Deus Necros

Ludwig left the chaotic scene at the dorm and made his way to the academy building. The halls were unusually quiet, the usual hum of student activity replaced by a tense silence. Teachers bustled about, helping students relocate to temporary dorms, their faces grim and focused. Ludwig couldn’t bring himself to rest, not with the investigation ongoing and the tournament looming. Instead, he headed to the training room, determined to make the most of the night.

Inside the training room, the air was cool and still, the only sound the rhythmic clinking of Ludwig’s chain as he practiced with his new weapon. The scythe’s blade gleamed in the dim light, its transformation between forms smooth and precise. Ludwig spent hours honing his skills, experimenting with different techniques and combinations. He focused on integrating magic into his attacks, recalling Van Dijk’s advice about using the chain as a catalyst. The explosive mine trick had worked once—he needed to make it a consistent part of his arsenal.

By the time morning arrived, Ludwig’s movements were fluid and confident, though his undead body showed no signs of fatigue. He left the training room and made his way to the arena, the early light of dawn casting long shadows across the academy grounds.

As he approached the arena, he was caught off guard by the heightened security measures. A line of students waited to be screened, their expressions a mix of curiosity and unease. Teachers stood at the entrance, placing small magical markings on each student’s hand. When it was Ludwig’s turn, Professor Olim himself approached him.

“Hello, Ludwig,” Olim said, his usual cheerful demeanor tempered by a serious edge.

“What’s all this?” Ludwig asked, glancing at the line of students behind him.

“We’re implementing some security measures,” Olim explained, his voice low. “Whoever is behind these murders is causing too many problems and making student life difficult. Give me your hand.”

Ludwig extended his hand, and Olim pressed a small stamp onto his palm. A faint magic circle appeared, glowing briefly before fading into his skin.

“This is a tracking device,” Olim said. “It won’t hinder you in any way. Its purpose is to identify other students or teachers with the same mark. It’ll keep a record of who was with whom, so in case something happens again, we can identify who was last seen with the victim. It’s not a prevention method, but it’ll make the killer think twice before committing another murder.”

Ludwig nodded, impressed by the practicality of the solution. It wasn’t foolproof, but it was a step in the right direction.

“The students are feeling a bit down,” Olim added, his tone softening. “Show them a good fight today. Maybe it’ll lift their spirits.”

“I can’t promise much,” Ludwig replied, “but I’ll do my best.”

“Good luck out there,” Olim said, clapping Ludwig on the shoulder before turning to the next student in line.

Ludwig made his way to his seat in the stadium, the weight of the tournament and the recent events pressing on his mind. He found Kaela already there, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable.

“Yo,” Ludwig said, sliding into the seat beside her.

She glanced at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re here.”

She’s still angry, Ludwig thought, suppressing a smile. “Sorry about yesterday,” he said. “I really didn’t know I could swap out.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Kaela replied, though her tone betrayed her words. “You were doing good.”

“If you want, you can start the first matches,” Ludwig offered.

Kaela thought for a moment, her gaze drifting toward the arena. “I want to,” she said finally, “but I’ll swap out when it’s Haku’s turn.”

“Why so?” Ludwig asked, raising an eyebrow.

“He’s been bugging me since yesterday,” Kaela said, her voice tinged with annoyance. “He asked me not to go up to the arena because he wants to fight you.”

“I see,” Ludwig said, leaning back in his seat. “Then it’s fine. I’m down.”

The two sat in silence for a while, the stadium gradually filling with students. After about an hour, the arena was nearly packed. Hoyo and Kassandra found seats next to Ludwig, their arrival breaking the tension.

“Hey, man,” Hoyo said, his usual grin slightly subdued. “Good luck on today’s fights.”

“Thanks,” Ludwig replied. “I’ll need it. Also, what’s up with your face? It looks puffy.”

Hoyo rubbed his cheeks, wincing slightly. “Ah, must have been the beds. You didn’t sleep in the new dorm, I suppose?”

“No,” Ludwig said, shaking his head.

“He probably went to the tower,” Kassandra chimed in, her tone teasing but her eyes concerned. “But your face really does look puffy.”

“Yeah, the new beds were tough,” Hoyo said, sighing. “I think the pillow was made of rocks or something. That thing was hard. Could barely get a wink of sleep, especially with everyone talking about yesterday’s murder. Ah, it’s so scary, man.”

Ludwig couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for his friend. Seeing something like that, especially so close to home, would make anyone paranoid. The thought that the killer could strike again was enough to keep anyone on edge.

Before Ludwig could respond, Olim’s voice boomed across the arena, cutting through the chatter. “GREETINGS, EVERYONE!”

All eyes turned to the booth where Olim stood, his usual exuberance tempered by a somber tone. “We would like to start the finals of this tournament, but before that, we wanted to address what happened yesterday. Sadly, a member of our academy lost their life. While it isn’t uncommon here in the Black Tower Academy for students to face danger, this was not the result of a test, trial, or even a duel between peers. This was done by someone insidious and vicious. We, as the teacher board of the academy, have decided to personally take matters into our own hands to ensure nothing like this happens again. Regardless, let’s not dwell on things we can’t change. Instead, let’s focus on today’s main event!”

The crowd erupted into cheers, the tension momentarily lifted by Olim’s words. Ludwig leaned back in his seat, his mind racing. The tournament was about to begin, but the shadow of the killer loomed large. He would have to stay sharp—both in the arena and outside of it.