Deus Necros

“Where did you obtain that Lantern?” Van Dijk asked, his piercing gaze locking onto Ludwig like a predator assessing its prey.

“You can see it?” Ludwig replied, frowning in confusion. The lantern, with its faint otherworldly glow, hung innocuously at his side.

“Of course,” Van Dijk said, leaning back in his chair. “It’s something that has ill-fated memories with me, something that belonged to someone I swore I’d end with my own hands one day..”

Ludwig hesitated. How could he explain something he barely understood himself? But ill-fated item? and someone else had it before? Was there another lantern wielder present before Ludwig?

Before he could muster a reply, Van Dijk continued, his tone grave, “That Lantern… belonged to Necros.” He steepled his fingers in a pyramid, his expression unreadable but heavy with contemplation.

Ludwig felt a chill run through him. He knew Van Dijk wasn’t a simple man, but this confirmed his suspicions: Van Dijk was far scarier than anything Ludwig had encountered. The way he pieced together the connection between the lantern and Necros so effortlessly unnerved him.

“Regardless,” Van Dijk said, breaking the tense silence, “you’re mine. Be it a god, a deity, or a demon, you belong to me now. And I will achieve my goals—no matter the cost, no matter the obstacles, no matter the years. Even seven hundred of them,” he declared. The sheer conviction in his voice left no room for doubt.

Van Dijk snapped his fingers, summoning a small flame atop his index finger. The fire morphed into the shape of a bat, its black flames flickering ominously. Without so much as a ripple, it flew through the closed window, leaving behind no trace of its passage.

“Follow me,” Van Dijk commanded, standing abruptly.

Ludwig followed reluctantly as Van Dijk opened the door to the room. But instead of the familiar stairwell leading down, Ludwig was greeted by the sight of a laboratory—a chillingly familiar one. It was the very lab where his “operation” had taken place. He clenched his fists as the memories of that day resurfaced.

Van Dijk motioned to the table in the center of the room. “Remove that ruined dress and sit.”

Ludwig hesitated but complied. He stripped off his torn and bloodied robes and sat on the cold surface of the table.

“This slime,” Van Dijk said, gesturing to the translucent layer coating Ludwig’s skeletal frame, “is no longer useful for you, I presume.”

“No,” Ludwig replied, glancing at his own hand. “The lantern allows me to be perceived as ‘human’ by those who don’t know my true nature.”

Van Dijk raised an eyebrow at this revelation. It was new information, even for him. That Ludwig volunteered it so freely was a testament to Van Dijk’s subtle manipulation. Seven hundred years of experience made coaxing secrets from someone as easy as plucking fruit from a low-hanging branch.

Though no fault of Ludwig, after all, Van Dijk was truly a monster.

“Don’t speak of this to anyone else,” Van Dijk said, his voice stern. “Some things are better kept hidden, and from what I have seen… that lantern only allowed a select few to see it..”

Ludwig was once again amazed, ‘The fact he could deduce something like that is already impressive. How did he do that?”

He extended his hand. “Give me that arm of yours.”

Ludwig handed over his severed arm without protest. Van Dijk inspected it with a critical eye, running his fingers along the jagged edges of bone and the faint traces of slime. Satisfied, he propped the arm against Ludwig’s shoulder.

“Funnel your mana into your detached arm as if you were casting a spell,” Van Dijk instructed.

Ludwig frowned. He couldn’t feel the arm—it was as if it were no longer part of him. How was he supposed to cast a spell? Despite his doubts, he trusted Van Dijk and focused, attempting to summon a [Fireball] or even the more reckless [Self-Immolation]. To his astonishment, he felt the mana circuits in his arm reconnect with a faint spark.

“You can stop now,” Van Dijk said, removing his hand. Ludwig flexed his newly reattached arm, marveling at the seamless restoration.

“Impressive healing,” Van Dijk remarked. “Now, I need to see what truly happened.”

“I don’t think I skipped anything,” Ludwig said cautiously.

Van Dijk smirked, his crimson eyes gleaming. “The same story can have different interpretations depending on the person who tells it.” He extended his finger, and the black flame bat returned, perching momentarily before transforming into a small, dark marble.

Van Dijk held the marble aloft and infused it with mana. The air shimmered, and scenes from the dungeon trial played out in vivid detail. Ludwig watched alongside Van Dijk as the events unfolded from multiple perspectives. The chaos, the fear, the triumphs—it was all laid bare.

“There is so much to scorn and criticize here,” Van Dijk said, shaking his head. “Your classmates were a mess, and your own actions, though brave, were reckless.”

Ludwig’s shoulders sagged. He had expected praise but instead felt the weight of his mistakes.

“But,” Van Dijk added, “you did good. Take pride in that—I rarely praise anyone.”

He pointed to specific moments in the projection, narrating his assessment. “Here, you recognized the flaw in the Lizardmen’s sight and used it to your advantage. Plus one point. Here, you led the group and helped them avoid detection. Plus another point. And here,” Van Dijk’s tone softened, “you solved problems without relying on external powers. Plus ten points.”

“Here,” he pointed, “You recognized that you were not leaving without beating the boss, plus one point.

Ludwig perked up slightly, but Van Dijk wasn’t finished.

“However,” Van Dijk said, his voice growing icy, “here,” he pointed to the scene of Ludwig fighting the Lizardman Champion alone, “you recklessly endangered yourself by fighting a superior enemy without a clear plan. Minus a hundred points.”

Ludwig winced. He had no defense for that decision—it had been pure desperation.

“For a necromancer wannabe, you’re a failure…”