Lord Of The Lost

Little Red Riding Hood's brow furrowed as she turned away, her voice barely above a mutter, laced with frustration. "I didn't help you. You lied to me..." Her words hung in the air, tinged with a sense of betrayal.

She had believed William was toying with her earlier, and her fists clenched at the memory. There was a moment when she had wanted nothing more than to strike him; hard enough that maybe his head would spin.

But William remained calm, his expression unreadable as he softly replied, "I didn't lie to you."

He offered no further explanation, and truthfully, what could he say? Neither of them had anticipated the twist in their story; the appearance of a werewolf rather than the usual, expected wolf. Fairy tales never prepared you for that. They always stayed on script, neat and predictable. But real life had no such structure.

And Little Red Riding Hood knew it. Deep down, she was aware. She wasn't just a naive girl in a red cloak. She was a witch. And she had long known the truth about the world, about the werewolves, and even about her past.

Yet this… this was the first time she had faced a werewolf up close.

William had known that too. He had spent days training in the echoing depths of an abandoned mine, refining his senses. When he shut his eyes, his hearing became sharper, his mind clearer. In the darkness, he had unearthed long-buried secrets, secrets like how, years ago, the king had tasked witches with guarding the Black Forest.

Or how, on the fateful witch's night, one of those very witches had been betrayed, stabbed in the back by a werewolf.

And now, Little Red Riding Hood's grandmother; living near the Black Forest for so long, was in poor health. But was it simply illness? Or had some dark curse seeped into her veins? The pharmacist in Moonlight Village had whispered rumors that the witch of the Misty Forest might hold the cure. Perhaps that was why Little Red Riding Hood had journeyed here in the first place.

William's gaze shifted to the grotesque figure looming behind Little Red Riding Hood. It was an abomination; hundreds of eyes, twisted limbs, flesh that pulsed and throbbed like something torn apart and hastily reassembled. But beneath all the deformity, there was still a shadow of humanity.

It looked like something that had once been a person, but now resembled a land octopus, its tentacles laced with gory wounds, scars left by the claws of a werewolf. And yet, to William's horror, the wounds were knitting themselves back together.

He forced his eyes away. The sight was unbearable. Could this truly be the young hunter from Moonlight Village?

Suddenly, the creature spoke, its voice rasping and broken. "The light... from the church..."

Every one of its grotesque eyes fixed on the faint, golden glow flickering in the darkness.

The lantern William held was no ordinary one. Its soft light was like a beacon, reminiscent of the glowing street lamp flowers from some long-forgotten game, a circle of golden dust floating and swaying like delicate, ethereal sprites. The light shimmered like a divine aura, casting warmth into the otherwise cold night.

The creature's many eyes reflected sorrow as they stared at the glow. It had once basked in a similar light, perhaps even found comfort in it. But now, those very tentacles recoiled in fear, unable to endure the lantern's holy brilliance.

"You... you are from... the church..." The creature struggled to speak, its monstrous form faltering, its voice thick with pain and weariness.

Suddenly, a chilling prompt flashed before William's eyes:

[Hint: You have encountered a forbidden weirdo (flesh and blood)]

[Forbidden Thing: A young hunter once entered the Black Forest on a full-moon night. When he reappeared, he had been corrupted, his body transformed into a monster.]

The message from the game was clear. This wasn't just any enemy. This was something far more dangerous; something twisted beyond repair.

Little Red Riding Hood stood silent, the weight of the truth slowly sinking in. She wasn't just facing a monster. She was facing what was left of a man who had once fought against the darkness. Now, that darkness had consumed him whole.

The creature before William was no ordinary monstrosity; it was a forbidden thing, corrupted and twisted by forces beyond reckoning. Dangerous and unpredictable, it clung to the remnants of its sanity, but the threat of losing control loomed over it like a shadow.

