Lord Of The Lost

This type of ritual definitely borders on 'black magic'. The reason? It's undeniably strange and unsettling, though its versatility has kept it from being fully classified as forbidden. Instead, it sits on the edge of that dangerous line, always threatening to tip over.

The concept is simple yet horrifying: 'kill a werewolf, absorb its supernatural traits', and in doing so, you'll transform into a 'half-werewolf'. But the price is steep. Half-werewolves can only shift during the full moon, and when they do, they become consumed by an uncontrollable bloodlust. The urge to kill becomes overpowering. The same curse applies to 'half-demons'.

As they become more demonic over time, their humanity fades until there's no way back. This is the root of the ancient adage: "Kill the monster, and you'll inherit its curse, becoming an incarnation of its power."

What people don't often realize is that the supernatural traits they inherit are 'tainted' polluted by the creature's negative emotions like hatred and rage. These emotions are deeply ingrained in the characteristics, turning what should be a gift into a dangerous curse.

"It's no wonder they call this a curse,"' William thought, his mind racing with fear. "These powers don't just change your body: they slowly warp your mind and soul."'

The characteristics aren't just neutral energy; they come with 'personalities' shadows of the original beings that possessed them. Over time, these traits subtly influence the person who inherits them, changing their habits, preferences, even their very identity. It's as if a part of the original werewolf or demon lives on inside, always whispering in the background.

"These mysterious paths are indeed dangerous,"' William murmured, feeling a chill of unease settle over him. The potential for these powers to overtake him was terrifying.

But thankfully, 'he was different'. The traits he had absorbed were 'pure', untouched by corruption. Still, he knew it wasn't a permanent safeguard. 'Supernatural characteristics could be purified', he had learned, but they could just as easily become tainted.

Purification required advanced magic rituals that could cleanse these powers of their negative emotions, restoring them to their original, uncontaminated state.

But William wasn't ready for such knowledge. The witch hadn't taught him these advanced techniques. And even if she had, he knew that mastering such rituals would take years, if not a lifetime. For now, the 'stripping ritual' the process of removing supernatural traits from a creature; was all he could focus on.

He wasn't greedy. His goal was simple: to learn how to strip these traits to better prepare for the future. But even this was no easy task. According to his studies, the stripping ritual came with 'stringent conditions'. First, you needed to construct a ritual altar, complete with a carved magic circle.

The materials required were vast, and each type of creature demanded different conditions to successfully extract their traits.

For example, to strip the 'werewolf's characteristics', you needed to gather 'aconite' and perform the ritual in the forest, under the full moon when the moonlight was at its peak. A demon's traits, on the other hand, required an environment saturated with fire or deep within a basement, where darkness reigned.

Each creature had its own unique set of requirements, and any deviation could lead to disastrous results.

Undeterred, William began preparing, spending long hours carefully crafting a 'ritual altar'. He practiced by copying intricate 'magic circles' onto white paper, sketching them with a pencil in precise detail. His hands moved with steady precision, almost as if they were machines, despite his lack of artistic talent.

His control was so sharp that the lines appeared as flawless as if they were printed.

William knew he still had a long way to go, but he was determined. Each ritual, each drawing, was a step closer to mastering this powerful and dangerous magic. The weight of his future decisions loomed over him, but he had chosen his path; careful, deliberate, and cautious. There was no room for mistakes..

*Da da da da!*

William's pencil flew across the white paper, rapidly sketching out the complex magic circle from the depths of his mind. His hand moved with precision, but soon, something went wrong. The paper beneath him began to wrinkle, as if some invisible force was crumpling it.

The carefully drawn lines of the magic circle twisted and broke, no longer holding the intricate shape he had worked so hard to create.

"Dammit,"' William muttered under his breath, staring at the ruined drawing. "Maybe I need something sturdier to build the ritual altar."'

He knew the basics: materials like gold, wood, earth, and stone were traditionally used for altars. The stronger the material, the better the result. "Pencil and paper just aren't going to cut it,"' he thought, shaking his head. "They can't handle the magic's force."'

But this was just practice. William reminded himself that until he actually performed the ritual, nothing catastrophic could happen. There would be no backlash, no sudden explosion of dark energy. Still, the process was mentally draining. The concentration required was intense, and any tiny mistake could lead to failure.

After a while, frustration bubbled up inside him. He tossed the pencil onto the table, rubbing his temples. "This is too damn complicated! I don't get it!"' He stood up, pacing for a moment before deciding he needed a break.

