Lord Of The Lost

William smirked and said, "And what if I refuse?"

He wasn't entirely sure what kind of creature this toad was. It could speak, which meant it wasn't an ordinary magical being, perhaps something more. Magical creatures with intelligence usually had the hand of witches behind them, but this one didn't seem related to any witchcraft he knew. No, this toad felt different, native to the Misty Forest, not something conjured or bound by outside forces.

But what did "Bringer of the Mist" mean?

"You wave goodbye to life and step into the world of death," the Toad Prophet croaked in response, its voice thick with foreboding.

Without another word, the toad faded back into the mist, vanishing as quietly as it had arrived.

William stood there for a moment, staring at the spot where the toad had been. Then, something caught his eye; a deep blue flower. Its petals shimmered like ice crystals, the air around it swirling with a soft, ethereal mist.

Hint: You found the Ice Mist Flower.

Ice Mist Flower: A rare and magical plant that radiates a chilling air. Only in the most unique environments can this delicate flower grow. Its cold aura can calm the mind and soul, helping one make wise, sound decisions – The Toad Prophet.

William bent down to examine the flower more closely. Could this be the last message from the mysterious toad?

The Toad Prophet had been an enigma, but William couldn't shake the feeling that it hadn't meant him harm. There was wisdom in the creature's words; cryptic as they were.

He pocketed the Ice Mist Flower, deciding to push forward. After all, he had already prayed to the four-leaf clover, and turning back now would be like sitting at fate's table and refusing the feast laid out before him.

Such an insult to destiny wasn't something William could afford. More than anything, it would mean wasting a rare item; the four-leaf clover given to him by Calcifer in exchange for the Fountain of Life. The consequences of failure loomed, though what exactly they would be, he didn't want to imagine.

As he ventured further into the forest, the eerie quiet settled in. Even the distant howls of wolves had faded away, as though they were merely phantoms of his imagination. The fog thickened, limiting his vision to only a few meters ahead.

Just as unease crept into his mind, a sharp gust of wind from behind sent a chill down his spine.

Someone or something; was attacking!

William's instincts kicked in. In one fluid motion, he spun to the side, lashing out with a powerful whip kick, the movement graceful yet deadly. His kick connected with a solid thud, and the two figures parted with force.

The impact rattled William. It felt like kicking a brick wall, the sheer strength behind the attacker's mass forcing him to stumble backward despite his impeccable balance. His eyes locked onto the figure emerging from the mist; a hulking, two-meter-tall creature covered in matted grey fur, its eyes glowing a menacing blood-red.

Sharp white fangs protruded from its snarling mouth, and two long, crescent-shaped wolf teeth gleamed in the dim light.

A real werewolf!

William's breath caught in his throat as the creature's fierce aura hit him like a wave.

Battle Hint: You have encountered a hybrid werewolf.

Hybrid Werewolf: A beast that embodies both the ferocity of the wolf and the torment of mixed blood. Their pain drives them to hunt relentlessly, tearing apart any enemy that stands in their way. They seek the favor of their ancestor by spilling blood, hoping to purify their lineage and ascend to pure-blooded status.

Warning: Werewolves are typically found outside the border towns. The blizzard serves as a natural defense against them, but now, a group has breached the barrier!

This particular werewolf bore signs of previous battles; its fur matted with dried blood. Yet, the injuries only seemed to fuel its bloodlust, its wild, savage nature fully unleashed.

Was this vicious encounter part of the four-leaf clover's design, some cruel twist of fate meant to test him?

There was no time to ponder. The werewolf charged, and William had to act!

The werewolf attacked again!

This dark creature moved with blinding speed, its razor-sharp claws slicing through the air, capable of splitting stone and toppling monuments. It lunged straight at William, fury and ferocity in every movement.

William swiftly raised his fine iron spear and thrust it forward. A metallic clang echoed through the mist as the werewolf's claws met the spear, sparks flying from the collision. The creature's flesh and bone were unnaturally strong, able to withstand a weapon meant to pierce iron.

