Lord Of The Lost

In the depths of the dark, abandoned mine, the air felt thick, heavy, as though the very atmosphere was pressing in, laden with an eerie, acrid stench that sent shivers down William's spine. It was the kind of place where shadows twisted unnaturally, and whispers seemed to crawl along the walls, making it impossible to shake the feeling that something sinister was lurking just beyond sight.

The crunch beneath his foot startled him. William looked down to find a grotesque, newborn giant scorpion crushed under his boot, its legs twitching in its final death throes. He recoiled for a moment, but then the familiar notification flashed before his eyes:

[You killed the demonized giant scorpion, experience +1!]

[Your talent has absorbed some of the Demon's extraordinary characteristics.]

There was something oddly exhilarating about the message, despite the grim setting. He could feel the strange energy seeping into his body, foreign yet enticing. The scorpion's death had granted him a sliver of demonic power, though incomplete. The voice in his mind echoed with an odd certainty:

"The werewolf's traits; though only a fraction of them; are valuable. You've gained as much as one-fifth of their full potential. Just four more kills, and you will fully inherit the werewolf's characteristics."

The werewolf's strength was undeniable, but as William surveyed the dark corridors of the mine, a part of him remained unsatisfied. The demonic characteristics he had absorbed were weaker, far from complete. Only a mere tenth of their power had found its way into him. But still, he thought, that was only for now.

"This mine…" William whispered to himself, "this place is rich with possibilities."

It was a place that defied its bleak exterior. To those on the "Demon" path, like William, the mine was more than a desolate ruin, it was a treasure trove, a place where time and perseverance would slowly draw out greater power from the lurking demons. Though the quality of demonic essence wasn't as rich as that of the werewolves, it was only a matter of staying long enough, hunting enough.

For the dark races, demons sat high atop the hierarchy, superior to werewolves, though not all demons were born into this status. It was potential and growth that mattered most. William recalled the words of the witch who had spoken to him of this knowledge, her voice smooth, seductive, yet filled with the weight of ancient wisdom.

"The werewolves' potential is not something to overlook, William," she had told him. "They might be beneath demons in status, but they are no less dangerous. In fact, they're known throughout the dark world for their ferocity. They are born hunters, natural warriors. Even a single werewolf can be as lethal as a squad of seasoned soldiers."

The tales echoed through his mind, stories of a wild land where once, the werewolves ruled through bloodshed and dominance. "The wild land is full of hunting, and the dragons lie dead," went the ancient saying. It was no mere exaggeration; werewolves had hunted down the most extraordinary creatures, rising to the apex of their path, pushing the boundaries of their race to its utmost limits.

But there, at the peak of their power, the werewolves discovered a terrifying truth.

There was no further to climb.

The great werewolf hunters, those who had slain dragons and conquered lands, reached the end of their evolutionary road. The extraordinary characteristics that had gifted them such strength had limits. They hit a wall, an insurmountable barrier that no amount of ferocity or training could overcome. Their physical prowess, once unmatched, became a cage.

William imagined it, these proud creatures trapped by their own power, struggling against the constraints of their very nature. They were like explorers lost in a narrowing cavern, stuck in the cracks between the rocks, unable to move forward, suffocated by their own strength. The despair of it gnawed at him as he walked deeper into the mine.

This was not a fate that any of the werewolves had escaped. As the legends went, those who had reached the end either went mad, driven insane by their own limits, or perished, consumed by the despair of their confinement. It was a tragic irony, those born to fight, to hunt, to kill; destroyed by the very power they sought to master.

William wondered, as his footsteps echoed against the stone walls of the mine, whether human athletes ever felt the same; had any of them gone mad from the limitations of the human body? That burning, unquenchable desire to surpass oneself, only to crash into the wall of impossibility.

The frustration of knowing that no matter how hard you pushed, how much you strove, there was a ceiling to your strength, and beyond it… nothing.

He clenched his fists, feeling the pulse of energy from the scorpion's remains fading within him.

"No," he muttered, determination hardening in his eyes. "I will find a way to break through. No matter what."

This is the mindset when someone hits the upper limit of their own path or the limitations of their race; desperation, frustration, and an overwhelming desire to break through. It's a burning need to push beyond those boundaries, followed by a wave of fury when realizing that no matter how hard they try, the limits are unyielding.

The werewolves, once a proud and dominant race, are now in a dire state. Their path, once rich with promise, has been fully explored. No werewolf today can reach that fabled "end of the road" anymore. Their potential has been exhausted, and there's no new ground to cover. It's as if they've hit a wall, unable to advance further, with no hope of evolution.

But the "demon" path? That's a different story entirely.

The Demon path is vast, complex, and splintered into countless "small paths." Each type of demon has its own unique road to follow, and while there are only a few high-level demons, the lower and mid-level ones are abundant.

What's fascinating is that when a low- or mid-level demon reaches the peak of their respective path, they don't just stop, they can ascend to the next level, evolving into a higher demon. This leap is more than just growth; it's a transformation, a sublimation of their very bloodline.

This ability to extend their growth limit is what makes the Demon path so enticing.

What's even more unique, however, is the path of the "demon wolf," a rare and mysterious mutation of the werewolf. According to the witch who had shared this knowledge with William, the demon wolf possesses an extraordinary potential that's nothing short of epic. And in the world of the supernatural, "epic" isn't just a grand term; it's the level where gods exist.

A fully grown demon wolf, with its immense power and hidden strength, is said to be comparable to the gods themselves. Yet, despite such potential, the demon wolf's history is cloaked in secrecy. Historians and magicians have scoured ancient texts for any trace of this species and found nothing, which suggests that their ability to remain hidden is exceptional, unmatched by any other.

