Deus Necros

This was the first time the system message had used the word greatly. Usually, it was a simple warning—You are in a hostile environment—but this time, the addition of greatly sent a chill down Ludwig’s spine. Something was different, something far more dangerous than anything they had faced before.

“Here,” Van Dijk said, handing Ludwig his mask back. “Tell me what you see.”

Ludwig donned the mask, and the world shifted. The library, already a grotesque tapestry of slime and gore, began to writhe and twist as though alive. The eyes that dotted the walls and ceiling bulged unnaturally, their gazes filled with a rage that seemed almost sentient. The blotches of slime and corrupted flesh pulsed and squirmed, as if reacting to some unseen stimulus. The candle-holding librarians, once docile and mindless, now moved with purpose, their blindfolded faces turning toward Ludwig and Van Dijk with unmistakable hostility.

“Oh, I guess we weren’t supposed to grab that,” Ludwig said, his voice tinged with unease.

“Time to make a run for it,” Van Dijk said, his tone calm but urgent. He moved ahead, his movements fluid and precise, like a predator stalking its prey.

Ludwig immediately followed, his undead body moving with a speed that surprised even himself. The two sprinted through the labyrinthine library, their footsteps echoing in the oppressive silence. Behind them, the librarians gave chase, their movements slow but relentless. Their candles flickered ominously, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch and twist like living things.

A couple of librarians appeared in front of them, blocking their path. Van Dijk didn’t hesitate. He pointed his hand forward and muttered a single word: “Move.”

A shockwave of energy erupted from his fingertips, slamming into the librarians and sending them flying to the side. The two creatures crumpled against the shelves, their bodies twitching as they tried to rise.

“Thief! Thief! Thief!” The words echoed through the library, a chorus of accusation that seemed to come from every direction. The voices were distorted, as though spoken by a hundred mouths at once, and they grew louder with each passing moment.

“We know where we’re going, right, master?” Ludwig asked, his voice strained as he struggled to keep up with Van Dijk’s superhuman speed.

“Not far from here. Just keep up,” Van Dijk replied, his voice steady despite the chaos around them.

More librarians appeared, their numbers growing with each passing second. Some were too slow to dodge Van Dijk’s attacks and were blasted aside with ease. Others managed to hurl globs of candle wax at the duo, but Van Dijk deflected them with bursts of magic, his movements almost casual in their precision.

“Up there!” Van Dijk shouted, pointing toward a door that loomed over the library. A staircase led up to it, but at the base of the stairs, a dozen or more librarians stood guard, their candles raised like weapons.

“Thieves!” the librarians shouted in unison, their voices a cacophony of rage. They whipped their candles forward, sending waves of molten wax hurtling toward Ludwig and Van Dijk.

Van Dijk didn’t flinch. He raised his hand, his fingers forming a precise gesture. “Blood Vine,” he said, his voice cold and commanding. He then flicked his index finger.

A single drop of blood surged forward, expanding rapidly as it made contact with the wax. It grew into a massive tangle of barbed vines, stopping the wax wave in its track, as for the veins each one dripping with crimson ichor exploded outward. The vines tore through the librarians, piercing their bodies with brutal efficiency. The creatures writhed and screamed as the vines erupted from their chests, their noses, their eyes. With a twist of Van Dijk’s arm, the librarians burst apart in a spray of wax, blood, and slime, their remains painting the area in a grotesque mosaic of colors.

Van Dijk smiled, a faint, almost predatory expression. “Let’s go,” he said, leaping up the staircase with ease and pushing the door open.

“Wait for me!” Ludwig shouted, sprinting past the carnage and up the stairs. He reached the door just as Van Dijk stepped through, the two of them standing on the threshold of the library’s exit.

“Well, time for us to get your books,” Van Dijk said, clapping his hands twice. A small blood magic circle appeared in the air, and from it, four rings materialized. Van Dijk grabbed one and smiled. “They’re all here. It worked. Let’s go!”

But before they could move, a loud screech echoed from inside the library. The entire structure began to vibrate, the walls and ceiling twisting and contorting as though in agony. Ludwig, still wearing the mask, saw the truth—the library was alive, and it was furious. The slime and gore that made up its walls surged forward like a tidal wave, a mass of writhing flesh and bulging eyes that seemed intent on drowning them.

Van Dijk hurried through the door, and Ludwig followed, slamming it shut just as the wave crashed against it. He braced himself, expecting the door to burst open, but nothing happened. The silence was deafening.

[Your Death Point has been updated, Third Level of the Dwelling of Hunger]

Ludwig let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “I guess that means we made it,” he said, turning to Van Dijk with a tentative smile.

“Sure we did,” Van Dijk replied, his voice calm. But before Ludwig could respond, his master coughed, a wet, gurgling sound that made Ludwig’s blood run cold.

He turned to see Van Dijk staggering, blood dripping from his mouth. And then he saw it—a massive sword protruding from Van Dijk’s chest, its blade slick with blood. The Fallen Knight stood behind him, its hollow eyes gleaming with malice as it yanked the sword free, leaving a gaping hole where Van Dijk’s heart should have been.

The knight turned to Ludwig, its sword raised, and Ludwig barely had time to draw his own weapon before the notification flashed in his vision.

[You Died.]