slaughtered me before I could reach my full power. You robbed me of my adulthood, but you couldn't stop what was set into motion."

Mott's voice was cold, his words sharp as claws. "Not all witches are meant to grow up. When one does, it's enough to ruin every plan the werewolves have. That's why you had to die. Yet even in death, you cost us everything. My brother wolf lord Mutu, a hero who could have been the tenth legend of the werewolves, died decades early because of 'you'!"

The Black Swan's voice didn't waver. "Decades are but fleeting moments for witches. Wolf lord Mutu's fate was sealed long before I laid eyes on him. My familiars and I only hastened what was already written. I have no regrets. But witches and wolves… we were wrong to ever cross paths. We danced together, and we paid the price.

"That price is Sophia. My sister is the last witch."

Mott's lips curled into a snarl. "And now you want the werewolves to pay the same price, don't you? Your anger consumes you. But it's pathetic, you don't even have a body. Do you plan to use Sophia as your vessel? To drag the witch and the werewolf clans to their mutual destruction?"

The battlefield fell silent, the weight of the question hanging in the air. Sophia's black eyes glimmered, the darkness within her growing deeper. The Black Swan remained quiet, her veiled face betraying nothing, but her presence spoke volumes.

The Black Swan's voice was cold, dripping with disdain.

"My anger toward werewolves is endless, Mort. Yes, I would love to drag you all down into the abyss with me. But you; pathetic frogs at the bottom of a well; are not worth comparing to Sophia. Do you think killing a swan by chance proves you were right? You look up from your tiny well and see only a narrow circle of sky, mistaking it for the entire world. And you have the arrogance to feel proud of yourselves."

Mott snarled, his voice filled with indignation. "We've never thought we were wrong! The werewolves were cornered, while the witches sat upon their throne of night, looking down on us with that cursed cup in hand. Your arrogance burns like fire. How could you understand the pain of a species forced to live under the protection of others? How could you comprehend the despair we felt for our future?"

The Black Swan's gaze burned like smoldering embers. "Your ignorance disgusts me, Mott. Let me enlighten you. When witches ruled the night and Witch Night descended upon the world, your so-called werewolf ancestor hadn't even been born. Do you even know what Witch Night was? A nursery rhyme? An opera for noble courts? No, it was terror incarnate. We witches stood against horrors far greater than you could imagine in the black depths of night. The heroes of your werewolf clan couldn't even touch the edge of that sky."

Mott roared in fury, his voice shaking the ground. "Enough! How long will witches cling to their delusions of grandeur? The future of the werewolves is already written. We will shatter our chains, break through all limits, conquer the night, and tear apart the sky with our claws!"

His anger boiled over, but his fight with Iris left him unable to act. Iris herself was barely holding together, her broken form struggling to remain intact.

Yet, Mott's sharp instincts as a Wolf Lord saw through it all. He realized the power radiating from Sophia wasn't entirely hers. It stemmed from the hat she wore; the strange, dreamlike hat now controlled by the Black Swan.

"The witches and their tricks," he growled. "That hat is her anchor! It carries the Black Swan's power!"

His voice thundered over the battlefield as he commanded his forces. "Tear that hat to shreds and bring Sophia back!"

Mott's howl pierced the sky, and the werewolves throughout the border town heard his call. Their eyes glowed with bloodlust as they went into a frenzy, surging toward the Black Forest like a tidal wave.

The Black Swan, still in control of Sophia's body, stepped forward and rose into the air.

[Levitate]!

Hovering midair, she extended her hands, magic surging from her fingertips.

[Thundercloud Storm]!

Dark clouds roiled above, and bolts of lightning cracked the heavens. Boom! Dozens of lightning strikes crashed down, each as powerful as the fully unleashed wrath of a master sorcerer.

The werewolves scattered with incredible agility, dodging the bolts with reflexes honed for survival. Those who couldn't evade the strikes endured them head-on, their fur singed, their flesh scorched, but their resolve unbroken. They surged forward, undeterred, driven by bloodlust and desperation.

The Black Swan, unfazed, floated higher into the stormy sky.

Whoosh!

An elite werewolf leaped with all his might, soaring a hundred meters into the air. His claws, unnaturally large and glowing with a murderous aura, reached for the floating figure.

The Black Swan's gaze narrowed. "Those claws… they're stained with the blood of a witch. Wolf lord Mutu's claws…"

The werewolf's claws weren't ordinary, they were remnants of the deceased Wolf Lord Mutu, imbued with his power. When merged with an elite werewolf, they granted a momentary surge of strength, elevating the werewolf's attack to Wolf Lord levels.

The spectral claws extended into massive, glowing phantoms, each forty to fifty meters long. With a single swipe, they could cleave a fortress in four. They were an unstoppable force.

The Black Swan didn't hesitate. "Magic Shield!"

She summoned an immense magical barrier in the sky, shimmering like a dome of light. The claws struck the shield with devastating force. CRACK!

The barrier shattered instantly, the shockwave rippling across the battlefield.

The Black Swan steadied herself midair, her dark eyes glinting with both anger and resolve. This battle was far from over.

The Black Swan plummeted to the ground, her fingers splayed wide as waves of pure magic surged from her form.

[Magic Hand]!

The earth trembled violently, forcing the advancing werewolves to retreat. A massive palm-shaped crater imprinted itself into the ground as she landed with an eerie, graceful poise.

The wolves encircled her immediately.

In a synchronized attack, more than a dozen werewolves leaped toward her from all directions. Their claws gleamed under the flickering light, their snarls echoing in the air.

The Black Swan didn't flinch. She took a single step forward.

[Fire Wall]!

The already fractured ground split open further, fiery cracks racing outward like veins. Explosive flames erupted, forming towering walls of fire that enclosed her in a protective circle. The blaze roared like a living creature, sheltering its master while daring anyone to draw near.

Ordinary werewolves hesitated, sensing the mortal danger. They snarled but dared not approach the scorching flames.

But the elite werewolf, now wielding the Wolf Lord's claws, was undeterred. Descending from above, it swung its massive, spectral claws, slicing through the fire with ease.

The blazing walls shattered. But beneath the flames, the ground rose like a shield. Hard rock solidified into a tortoise-shell-like barrier around the Black Swan.

[Stone Shield]!

The elite werewolf struck again, its claws crashing into the stone barrier. The impact was devastating, the shield exploded into shards of rock, but the force also disintegrated the spectral claws.

The elite werewolf landed heavily, its breathing labored. The burden of wielding the Wolf Lord's remains was beginning to show.

He locked eyes with the Black Swan, hatred burning within him.

"You won't last much longer," the werewolf growled, his voice rasping with strain. "The remains of the Wolf Lord may tear me apart, but not before I use them to crush your soul!"

The Black Swan's expression was icy, her voice laced with scorn. "Crush 'me'? You're barely holding yourself together. If I were alive, you'd be nothing but an insect under my heel."

The werewolf snarled, his voice a roar of defiance. "But you're not alive!"

He raised his claws high, summoning a violent wind that howled through the battlefield. The pressure tore through the ground, pulverizing the earth. Even steel would have been shredded under its force.

The Black Swan stood motionless as the gale raged around her. Dodging would be useless against a foe enhanced with the Wolf Lord's power. She closed her eyes, her expression calm.

[Dark Sky]!

Thick, impenetrable darkness erupted from her body, swallowing the battlefield. The violent winds clashed against the eerie silence of the shadow, their destructive force gradually dissipating as the black void neutralized them.

For a moment, the battlefield was engulfed in total silence, as if the world has gone still.