Undeterred, William quickly shifted his spear from a stab to a crushing downward blow. The spear whistled through the air, aimed at the werewolf's head. But the beast was prepared. Its arms, thick and muscular like the thighs of an ordinary man, crossed in front of it like a shield.

The spear slammed into the werewolf's defenses with a resounding thud. The force of the strike made the creature stagger back two steps, but it quickly regained its balance, barely affected. Its thick fur and raw physical power absorbed the blow. Even though the spear should have been powerful enough to shatter a human skull, the werewolf's natural defenses were exceptional.

William recognized that the creature's physical fitness had to be far beyond human; likely over 10 points in strength alone. He himself wasn't far behind, his own fitness at 9, but he knew that pure flesh and blood couldn't normally match the strength of iron weapons.

The fact that the werewolf could withstand such an attack with little more than a stagger was a testament to its racial talent for defense.

And its offense was just as formidable.

The werewolf leaped into the air, its powerful legs propelling it several meters high. Its enormous body cast a shadow over William as it came crashing down, like a mountain about to crush him. The beast's wild, predatory instincts surged, attacking with the arrogance of a creature at the top of the food chain, as though it believed William to be a helpless rabbit.

But William wasn't one to be underestimated.

As the werewolf descended, William gripped his spear with both hands, bracing himself. Instead of retreating, he stood his ground and thrust his spear upward, straight at the oncoming monster. The tip of the spear gleamed in the misty air, aimed with deadly precision.

Crack!

In a shocking display of strength, the werewolf caught the spear mid-air, its massive claws gripping the fine iron shaft. The creature's claws dug deep, leaving shallow gouges in the iron, the strength of its grip terrifying to behold. William found himself staring into the werewolf's bloodshot eyes, its snarling maw dripping with saliva, mere inches from him.

With his weapon caught, William didn't falter. Instead, he shifted his stance, planting his feet firmly on the ground. Muscles straining, he twisted his waist and used all his strength to swing the spear like a hammer. In one fluid motion, he smashed both the werewolf and the spear into a nearby tree.

The trees of the Misty Forest were ancient and thick, their trunks sturdy and resistant. Yet, when the werewolf's body collided with the half-meter-thick tree, there was a resounding boom! The tree shook violently, its bark exploding in a shower of splinters. The force of the impact bent the tree at a steep angle, leaves fluttering down like confetti.

The hybrid werewolf crumpled against the tree, knocked unconscious by the sheer force. Its tough skin had saved it from being sliced open, but the internal damage was severe. Its organs had taken the brunt of the blow, and for a moment, it seemed the creature would cough up blood.

The spear, loosened by the impact, fell from the werewolf's grasp.

William reclaimed it without hesitation, spinning it in a circle before adopting the [Basic Spear Technique] stance, his entire body coiled like a drawn bow. He knew the battle wasn't over.

The werewolf stirred, quickly shaking off its disoriented state. Its eyes, now burning with wild rage, flickered to life as its instincts kicked in. This time, it was fully alert, aware of the deadly danger William posed.

Amidst the still-falling leaves, William saw his moment. He thrust his spear forward with all his might, the blade tearing through the air with a deafening roar. The motion was precise and deadly, like a chaotic dragon breaking through the fog.

Piercing Attack!

The werewolf, driven by primal instincts, managed to twist just enough to avoid a fatal strike. But it wasn't fast enough to evade the attack entirely. The spearhead plunged into its left arm, blood spraying from the wound as the tip pierced through its thick fur and tough muscle.

The werewolf let out a blood-curdling howl, its voice a mix of rage and agony. Fueled by fury, it momentarily ignored the searing pain. With a violent motion, it grabbed the fine iron spear with its right paw and yanked it out of its wounded arm.

The battle was far from over, and William tightened his grip on the spear, ready for the next strike.