Lord Of The Lost

The hunter coughed, his voice hoarse but steady. "I won't die; at least, not yet."

William crouched down beside him, his expression calm but focused. "Good. Hold on just a little longer."

Without another word, William pulled out his 'invisibility cloak', draping it over himself. In an instant, he vanished from sight.

The hunter's sharp eyes flickered with understanding. He nodded subtly, murmuring instructions under his breath. Though exhausted and gravely injured, he reached into his pouch and pulled out a handful of 'deodorizing powder', scattering it around to mask William's scent. Then, with painstaking effort, he dragged himself across the rocky ground, smearing his blood and deliberately obscuring any signs of William's presence.

Minutes ticked by, and then the sound of claws scraping against stone broke the silence. A lithe, menacing figure appeared; a werewolf, its amber eyes gleaming with predatory hunger. The beast prowled up the rocky slope with effortless agility, its gaze fixed on the hunter slumped against a boulder.

The hunter looked utterly spent. Blood seeped from his wounds, pooling at his feet. His chest heaved with labored breaths, and his hand rested limply on his thigh. To the werewolf, he appeared to be a cornered, desperate prey, a perfect kill.

But both the hunter and the werewolf were seasoned predators. The beast didn't charge recklessly; instead, it stopped a few meters away, its sharp eyes scanning the surroundings for traps. Its nostrils flared, sniffing for any trace of danger, while its ears twitched, straining to catch the faintest sound. Satisfied there was no immediate threat, the werewolf began its cautious approach.

The hunter stared back, his eyes burning with a mixture of hatred and defiance. There was no room for words in this deadly game; both knew only one of them would walk away.

When the werewolf was within striking distance, the hunter made his move. With a sudden, explosive motion, he hurled a cloud of 'poisonous powder' into the air, the fine particles clinging to the beast's fur. Simultaneously, he drew a small crossbow hidden beneath his tattered cloak and fired a rapid volley of short arrows.

The werewolf reacted instantly, twisting its body with inhuman speed to dodge the projectiles. Letting out a guttural snarl, it lunged forward, claws extended, aiming for the hunter's throat.

And then, in a blur, the battle was over.

A sickening 'swish' cut through the air, followed by the dull thud of a severed head hitting the ground. Blood sprayed across the rocks as the werewolf's lifeless body collapsed in a heap.

William appeared, his invisibility cloak fluttering as he tossed it aside. His blade gleamed, slick with fresh blood, and his expression was calm but intense. Without sparing the corpse a second glance, he rushed to the hunter's side, uncorking a bottle of 'energy potion' and pressing it into his hands.

"You did well," William said, his tone respectful. "Your instincts were spot on. I wouldn't have had the chance to strike without your diversion."

The hunter, pale but steady, nodded faintly. "Werewolves are sharp. They can sense even the slightest hint of hostility. If you'd acted too soon or shown any aggression, it would've turned into a bloodbath." He gave a faint, humorless chuckle. "Even an invisibility cloak can't fool their instincts."

William let out a breath of relief, silently grateful for the hunter's wisdom. The old man had saved them both with his experience.

"Can you walk? Should I take you back to the village?" William asked, offering his arm.

The hunter's grip tightened on him. "No," he said firmly. "We don't have time for that. I'll take you to my companions."

William hesitated for only a moment before nodding. He shifted back into his 'Black Crow form', lifting the hunter in his taloned arms. With the invisibility cloak covering them both, he leapt into the air, his powerful wings carrying them swiftly through the wilderness.

---

Guided by the hunter, William soon found the rest of the hunting party in a murky swamp. The scene was grim. The remaining hunters, just fifteen of them; were battered and bloody, their faces etched with exhaustion.

"How many werewolves are left?" William asked.

A senior hunter stepped forward, his voice heavy. "We've taken down seven so far using poison, traps, and ambushes. That leaves eight, including the elite ones."

William did a quick mental tally. He had personally killed two werewolves earlier, and with these numbers, only eight remained. However, the cost had been steep. "And your numbers?"

The hunter's expression darkened. "We're down to fifteen. They've killed nearly half of us. Even with our advantage in numbers, those beasts have managed a one-to-two casualty ratio. They're relentless."

William's chest tightened. The hunters were clearly at their limit. Yet they refused to give up, knowing that if even one werewolf escaped, it could return stronger, bringing devastation back to Border Town.

"What's the plan?" William asked.

The senior hunter's sharp eyes studied him briefly before nodding in approval. "You'll follow our lead. Use your invisibility cloak. We need it to lure the remaining werewolves into a final trap."

William hesitated. "This cloak… it belongs to Little Red Riding Hood."

The senior hunter's voice was firm. "Even if we all die here, the cloak will be returned to her. But understand this, we're fighting for her. The werewolves came for her, and everything we've done has been to protect her. Do you understand?"

William took a deep breath, his resolve hardening. "I understand. Let's finish this."

With a nod, the hunters began their preparations. William, though less experienced, moved with purpose. The swamp would become their battleground, and every step forward would determine the fate of Border Town and Little Red Riding Hood.

Each path in the world of the extraordinary carries its own unique set of abilities, strengths, and weaknesses. Among these, the 'Werewolf Path' stands out as a terrifying force of nature.

