Lord Of The Lost

The wilderness fell silent. The wind carried the faint scent of blood, but the moonlight that bathed the broken form seemed to glow with a soft, holy light.

Mott didn't care. His focus remained unshaken, his gaze locked on Sophia.

The shadow of his enormous body loomed over her, the weight of death pressing against her delicate frame. Her wide eyes, filled with fear and tears, reflected the unstoppable force of the Wolf Lord standing before her.

The corner of the Black Forest was a smoldering wasteland of destruction.

"Ahhhhhhh!!!!!"

A horrifying roar erupted from the depths of the forest as a monstrous beast surged onto the battlefield.

Hundreds of writhing tentacles propelled the creature forward like a nightmarish wheel, a grotesque fusion of octopus and abomination. The beast barreled into the fray, its massive form knocking Mott, the Wolf Lord, to the ground in an instant.

"You vile beast!" Mott snarled, his voice a mix of rage and disbelief. "How dare you break free from the Black Forest's grasp? Begone!"

But the creature didn't retreat, it only roared louder, its presence defiant and maddening.

Mott's frustration boiled over, his mind spiraling. 'Why can't I have what I want?' he thought bitterly. 'Why must everything deny me, disgust me, like the rotted filth inside a prey's carcass?'

The beast before him was monstrous, its twisted form even larger and more frenzied than the figure William had glimpsed before. It exuded a terrifying aura, a chaotic energy that bordered on the power of the Wolf Lord himself.

Despite its grotesque transformation, William recognized it immediately.

"Little Bob!!"

Sophia's anguished cry cut through the chaos.

The Wolf Lord turned and launched himself at the abomination. Claws tore into flesh, tentacles writhed and lashed, and the battlefield was showered with blood and dismembered limbs. Whether the carnage was borne of fury or sorrow was impossible to tell.

The beast's inhuman screams echoed in the night, shrill and agonizing, a haunting blend of desperation and humanity's last shred of defiance. It was a hunter's swan song, a final cry into the void.

---

Taking advantage of the chaos, the surrounding werewolves closed in on William and Sophia.

Exhausted and battered, William and Sophia leaned against each other, their strength barely holding them upright. With trembling hands, William gripped his spear, his gaze fixed on the advancing wolves.

---

Mott roared as he slashed at the beast. "In the Black Forest, you might've stood a chance, but here? You are nothing!"

Bang!

With a devastating blow, Mott severed the beast in two.

From within the monster's ruptured body, a small metallic container burst open.

Whoosh!

Flames erupted, igniting both the creature and Mott in a blinding inferno. The spiritual oil spilled across their bodies, feeding the fire with an unrelenting ferocity.

"The Church's spiritual oil!" Mott snarled, his muscles searing under the heat. "Do you think this can kill me? You're only sealing your own fate!"

The flames licked at his skinless form, amplifying his pain, but Mott refused to fall.

The beast's tentacles convulsed wildly, one of them shooting forward and spearing Mott directly through the eye, gouging it out in a bloody burst.

Mott roared in rage, his primal fury unleashed. He bit into the tentacle, tearing it to shreds and swallowing the pieces whole. But even as he consumed it, more tentacles slithered over his body, clinging to his empty eye socket like writhing serpents.

"You think this will stop me?" Mott growled, his voice hoarse and wild. "This oil may weaken my defenses, but it won't kill me. It'll only make your suffering worse!"

---

Meanwhile, William fought desperately, slamming a werewolf to the ground with the last of his strength.

Beside him, Sophia's hands were engulfed in flames. She lunged at a charging wolf, snapping its neck in an instant.

But their strength was nearly gone. Even though there were only a dozen werewolves left, each one felt like an insurmountable foe.

William cast a glance toward the blazing central battlefield. The flames of the spiritual oil were fading fast.

Swish!

He raised the [Developing Lantern], its sudden divine light driving back the werewolves trying to surround them.

William let out a roar, gathering every ounce of his remaining strength. With a determined swing, he hurled the lantern toward the burning beast hundreds of meters away.

"If one can isn't enough, then here's another!"

Bang!

The lantern filled with spiritual oil struck Little Bob's monstrous body, exploding into radiant flames.

"Aaaaahhhh!!"

Amid the monster's unearthly screams, a single tentacle, writhing in agony as it burned to ash, reached out and caught the falling lantern.

The Developing Lantern was no ordinary tool; it was crafted to illuminate the soul, a light capable of piercing through even the darkest shadows. It burned with a divine flame, a fire that fused with the bearer's spirit to unleash the power of protection.

