Lord Of The Lost

"Metatron?"

William's interest was immediately piqued. The name stirred something in him, reminding him of the fascinating web of power players woven into the fabric of Border Town. Metatron, the enigmatic Forum Master, a notorious gambler, and several others had carved out their own paths in this rough but resource-rich town.

Here, the opportunities were abundant; if you knew where to look and the odds of triggering something extraordinary were much higher. It was the perfect place for someone like William, who sought to get ahead.

Compared to the sleepy villages where some players started, Border Town was a goldmine. Players in villages often had nothing but their bare hands to face the dangers that awaited them; whether it was magical creatures or simply surviving in a harsh environment. Most of the players who were thriving now had all started here, in Border Town, where they could take advantage of its hidden potential.

William, in fact, was the exception. His start hadn't been as favorable, but he'd more than made up for it.

Still, he knew the town wasn't huge, and the players who did start here often crossed paths. He had wondered if Metatron was still around. "Is he still in town?" William asked, his voice betraying a flicker of anticipation. He had unfinished business with Metatron; the last time they met, William had tasked him with tracking down a black magician. He was curious to see how that had played out.

The player guiding him shook his head. "I think he's offline. Haven't seen him around lately."

William nodded, his mind already racing with possibilities. If Metatron wasn't available, there were always other leads to chase down. He shifted his attention to something else that had caught his ear earlier. "And what about the circus? Is there something special about them?"

The player's eyes lit up, clearly eager to share more. "Oh, they're definitely special. The circus folk are well-traveled, and they know things most people around here don't. Boss Metatron once said that everyone in the circus is extraordinary."

That last word, 'extraordinary', caught William off guard. He knew exactly what it meant in the context of players, it referred to those who had begun walking a special path, be it magic, combat, or another arcane route. It wasn't a term to be thrown around lightly.

William's surprise was evident. "Extraordinary? Even the circus performers?"

The player nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, no joke. They've got clowns, magicians, animal trainers, even veterinarians; all with their own unique paths."

William paused to consider this. In the world of players, embarking on a path meant gaining extraordinary abilities tied to a profession or calling. It seemed the circus was more than just an entertainment troupe; it was a gathering of individuals who had tapped into something deeper.

"Brother," the player continued, lowering his voice a little, as if revealing a town secret, "you probably don't know this, but the locals here can accept magic. But witchcraft? That's a whole different story. They can't stand it."

William raised an eyebrow, intrigued by this distinction. "Why's that? Isn't witchcraft just another form of magic?"

The player scratched his head, clearly struggling to understand it himself. "That's the strange part. Magic; especially when it's flashy and for show; seems to be accepted. But witchcraft? The residents associate it with black magic. Dark stuff.

Black magicians have caused some really horrific incidents around here in the past. You've got stories of slavery, captivity, and curses that never lift. Souls trapped and unable to rest. People are terrified of that kind of power."

The player gave a small shrug, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. "The locals treat black magic like it's a plague. But for most of us players? It's just part of the game's lore."

William nodded thoughtfully. 'So that's the stigma,' he mused. He had heard whispers of these darker powers, but to see such deep-rooted fear still gripping the locals was something else. It made sense why they would embrace magic while shunning witchcraft, even if both came from the same roots.

The player shifted gears and pointed towards a grand, somewhat dilapidated building near the town's center. "See that building over there? That's the vocational academy. You can change your profession to 'warrior' or 'knight' there. But they don't accept refugees."

"Refugees?" William repeated.

"Yeah, that's basically what they call us players when we first show up. The locals here don't exactly roll out the welcome mat. We're treated like beggars at best." The player laughed, but there was bitterness in his voice. "When we arrive, if we're lucky, we get a few copper coins thrown our way because we look so pitiful."

William glanced at the academy. It was clear that while Border Town had a wealth of extraordinary resources, the path to accessing them wasn't easy. The local population was well aware of the power players held, but that didn't mean they were going to make life any easier for them. If anything, they seemed to enjoy keeping the players in their place, at least at first.

Still, William couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. Border Town was a place full of opportunities if you knew where to look and how to take advantage of them. Even if the road was rough, there were riches and power waiting to be claimed. He just had to play his cards right.

In the early days, there was a lot of chaos.

The residents of 'Magic Century' were a peaceful, kind-hearted people, simple in their ways. But players? That was a different story. Among them, there were all sorts; some were noble and helpful, but others? Well, they'd lie, cheat, and steal if it gave them an edge.

When you're in a new world with no clear direction on how to level up or gather resources, it's tempting to target the locals, especially if there's no other way to get ahead.

Unlike the residents, players had freedom, they could go wherever they wanted, whenever they wanted. If things got too hot in one area, they could just pack up and move to the next. The worst that could happen? They'd run away to some distant place and start fresh.

That worked for a while; until a few players got caught.

It turns out, the residents weren't as disconnected as they seemed. Villages had their own secret ways of communicating, keeping each other in the loop about troublemakers. And at the heart of it all, the border town acted as a command center, ordering nearby villages to cooperate and capture fleeing players.

Now, several unfortunate souls were stuck in the town's prison cells, regretting their choices. They were paying the price for underestimating the locals, and from the looks of it, getting out wasn't going to be easy.

But recently, a new problem had put players in an even more awkward position, thieves. With Metatron gone, the Forum Master missing, and the Gambler rarely seen, only a few players were left scattered around Border Town. The place wasn't huge, but it was big enough that running into another player was rare.

That was part of the reason the Forum Master had created the forum in the first place; a way for the few players left to stay connected in a world where face-to-face meetings were difficult.

Border Town had its perks, but it had one glaring drawback: no wild monsters nearby. If players wanted to grind, they'd have to hike dozens of miles to Dragon Valley just to find a decent place to level up. That made staying in town feel like a dead end.

