Deus Necros

While the group strolled through the bustling event, Hoyo and Kassandra seemed to be having the time of their lives. Hoyo, as expected, was engrossed in sampling food from every stall, his enthusiasm boundless as he commented on the flavors and textures of each dish. Kassandra, on the other hand, was drawn to the equipment and relics on display, her eyes lighting up as she admired ornate weapons, enchanted trinkets, and other curiosities. Despite her interest, it was clear that most of the items were far too expensive for any of them to afford.

Ludwig, however, was not as carefree. His eyes roved across the crowd, sharp and calculating.

‘Though none of this is really my business, things are spiraling out of control here,’ he mused, watching yet another soul dragged away in glowing chains.

The sight was becoming disturbingly common. For every moment of laughter and joy among the festivalgoers, there seemed to be an undercurrent of something darker.

More troubling was the djinn tailing him. Using the [Mark of the Witness] ability from his mask, Ludwig had tagged the creature earlier, ensuring he could sense its position at all times. The djinn had disguised itself as part of the event staff, exuding an air of authority as it roamed the streets, but Ludwig’s instincts told him it was watching him specifically.

It was not the first time Ludwig had felt eyes on him. His father, back in the old world, had been strict about teaching him the importance of vigilance. As the heir to a prominent corporate family, Ludwig had learned to spot a tail, detect threats, and prepare for the unexpected. These lessons, though seemingly irrelevant at the time, now served him well in this unfamiliar and dangerous world.

What frustrated him most, however, was Kassandra’s unharmed state. Though she had lost in the King’s Gambit tournament, no chains had appeared to drag her soul away. This shattered Ludwig’s earlier theory that only the losers of these games were being targeted. With no clear pattern, he was left without answers, and the growing mystery gnawed at him.

“Are you planning on staying here for the night?” Kassandra asked, interrupting his thoughts.

“What do you mean?” Ludwig replied.

“The city’s packed,” she said, gesturing toward the throngs of people. “The inns are probably all full. We should head back to the academy and come back tomorrow.”

‘Not a bad idea,’ Ludwig thought, considering her suggestion. ‘I could also talk to Van Dijk about this mess. Maybe he’ll know more about what’s going on.’

“Sure, but I need to take care of something first,” Ludwig said.

“Your date with the Urbaf chick?” Hoyo teased, a sly grin spreading across his face.

“Date? What date?” Kassandra asked, her tone sharp as her gaze narrowed.

“He’s just talking nonsense,” Ludwig said quickly, hoping to defuse the situation. “I’m only meeting her to discuss the tournament. Don’t worry about it.”

“Sure…” Kassandra said, clearly unconvinced.

The trio continued walking, their pace leisurely as they wove through the colorful stalls and performers. Ludwig, however, was far from relaxed. He maintained a careful façade, blending into the crowd while keeping tabs on the djinn shadowing him. The creature kept its distance but never strayed far enough to lose sight of him.

When they reached the edge of the event, Ludwig decided it was time to part ways.

“I’ll head out first,” he said.

“Right. See you back at the academy,” Hoyo said, waving him off as he and Kassandra continued exploring.

Ludwig moved swiftly through the streets of Rima, weaving between vendors and performers with purpose. He didn’t attempt to lose the djinn tailing him—doing so might tip it off that he was aware of its presence. Instead, he acted as though he was just another festivalgoer, though his heart pounded with tension.

When he reached the Last Adventure Inn, the djinn stopped just outside, lingering like a shadow. Through his mask, Ludwig could still sense its position clearly, a faint pulse of awareness confirming it hadn’t moved.

Inside the inn, the young woman from the tournament was already seated. Her rapier rested neatly against the table, and her mask sat beside an untouched cup of black coffee. Her posture was composed, but there was an air of impatience about her as she tapped her fingers lightly on the table.

Ludwig hesitated for a moment. Everyone else in the room had removed their masks, and his own felt conspicuously out of place. He reached up to remove it, but the moment his fingers brushed the edges of the mask, his mind was assaulted by a vivid and disorienting vision.

*****

The vision came with the force of a tidal wave.

A young boy stood at the head of an enormous army. His dark skin gleamed in the sun, and his smile was radiant, almost disarming. This boy’s jubilant and honest appearance accompanied his expression as if all the joys of life were etched onto his face. Yet what the boy was doing was anything but joyful.

Nothing was comforting about this scene.

The boy’s white robes billowed in the wind as thousands marched behind him, their gleaming maces and white armor glowing ominously. Clerics and paladins, their faces stern and unyielding, followed his lead with unwavering loyalty.

In the boy’s hand was a staff, taller than he was and adorned with a design both celestial and eldritch. Its presence was a paradox—simultaneously divine and profane, like a relic born of light and madness.

The boy’s voice rang out, soft yet commanding.

“How peculiar… one who is asleep but dreams of nothing,” he said, tilting his head as though studying Ludwig.

Though his words seemed directed at no one in particular, Ludwig felt their weight, as though they were meant solely for him.

“But all must sleep one day,” the boy continued, “and all who sleep must dream. Let me fix that for you.”

With that, the boy raised his staff high before slamming it down toward Ludwig.

******