Lord Of The Lost

William observed Alex's skills with keen interest. The abilities Alex had mastered weren't just powerful; they were synergistic, designed to work seamlessly together, enhancing his deadliness in ways few could achieve. He soon learned that Alex had chosen the path of the assassin, specializing in stealth and lethal strikes. But there was a mystery around him. Alex hadn't explained exactly how he managed to change his profession so early in the game.

William could only guess that Alex must have encountered some transcendent figure or rare artifact from the assassin's path, something that granted him access to these extraordinary abilities. After all, there was no other way he could have accumulated so many high-level assassin skills. He wondered if he might even be the first player to manage a job change. But a part of his questioned whether jumping into such an advanced path so soon was wise. Power came with a price.

When Alex finished, it was the Pavilion Master's turn to share. Everyone knew his talent well, but he had a new trick to reveal. "I recently learned the magic skill 'Lightning Link' at the Magic House," he said, his voice carrying a hint of pride. The skill sparked some excitement in the group; adding a lightning-based attack could be a powerful asset against the shadowy enemies lurking in Shadow Castle.

At last, William took his turn, his gaze sharp as He addressed the group. "My talent is 'Killing to Prove the Way'," He began, his voice steady but charged with energy. "The more I kill, the stronger I become, so my stats are higher than most players at my level."

He continued, "I've mastered two extraordinary skills: the knight's 'Piercing Attack' and the spiritual skill 'Mental Confusion'."

Then, with a sly smile, He added, "I've got a few good items, too; the 'Knight's Lance' and the 'Developing Lantern', and, well, a slingshot that doesn't see much action. But since we're heading to Shadow Castle, I borrowed a rare item. an 'Invisibility Cloak'."

The room fell silent for a moment as everyone stared, surprised. Rare equipment like the Invisibility Cloak was practically unheard of, even among elite players.

"Not bad, William," Gambler said, his grin widening. "Now that's some serious gear."

William's lips curved slightly, acknowledging the nods of approval from the others. This mission demanded the best, and his gear made his confident they'd be ready.

---

As they prepared to set out, William knew the journey to Shadow Castle would be long and treacherous. Though they were all in top physical condition, walking that distance was out of the question. The Pavilion Master led them to the stable, where he managed to borrow five sturdy pack horses.

These were no warhorses; true magic warhorses were rare, and the few in the border town were still recovering from recent battles. But even these pack horses were valuable, usually reserved for transporting goods rather than players. In the past, the Pavilion Master would have struggled to borrow even one, but their recent success on a critical quest had boosted his reputation. The Border Town authorities, eager for insight into the mystery of Shadow Castle, had agreed to lend them the horses free of charge.

They mounted up, and with the sound of hooves pounding the earth, the group galloped out of the border town, their figures soon disappearing into the mist. As they rode, the countryside blurred around them.

Eventually, a message appeared before them: [Map Tip: You have arrived at Shadow Castle].

Shadow Castle wasn't just one structure but a name given to the entire ominous region. It took its name from the foreboding fortress constructed centuries ago by Count Dracula himself. Towering over the landscape, the castle had loomed here for more than three hundred years, a shadowy reminder of the kingdom's past.

In this magical realm, humans weren't alone. Witches, elves, werewolves, vampires, and even the rare giants and dragons populated the land. The sheer number and diversity of magical races meant that an attempt to wipe them out would risk uniting these powerful beings against humankind. So the human kingdoms had learned to coexist, a delicate balance between their realm and the world of magic.

As they neared the shadow of the castle, the group felt the weight of that ancient history pressing down on them. The stakes were high, and there would be no turning back now.

As long as the magical races respected the kingdom's laws, the human rulers saw no reason to challenge them. Peace was carefully maintained, even with the vampires, and this was especially true within the Shadow Castle region.

William and his four companions rode onward, their horses carrying them deeper into Shadow Castle's territory. The sky above them dimmed gradually, not as if night were falling, but rather as though an unnatural darkness permeated the very air. It was as if they'd crossed into another world, where shadows ruled and daylight was nothing but a fading memory.

Shadow Castle hadn't always been like this. Once, it had been a harmonious place where humans and vampires coexisted under an unusual but effective arrangement. The human villagers offered their blood to the vampires in exchange for protection and peace. In return, the vampires had agreed never to kill the humans, respecting their part of the treaty. Life, though strange by outside standards, had been peaceful.

But all of that changed seven or eight years ago. Something unexplainable happened to Count Dracula, the Vampire Count who ruled over the region. He retreated into his castle, and over time, became something unrecognizable; mad, twisted. No one knew what triggered it, but the effects were undeniable. From inside the castle, shrieks of wild, manic laughter began to echo at all hours, piercing the quiet village nights and turning dreams into nightmares.

Thick, oppressive clouds emerged over the castle, casting the land into a perpetual twilight. They stretched and spread over the entire territory until the people could no longer remember what sunlight felt like. Those who dared look up at the sky for too long felt a creeping sense of dread, as though the darkness itself were watching them, suffocating them. Despair became the air they breathed.

"Why does it feel like every step deeper into this land steals a bit more of our hope?" William muttered, his eyes scanning the twisted, leafless trees around them.

The gambler, glancing at the gnarled branches, smirked nervously. "These trees look like a programmer's hair after a month of deadlines," he joked, though his laughter was hollow. The barren landscape reminded him more of a nightmare than any joke could lighten.

Metatron's voice took on a somber tone as he filled them in on the castle's tragic tale. "In the years after Count Dracula's transformation, life withered here. No sun, no rain… nothing but desolation. The trees twisted and shriveled; the fields lay barren. The plants that survived grew in unnatural shapes, as if cursed by the darkness above. And as Count Dracula's madness deepened, so did the horrors."