The hunter explained the characteristics of the 'Werewolf Path' to William, each word painting a vivid picture of their monstrous prowess:

"Werewolves are walking tanks," the hunter began. "Their skin is tough, almost like armor. Knives and axes barely scratch them, and even bullets struggle to penetrate their thick hides."

He continued, his tone grave. "Their muscles aren't just for show. They possess explosive strength; raw, untamed power. In close combat, a werewolf can shatter bone with a single strike or tear a man apart with their claws. Their self-healing ability is incredible too. Wounds that would kill a human heal in minutes, and their resistance to poison or sickness is unmatched."

William nodded, already impressed, but the hunter wasn't done. "Their five senses are heightened to an extreme degree. Sight, hearing, smell, they can detect prey from miles away. And their combat instincts? Uncanny. They can predict movements, anticipate attacks, and strike with deadly precision."

The hunter's voice dropped as he leaned closer, as if sharing a dark secret. "The scariest part? The more injured they are, the stronger they become. Pain drives them into a berserk frenzy, multiplying their combat effectiveness. A wounded werewolf is a nightmare."

William's brows furrowed. "What about fighting them at range? Surely distance gives us an advantage?"

The hunter shook his head. "Werewolves are almost unbeatable in close combat. If a human fights one barehanded, there's no chance. They'll be torn apart. And even at range, their speed and agility make them hard to pin down. And if we were dealing with pure-blooded werewolves…" He trailed off, his expression darkening.

"Pure-blooded?" William prompted.

"Pure-blooded werewolves," the hunter said slowly, "are said to have had a second transformation under the full moon, unleashing even greater power. Luckily, they've lost that ability over time. If they hadn't, humanity wouldn't stand a chance."

William let out a low whistle, thoroughly impressed, and unsettled. "No wonder they're feared. They're practically unstoppable."

---

Yet the hunter's own 'Hunter Path' wasn't to be underestimated either. Though lacking the brute strength and resilience of a werewolf, hunters wield their intelligence and adaptability as weapons.

"The physical strength of a hunter may pale in comparison to a werewolf," the hunter admitted, "but our true strength lies in our understanding of the environment. We use it to our advantage, setting traps and controlling the battlefield remotely."

He gestured to the wilderness around them. "An experienced hunter can make the land itself their ally. Camouflage is second nature, and our traps grow more sophisticated with every encounter. And long-range weapons? That's our bread and butter. A good bow or crossbow in the right hands can bring down any beast."

William's interest deepened. "You also mentioned powders and animals?"

The hunter nodded. "We know how to create medicinal powders from wild plants; poisons, antidotes, even things like deodorizing powder to mask scents. And we can tame animals, turning them into our eyes and ears. Once we're familiar with an area, nothing moves within hundreds of meters without us knowing."

William was amazed at the intricacies of the Hunter Path. "So it's all about control, understanding the environment and turning it into an advantage."

The hunter smirked. "Exactly. We're also light on our feet, leaving no trace behind. A skilled hunter can track their prey relentlessly but vanish like a ghost. Even Sherlock Holmes wouldn't be able to find us."

William chuckled. "So, what's the plan for the werewolves?"

---

As the hunters prepared their ambush, William observed the meticulous process. Camouflage cloaks turned men into trees and shrubs. Traps were set at critical choke points, though the hunter reminded William of their limitations.

"Werewolves aren't easy prey," the senior hunter warned. "Their speed, strength, and heightened senses make them nearly impossible to ambush effectively. At best, the traps slow them down or catch one off guard."

Moments later, the werewolves arrived.

A lone werewolf stepped into the trap, and for a brief moment, it froze, its amber eyes darting around warily. Its keen instincts screamed danger, but it was too late.

"Now!" the hunter shouted.

From all directions, disguised hunters sprang to life, unleashing a deadly volley of arrows and bolts. The werewolf roared in pain as countless wooden projectiles pierced its body, embedding deep into its flesh. Blood splattered the ground as the creature staggered under the assault.

But then, it did something horrifying.

Despite its injuries; arrows sticking out of its arms, chest, and legs, the werewolf snarled and charged forward. Its wounds, though severe, didn't slow it down. Its muscles bulged, and its speed seemed to increase as the pain fueled its frenzy.

"It's not going down!" William yelled, drawing his weapon.

"That's a werewolf for you!" the senior hunter barked, loading another bolt. "Aim for the head! It's the only way to kill it!"

William leapt into action, his heart pounding as the werewolf closed the distance with terrifying speed. The hunters scrambled to reload, but it was William who made the first move. Drawing the Black Crow Wings badge, he transformed in an instant, black feathers spreading across his body.

With a powerful beat of his wings, he launched himself into the air, circling above the raging werewolf. As it lunged toward another hunter, William dove, slashing at its exposed neck.

A sickening crack echoed through the air as the werewolf's head was severed, tumbling to the ground. Its body collapsed moments later, twitching before falling still.

The hunters let out a collective sigh of relief, though their victory was tempered by the knowledge that seven more werewolves remained.

William landed, returning to his human form as the senior hunter approached. "Not bad, kid. You're quick to adapt."

William wiped the blood off his blade and smirked. "I'll take that as a compliment. What's next?"

The hunter's gaze hardened. "We keep moving. Seven more to go. And this time, it'll only get harder."

William nodded, steeling himself for the battles to come.