Lord Of The Lost

William had always held a certain pride; so much so that even demons, with all their dark power, couldn't make him feel inferior. How, then, could he ever consider taking the path of a thief? The very thought made his stomach churn.

"Disgusting," he muttered under his breath, lost in his own thoughts. Yet despite his repulsion, something needed to be done. He had to figure out a way to rein in his overwhelming talent, a way to manage the extraordinary abilities that came with his path.

After all, ever since he'd changed professions, the allure of other paths had started to feel toxic, like a venom slowly seeping into his soul. But even so, the path of the thief... it had potential, however unexpected that was. It wasn't like they were full-fledged thieves yet. No, they were still just "reserves," merely skimming the surface of what that dark path had to offer.

This reminded William of the guard stationed at the mine; a man who had once been a "reserve knight," brimming with the extraordinary traits of knighthood. But after the corruption of demonization, those noble characteristics were all but erased, replaced by monstrous qualities that didn't suit him. It was a weakening, an inversion of power. The man had lost much of what made him strong.

In contrast, thieves, perhaps because they lived by the sword, had a far higher average skill level than most ordinary folk. They were a deadly presence in the mountains and forests, darting in and out like shadows, raiding villages, ambushing caravans, and even killing innocent players who were merely trying to level up.

Only skilled hunters could track them down, but those hunters had other tasks, often leaving the thieves unchecked and free to wreak havoc.

As William continued on his journey, he was joined by three other players, each taking turns introducing themselves. They seemed eager to make his acquaintance, but he remained distant, his mind elsewhere. His thoughts weighed heavy on him, and his responses were far from warm. The players, though, didn't seem to mind his aloofness. After all, William had saved their lives.

Without his intervention, not only would they have lost their equipment and hard-earned rewards, but they would've faced death; a brutal setback.

For low-level players, death meant more than just pain. After dying, they would need to wait three long days before they could stabilize their condition and re-enter the sequence game. The more experienced a player became, the higher their spiritual value, which helped shorten this wait time, but it never erased the toll. Death was never just a minor inconvenience.

In fact, for higher-level players, death was even more punishing. The higher your stats, the harder you fell. After dying, you had to seek out a priest's blessing to lift the "death status," a mark that left you vulnerable and weak. The soul-tearing pain of death wasn't just a physical agony; it was also the harsh realization that you'd fall behind in level, giving others a chance to surpass you.

That's why these players, now following William closely, were so grateful for his intervention. Along the way, they catered to his every need, showing him deference, hoping to stay in his good graces.

As they traveled, a notification appeared: [Map Tip: You have arrived at the border town].

The caravan they were traveling with had reached its destination, and William looked ahead, taking in the sight of the town's guards. These men were far more imposing than the village guards he'd seen earlier. Clad in heavy armor, with iron helmets covering their heads and massive spears in hand, they stood tall and intimidating, radiating authority and strength.

It was a sharp contrast to the ragtag defenses of the villages, and William couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. What dangers awaited in a place that required such formidable protection?

The border town was bustling, or at least, it had once been. Its prosperity, while impressive for a small outpost, now seemed dulled, like a gem losing its sparkle. The town had fallen on hard times, largely due to the relentless attacks from thieves lurking in the nearby forests. William gathered this information from the local players as they exchanged stories of raids and lost caravans.

The heart of the town was marked by a towering cathedral, its spires reaching for the sky. This was no mere building; it was the seat of the region's religious power. Several priests, along with a bishop, called this place home, ensuring that the church's influence was felt throughout the area.

As William made his way through the dusty streets, one of the players eagerly offered to be his guide. The player, practically bending in half with humility, wore a nervous grin as he spoke. His behavior was so deferential that William couldn't help but think, 'This guy might as well part his hair in the middle and follow around someone like a bootleggers.'

William shot him a look, unimpressed. "I'm not paying you for this, just so you know."

The player immediately waved off the idea, almost looking offended at the suggestion. "Oh, no, Big Brother! I wouldn't dream of taking your money. I was supposed to be a guard for the caravan anyway, so this is just me doing my job."

William raised an eyebrow. "You're quick on your feet," he muttered, acknowledging the player's quick thinking. Still, it wasn't the worst idea to have someone familiar with the town show him around; it would certainly save him the time of wandering aimlessly.

As they walked, the guide pointed out various locations, speaking with the enthusiasm of someone who had probably given this tour a hundred times. "That's the blacksmith's workshop. Great for gear, but don't expect any bargains. The cheapest decent equipment they sell is 60 silver coins." He shook his head, clearly not impressed by the prices.

They passed a rowdy tavern next. "That's where you go if you need information. Some players have taken to hanging out there, but the drinks are a mixed bag. The good stuff is too expensive, and the cheap stuff tastes like it was brewed from old boots."

As they continued, the guide pointed to a brightly colored tent. "And here's the divination tent. There's a fortune teller inside, always spouting nonsense. A bunch of us thought she might be tied to a hidden quest or something, but after hanging around long enough, we just ended up curing her... madness." He chuckled to himself, though William noticed there was more to the story.

William raised an eyebrow at this. "Cured her madness?" he echoed, skeptical.

