Lord Of The Lost

The people of the border town knew all too well where the thieves were causing trouble. Word spread quickly, and with the white-faced owl acting as their eyes in the sky, William and the Forum Master never had to search blindly. The owl flew swift and true, constantly relaying the precise locations of the marauding thieves, saving them precious time.

Their destination was Windmill Village, a quiet settlement nestled deep in the grasslands. The village took its name from its towering windmill, a landmark that could be seen from miles away. But peace had fled the village. As William and the Forum Master arrived, following the owl's path, chaos greeted them.

A gang of thieves had descended upon the village like a plague. Fires blazed, and the sound of clashing steel echoed across the plains. The villagers, armed with crude weapons, fought alongside the town's militia, guards and patrolmen, desperately trying to defend their homes. But it was clear they were outmatched, struggling to hold their ground against the well-organized thieves.

A sudden rumble tore through the air, the sound of warhorses thundering toward the battle. The ground seemed to quake beneath the iron hooves. The thieves paused, startled, their heads whipping around to see the source of the sound. Shouts filled the air as they called out to one another, trying to regroup.

"Retreat! We need to fall back!"

But it was too late.

William and the Forum Master charged into the fray, the wind whipping through their armor, the glint of their weapons sharp in the sunlight. William could hardly believe what he was seeing. There were nearly a hundred thieves swarming the village, their sheer numbers forming a massive, unruly crowd.

Worse still, among them were high-level fighters, thieves who were skilled enough to give the village guards a hard time. But no matter their numbers, against heavily armored knights, they stood no chance.

William, riding high on his warhorse, nocked an arrow and drew the string. With swift precision, he loosed three arrows in rapid succession. Each one found its mark, striking down three thieves who were trying to flee. They collapsed to the ground, their escape cut short by death.

Then, with a shout, William spurred his warhorse forward, charging straight into the heart of the battle. His warhorse rampaged through the thieves like a force of nature, trampling anyone who dared stand in its path. Iron hooves crushed bones, leaving broken bodies in their wake as William aimed to cut down as many thieves as possible, eager to complete their mission in one fell swoop.

The Forum Master, not far behind, swung his sword with wild energy, hacking through the thieves who hadn't fled fast enough. His breaths were ragged, his heart pounding in his chest as the adrenaline surged through his body. Though the battle lasted only minutes; four or five at most, it felt like an eternity.

Every swing of his sword, every step his warhorse took, demanded every ounce of strength he had.

The thieves, seeing their numbers dwindle, scattered like rats. William had hoped to eliminate the entire group, but half of them slipped through their grasp, vanishing into the grasslands before he could finish the job. As the dust settled, only bodies remained, strewn across the blood-soaked grass. The green of the plains was stained red, the air thick with the scent of iron and death.

The Forum Master dismounted, his legs shaky, barely able to stand. His breath came in gasps, each one ragged and strained. Although the battle had been brief, the intensity had drained him. His muscles ached, his heart felt like it might explode. This wasn't just a fight, it was survival. Under such stress, even the fittest man would feel his strength quickly fade.

He had given everything he had, swinging his sword with reckless abandon, not even realizing how much it was taking out of him.

William, however, remained calm, accustomed to the carnage. Years of experience and countless battles had hardened him, made him immune to the nerves that often rattled younger or less seasoned warriors. For him, this wasn't a desperate struggle. This was just another hunt, and he was the predator, not the prey.

With a practiced motion, he dismounted and reached for a rough sackcloth from one of the fallen thieves. He wiped the blood from his blade, restoring its gleaming silver color. His face remained stoic, focused, as if the battle hadn't affected him in the slightest.

Once his weapon was clean, he tore another piece of cloth from a dead thief's tattered clothes and began cleaning the visor, breastplate, and hooves of his magic warhorse. Bits of flesh clung to the metal, and blood still dripped down in thick streams, but William meticulously cleaned it all away.

As the last of the blood was wiped off, William stood back, surveying the scene. Bodies lay strewn across the battlefield, the thieves' loot abandoned as they had fled. The villagers were safe, for now, but half of the thieves had managed to escape. Their victory, while great, was not yet complete.

Just as William finished his task, the white-faced owl let out another sharp cry. It circled overhead, its keen eyes searching the horizon, before diving toward them.

"Urgent to the east! Target: Windmill Village! The situation is critical!"

William and the Forum Master exchanged a look, their exhaustion quickly replaced by resolve. There was no time to rest. Mounting their warhorses once again, they prepared to ride into battle once more, determined to finish what they had started.