The lantern merged with Little Bob's tortured, maddened soul.

In that moment, the lantern's tiny frame erupted with a blinding divine light.

Ten meters. Fifty meters. One hundred. Two hundred.

The radiance grew, expanding at an astonishing speed, consuming everything in its path.

The spiritual oil within the lantern burned out in an instant, but the light endured. It was no longer fueled by oil, it was fed by the very soul of the one holding it. Little Bob's body became the kindling, igniting into a brilliant, blazing flame.

The lantern glowed with a golden intensity, flooding the battlefield with sacred light. It wasn't harsh or cruel but warm and purifying, like the gentle touch of sunlight after a long, dark night.

---

Sophia inhaled sharply, her tears briefly forgotten. There was something familiar in the warmth that surrounded her.

She looked up and froze.

Standing before her was a young man bathed in golden light. His expression was soft and kind, his radiant figure exuding peace. He looked at her like a gentle older brother, his eyes full of care.

"Little Bob…" Sophia whispered, her lips trembling.

The figure smiled faintly. "You always loved calling me that. But do you know what it means?"

Gone was the inhuman screaming. The voice that answered her now was calm, steady, and filled with a warmth she hadn't felt in so long.

The same warmth her grandmother once gave her.

"It means integrity, honesty, brightness, and glory," Little Bob said, his tone radiating kindness.

Sophia covered her mouth, her sobs shaking her small frame. Tears streamed down her face, falling like rain as she tried to speak through her grief.

Little Bob's voice softened further. "I was only afraid that I wouldn't reach the Moonlight Goddess's temple. But even now, my only concern is you. I wanted to protect you, to banish the darkness that threatened you. But I failed. Forgive me, Sophia…"

Sophia shook her head, choking on her words as she managed to reply, "No… no, you've done everything perfectly… You don't need the Moonlight Goddess to bear witness. 'I' bear witness… I will carry your glory, the light you brought with your life… You've lived a life of honor, and you've never let anyone down. To be your guardian… is my greatest honor."

Sophia lifted her tear-streaked face, only to see the golden light begin to fade. Little Bob's form dissolved into glowing embers, his soul finally at rest.

As the last traces of his light drifted away, Sophia heard his final whisper, so faint it was almost a sigh.

"Ah…"

And then, he was gone, leaving behind only the warmth of his light in her heart.

The golden torrent faded into the void, leaving silence in its wake.

William stumbled, his head spinning as he regained his senses.

He saw the monster, Little Bob; reduced to ashes, its remains dissolving into nothingness, with only a few fragments drifting to the ground.

He saw the bodies of the werewolves who had surrounded them, now lifeless, scattered across the wilderness like fallen leaves.

He saw Mott, the towering Wolf Lord, collapse like a crumbling hill. His flesh and blood melted away, exposing a grotesque skeleton beneath.

And then he saw Sophia.

The little wolf girl trembled violently, seized by an overwhelming sorrow that rendered her helpless. Tears streamed down her face as she staggered forward, her movements stiff and mechanical, like a puppet pulled by invisible strings.

"Grandma… Grandma, hug me… hug Little Red Riding Hood… hug Sofia…"

Her voice cracked with grief, each word a desperate plea as she moved toward Iris's broken remains. Her eyes were vacant, her steps unsteady, her cries like a lost cub calling for its mother.

William's heart clenched. His face darkened as he lunged forward, grabbing Sophia and pulling her back before she could reach the shattered remains.

The colossal wolf corpse lying before them suddenly released a rasping breath.

"Golden soul... A hero's potential," Mott croaked, his voice a guttural echo. "But if you burn your soul, you destroy yourself…"

Mott raised his head, his voice turning into a chilling growl.

The skull was bare, gray-white bone glistening as the last remnants of flesh dripped away. He stared down at them, his hollow sockets radiating malice.

The Wolf Lord howled, his voice a victorious cry, echoing like thunder across the battlefield.

"Grandma…" Sophia whimpered, her tiny claws digging into the dirt as she clawed her way forward. Tears blurred her vision as she crawled toward Iris's shattered skull.

"Grandma… please…"

"Sophia, stop!" William growled, grabbing her tightly.

His instincts screamed at him to flee. The demon wolf within him knew this was a battle they could not win. But exhaustion weighed heavy on his body, and the Black Crow Wing strapped to his back was damaged, its power diminished. Even holding Sophia back was a monumental effort.

Mott turned his ghastly skull toward them, his voice dripping with malice. "So who dares to stop me from taking Sophia now? Iris? Or you, William?"

There were only four beings still alive on the battlefield.