Lord Of The Lost

The caravan boss, a man worn by years of travel and hardship, suddenly broke down, tears streaming down his face as he muttered to himself, "I'm such a fool... truly. I knew all along that there were bandits preying on caravans and villages alike, but I thought; foolishly, that this close to town, we'd be safe. That we were untouchable. But I was wrong. So wrong…"

His voice was thick with regret, every word laced with self-blame. He gazed out at the carnage that lay before him, his heart heavy. Strewn across the dirt were the lifeless bodies of both bandits and caravanners. The attack had been brutal. Nearly half of his people were gone, seven or eight souls now forever silenced by the clash of steel and violence.

As William approached, the crowd parted instinctively, making way for him. Most of the survivors stood in silent mourning, their expressions dark and hollow. But not everyone was weighed down by grief. Some faces were filled with quiet resignation, others showed indifference; perhaps they had seen death too many times to care anymore.

Seeing William approach, the boss quickly wiped the tears from his face, trying to regain his composure. He straightened up, though his voice still trembled slightly as he addressed him. "Respected knight, I cannot thank you enough. Without your intervention, we'd all be lying here, slaughtered by those wretched thieves."

William, ever calm, corrected him, "I'm not a knight."

The boss smiled weakly, shaking his head. "You've mastered the skills of a knight. Even if you aren't one now, mark my words, you will be someday."

William scratched his cheek absentmindedly, not quite sure how to respond. The idea of the knight's path intrigued him, but not just that, he was curious about 'everything'. His mind was like a sponge, eager to absorb knowledge from any path or philosophy.

"I'll take your kind words," he said simply, choosing not to elaborate further.

The boss, clearly grateful beyond words, asked, "What can we do to repay you? There must be something."

William, ever pragmatic, replied without hesitation. "Money. Whatever you can afford will do."

The caravan boss blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of the request. He turned around, rummaging through the scattered supplies and belongings. After a brief search, he returned with a small, weathered purse. "Here. It's all we have; 10 silver coins and 42 copper coins. We don't carry much, and with this attack...

the goods we have won't fetch much at market anymore."

William took the purse, tilting it in his hand, feeling the weight of the coins. "This is enough," he said. "Where are you headed? I have no particular plans, so I can accompany you."

The caravan boss shook his head, his expression clouding with sorrow once more. "We're taking the bodies back to the border town. We were on our way to Feather Village, but now… we can't go any further. Not after this."

The sadness in his voice made William pause. He understood. This journey was over before it truly began, derailed by violence and death.

"I was heading to the border town as well," William said after a moment. "We can go together."

The boss nodded, thankful for the company, though William had already refused to take any of the bandits' equipment left behind. It wasn't worth his trouble anymore. There had been a time; when he was still level 4 or 5, when scavenging these weapons might've been worthwhile. But now, with a knight's lance in his possession, the discarded junk held no appeal.

He climbed into one of the caravan's carts, leaning back against the cargo. With his clean, polished spear resting at his side, he stared out at the battlefield, lost in thought.

'Death.'

'Strangely… it didn't affect me at all.'

He found himself surprised by the lack of emotion. There was no revulsion, no urge to vomit at the sight of death, nor any sorrow for the lives lost around him. It was as though he had crossed an invisible threshold, one he hadn't expected. Beforehand, he had imagined all sorts of scenarios in his mind about how it would feel; about how 'he' would feel.

But in the end, the reality was just… underwhelming.

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze distant.

'So this is what it feels like...'

William's thoughts drifted, scattering like leaves in the wind. Out of nowhere, an image of a quiet figure flickered through his mind. He wasn't sure why it appeared, or what it meant. Shaking his head, he pushed away the distracting thoughts, forcing himself back to the present.

Just then, a commotion broke out among the caravan guards, their angry voices cutting through the air.

"My brother died protecting the caravan from those thieves!" one of the guards shouted, his face twisted with grief and fury. "We can't just move on like nothing happened. We have to settle this!"

William's attention shifted to the source of the conflict. The guard's voice trembled, choked with pain, but beneath the grief, William could sense a deeper motive brewing.

"They were my brothers!" the guard continued, his voice rising. "My family! My closest friends! I won't accept their deaths without compensation!"

William watched the scene unfold with cold detachment, his face betraying no emotion. He had seen this tactic before; the guards using their fallen comrades as leverage, hoping to gain something from the situation. Sure enough, they were angling to claim the weapons and equipment left behind by the dead thieves. It was a predictable move.

During the battle, William had seen some of the fighters vanish in a flash of white light, players who fought recklessly, throwing themselves into the fray without hesitation. Their combat skills were rough, unrefined, but their courage was undeniable. They were fearless in the face of death, surviving the chaos long enough for William to intervene.

The first to fall had been players. Their bravery couldn't protect them from their own lack of experience.

Now, some players who had survived were wounded, their bodies battered and bleeding. The caravan boss, still grieving his losses, did what he could, pulling out makeshift bandages to wrap their injuries. It wasn't much, but it would have to do until they reached the next town.