This hidden potential, this untapped power, is what makes William's heart race. His blood hums with the possibility. Given that his talent, [Killing to Prove His Way], feeds on the extraordinary characteristics of others, he knows he must choose a path with vast, untapped potential. Choosing a path with limited growth, like the werewolves, would only lead to frustration.

Following their road, he would inevitably reach that dead end, trapped, stuck forever at the peak of their abilities with nowhere to go.

And being stuck; there could be nothing worse.

In the later stages of any supernatural species' growth, their extraordinary characteristics become deeply ingrained, impossible to strip away or discard. There's no way to abandon the path once it has been chosen, no way to change course.

The only way to claim their powers is by killing them and absorbing their traits, but even then, those characteristics are often tainted, corrupted by their long journey.

For those just starting out on the supernatural path, however, there's still time, an opportunity to choose wisely. At the beginner stage, one's extraordinary characteristics aren't fully integrated. They're more like scattered fragments, meaning their influence hasn't yet taken deep root in the body or mind.

This is especially true for those who gain their powers not through birth but through mysterious rituals, absorbing the characteristics of others to become extraordinary themselves. Their powers aren't a natural fit; they're borrowed, inherited, and often conflict with their body and spirit.

This leads to a rejection reaction, where the body fights to adapt to the new traits, and a painful fusion phase must take place before they can fully digest these extraordinary properties.

As for the "Hunter" path, its growth potential is notoriously difficult to navigate. The curve is steep, and history has yet to produce any hunters of truly immense power. The road is long, arduous, and few who walk it ever manage to leave a significant mark.

William weighed his options. The choice was clear. To follow a path with no future, like the werewolf, was to accept defeat before the battle even began. But the demon wolf? That path promised something greaterb something worth fighting for.

The highest achievements in the "Hunter" profession, while respectable, simply don't compare to those of the werewolf path. It's a profession with a limited ceiling, a road that doesn't lead to true greatness. The one advantage the "Hunter" has is that it's a branch of the human integration path, which offers flexibility. But when you really consider it, there are far better options.

If someone were to choose a path in the human profession, it would make more sense to aim for something prestigious like the "Warrior" or "Knight" paths. These professions are at the top of the human hierarchy, granting immense power and respect. However, becoming a warrior or knight isn't something easily achieved.

The border town, where William was from, simply couldn't afford to produce such high-level professionals. The conditions for switching to these jobs were incredibly strict, requiring resources and training that were out of reach for most.

William understood this all too well. He often found himself muttering under his breath, with a wry smile, "Heaven and earth are my witnesses. I was meant to be a human!" He had always believed that his fate was to walk the human path, but life had other plans for him. Fate had handed him too much; too many gifts, too many choices.

"Then why stay human?" he thought, a grin spreading across his face.

William came to terms with it. This was just a job change, after all. As long as he 'felt' human, it didn't matter if he transformed into a demon wolf. In his heart, he would always remain human, even if his body became something more monstrous. And if anyone dared to challenge that belief, well, he'd be ready to knock their teeth out!

With that thought driving him, William swept through the dark and twisting tunnels of the mine, cutting down demonic creatures as though they were nothing more than weeds. His eyes gleamed with determination as he fought, knowing that each kill brought him closer to the power he sought. The hybrid werewolves of the Misty Forest proved to be a valuable source of strength.

Their extraordinary traits enhanced his physical attributes, and with each kill, he grew stronger.

His physical value had already reached nearly 10 points, and with the added bonus of the title 'Son of the Demon', he knew he'd soon break that threshold. Killing level 6 and level 7 demonized creatures felt like slicing through butter; it was almost too easy. In less than half an hour, he had racked up over 50 experience points and collected more than 30 demonic traits, his progress racing forward.

He was efficient, ruthless, and relentless. More than a quarter of the demonic traits he needed had been gathered, and his experience bar was rapidly filling up.

As William explored deeper into the mine, messages flooded his screen, his talents and abilities evolving in real-time. The more he killed, the more he learned, and the closer he came to unlocking the full potential of his new path.

The mine was small, but densely packed with demonic creatures, hiding in different tunnels and corners. He cleared out the periphery within the hour, the experience value now at 172 points, with just 28 more needed to reach level 8. His demonic attributes had reached 100 points; a significant milestone.

It was time to push deeper into the mine, where he knew more dangerous creatures awaited, ones that had absorbed even stronger demonic traits.

He felt the Demon's call growing stronger, whispering to him from the depths of the mine, tugging at his mind with an alluring promise of power. It was as though the mine itself wanted him to venture further, and William could sense that if he were to fall asleep here, his body would move on its own, sleepwalking into the heart of the darkness.

"It really is a magical power," he muttered, half in awe, half wary. Yet, William reminded himself that he was here for a purpose, to take advantage of the situation. The magic might call to him, but his focus remained razor-sharp.

After clearing out the remaining creatures on the outskirts, William knew he had to head into the mine's depths. The demonic traits he had absorbed whispered that there were powerful creatures lurking within, stronger than the ones he'd already faced. These creatures had inherited more of the demonic characteristics, making them far more dangerous.

One such foe was a zombie guard he remembered encountering before. In life, the guard had trained relentlessly, honing his body and skills to near perfection, preparing himself for the 'Knight' path. But death had twisted him into something more; an elite monster, inheriting not one but two demonic traits, making him a formidable adversary.

The thought of facing such creatures sent a thrill through William. He was ready to push forward, to claim those traits, and continue his unstoppable march toward power.