The guide grinned. "Yeah, it was all an act. She was playing the role of a crazy fortune teller to lure people in. But after getting hounded by players day and night, she finally snapped. Honestly, we were driving her mad with all our questions and no tips."

William smirked. 'Players can be relentless when there's a potential reward,' he thought. The guide went on to explain how they didn't just refuse to pay her, they wasted her time, badgering her for information. Eventually, she dropped the act, exposing her true nature.

Inside the tent, the fortune teller sat at a small table with a crystal ball, her eyes hidden behind a black cloth. Her face had a sharp, almost mean expression, as if daring someone to waste her time again. She seemed to sense their presence, letting out a soft giggle. "Your future... is very interesting," she said, her voice dripping with mystery.

Curiosity piqued, William stepped forward. He was always intrigued by mysterious professions. "Can you tell me about my future?" he asked, half-expecting nothing but vague riddles.

The guide quickly leaned in, trying to dissuade him. "Brother, don't bother. We've all tried, and it's always the same. You pay ten copper coins, and she gives you some nonsense about fog."

William considered this but pulled out ten copper coins anyway. It wasn't a huge loss, and he was curious enough to risk it.

The fortune teller, with a dramatic flair, fiddled with the crystal ball. A faint glow started to emanate from it, casting eerie shadows in the dim tent. She muttered something under her breath, her voice low and hypnotic. "Your future... is full of fog..."

William frowned, unimpressed. "And what else?"

She paused for effect, before delivering the same line, as though it held some great weight. "It's... full of fog."

A silence fell in the tent, and William stared at her, waiting for more. When none came, he sighed, realizing the guide had been right. It was just as the player had warned; empty words designed to string people along. With a shake of his head, he pocketed the experience as a reminder: not all mysteries were worth solving.

William stood there, utterly speechless. 'You didn't even bother to give me a half-decent answer!' He couldn't believe the audacity of this so-called fortune teller. At least other fortune tellers would throw in some vague, cryptic phrases to give you something to think about, but this one? She couldn't even manage that.

His mind drifted for a moment. The last time a witch had read his fortune, something strange had happened, unusual events had been triggered, leading to an unexpected chain of outcomes. But now, facing this female fortune teller, he couldn't help but wonder: 'How can someone be this unreliable?'

The fortune teller, noticing his obvious dissatisfaction, frowned deeply. She wasn't faking this. "I didn't lie," she said, her voice firm, as if challenging his doubt. "I really saw fog in your future." She crossed her arms, clearly offended, and added, "I swear it on my professional ethics." She almost looked hurt that William would doubt her skills over such a small fee.

Sure, ten copper coins wouldn't buy you the full truth of your future, but it was usually enough to get something; a vague prediction, a hint of what was to come. There was no reason this reading should have failed. It was puzzling, even to her.

She gripped the crystal ball tightly, rubbing it as if the friction might clear away the mystery. Her expression shifted from confusion to frustration. Normally, her powers could predict something, even for a knight, she could get a general sense of what the future held. But for William? It was as if the fog she had seen blocked her entirely.

The divination had failed to reveal anything meaningful, leaving her bewildered.

As the fortune teller's distress grew more evident, William began to reconsider his initial skepticism. There had to be some truth to her powers if she was reacting this strongly. He narrowed his eyes, curious. "So," he asked, breaking the silence, "how does your power compare to that of the witch?"

The fortune teller blinked, clearly confused. "Which witch?"

"The one in the Misty Forest," William clarified, thinking of the mysterious figure he had encountered in the past.

Her face twisted in disbelief. "The witch of the Misty Forest? That's just a children's story, a legend to keep kids in line. You're saying she's real?" She leaned forward, looking genuinely intrigued.

William felt his patience slipping away. 'How could she not know?' He turned on his heel, shaking his head. "Forget it," he muttered. "You might have some skill, but it's not enough." The encounter had left him more irritated than enlightened.

Behind him, the fortune teller hesitated, her lips parting as if she wanted to explain herself. She had only been in the border town for a few years, after all, and it was perfectly reasonable that she wouldn't be familiar with all the local legends, especially one as obscure as the Misty Forest witch.

She had heard rumors of the forest harboring strange powers, but she certainly wasn't equipped to divine whether there was an actual witch living there.

"I do have real skills," she called out softly, as if hoping to draw him back. "Come back sometime, and I'll show you." But her voice faded into the background as William kept moving, leaving the tent behind.

The little episode was over, and William quickly refocused his attention. His guide, still dutifully by his side, pointed to another building up ahead.

"That's the gambling house," the player explained, motioning toward a bustling crowd. Even from a distance, the noise of people shouting and cheering spilled into the street.

"And over there," the player continued, "is where the circus sets up. It's a traveling circus. They've been in Border Town for a while now. They claim they'll leave once they have enough money, but they're practically broke, hanging on by a thread."

The player chuckled to himself, adding, "Boss Metatron does a lot of business with the circus folk. If you're looking for a good deal or some trouble, that's where you'll find it."

William glanced toward the circus tents in the distance, the bright colors a stark contrast to the grim surroundings. He filed the information away. The town had its share of mysteries, and something told him that his journey through Border Town was just beginning