Lord Of The Lost

William moved swiftly through the forest, his hands brushing against the soft feathers he had collected. "Almost fifty now," he muttered to himself, feeling a mixture of satisfaction and impatience. He still needed 150 magic feathers, a number Calcifer had insisted upon to craft the flying artifacts William so eagerly anticipated.

Flying. The very thought of soaring through the sky brought a spark of excitement to his eyes. "As humans, we are bound to the earth," William thought, looking up at the sky peeking through the trees. "But we always yearn for the freedom of the sky." With renewed determination, he headed deeper into the mountains, knowing his goal was not far off.

It wasn't long before he encountered flocks of crows. Some groups were small, only seven or eight birds, while others soared in larger numbers, sometimes more than ten. William was undeterred. He swiftly cut through them, his knight's lance gleaming as it sliced the air with precision. The crows never stood a chance.

In the space of just half an hour, four or five flocks had fallen to his skill, their black feathers scattering like dark rain across the forest floor. Blood streaked the ground, but William barely noticed. His focus was absolute, his goal clear. As he approached Crow Ridge, the numbers of magic feathers in his pouch grew steadily.

But the further he ventured, the more the strain began to show. His breaths grew heavier, and his muscles ached from the continuous battle. The crows here were no longer the low-level creatures he had encountered earlier. These were Black Crows of a different kind, their strength bolstered by magic, their levels reaching four and five; stronger, but not by much.

"Still, nothing I can't handle," William thought, gripping his lance tighter. Even if a level seven or eight crow appeared, it was hardly a match for his weapon. The knight's lance, imbued with powerful magic, could slice through the strongest of enemies with little effort. A mere scratch from the lance was enough to bring down these formidable birds.

It wasn't just the physical strength of the crows that posed a threat; their magic had grown stronger too. They summoned gusts of wind, attempted illusions, and screeched spells meant to disorient him. But the lance had its own magical properties, it broke through demonic magic with ease, making these efforts futile.

"The Berserker Axe might be powerful, but it's a blunt instrument compared to this lance," William mused as he fought. "This is the weapon of a true knight, something the Imperial Guards of the kingdom would wield. There's no comparison."

With the lance, he cut through the flocks effortlessly, but there was a downside. The weapon was so destructive that many of the magic feathers he sought were damaged in the process. Each crow's body was ravaged by the powerful blows, and their feathers, fragile and infused with magic, often tore beyond repair. It was frustrating to see so many ruined feathers among the ones he needed.

Still, William couldn't blame anyone but himself. "If only I were more skilled with the spear," he admitted quietly. A true master of spearmanship could have wielded a technique like the Torrential Pear Blossom Spear, where the flurry of attacks would be precise, killing the crows while leaving their feathers untouched. But William had yet to reach that level of mastery.

Nevertheless, progress was progress. By now, he had gathered more than a hundred feathers, though many more had been lost to the destructive power of his lance. He knew that if his skills were better, the collection process would have been smoother, and perhaps he wouldn't have to spend two or three days in Crow Ridge to meet Calcifer's requirements.

But he was close now. So close. The end was in sight, and yet, a new thought began to stir in his mind.

Calcifer had told him the quality and quantity of the magic feathers would determine the power of the flying artifacts. What if he didn't stop at 150? What if he gathered more? The more feathers he brought back, the greater the potential of the items Calcifer would create for him.

His pulse quickened at the idea. No, William wasn't ready to stop yet. Not when the sky was so close within reach.

Half an hour later, William stood over the remains of a high-level flock of black crows, most of them at level six. The air was thick with the scent of magic and iron, and he could feel the power coursing through him as he gathered the shimmering magic feathers. "Almost three hundred now," he murmured, a grin spreading across his face.

He had also gained over a hundred experience points from the battle, a testament to his growing strength.

Suddenly, a notification flashed in his mind: [Talent Tips: Your talent has absorbed enough magical power from Black Crow to form the skill - Mental Confusion.]

"Mental confusion?" he echoed, surprised. This skill could confuse an enemy's mind; an intriguing addition to his arsenal. He had noticed before that each time he defeated a black crow, there was a prompt indicating a "slight improvement," but he had never understood what it meant. "I suppose I'll just have to figure it out as I go," he thought, shaking his head.

His confidence surged as he reflected on his progress. "It feels like I'm becoming sharper, almost like I'm finally growing a brain," he joked to himself, chuckling at the absurdity of it all. The [Killing to Prove the Way] ability not only absorbed extraordinary traits but also allowed him to gain mysterious skills.

He remembered how his weapon proficiency had evolved into basic gun skills after a particularly intense battle. He had even absorbed fighting instincts from a hybrid werewolf, enhancing his combat intuition.

Yet, he was aware that mental confusion was a skill possessed by every black crow. "Just one of them isn't enough to develop this skill, but all together…" William pondered, a calculating look in his eyes. He understood that the more he defeated these creatures, the more their collective power would add up.

As he collected the magic feathers, he noted the quality remained the same between the high-level and low-level crows. It was all about accumulation. A level one black crow produced only one feather, but as the levels increased, so did the magical energy within their bodies, resulting in more powerful feathers, though each feather carried the same potential.