William finished meticulously wiping the blood and grime from his blade and armor, ensuring every inch gleamed as if untouched by battle. As he did so, the guards of Windmill Village finally arrived, breathless and wide-eyed, relief washing over their faces.

"Thank the gods you arrived when you did!" one of the guards exclaimed, his voice thick with gratitude. "If you had been any later, we wouldn't have been able to hold out much longer."

William nodded but remained silent, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon as if expecting more trouble. He had seen the signs earlier; the thieves were poised to break through and unleash chaos. Their intent had been clear: burning, killing, looting.

If William and the Forum Master hadn't arrived in time, the village would have been reduced to ashes, and countless residents, especially those too old or young to fight; would have been slaughtered.

"The number of these thieves is growing," the guard continued, his expression dark with concern. He cast a worried glance toward the village, the fear of what could still come gnawing at him. "This isn't the first time, and I have a feeling it won't be the last."

The Forum Master, catching his breath, stepped forward. "Leave it to us," he said, his voice steady and reassuring. His calm demeanor was meant to ease the villagers' nerves, even though he was still recovering from the battle's intensity.

With that, he began organizing the cleanup of the battlefield. He directed the villagers to help gather the scattered weapons and equipment left behind by the thieves, preparing to send them to the border town for safekeeping. The guards, grateful for the assistance, agreed immediately and set to work, their earlier fear momentarily forgotten.

As the two mounted their warhorses and prepared to ride out again, William couldn't help but glance sideways at the Forum Master, who still looked shaken despite his composed words. "Can you keep up?" William asked, his tone sharp, but not unkind. There was a hint of amusement in his eyes as he sized up the clearly rattled man.

The Forum Master gave a weak, bitter smile in return. Normally, he was the picture of calm strategy, carefully orchestrating plans like a general on the battlefield. But this fight had shaken him. He knew his own limits, his level was far lower than William's, and his attributes paled in comparison. That's why he always stayed behind William, charging only when he had a clear advantage.

But today, in the heat of the moment, he had made a reckless decision.

"I rushed in too quickly," the Forum Master admitted, his voice low. "I didn't think... I wasn't prepared for this many." His mind flashed back to the moment they were surrounded, nearly a hundred thieves closing in on all sides. These were not the usual low-level bandits they could easily scatter. This group was organized, dangerous.

As soon as they charged into the horde, the thieves launched a brutal counterattack. The Forum Master had felt the sheer weight of their numbers pressing in from every direction. His usual calm and calculated mindset vanished in an instant, replaced by a primal fear. He had forgotten about the heavy armor protecting him, forgotten that he was trained for this.

In that moment, his mind went blank, and he swung his weapon purely on instinct, desperate to survive.

Thankfully, his warhorse had remained unshaken, following William's lead with unwavering resolve. The powerful creature surged forward, breaking through the line of thieves, carrying its rider out of danger. Together, the two heavy cavalrymen managed to burst through the encirclement, but the battle wasn't over yet.

William, with his relentless determination, had turned back almost immediately, charging back into the fray. The Forum Master had no choice but to follow. After several rounds of brutal combat, the thieves finally broke under the pressure, scattering in all directions. They had no hope against the sheer force of the knights, and soon they fled, leaving behind only bodies and blood-soaked earth.

As they rode through the aftermath, William glanced at his experience bar, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Just a dozen more points, and I'll hit level nine," he murmured to himself, satisfaction in his tone. The fight had been worth it, not just for the village, but for the experience.

His extraordinary characteristics had increased by over sixty points, thanks to the high-level thieves they had faced.

He cast a glance at the Forum Master. "You must be nearing level seven by now," William said. "And at this rate, you might even hit level eight soon."

The Forum Master gave a tired nod, still recovering from the exertion. "Maybe," he muttered, his voice heavy with exhaustion. His confidence from earlier had been shaken, but he was grateful for the progress they were making.

Suddenly, a sharp cry echoed above them. The white-faced owl swooped down, circling high overhead as it scanned the battlefield below.

"103 down! 97 more to go!" the owl screeched, its voice clear against the fading light.

William looked up at the owl with a smile. "Not bad," he said, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "Looks like we're making progress faster than we thought."

The Forum Master sighed deeply, rubbing a hand across his face. "Let's just finish this mission," he said, his voice weary. Though the task was far from complete, a sense of unease hung over him like a shadow. The battle had tested him in ways he hadn't expected, and the road ahead felt even more daunting.

