Lord Of The Lost

It was entirely possible. The more they thought about it, the more sense it made.

Thieves, by their very nature, thrived on chaos and destruction. They tore down the existing order, dismantled everything that stood in their way. But what if their ambition went beyond mere looting? What if they aimed to rise from the ruins they created, to become the new architects of power? That would shatter the limitations of the thieves' path and elevate them to something far more dangerous, builders of a new, twisted order.

William couldn't begin to imagine what extraordinary figures on the thieves' path might be planning, but the signs were there. It seemed likely that the thieves and black magicians had struck a deal, working together for some nefarious purpose. Whatever they were scheming, it was no doubt dark and dishonorable.

But now, that plan had come to an abrupt end. The carefully woven plot surrounding Shadow Castle had been torn apart. Years of manipulation, cruelty, and dark magic, all destroyed in a matter of moments. The black magicians they had encountered were few in number, peripheral members, mere shadows of the true power that had been stationed here. The heart of their operations had already slipped away.

Still, William and Metatron saw opportunity in the chaos. They hadn't come to Shadow Castle merely to fight; they sought the wealth hidden within, and more importantly, to uncover clues about the black magicians, the thieves, and the werewolves.

After a brief discussion, the group pressed on, venturing deeper into the desolate landscape surrounding the castle. The further they traveled, the more everything around them decayed. The land, once alive with activity, had become barren and abandoned, a wasteland of forgotten ambitions.

As they moved inward, the sky above them darkened. Thick clouds gathered, growing denser with each step they took. It was as if night had fallen, though it wasn't yet time for the sun to set. The oppressive gloom deepened, casting eerie shadows over the broken ground.

In the distance, the faint outline of Shadow Castle came into view. Silent and still, it loomed in the darkness like a ghostly figure. Yet even from afar, something felt horribly wrong. There was an unsettling energy that seemed to emanate from the very walls of the castle, crawling into the minds of William and the others.

An oppressive weight settled over them, tightening in their chests with every step they took toward it. The air grew thick with unease, and a creeping sense of dread gnawed at their resolve.

The castle's aura was nothing short of demonic, a presence so dark it defied explanation.

"I'm starting to think we shouldn't go any further," the Gambler said, his voice wavering as he slowed his pace.

The Forum Master glanced at him, silently agreeing. His lips twitched, but he didn't dare voice his own hesitation. The oppressive atmosphere gnawed at him too.

William, seeing their reluctance, sighed. "We've come this far. There's no turning back now."

The Gambler let out a resigned chuckle. "Alright, alright. You've convinced me." His usual bravado had returned, but it was clear he still felt uneasy.

With no other choice, the group pressed forward. Around them stretched vast, empty farmlands that once had been fertile and rich. Once, this area had been filled with life, a bountiful land that provided for the castle and its inhabitants. Now, it was nothing but barren soil, drained of its vitality. The farmland, much like the castle itself, had succumbed to the creeping darkness that plagued this cursed land.

As they approached Shadow Castle, the sense of dread deepened, but so did their determination. Whatever secrets lay within, they would face them head-on.

The land surrounding Shadow Castle was barren, a wasteland of cracked soil and remnants of what once was. Wheat stubble from years past still clung to the dry earth, untouched and unharvested. A few stunted wheat seedlings, long dead, lay scattered across the fields, a grim testament to the land's desolation.

William and his companions continued down the avenue toward the castle, their footsteps heavy on the cracked ground. Suddenly, the Forum Master halted, his gaze fixed on a particular patch of earth. There, etched into the dirt, was a trail as though a colossal beast had lumbered through.

As he studied the mark, his expression froze, and an icy chill seemed to seep through his body, raising goosebumps along his arms.

William noticed and asked, "What's wrong?"

The Forum Master's voice trembled, barely a whisper. "I… I saw a horrifying, shadowed figure."

William exchanged a worried glance with Metatron. They knew the Forum Master's talent for identifying all things; if he'd sensed something, it was likely more than just a guess.

The Forum Master had once explained that he could discern details about the owner of a footprint, such as height, weight, and even appearance, though this ability was limited to more ordinary beings. The higher the level or power of the figure, the more taxing and challenging the identification. And to analyze something like the 'Knight's Lance', he had to invest immense mental energy, far beyond what he'd use for ordinary items.

"Stay calm," William urged, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

Metatron added quietly, "Tell us exactly what you saw."

The Forum Master swallowed, his throat dry, his gaze still fixed on the ghostly impression on the ground. "That figure… it was standing in the field, like a sentinel. I don't know how long it had been there, but it was watching over the wheat stubble and the dead seedlings as if… as if it was mourning them."

