Deus Necros

Ludwig continued reading, so engrossed in the flow of knowledge that he didn’t notice the hours slip away. The only thing breaking his concentration were the steady notifications indicating that his Intelligence was gradually increasing. At first, it was every few pages, then it became every half of a book, and then every full book.

Eventually, it was only after every three books that a point would be added to his Intelligence. The frequency of the notifications began to slow down, but Ludwig used them as subconscious markers for how much time had passed. Before he knew it, he was staring at the last book of the pile he had been given. He had finished it all in less than a single day.

The books ranged from basic geography to political intrigue, even touching on the fundamentals of magic. Every word felt like sustenance to Ludwig, who devoured the information like a parched sponge soaking up water. His thirst for knowledge, especially of this foreign world, was insatiable—something he had never expected of himself.

“More,” Ludwig muttered, his hollow voice breaking the silence of the room. He looked up at the tall library shelves, rows upon rows of books brimming with untold secrets. But the memory of the searing pain from before resurfaced, making him hesitate. That agonizing experience, when he had first attempted to read advanced magic tomes, was still fresh in his mind.

He stood there for a moment, wrestling with the decision. The logical part of him knew that pain would come again. But what other choice did he have? Sitting idle wasn’t an option, and he was desperate for more knowledge, desperate for an edge in this unfamiliar, hostile world.

With a resigned sigh, Ludwig steeled himself and walked back to the shelf where he had previously found the book on Necromancy Basics.

He hesitated for only a moment before picking it up again. As his skeletal fingers gripped the cover, he felt the familiar sensation of impending pain stir in the back of his mind.

Well, here we go again, he thought bitterly as he resumed where he had left off. The text flowed before his eyes, but the pangs of pain immediately resurfaced. He pressed on, his will overriding the warnings from his system that constantly reminded him of his insufficient level.

The book delved deeper into necromancy, introducing him to the arcane mechanics of raising the dead. To call forth a being from the realm of death, the book explained, one needs more than just bones or remains.

The process required specific items: for skeletal creatures, one needed a good portion of their structure; for more ethereal beings, like ghosts or banshees, an object tied to their existence—something they had once cherished in life—was necessary to anchor their spirit.

Necromancy wasn’t simply about manipulating corpses. The author sneered at those who viewed necromancers as nothing more than puppeteers of flesh. “Any charlatan in a market can pull off a convincing enough trick,” the text claimed. “But we, as mages, deal in the realm of souls.”

The crucial element in necromancy was the soul, not the body. Without a soul, the reanimated were nothing more than hollow husks. And the soul, the book continued, is not something you can simply take or control. It must be asked for, and this request is made to none other than Deus Necros, the Lord of Death.

Deus Necros, an entity both feared and revered, holds the souls of the departed. No necromancer truly owns a soul—they merely “borrow” it from Necros after paying tribute. The tribute was straightforward: mana. The more mana the necromancer could offer, the more powerful the soul they could summon. The stronger the mana, the more advanced the creature that could be raised from the dead.

Some gods would ask you to either be pious and benevolent and pay their ‘Tribute’ with your devotion and mana, and technically that is a more expensive expenditure. Since you pay twice the amount, but the only difference is you obtain something more.

For Lux, the Lord of Light, you not only need to chant a prayer in his name then pay the equivalent value of mana to call upon his power to either heal or eradicate the enemy, you also have to ‘Mean’ it. Only then can you use some of the Lux Church’s skills and spells. Though granted the power of the spell becomes incredibly stronger the more religious and pious one is.

As for the entities of the darker side, such as Evil Gods, they would require worship in more… gruesome and revolting payments, one shouldn’t be too shocked to see entire towns and cities sacrificed for an Evil God to allow them to use some of their skills.

The price here is both the User’s Mana, and the sacrifice, though the sacrifice doesn’t necessarily have to be others, the Evil gods don’t care if you pay portions of your soul even to use their might.

Necromancy, however, was an entirely different beast. Deus Necros, despite his simplicity, didn’t offer much help beyond lending a soul. Once summoned, controlling the undead was a challenge that each necromancer had to master on their own. Many an inexperienced necromancer had tried to summon powerful entities, only to be slain by the very creatures they had brought back.

Without the proper understanding of control, a necromancer could easily lose their life at the hands of their own creation.

The text became more technical, detailing the resurrection of simpler creatures, like rats. Ludwig’s mind buzzed as a magical sigil appeared in front of him, etched in glowing light.

[You have learned Basic Undead Resurrection Sigil]