As William logged off for the day, his mind raced over the events. He had spent the whole session traveling, accomplishing little. With a sigh, he opened up the forum to check what others had been up to.

The first post that jumped out at him read: "Fuck! What's wrong with these son-of-a-bitch thieves?!"

He scrolled down, noticing dozens of replies underneath.

"Did you get killed by them too?"

"Same here! I barely had time to react before some bastard buried an axe in my back!"

"The death penalty is brutal. I feel weak, and my head is pounding. I'm level 5 and focusing on physical stats. Anyone know how long until I recover? I can't take much more of this!"

"I swear, when I get back online, I'm hunting down every last one of them!"

"Count me in! I'll crush them, even if it means I don't level up!"

William counted; more than ten players had been taken down by these thieves. The frustration and anger were palpable. Everyone in the thread was seething with rage, plotting their revenge. The death penalty in this world wasn't just an inconvenience, it was 'real'. After dying, players felt weakened and disoriented, and the recovery process was slow and painful.

The worst part was how organized the thieves had become. They weren't just random NPCs wandering around, they roamed the wilderness in packs, setting up ambushes and catching players off guard. Players were constantly on edge, afraid of running into a group of thieves without backup.

It was clear from the forum that tomorrow would be different. Players were already planning to log in as a group, traveling in numbers to avoid being picked off one by one. William could almost feel the rising tension; the thieves had crossed a line, and now the players were ready to fight back.

The evaluation was simple: the thieves had become a major threat, and tomorrow, they would face the wrath of players united.

William continued to scroll through the forum posts, idly skimming through the chatter when a post from someone named 'Yo-yo ' caught his attention:

"Is there any big guy who can help me level up today? (Squatting on a cardboard box waiting for someone to pass by and take me away.JPG)"

The replies were just as lighthearted, with players jokingly responding, "I didn't pinch her" and "Touch Yo-yo , little trash." The overall vibe was teasing, filled with inside jokes. William smirked 'pitiful, weak, and helpless,' he thought, amused at how players entertained themselves during downtime.

He kept scrolling.

"Fuck! You won't believe what I ran into today!" one post exclaimed. "I was out leveling in the wilderness, minding my own business, when I heard this crazy rumbling noise. When I turned around, I saw a werewolf going toe-to-toe with this monstrous thing covered in tentacles!"

That caught William's attention. His eyes narrowed as he read on.

The post continued, "The whole scene was unreal! The fight was intense!"

'The breeze blows across the hills' chimed in, replying, "What happened next?"

"You won't believe it, brother!" the original poster responded. "They kept fighting, but the battle dragged deeper into the wilderness. I didn't dare follow them. No way I'm risking my neck! Do you have any idea what I just saw?"

William, now intrigued, decided to step in. He wasn't one to sit on information when he had it. He quickly replied: "One of them was an elite werewolf, way more dangerous than your average kind, and the other? That was a monster transformed by a hunter. You were smart not to follow them; if you had, you'd be dead by now."

He paused for a moment, remembering the events clearly. Little Bob, the transformed hunter, was still out there, harassing that elite werewolf, likely having fought his way out from the depths of Misty Forest. By disrupting the wolf pack's hunt, he had thrown the werewolves into chaos, forcing them to scatter. Without their leader, they could no longer pursue their prey effectively.

Another player chimed in: "I saw a group of hunters rushing past Wine Barrel Village earlier. They might be tracking those werewolves!"

The conversation unfolded further as other players exchanged their thoughts. William knew this would be a drawn-out ordeal, determining the victor between the hunter and the werewolf would take time. However, the topic was far from over for him.

His thoughts were interrupted by a private message notification. It was from Metatron.

"You there?" the message read.

William replied, "We found clues about the black magician."

Metatron's response came quickly: "Yeah, but there's something else. I'm worried."

"What's going on?" William asked, his curiosity piqued.

"It's tied to Shadow Castle," Metatron explained. "I mentioned it in the forum before, Shadow Castle is the territory of a vampire lord, and a lot of thieves come from there."

William leaned forward, focused. He'd heard rumors about Shadow Castle, but nothing solid until now.

"And today," Metatron continued, "I found out that the werewolves might have come into Border Town from that same territory. It's all connected, the thieves, the werewolves, and the black magician."

William's eyes widened. 'So it all ties back to Shadow Castle,' he thought. That place was beginning to sound like the root of all the town's problems. The vampire lord had evidently lost control, spiraling into something monstrous, forcing his subjects to scatter. Many had turned to thievery or worse, becoming refugees in hiding.

"The information I've got is a bit hazy," Metatron admitted, "so I can't say for sure how reliable it is."

William mulled this over. "So, what's your plan?" he asked.

There was a brief pause before Metatron replied, "We need to go to Shadow Castle ourselves. Find out the truth firsthand."

William sat back, taking in the weight of that suggestion. The two of them, players who hadn't even fully established their professions, going into the lair of a vampire lord to gather information? It sounded like suicide.

"You want two jobless players to waltz into the domain of a big boss? Sounds like you've got a death wish," William replied, half-joking but fully aware of the risks.

Metatron, however, seemed undeterred. "Don't worry too much about the danger. The castle was destroyed recently by the knight from the fiefdom. It's in ruins now."

That gave William pause. A ruined castle was far less daunting than a stronghold at full power, but even so, it wasn't a walk in the park. Still, the chance to uncover the truth about the black magician, the werewolves, and the broader mystery behind Shadow Castle was tempting. He wasn't one to shy away from a challenge, especially when it could lead to answers.

William took a deep breath, his mind already calculating the risks. "Fine," he typed back. "We'll go. But we need to prepare."