William's eyes narrowed. "How powerful was it? Can you identify a level?"

The Forum Master's pupils dilated, his breathing quickening as cold sweat dotted his brow. "It's… impossible to measure. Its strength is beyond anything I can quantify. It's horrifyingly powerful."

Suddenly, he let out a sharp scream, clutching his head as if struck by an unseen force. The mental attack from the black magician earlier had weakened his mind, and now, whatever he had encountered had pushed him past his limit. William quickly helped him sit down, noting the pallor of his face and the way he trembled uncontrollably. The Forum Master was barely holding on; his spirit had been battered, rendering him unable to fight.

The Gambler looked on with concern. "What's happening to him?"

Metatron's expression was grim. "That trace… it may have been left by the Death Knight."

William felt a shiver run down his spine. The Death Knight, the legendary figure who had torn through Shadow Castle, slaughtered the mad Earl, and obliterated the black magician's schemes. His destructive path had allowed them this chance to advance, but identifying a presence of that magnitude was dangerous, unpredictable.

"If you attempt to identify an entity this powerful," Metatron continued, "the consequences can be severe. It takes an extraordinary mental strength to withstand the backlash from something beyond mortal understanding. And even with a high spirit value, recovery isn't guaranteed."

The Forum Master steadied himself, his voice faint. "There was no mental backlash this time… but that figure, it was overwhelming. I couldn't see its form, only the dreadful aura it projected. It felt… like a ghost, like pure death itself."

The group fell silent, absorbing the reality of what they faced. Even before reaching Shadow Castle, they had encountered the lingering shadow of something far beyond their strength, a haunting reminder that some powers were better left undisturbed.

With shaky hands, the Forum Master pulled a vial from his backpack, a glimmer of emerald liquid swirling within. William immediately recognized it: the Magic House's mysterious 'Awakening Potion'.

"That's quite a commitment," William remarked, raising an eyebrow. He knew the potion was precious, costing a hefty two gold coins, a price higher than many high-level combat skills. The potion was rumored to dispel nearly all negative mental effects and fully restore one's mental state, a priceless advantage in times like these. Its potency was even said to rival the blessings of high-ranking priests.

The Forum Master managed a weak smile, uncorking the vial. "It's worth every coin," he replied with a faint laugh. As the team's primary identifier, he had used his mental reserves liberally to assess various traps and items along the way, pushing himself to the brink. But he knew that, for the prices Magic House charged, the value was real.

He took a careful sip, and almost instantly, his pallor began to fade, and a spark of clarity returned to his eyes.

Just then, William's ears picked up the faintest of sounds, barely a rustle against the silence. He turned, his gaze sharpening as he peered into the murky night. Through the gloom, he glimpsed a figure, cloaked and moving unsteadily toward them as though lost or dazed. But something felt off.

The cloak was unmistakably that of a black magician; dark and emblazoned with the skull emblem of Skull Valley. This emblem, however, was more intricate, more advanced than those of the lesser magicians they'd encountered before.

William's gaze turned icy, signaling to the others, "Everyone, on alert."

He couldn't be certain if the figure had seen them, but there was no room for error here. He quickly threw his 'Invisibility Cloak' over the group, shrouding them from view.

Alex disappeared further into the shadows, positioning himself for a potential strike. William, meanwhile, shifted into stealth mode, moving with calculated silence, his spear gripped tightly in his hand. He navigated around the figure, seeking the perfect angle to launch a surprise attack.

Just as he was about to strike, the black magician stopped abruptly.

With an unsettling calm, the magician called out, "Don't be nervous, child."

The blood in William's veins turned to ice. How had they been discovered? His cloak was a rare, high-quality item, capable of concealing them even from elite creatures like werewolves. This shouldn't be possible.

The others exchanged tense glances, their expressions dark. Metatron murmured quietly, "In the futures I've observed, we've encountered many enemies; but I have no memory of this one." His 'God's Perspective' allowed him glimpses into possible events, but even he couldn't predict everything. And this black magician, able to see through their concealment as if it were nothing… he hadn't appeared in any of Metatron's visions.

Realizing their cover was blown, William resigned himself and slipped the cloak off, stowing it carefully in his backpack. He was ready to risk everything, but the cloak was a borrowed item he couldn't afford to lose.

"What's your business here?" William demanded, voice steady but eyes cautious.

The black magician gazed at them with a strange intensity, his voice oddly tranquil. "I'm here for research."

William sneered. Every encounter with these dark magicians had only deepened his disdain. "What exactly are you 'researching'?"

A flicker of something strange passed over the magician's face, his tone growing almost rapturous. "I'm exploring a new approach, one that, if I can decode its secrets, will bring about a transformation unlike anything this world has ever known."