Deus Necros

“That isn’t a question I can answer,” the voice said coldly. “It would break the rules.”

Van Dijk stiffened. Rules? He didn’t know if this was a bluff or some cosmic law binding this entity, but the cryptic response left him no choice. He needed to ask wisely. “Ask again,” the voice commanded.

Van Dijk’s thoughts churned as he sought clarity, but the Black Tower groaned ominously, the very walls trembling as if some colossal weight bore down upon its foundations. His domain, his sanctuary, was under assault, not by any physical force, but by a power so profound it seeped into the fabric of reality itself.

Van Dijk’s gaze flickered to Ludwig—or rather, the being inhabiting his student’s body. The boy’s expression remained eerily calm despite the tremors, a stillness that sent a chill down the Tower Master’s spine.

“What’s causing this disturbance?” Van Dijk demanded.

The entity’s face betrayed no emotion, but its lips twisted into a faint, mocking smile. “You already know the answer to that. You fear it, as all mortals do.”

Van Dijk’s fists clenched at his sides, nails biting into his palms as his mind reeled. The pressure in the room grew heavier, making it difficult to breathe, yet Ludwig—or the thing pretending to be him—remained unaffected.

The Tower Master inhaled deeply, forcing his thoughts to align. He shifted tactics, abandoning questions of the unknown. “You wouldn’t protect Ludwig if he weren’t significant to your purpose,” he said. “But he’s inexperienced. A child in this dangerous game. If he’s so important, then let me take on his duty instead. I am far better equipped.”

For the first time, the entity’s expression shifted—a faint smile, enigmatic and unsettling. “An interesting proposal. But I do not trust mortals. Your ambition is too fickle, your resolve too easily swayed.”

Van Dijk’s jaw tightened. “Then what purpose does he serve that I cannot fulfill?”

Instead of answering directly, the entity leaned forward slightly, as if to deliver a secret meant only for Van Dijk. “I shall leave you with a gift—a tip, if you will—since you have proven yourself a worthy mentor to this child. The revenge you so desperately crave will never be yours by your own hands. You lack the power, and your enemies know this. However…”

The room seemed to darken further, the shadows deepening around the entity as its tone dropped to a whisper. “…this child will grow capable of achieving what you cannot. Aid his growth, and the vengeance you seek may one day be in your grasp. But mark my words, Van Dijk—when the cost of your desire is laid bare, you may find it heavier than you can bear.”

Van Dijk froze, the weight of the words sinking in like lead. Then, to Ludwig’s surprise, the Tower Master threw his head back and began to laugh—a cold, manic cackle that reverberated through the chamber like shattered glass.

“THE COST?” Van Dijk roared, his crimson eyes gleaming with unholy fervor. “I WOULD PAY MY VERY LIFE! MY SOUL, IF NEED BE, TO HAVE HIS HEART IN MY HANDS! NO PRICE IS TOO GREAT!”

The smile on Ludwig’s face—if it could be called Ludwig’s—widened ever so slightly. “Then nurture this child, and your wish shall be fulfilled. That is all I will say.”

The entity’s voice faded, and with it, the oppressive atmosphere in the room began to lift. Ludwig’s body shuddered violently as the unearthly presence withdrew, leaving him to slump to the ground.

Van Dijk’s reaction was immediate. “{Dispel Bindings},” he muttered, releasing the spells he had cast earlier.

Ludwig groaned as his limbs regained motion, blinking rapidly as he took in his surroundings. He noticed the shattered remains of an ink vial on the desk, the scattered books, and the faint glow of dissipating magical seals. “What… what happened?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

Van Dijk loomed over him, his piercing gaze betraying none of his inner turmoil. “You don’t remember?”

Ludwig shook his head. “I just walked in… and then everything went blank.”

Van Dijk leaned back, crossing his arms as he regarded the boy with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. “Do you know why the Tower itself began to tremble? Why my spells failed against you?”

Ludwig’s confusion deepened. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

Van Dijk sighed heavily, the weight of what had just occurred pressing down on him. “It’s fine,” he said at last, though his tone was anything but. “For now, we’ll let this be. But tell me—how is it that you came to use necromancy? I’m certain I never taught you that.”

Ludwig hesitated. “I found it in one of the books here—Hcilhcra Algad’s Treatise on the Arcane. It had a sigil for necromancy in the margins. I memorized it when I saw it and used it during the trial grounds.”

Van Dijk pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperation evident. “Do you know how many laws you broke by using that sigil? Necromancy is a crime punishable by crucifixion. And as if that weren’t enough, you flaunted your undead nature by walking around holding your severed arm as if it were a party favor!”

“There’s a reason for that,” Ludwig replied defensively.

Van Dijk arched an eyebrow. “Oh, this I must hear. Enlighten me.”

Ludwig recounted everything that had happened in the testing grounds—his desperate battles, the use of necromancy to create the undead lizardmen, and the explosive finale with the Champion. He spoke with conviction, justifying his decisions as survival tactics, though he faltered when describing his reckless charges into danger.

Van Dijk listened intently, nodding occasionally but making no comment. When Ludwig finished, the Tower Master tapped his chin thoughtfully. “I can see your reasoning. Still, using necromancy is never justifiable, even in desperate circumstances. You could have stayed with the group instead of foolishly rushing into the boss room. A teacher would have intervened if the test dragged on or enough students died.”

“I didn’t know that,” Ludwig admitted. “None of us did. I acted on a hunch.”

Van Dijk’s crimson eyes narrowed. “And how do you explain this?” He gestured to Ludwig’s skeletal arm. “Everyone, including a Sixth-Tier mage, swore you were bleeding like any other human. Yet I see nothing but bare bones.”

Ludwig hesitated. “That…”

Before he could answer, the lantern at his side shimmered into view, glowing faintly. Van Dijk’s eyes locked onto it, and his expression shifted instantly. He staggered back, gripping his head as memories he was certain that they were never there before flooded his mind.

Flashes of the past, fragmented and chaotic, overwhelmed him. The lantern, once seemingly unremarkable, now burned with an inexplicable familiarity. He saw visions of a distant battlefield, of fallen comrades and endless carnage. And then he saw her.

“Melania…” Van Dijk whispered, his voice cracking.

Ludwig watched, bewildered, as Van Dijk’s composure shattered. “What’s happening?” he asked, but the Tower Master was too lost in his own torment to answer.

“How come… how come you have HIS lantern?!” Van Dijk’s eyes blared in red flaring lights.

The lantern’s glow intensified, casting long, eerie shadows across the chamber. Whatever secrets it held, they were now clawing their way to the surface.