Occasionally, shrill laughter still echoed from the heart of the castle; a sound as sharp as broken glass, slicing through the air and casting a chill over the land. The Count's terror held the remaining villagers like invisible reins, pulling tighter with every bout of crazed laughter. Eventually, they couldn't take it any longer. The people fled, abandoning their homes and lives. Some became desperate refugees, others fell into lives of crime as thieves.

William listened closely, his gaze fixed ahead as Metatron continued. "Hasn't the Kingdom or the Church tried to intervene? You'd think they'd have sent someone by now," He asked, feeling a wave of frustration. It was maddening to see a place with such potential crumble into ruin.

Metatron sighed, nodding. "The castle's downfall only became widely known recently. Either the kingdom hasn't reacted in time, or… perhaps they've deemed this place a lost cause, abandoning it."

"But someone did come," he added after a pause, his voice hardening with a grim edge. "When the tales of Dracula's horrors became undeniable, the Knight's Fellowship sent in one of their most powerful warriors; a Death Knight. They launched a blitz toward Shadow Castle, hoping to end the Count's terror once and for all."

The companions fell silent, a heavy realization settling in. If even the Death Knight, with all his strength and the full backing of the Fellowship, hadn't managed to vanquish Count Dracula, what hope did they have?

The twisted landscape stretched out before them, an eerie testament to the dark influence of Shadow Castle. It was a land forsaken by the light and abandoned by all but the desperate. But they had come here to face the darkness, and there was no turning back.

The Death Knight was a legend of the human kingdom, revered and feared in equal measure during his lifetime. After his death, his remains were laid to rest in his fiefdom, nestled on the edge of the ominous Black Forest. But something happened; something unnatural. A thousand years after his burial, the Death Knight inexplicably rose from the grave. Clad in his battle-worn armor, he began to roam his lands again, a relentless guardian of his ancient territory. The people in his fiefdom viewed his presence as an ominous sign, whispering their fears of what his return might mean.

Then, without warning, the Death Knight turned his gaze toward Shadow Castle. Mounted on his skeletal warhorse, he rode directly into the heart of the cursed stronghold. His iron-shod hooves shattered the ancient stone paths, his spectral sword cutting down any who stood in his way. When his mission was done, he returned to his fiefdom, as if bound to it by an invisible leash, leaving only chaos in his wake.

As the group pressed onward through the bleak landscape, Metatron's voice broke through their silence. "We've got thieves lying in wait up ahead," he murmured, his gaze fixed on the shadows ahead.

William didn't move, holding his position. But Alex and the Gambler spurred their horses forward, vanishing into the misty shadows. Moments later, the sounds of steel clashing and brief cries of pain echoed back to the group.

By the time William and the Pavilion Master arrived, the skirmish was over. A dozen or so thieves lay scattered across the path, their ragged clothes and worn faces a testament to lives lived on the edge. Half of them had fallen to Alex's deadly precision, his dagger striking with a swiftness that left no time for defense. The others lay at the feet of the Gambler, who seemed almost nonchalant as he dusted off his hands.

"Metatron," the Gambler called out with a grin, referring to Metatron with a nickname that sounded far more playful than appropriate for the somber scene.

Metatron approached the downed thieves, his expression grim. Drawing his white short sword, he moved from one body to the next, ending their lives swiftly and without hesitation. Though their faces were pale and drawn, there was no sympathy in his eyes. These thieves had chosen their path; a path that brought ruin to order and chaos to the innocent. It was an ugly reality, yet one he accepted.

Before closing the last thief's eyes, he muttered a soft prayer. "May the Lord bring peace to your suffering." His words were barely a whisper, but in the silence that followed, they seemed to resonate.

William watched with interest, noting that the Gambler had intentionally left the final blow for Metatron, granting him the experience. As the team's prophet, Metatron's lower level was a vulnerability for them all, and every bit of experience could help bolster his abilities. Gambler, meanwhile, had no difficulty dispatching the thieves, even with his modest level of 6. It was clear to William that the Gambler had the strength of someone far beyond his current rank.

"You know," William mused, watching the Gambler roll his dice with practiced ease, "you could be higher leveled if you weren't constantly hanging out in casinos and taverns."

The Gambler flashed a sly smile, letting the dice roll over his fingers in that signature, easygoing manner. There was always something elusive about him, as though he were holding back.

Meanwhile, Alex had finished his own deadly work with ruthless efficiency. His strikes were precise, each one a fatal blow that left the thieves without even a chance to cry out. Here, surrounded by shadows, Alex's 'Hidden Suit' and 'Stealth' ability rendered him nearly invisible. He was a phantom moving through the darkness, leaving only silence in his wake.

As they continued their journey, they passed by what had once been a village in Shadow Castle's territory. The structures lay in ruins, burned down to charred skeletons, a lingering stench of smoke and decay filling the air. William and the others took in the desolation. Here, residents had once lived under constant psychological strain, unable to bear the terror emanating from Shadow Castle. In the end, the mental anguish proved too much. Some villagers had resorted to setting the buildings aflame, taking their own lives to escape the madness that gripped the land.

They moved on, encountering several more waves of thieves lurking along their path. William held back each time, letting the others handle these petty criminals. To him, these thieves offered no valuable experience, only the risk of tainting his own powers. Instead, he observed quietly, calculating each of his companions' strengths and styles in battle.

With each encounter, Gambler and Metatron grew stronger, their levels rising one point each. William watched the progression, his eyes thoughtful. They were all heading toward an uncertain darkness, but they would need every ounce of power they could gather. And this ragtag group, bound by both secrets and skills, would need to be ready for whatever lay in the shadowed heart of the castle.