But William, ever the seasoned warrior, simply nudged his warhorse forward. "Don't worry," he said over his shoulder, his voice confident. "We'll be done before you know it."

With that, the two knights rode on, their sights set on the remaining thieves and the challenges that awaited them.

"Wallace, have you noticed something strange about the weapons these thieves are carrying?" the Forum Master asked, his tone sharp with suspicion as they rode. His eyes flicked to the bloodstained blades scattered across the ground.

William turned his gaze to the fallen weapons, already having sensed something odd. "Yes," he muttered thoughtfully. "They're too well-made for common thieves."

The Forum Master nodded, his thoughts aligning with William's. "If you brought one of these to a blacksmith, you'd get two, maybe even three silver coins for them," he explained, picking up a blade and inspecting its edge. "And some of these white-board weapons? They'd fetch at least five silver coins each."

But not every thief was armed, and that inconsistency gnawed at him. It wasn't the pattern of a ragtag group of desperate men, looting whatever they could find. No, this was something else entirely. These weapons hadn't been scavenged from raids. There was a deeper, more insidious undercurrent at play.

"These thieves aren't simply raiding for survival," the Forum Master continued, his voice grim. "I'm starting to think someone is supplying them."

William's grip on the reins tightened as he considered the implications. "If they're being organized and armed... that's a problem. A big one." He knew that rogue groups, when armed and coordinated, could wreak havoc on a region. A scattered thief was one thing; a militia of thieves was another.

The Forum Master's concerns mirrored his own. Thieves weren't supposed to be this well-equipped. If they were appearing in groups, with higher-quality gear, it meant trouble was brewing.

Without wasting any more time, the two knights rode onward, determined to hunt down the next group of thieves. But it seemed word had already spread. Somewhere, somehow, the thieves had caught wind of their presence. There was a hidden network of communication at work, a warning system among the rogues.

"A knight's been spotted in Border Town!" The message spread like wildfire among the thieves, carried by whispers and signals only they understood. It didn't take long before every thief in the area knew to stay on high alert, making William and the Forum Master's task infinitely harder.

Their next attempts at intercepting the thieves led to frustration. The closest they got was watching dozens of them scramble up the steep mountainside, disappearing behind jagged rocks. The terrain was unforgiving; too steep for their warhorses and nearly impossible for even the most agile humans to scale.

William's warhorse snorted, circling in place, its frustration evident. It pawed at the ground as if insulted, its powerful muscles rippling beneath its armor. The thieves had escaped, but the fight was far from over.

William's eyes narrowed, his cold gaze locked onto the mountain where the thieves had hidden. The smell of blood clung to him, sharp and metallic in the air. His silence spoke volumes, this wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

The Forum Master's expression darkened as well. His disappointment was plain, but he wouldn't give up. "We'll get them next time," he said, his voice laced with determination. "I don't believe we'll miss them every time."

William gave a curt nod, his jaw set. There was no need for words. He could feel the magic warhorse beneath him, almost vibrating with the same sense of insult and restlessness. The horse, too, had taken the failed pursuit personally. Its snorts grew louder, its movements more agitated. It was as if it shared their frustration, this wasn't just a mission, it was a matter of pride now.

They set off again, this time faster, the warhorses moving like the wind across the plains. The ground trembled beneath their hooves, the sheer size and weight of the magical creatures creating an impact that was impossible to ignore. William could feel the raw power coursing through the horse as it galloped, each stride full of force and purpose.

The rhythm of the ride consumed him, the pulse of the warhorse's strength merging with his own as they moved as one.

He gripped his spear tightly, tucking the shaft securely under his arm, forming two fixed points of stability. The weapon became an extension of himself, the sharp, gleaming tip pointing straight ahead. The silver-white spear was nearly half a meter long, its sides edged with deadly blades. It cut through the air like a tank's barrel, an unstoppable force waiting to meet its target.

With the magic warhorse charging full force, William could feel the terrifying power of the combined impact. The energy gathered into one single point, the tip of his spear. In that moment, he understood something new: the essence of the piercing attack, the true meaning of riding into battle with the full weight of momentum behind him.

No one would dare face the tip of his spear head-on.

As the wind whipped past and the horizon blurred, a sudden notification flashed across his vision:

[Job Transfer Reminder: You have understood the true meaning of the piercing attack. You are now eligible to transfer to the 'Knight' path!]

William's lips curved into a smile. His journey was only just beginning.