Deus Necros

Ludwig’s body collapsed like a marionette with its strings cut, his broken bones audibly snapping back into place with sickening cracks as the Bastos Wine’s regenerative properties worked their magic. Though he didn’t need to breathe, his chest heaved in ragged, instinctive gasps as adrenaline and dark energy coursed through his undead form. After a moment of stunned silence, laughter bubbled up from his chest – deep, guttural chuckles that grew into full-bodied guffaws echoing through the ruined dungeon.

“I really thought I was a goner there,” Ludwig finally managed between wheezing laughs, wiping blackened slime and blood from his face with the tattered remains of his sleeve.

Next to him, Thomas’s spectral form flickered violently between transparency and visibility. “I need a change of pants…” the spirit muttered, his normally composed voice shaking slightly.

Ludwig barked another laugh, the sound bordering on hysterical. “That makes two of us, my guy.” He gestured weakly at the scattered remains of his robes. “Though I think I need an entire new wardrobe at this point.”

The laughter tapered off as Ludwig took stock of their surroundings. The dungeon had fallen eerily silent after the rat horde’s retreat, the only sounds being the occasional drip of water and the creaking of ancient stone. He leaned heavily against the blood-slicked wall, his body still thrumming with residual battle fury.

“I didn’t think they’d actually back away,” Ludwig admitted, flexing his newly healed fingers. “I was fully prepared to dive into the lantern’s storage dimension if things got worse.”

Thomas floated closer, his glowing form casting eerie shadows across Ludwig’s ravaged body. “I mean, why wouldn’t they retreat? Just look at you.”

Ludwig glanced down at himself and snorted. “That’s a bit difficult without a mirror.” His remaining clothing hung in tattered shreds, barely covering the horrific damage beneath. The slime that normally concealed his undead nature had been torn away in patches, revealing glimpses of rotting muscle and bone. His entire form was drenched in a mixture of his own black ichor and the Rat Lord’s crimson blood, creating a macabre abstract painting of the battle.

“But I get your point,” he continued, poking at a particularly gruesome wound that was slowly knitting itself back together. “No sane creature would want to tangle with something that looks like it crawled out of a slaughterhouse and kept fighting.”

With a weary gesture, Ludwig summoned his notification screens, the glowing text hovering in the dank air before him. The first set made him grimace:

[The Tibarian Guard’s existence is no longer stable. The Codex Necros has rejected its soul back to the River of Souls]

[You now have two empty Codex pages]

‘Well, that’s unfortunate,’ Ludwig thought, running a hand through his matted hair. The Tibarian Guard had been a powerful ally, even in its diminished state. ‘But two empty pages mean room for new entries… so all is well, I hope.’

The next set of notifications brought a tired smile to his face:

[You have slain the Boss of the Gray Rat dungeon]

[You have obtained {Brave Soul} x2]

[You have obtained Rat Lord’s Belt]

[You have obtained Rat Lord’s Amulet]

[You have obtained Defiled Core Fragment]

“That’s some good loot,” Thomas remarked, peering at the glowing text.

Ludwig nodded, summoning the items to his hands with a thought. The belt and amulet were serviceable – the belt reinforced with hard leather and metal , the amulet carved from what looked like a fang and a small rat skull – but it was the final item that caught his attention. A jagged crimson shard, no larger than his thumb, pulsed faintly in his palm as if containing a heartbeat.

[Defiled Core Fragment]

Type: Magic Item

A fragment of a magic core that was used to propagate mana and spread it evenly in a large territory. The Magic Core itself would act as a booster for all those under its effect, allowing them to grow stronger as long as they’re near the core.

Currently, the core is fragmented and shattered, and a foreign magic has been introduced that altered its primary function. A touch of Dark Magic can be felt from the Fragmented Core.

Before Ludwig could ponder this further, another notification flashed urgently:

[Quest Update!]

The Bastos March was affected by what looked like Dark Magic.

The Fragmented Core seems to have been introduced to the already fallen territory later than the day it had succumbed at the hands of the Treacherous Fanged Apostle.

Investigate the surrounding area of the Bastos Manor for more clues.

“Wait, could the Treacherous Fanged Apostle be…” Thomas began, his voice trailing off ominously.

Ludwig’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, it’s probably the werewolf. No wonder I was feeling that things were off about this place…”

Thomas floated closer. “What do you mean?”

“Think about it,” Ludwig said, shifting to a more comfortable position against the wall. “Even if Dante Bastos had fallen, even if the whole family was wiped out, wouldn’t it be strange for the entire territory to remain like this? Normally another feudal lord would have inherited the land – a distant relative, an uncle, hell, even Van Dijk himself, since he survived. But nothing like that happened.”

“The description mentioned Dark Magic use…” Thomas pointed out.

Ludwig nodded slowly. “I understand what you’re suggesting, but even if the Holy Order intervened, they should have cleansed this place. Instead, it’s been left empty, void of all life. It’s like everyone is actively avoiding this territory.”

A thoughtful silence fell between them before Thomas asked, “Do you think you’ll get answers if you bring back one of the Bastos family members through necromancy?”

Ludwig’s face darkened. “Good question, but I wouldn’t dare.” He gestured toward the dungeon’s entrance. “Those are probably Master Van Dijk’s family remains out there. And honestly? The pile of bones at the manor’s entrance is far smaller than what was described in his journal. Maybe his real family members were moved or buried somewhere else,” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Van Dijk set up a teleportation circle here – he must have visited multiple times. If he wanted to resurrect them, he would have done so himself. Besides, I don’t have the power or skill to perfectly resurrect something that could speak coherently.”

“What about that Knight King?” Thomas pressed. “He can speak.”

Before Ludwig could respond, a familiar deep voice echoed through the chamber. “That’s not my power.”

Both Ludwig and Thomas turned to see the spectral form of the Knight King manifest beside Thomas’s glowing spirit. The armored figure had shrunk to match Thomas’s size, standing no taller than a handspan.

Ludwig blinked in surprise. “You can turn into chibi form?”

“Chibi? What is that?” the Knight King asked, his voice still carrying its usual gravitas despite the diminutive size.

“Never mind,” Ludwig waved a hand dismissively. “You said it wasn’t your power that lets you speak?”

The tiny armored figure crossed its arms. “It’s the Codex. That book strengthens the connection between the souls within it and Necros’s domain. My physical remains being present further stabilizes the link.”

Ludwig hummed thoughtfully, filing away this information. He still didn’t fully trust the Knight King, but knowledge was valuable regardless of its source. As he opened his mouth to respond, a new sound echoed through the dungeon – the distant skittering of claws on stone.