Arthur Pencilgon observed from a distance, her gaze fixed on Kuro as he moved through the rocky wastes. Curiosity had taken root in her mind, compelling her to conduct a 'small investigation.' In truth, she was stalking him—tracking his every step with silent, unwavering focus.
She watched in quiet amazement as he effortlessly cut through the creatures that roamed the desolate terrain. Wasteland wolves fell before they could even lunge, and stone gargoyles crumbled beneath his strikes as if they were brittle clay. Each movement was precise, each attack executed with practiced ease. Pencilgon's glimmering eyes followed his every motion, mesmerised by the ruthless efficiency with which he dispatched his foes.
In between his ruthless assaults, he moved with fluid precision, effortlessly dodging and parrying each attack that came his way. Every strike aimed at him met only empty air or was deftly deflected, leaving his foes open to swift retaliation. By the time the dust settled, Kuro stood victorious—untouched, unshaken, and as relentless as ever.
He moved through the battlefield like a force of nature, an unrelenting tempest that tore through anything in his path. Monsters fell before him like brittle stones caught in an avalanche—crushed, scattered, and utterly powerless to stop him. Despite his overwhelming power, his movements were graceful, each step measured, each dash precise. Not a single motion was wasted, as if he were dancing through the chaos with effortless mastery.
This act continued for about an hour, the steady rhythm of battle unbroken until there were no monsters left to challenge him. The wasteland, once alive with the sounds of conflict, fell silent. Kuro stood alone in the desolate expanse, surrounded only by loose, jagged rocks that seemed to mirror the barrenness of the land itself. His eyes shut gently, his focus turning inward as if he were attuned to something beyond the stillness, listening to a subtle rhythm only he could hear.
Before Pencilgon could fully process what Kuro was doing, a veil of darkness enveloped her. What had once been the brightness of midday shifted abruptly to the deepest heart of night. Storm clouds swirled above, thick and heavy, crackling with energy as jagged bolts of lightning struck the ground around her, illuminating the barren landscape in stark, erratic flashes.
Attuning her focus, Pencilgon's gaze was drawn to the centre of it all—there, standing unmoved amid the chaos, was Kuro. His form remained still, unaffected by the storm that now raged around him. It was as if the world had bent to his presence, the very elements submitting to his silent command.
Before Pencilgon's eyes, the night manifested into physical form. Shadows twisted, taking shape as they stretched and writhed, crawling across the ground like living creatures.
Colour drained from Pencilgon's face as she beheld the creature before Kuro. Standing within the thickening darkness was a wolf, its fur a deep shade of violet, almost iridescent in the flickering lightning. The fur shimmered with an eerie luminescence, as if it absorbed the light around it, leaving only shadows in its wake. Its eyes, glowing a piercing, ethereal gold, fixed on Pencilgon with a gaze that seemed to pierce straight into her soul. The air grew still and heavy, as if the very fabric of reality was bending beneath her presence.
This was no ordinary wolf. This was the night made flesh. Lycagon.
Despite clearly having seen Pencilgon, Lycagon made no attempt to attack her. She instead moved her gaze down towards Kuro.
Pencilgon's voice barely escaped, a whisper of dread, "Lycagon, the Nightslayer...?" Lycagon was infamous even among the infamous, a unique enemy surrounded by a shroud of mystery. Theorist and Hunters alike all searched in vein for this monster, and yet the beast manifested before Kuro seemingly docile.
Lycagon displayed no intention to attack. Instead she sat peacefully in front of Kuro, tilting her head with a strangely gentle and curious gaze. Though remaining silent, her head and tail moved with purposeful gestures, suggesting the two were engaged in some sort of communication. From Pencilgon's current distance, however, trying to make out any information was as futile as trying to capture the wind in your own two hands.
Her curiosity effervesced, desperate to claw its way out, but she knew better. Lycagon had already been alerted of her presence, and any rash moves would likely seal her fate. The weight of that knowledge pressed down on her—she couldn't afford to act recklessly, not now. So much precious information was at risk.
Pulling open the system UI, a sinister grin spread across her face. Her fingers danced across the interface, swiftly navigating to the camera application. Taking her time, she carefully adjusted the angle, ensuring both Kuro's avatar and the form of Lycagon were in frame. Then, like a hawk, she waited for the perfect moment, when the situation seemed most advantageous, then quickly snapped the picture.
She had captured the perfect photo, the perfect leverage— a key component for her new found plan. Blackmailing Kuro. Her time spent Stalking — investigating — him today had granted her keen insight into his sheer skill and potential as a player. The way he guarded his username during their irl encounter only confirmed another suspicion of hers: he was desperate to stay out of the limelight. This photo held incredible power. She could threaten to leak it, forcing Kuro join the Wezaemon raid as another useful solider.
Now of course, she did trust Oikatzo and Sunraku but another helping hand — one that can't refuse, would be invaluable.
Returning her attention to Kuro she realised that Lycagon had disappeared. Simultaneously, the false night shrouding the area dissipated, fading into nothingness. The harsh, desolate sun broke through the remaining gaps in the clouds, its glimmering rays piercing the wasteland once more. Moments later Kuro also disappeared.
"First Sunraku and Oikatzo, now a living phantom. Things are really starting to get interesting in this game," she muttered, a glimmer of determination crossing her face. "Perhaps I will keep playing after the Wezaemon raid, after all." Her eyes sparkled with a renewed sense of purpose, the thrill of the game now igniting a fire within her.
Extra Info: Despite her threats to come Pencilgon wouldn't actually leak the photo of Kuro unless he did something to piss her off.
Lycagon is susceptible to belly rubs when her guard is down.
Ryuji is a very tactical learner. He can only really learn practical activities by doing them himself and is incredibly quick at learning them too.