If Little Red Riding Hood hadn't appeared when she did, the creature might have already succumbed during the werewolf pack's hunt. Its mind would have shattered, spiraling into chaos, leaving destruction in its wake. Even now, standing before them, it teetered on the edge of madness, ready to let go if it meant helping Little Red escape.

William looked at the creature with a mix of sympathy and sorrow. This was not just a monster; it was a tragedy, a being caught between its former humanity and the curse that had consumed it.

"I'm not from the church," William finally spoke, his voice steady but filled with respect. Slowly, he raised his index and middle fingers, placing them diagonally against his forehead in a gesture of reverence. This was no ordinary creature; it had once been a hunter, brave enough to venture alone into the Black Forest, hoping to resolve the crisis that haunted his village.

He had returned, yes; but at a terrible cost.

Even now, as this creature stood in front of him, twisted and deformed, William could feel the weight of the hunter's sacrifice. "I'm an adventurer," William continued, his gaze steady. "I was sent by the blacksmith of Moonlight Village. He asked me to find clues about a missing hunter... and now it seems I've found him."

A long silence fell between them. The creature, once the young hunter, shifted, its grotesque form barely holding together. Finally, it spoke, its voice strained and filled with anguish. "You think I'm still human..."

The creature had been prepared to let go of its sanity, to plunge into the abyss of madness if it meant helping Little Red Riding Hood escape. But in the end, it had clung to the last shreds of reason, pulling itself back from the brink.

The situation, however, was deteriorating fast. The creature's body, twisted like a grotesque, dehydrated octopus, began to melt in the glow of the lantern, its flesh oozing as though the light itself was breaking it apart.

"As long as your actions remain within what I can accept," William said, his voice firm but compassionate, "and as long as you don't harm innocent lives or your own people, no one can strip you of your identity."

William had seen much in his time. Coming from an age of overwhelming information, he had learned to process the bizarre and unexpected more easily than the people of this era. He understood now, standing in front of this creature, that it wasn't purely a monster; it had once been someone worth respecting. He couldn't deny its humanity, even in this distorted form.

Had he not known the creature's story, perhaps he would have reacted differently, with fear or revulsion. But now, knowing it had once been a hunter who dared to face the Black Forest, he could see more than just a monstrous exterior.

Meanwhile, Little Bob; if that was even still his name, had remained silent, though his deformed body trembled with pain and exhaustion. He was no ordinary creature; he might even have been as powerful as an elite werewolf. William couldn't help but think: I can't afford to offend you... better to keep things civil.

Suddenly, Little Bob stirred. He extended one of his many tentacles toward his own body, reaching into the folds of flesh as if he were digging into some giant shell. With a sickening, wet sound, the creature's flesh parted, revealing a small notebook. The tentacle, trembling violently, passed the notebook to William.

As the creature's tentacle extended into the glow of the lantern, a sizzling sound filled the air. The light burned its flesh as though it were searing it on a hot grill. The tentacle spasmed and recoiled, shaking with both pain and fear, but Little Bob remained eerily calm.

William, alarmed by the creature's suffering, instinctively reached for the lantern, ready to dim the light and ease its agony. But before he could, Little Bob spoke again, his voice low and quiet.

"This pain... it helps me stay awake," he murmured. "It helps me remember who I am."

The words hung heavy in the air, and William hesitated. He understood then, this creature, this former hunter, chose the pain. It wasn't just suffering; it was his anchor to the past, the last thing holding his mind together, keeping him from falling into complete madness.

And so, William kept the lantern steady, watching as the creature endured the searing light, fighting to preserve the last vestiges of what he had once been.

Under the glow of the divine light, William could see the tentacle begin to wither. It shriveled rapidly, like a dry leaf curling up in the heat of a flame, until it turned to ash. What remained was no longer a tentacle but something much more disturbing; a twisted, deformed finger bone, gnarled and warped beyond recognition.

The notebook, no longer supported by the dissolving limb, slipped from the creature's grasp. William, quick to react, caught it just before it hit the ground.