Without another word, he dashed downstairs, his mind still whirling with thoughts of failed rituals and stubborn magic circles. Moments later, he returned home, arms full of steaming meat buns. The price was ridiculous, forty or fifty yuan for a small bag, and he knew it might not even be enough to fill him up. But with inflation driving prices higher every day, it was the best he could do.

The apartment was eerily quiet, cold even. In the spacious three-bedroom unit, it was just William, alone at the dining table. He sighed, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV, letting the sound of the channel host's voice fill the emptiness like background noise.

As he bit into a hot meat bun, a news report played on the screen. "Yesterday afternoon, a No. 15 bus in Newyork City lost control, allegedly due to a passenger grabbing the steering wheel and brake failure. The bus crashed through the bridge railing and plummeted into the river. All passengers and the driver perished as the bus quickly sank to the bottom. Recovery efforts are underway."'

William paused mid-bite, staring at the screen. "Humans are so fragile,"' he murmured, shaking his head.

He imagined what he would have done in that situation. "If I were there, I would've smashed the guy's face before he could even touch the wheel,"' he muttered darkly, chewing more aggressively. "You want to die, fine, but don't drag me with you!"'

He angrily wolfed down the rest of the buns, his mind still lingering on the tragedy and his frustration with his own ritual practice.

After a while, he sighed and pushed the empty bag aside. With a determined grunt, he got back to practicing. For the next half-day, he threw himself into honing his skills '[Piercing Attack]' and working on the '[Stripping Ritual]'; each stroke of the magic circle bringing him a little closer to mastering the power he sought, even if the path was filled with frustration and setbacks.

William stepped out of the misty forest, the dense fog finally thinning behind him as he approached the 'Magical House'. It stood there like a mystical beacon, its white oak door gleaming in the dim light. Just as he reached for the handle, the door swung open on its own, as if anticipating his arrival.

"Well, I guess they don't want me touching anything,"' William muttered, slightly amused by the house's magic.

Before he could take another step inside, a flutter of wings caught his attention. 'Hall', the owl, swooped down and landed in front of him, blocking his path.

"Did you get the water of life?"' Hall asked, his round, golden eyes fixed on William.

Without missing a beat, William tilted his head and replied, "Where's Calcifer?"' His tone was casual, but his eyes scanned the room, curious.

"Calcifer's not in the best condition to meet guests at the moment,"' Hall said with a flap of his wings, his voice apologetic but firm.

William simply shrugged and tossed the crystal bottle containing the 'Fountain of Life' toward Hall. The owl caught it expertly with his claws, inspecting it closely.

"Good job!"' Hall hooted approvingly. "Calcifer said you can meet him once you've gathered all the necessary magic materials."'

William nodded. He knew Calcifer, despite his dramatic flair, could be trusted when it came to deals. He then asked, "Are you planning to move somewhere else soon?"'

"Not for now,"' Hall replied. "We'll be staying in the Misty Forest until Calcifer's condition improves. No need to worry about that."'

Satisfied with the answer, William gave a brief wave and left without a word, setting off on another long journey. The road ahead was dangerous, filled with magical creatures lurking in the shadows, ready to strike at any moment. William fought off numerous attacks, gaining experience with each encounter.

But despite his efforts and the ten experience points he'd racked up, nothing quite matched the thrill of his previous battle with the werewolf.

After what felt like hours, he finally made it back to 'Iron Ore Village'. As he approached the village entrance, a buzz of activity caught his attention. A large group of players had gathered around the 'notice board', their voices blending into an excited hum.

Curious, William made his way through the crowd, pushing his way toward the front. On the once-empty notice board was a new message, written in modern script; a rare sight in this fantasy world.

The notice read:

"To all players: We are scattered across the border town and its dozens of villages. The distance and closed environments make communication difficult. We come from the same hometown. For the main quest, we've created an online forum. Input 'sequence game' to access the player forum. It's a platform to connect all of us.

All player information will be encrypted for security and confidentiality..."'

William's mind raced. 'A player forum?' He had heard of communication services like this before, through Calcifer's magical bulletin board. But those required at least fifty silver coins to post a message. Whoever had done this was serious about connecting players, making sure everyone stayed in the loop.

"It was only a matter of time,"' William thought. 'With the game's limited eight-hour play window, a lot of time was wasted just running around. Players were bound to get frustrated."'

He was pleased to see the idea taking shape. In truth, William didn't know much about other players; he hadn't even seen many of them around Iron Ore Village, let alone those in other villages. This forum would change that. It would bring everyone together, giving them a way to share strategies, updates, and maybe even form alliances.

As the crowd continued buzzing around the notice board, William smirked to himself. "This could be interesting,"' he thought, before heading deeper into the village, ready for whatever came next.