"It's gotta be that guy!"
Pepper sprints across the desolate Sekandil wasteland, map in hand, scarfing down rations to keep hunger at bay, eyes locked on the distant city.
"Almost there… just a bit more!"
Reach Sekandil, update the respawn point, and he'd be ready for night hunts or nocturnal beasts. Death in this game? Just a respawn, no save wipes if you play by the rules.
Back in the day, Pepper played a retro open-world game as an SD-sized crow, soaring through a meticulously crafted night. The darkness—its depth, its weight—stole his breath. Shangri-La Frontier's nights echoed that game, but elevated: April's chill-warm breeze brushing his skin, moonlight casting a faint, ethereal glow. It felt like reality, distilled into a game world with next-level fidelity.
"Shangri-La's unreal," Pepper mutters. "The interplay of light and shadow, the obsessive detail—it's like the creators' passion screams through every pixel."
The game's quality, its evolution, the creators' relentless drive—it's what made Shangri-La a masterpiece, Pepper thought.
Then—
A chill, like a scythe at his neck.
"!?!?"
Instinct screamed. Danger. Move. In a split second, the spot where he stood erupted in a blast of force and wind, shoving him forward. He faceplanted, health halved to 5, but alive. Scrambling, he chugged a herb with one hand, equipping the Lock-on Breaker with the other, bracing for a fight like his first encounter with the Rock-Eating Garock Worm.
Dust parted like a theater curtain, revealing… blackness. Not mere shadow, but a bottomless void.
A massive beast emerged, treading cracked earth under moonlight. Pointed ears, black fur swaying like flame, claws and fangs that could shred steel.
He'd met it.
Shangri-La Frontier's true form.
The embodiment of darkness, shaped as a wolf.
Unique Monster Encounter: Night Ambusher Lycaon
"Unique… monster…"
Under a crescent moon's eerie glow, the beast growled at Pepper—a predator eyeing its prey.
"…This is bad."
Years of RPGs and retro games honed Pepper's instincts. He could sense the gap in power. Like a scripted loss in a game's opening act, he'd fought such battles before—throwing every skill, item, and trick at inevitable defeat, yet finding satisfaction in the struggle.
He knew. No matter what he did, no future existed where he beat this thing.
Weapons, skills, items—nothing would topple Night Ambusher Lycaon. His gamer instincts screamed the loudest warning he'd ever felt. Flee? It'd crush him in seconds. He was prey, an appetizer to this beast.
"…Hah. Too insane to cry about."
Pepper laughed.
Not from despair or powerlessness. Not from hating Shangri-La.
"Let's do this, Lycaon! I'll throw everything I've got at you!"
If defeat was certain, he'd embrace it. He'd carve his mark on Lycaon before falling. Every weapon, item, skill—all resources, consequences be damned.
Lycaon stomped forward, its right foreleg slamming down faster than any action-game boss Pepper had faced. The ground exploded, wind roaring.
"Take this!" Pepper shouted, dodging debris, swinging the Lock-on Breaker. A metallic clang reverberated as the strike met Lycaon's unyielding hide, the sheer hardness searing into Pepper's mind.
"Hard as hell! What is this thing?!"
Lycaon's claw swiped diagonally. Pepper dodged by a hair, using his Accel skill to gain distance and regroup.
"One wrong move, and I'm dead—not just from a hit, but the shockwave alone!"
Assessing his health, Pepper settled on a plan: Hit-and-Run.
His go-to tactic for overpowered foes. Let the enemy attack, exploit their openings, strike, and retreat. Like a fighter waiting for the opponent's move, then countering.
Tracking Lycaon's patterns, skill durations, and cooldowns, Pepper wielded the Lock-on Breaker, facing the beast head-on.
Even if defeat was inevitable—
"Hah… hah… this is brutal!"
Ten minutes into the hit-and-run, the Lock-on Breaker's damage buffs hadn't dented Lycaon's health. Worse, the weapon—crafted from Garock Worm materials—flashed a durability warning.
(But I've learned something. Its fur's too tough for damage, but impact works. It's not invincible!)
A sliver of hope. Lycaon wasn't untouchable. If he could restore the Breaker's durability, he might find a path to victory.
But Lycaon didn't relent. Relentless attacks left no room for recovery, forcing Pepper to burn resources on evasion.
(This speed, this power—it won't even let me breathe!)
Parrying a diagonal swipe, Pepper was blown back, barely standing. The Breaker's durability hit critical, alarms blaring.
"Time to switch!" he yelled. "Let's go, Vorpal Ledge!"
He couldn't let the Fastia blacksmith's faith in him end here. Swapping to the Vorpal Ledge, he dodged Lycaon's stomps and swipes, aiming for its ankle joints. If he could stun it, like any animal, he'd gain an edge.
The fight was a tightrope. Both sides—attacker and defender—balanced precariously. Until now, they'd been evenly matched.
But balance breaks.
Dodging Lycaon's strike, Pepper stepped forward to counter, only for the ground to give way. His stance faltered, the Vorpal Ledge grazing Lycaon's paw instead of its joint.
The equilibrium shattered.
"Shi—"
He leaped sideways with a skill, but Lycaon's fangs loomed. It had waited for this moment.
"Not yet!" Pepper roared, switching the Vorpal Ledge to his left hand, unleashing Swing Strike. The hammer arced toward Lycaon's face—
But Lycaon's head morphed, slime-like, dodging the blow. The strike whiffed.
"…Huh?"
A stunned cry escaped Pepper as Lycaon's fangs sank into his right arm.
Flesh tore. His arm was ripped from his shoulder.
Was it fate's decree or a god's cruel jest?
Night Ambusher Lycaon: A fan-favorite from the source material, a wolf that rules the night. Among unique monsters, it's the most infamous. Lycaon and its kin are designed to crush even the strongest players. For a newbie? It's an unfair, overwhelming force.