William remained silent, watching as the caravan began to regroup. The looting done, the packing complete, the caravan turned back toward the border town, their journey interrupted by tragedy.

Those players who had earlier tried to negotiate extra rewards now, quite boldly, climbed into the same carriage as William. It didn't escape his notice, but he said nothing. Instead, he observed the magical horses that pulled the cart. These weren't ordinary animals; domesticated magical creatures, far superior in strength and speed to any regular horse.

The villagers held them in high regard, treating them with almost reverent care.

William had heard rumors of even more impressive creatures; horses that could soar into the skies, Pegasus-like beings of legend. They were said to be fearless, powerful mounts that only the greatest warriors could ride. But for now, that was just a fantasy.

Players, on the other hand, seemed content with much smaller victories. They couldn't hide their excitement over a few pieces of basic white equipment. William smirked inwardly. The journey was long for them, but their ambitions were still small.

One of the players, hesitant but curious, leaned over and asked, "Are you… are you Wallace Beethovenish?"

William tilted his head, eyeing them curiously. "That's me," he said, keeping his voice calm.

The player's eyes widened in disbelief. "No way! Big brother!"

"I knew it was you!" another player chimed in, practically bouncing with excitement. "The way you took down those thieves; like it was nothing! You made it look so easy, like chopping melons and vegetables!"

The three surviving players were practically vibrating with enthusiasm, clearly in awe of William's skill.

William, however, kept his expression neutral. "How did you even get involved in this? Aren't you supposed to be leveling up?"

The players explained everything, eager to share their story. It turned out that the caravan had hired a large number of guards due to the threat of thieves along the route. The high bounty rewards had drawn players in, hoping for both profit and adventure.

"This caravan's huge," one of the players said, grinning. "The bounty for each guard is 1 silver coin, that's enough to buy a piece of white equipment!"

William raised an eyebrow. "Only if you reach level 5, though. Anything less and you can't handle guard duty."

The players nodded, understanding the risk but clearly happy with their decision. For them, this was the path to riches and new gear, the kind of adventure they craved.

William leaned back, listening to their chatter as the cart rumbled along. The road ahead was long, and these players had a lot to learn. But for now, they were content with small victories and dreams of what lay ahead.

Equipping yourself with better gear was key to leveling up faster; everyone knew that. And now, these players were living proof of it.

"Oh crap! These thieves give a crazy amount of experience points!" one of the players exclaimed, eyes wide with excitement. "I'm already level 6!"

The other two players immediately pulled up their game panels, their faces lighting up with the same joy.

"Dude, this is insane!" one of them chimed in, flashing a grin at the numbers on his screen.

Seeing their reactions, William decided to check his own system notifications. His curiosity piqued, he opened the familiar game prompt.

…

[You killed the thief, experience +10!]

…

[You killed the thief, experience +4!]

…

[Your talent for "Killing to Prove Your Way" has activated and slightly improved.]

…

[Your talent has absorbed part of the thief's characteristics.]

[Thief Characteristics: The extraordinary traits of a thief. While rare and far from making you a full-fledged thief, robbery; just like everything else, takes time and skill. This trait allows you to eventually switch your class to that of a thief.]

…

[Thief Tips: Robbing lives and looting property is second nature for us thieves! Pillage, burn, destroy, we take what the world denies us. We are thieves, and no one can stand in our way.]

[Game Tips: Thieves live on the fringe of society, rebels against law and order. Wanted criminals by the king himself, they live outside the bounds of morality. Killing a thief is free of guilt, and those who do are not punished.]

…

[Job Transfer Tips: Collect 300 copies of the same thief's extraordinary characteristics to unlock the option to change your class to a thief.]

[Thief Characteristics: 14\\300]

…

The thieves they had been fighting were generally levels 5 to 6, much stronger than your average townsperson. William had taken out about a dozen of them, most by capitalizing on the chaos, striking while they were locked in combat with the guards.

Altogether, he had earned around fifty or sixty experience points from the encounter, but that wasn't what interested him most. His attention remained on the talent prompts.

His core stats had all improved slightly; a total increase of 0.2 in each area. It was small, but as William often thought, anything is better then something. Every little bit counted.

What he found more intriguing was the quality of these thieves; there was something about them, something useful, almost… likable, 'after' their death, of course.

But the extraordinary characteristics? That was another matter entirely.

William's expression darkened as he scanned the latest prompts. He let out a soft sigh, frustration creeping into his tone.

"Just when I finally got rid of the demon's extraordinary traits, now I've picked up a thief's? Seriously, does this never end?"

He couldn't help but feel exasperated. These extraordinary traits kept attaching themselves to him like unwelcome guests. First it was demons, now thieves. What was next? He was starting to wonder if the universe had some sort of twisted sense of humor.

The other players, still caught up in their excitement, hadn't noticed his mood. But William couldn't shake the nagging thought: 'When does it stop?'

For now, though, he'd have to deal with it. There was always something to gain from these situations, even if it came with a bit of a headache.