"Interesting," he mused, piecing together the patterns in his mind.

But as William reveled in his success, he felt a sudden shift in the air, a chill that pricked his skin. Instinctively, he looked up, and his heart sank. Above him, silhouetted against the darkening sky, was a massive black crow. His pupils constricted as the realization hit him.

[Battle Tips: You have encountered the Black Crow King.]

The text flooded his thoughts, and he could hardly breathe. [Black Crow King: No one knows when such a being appeared in Crow Ridge, but there is no doubt that it is the uncrowned king of this mountain. Now, a large amount of blood of its own kind has been spilled, and the shrill screams have echoed for too long. It is looking angrily at the culprit of all this.]

The ground beneath him felt as if it had shifted, and he could almost hear the heartbeat of the mountain in response to the Black Crow King's wrath. Crow Ridge, normally cloaked in shadows, seemed to darken further at the creature's arrival, amplifying the atmosphere of dread. William tightened his grip on his lance, heart racing, knowing that the real battle was only just beginning.

The sky seemed to darken unnaturally, as if the very atmosphere responded to the presence of the creature. It was like stepping into a nightmare with its own terrifying special effects.

"Oh no…" William muttered, his mouth twisting in frustration. He didn't waste another second.

He spun on his heels and bolted.

Behind him, the Black Crow King spread its massive wings, the span stretching four or five meters wide. It was an outrageously huge beast, more like a monster than any bird William had ever seen. The ground shook slightly beneath its weight as it took to the sky with a furious screech.

"Quack—!"

Its roar echoed across the mountains, and before William could gain much ground, the air pressure from the creature's rapid approach hit him like a hammer. The force of the wind nearly knocked him off his feet, making his body stagger as his thoughts scrambled. His head throbbed as if a sharp pain had pierced through his skull, making it nearly impossible to focus.

Panic surged through him. The danger was palpable, closing in fast. William could feel it creeping up behind him like the cold edge of a blade. He reacted on pure instinct. Without even looking, he ripped the knight's lance from his back and thrust it behind him with all his might.

Clang!

The sound of metal against metal rang out. William stole a quick glance over his shoulder, only to see shallow cuts across the Black Crow King's thick, metallic claws. His heart sank.

Up close, the Black Crow King was even more terrifying. It was like something out of legend, its body resembling a Hippogriff, with claws thick as iron and feathers gleaming unnaturally in the dim light. The feathers weren't soft or delicate; they were layered in dense, metallic patterns, covered in strange runes.

The texture alone screamed of something impenetrable, as though each feather had been cast from enchanted steel.

William's scalp tingled in horror. "This thing... it's beyond anything I've faced," he thought. He had encountered monsters before, elite werewolves, and even the terrifying creature that little Bob had once turned into, but this Black Crow King was on a completely different level. Its presence radiated power and authority, suffocating and impossible to ignore. Ordinary werewolves didn't even compare.

The Black Crow King, undeterred by its missed attack, corrected its position mid-flight and dove again. Its razor-sharp beak and crushing claws were strong enough to tear through stone, and William knew he couldn't afford to take even a glancing hit.

He sprinted, covering his head as he dashed through the forest like a wild animal, agile and fast. The trees blurred around him as he rushed to escape Crow Ridge, but each time the Black Crow King swooped down, he had to suppress the mental confusion threatening to cloud his mind.

He spun and leaped, swinging his lance like a whirlwind, barely managing to force the massive creature back for a brief moment.

But he was nearing the edge of Crow Ridge; just a little farther, and he'd be clear.

The Black Crow King, enraged by the deaths of its kin, let out another ear-splitting cry. Its wings flapped with terrifying force, summoning a violent windstorm that tore through the mountainside. The sky darkened even more, and within seconds, the entire area was engulfed in chaos.

Sand and rocks whipped through the air, flying like deadly projectiles, as the winds howled like a chorus of angry spirits.

William felt his sense of direction crumble. The mental attack was strong, distorting his vision and making his legs feel like they were betraying him. He staggered, almost falling as the world around him spun.

With no other choice, he reached for his developing lantern and flicked it open. A blinding flash of divine light burst forth, cutting through the swirling darkness and mental confusion. The light cleared his mind, and he could see again. The Black Crow King's influence had been pushed back, but only for now.

Still, the creature wasn't done. The Black Crow King was relentless, its vengeful pursuit burning with fury. It wasn't going to let William escape easily. Every chance it got, it lunged at him, claws outstretched and beak ready to strike. William had to stay one step ahead, evading each attack while trying to keep his footing.

The chase seemed never-ending. They moved far from Crow Ridge, and William realized he couldn't risk leading the beast toward Moonlight Village. The last thing he wanted was to bring disaster upon the villagers. Determined, he altered his course, running further into the wilderness, covering more than a hundred miles in an attempt to shake the monstrous bird.

But the Black Crow King wasn't giving up easily, and William knew that, eventually, he would have to face the creature head-on.