A message flashed before his eyes:

[Hint: You obtained "Bob's Hunting Diary."]

Little Bob, or what was left of him, gave a slight nod. His voice, though raspy and weak, carried a strange sense of calm. "It might be useful to you."

Despite his horrific transformation, the young hunter had retained an iron will, using the agony of his decaying body to cling to brief moments of sanity. His determination was astonishing. Lesser men, William knew, would have fallen into madness the moment they were tainted by the dark forces in the forest. But this hunter; this once brave, determined man, was fighting with everything he had left.

If not for that inner strength, he would have been lost long ago.

The young hunter's voice broke the silence again, this time with a direct question. "What's your purpose in coming to the Misty Forest?"

William hesitated for only a second. "I'm looking for a witch," he said, matter-of-factly.

"Little Red Riding Hood and I are here for the same reason," the hunter replied, his voice growing hoarse. "We've been searching the Misty Forest for three days and three nights, but we haven't found any sign of her."

Three days? William's mind raced. He hadn't expected them to have been wandering the forest for so long without any trace of the witch. Something was wrong here; things were more complicated than he had anticipated. This forest, with its labyrinthine paths and lurking dangers, seemed to hide far more than just one witch.

Little Bob, his body trembling with the effort to remain composed, asked the question that hung in the air. "What can you do?"

William frowned slightly. "I don't know for sure. If you come with me, we might have a chance at finding the witch, but I can't promise anything."

The weight of uncertainty pressed on him. This entire situation had spiraled far beyond his expectations. The Misty Forest was full of dangers he hadn't foreseen, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something darker was at play.

Little Bob spoke again, more decisively this time. "Then let Little Red Riding Hood go with you to find the witch. If you don't succeed, leave the Misty Forest. Alert the guards in the border town. Notify every village. The werewolves will pay dearly for crossing the border illegally."

Little Red Riding Hood, standing quietly beside them, suddenly tensed. "What about you?" she asked, her voice tight with worry.

The young hunter, with grim resolve, explained, "The werewolves won't give up. Group hunting in the wilderness is part of an ancient ritual. They draw power from it. Once they've begun, it's a fight to the death."

"But their target is me!" Little Red Riding Hood blurted out, her voice rising. "I should be the one to lure them away. You go find the witch!"

William watched the tension escalate between them. Little Red Riding Hood's defiance clashed against the hunter's unyielding stance. He had always been the calm, level-headed protector, and she; young, fierce, and rebellious, was pushing back against his logic.

"Don't be ridiculous, Little Red Riding Hood!" the hunter barked, his patience wearing thin. "That's exactly why you can't meet a werewolf! It'll be the end of you!"

Their argument intensified, the heated exchange growing sharper with every word. It was like watching an older brother and younger sister, each stubborn in their own way. The hunter, usually so composed, was visibly frustrated. Time was slipping away, and they both knew it. But neither was willing to back down.

In the growing tension, William glanced at the edges of the clearing. The wolves; they were out there, somewhere in the darkness. Their glowing eyes, full of hunger and malice, watched, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

They were more than just animals. Cunning and powerful, they could orchestrate their next attack at any moment. William felt the pressure mounting. The light from the church's lantern offered them some protection, but it wasn't an endless shield. Once the fuel burned out, all three of them would be vulnerable.

Death would come swiftly when the light was gone.

The young hunter's voice dropped, becoming more urgent as he spoke to Little Red Riding Hood. "You don't understand what we're dealing with. The werewolves have started their ritual, and nothing will stop them now. You need to go, find the witch, and if you can't... leave. Warn everyone.

This is a fight they've been preparing for. I'll hold them off as long as I can, but if you stay here, you'll only make things worse."

Little Red Riding Hood stared at him, her eyes wide with emotion, her hands clenched at her sides. "I'm not leaving you," she said, her voice wavering but defiant.

But the hunter shook his head. "You have to. There's no other way."

The wolves in the shadows shifted. Their patience was thinning.