Deus Necros

“Don’t move! Don’t breathe loud, don’t even speak!” Timur said as he was lying against the nearest wall of a small,l rundown building. Though they were barely at the rim of the Bastos March, having somewhat escaped the Hell Hounds, they managed to find themselves in an even worse situation.

The four of them were herded into this region, a region that seemed to be cursed with something they didn’t read nor know of. But it was all too real in front of them. The moon was bleeding power so unholy even the priest with them was not able to use her holy powers properly to heal their friend.

“This is the last of our potions,” Timur said as he pulled a small lackluster-looking health potion.

“Just…” the rogue spoke with strained breaths, “Keep it… it won’t help much…” he said.

“keep quiet, they’ll hear us,” the Barbarian said, though he was more panicked than any of them as he cradled his head with his own hands, terror clear in his heart and eyes.

“Just…” the healer said, “Give me a second to catch my breath,” she added as sweat wet most of her clothes.

“What in god’s holy heaven is going on in here…” Timur said as he peered over the rundown walls. Far in the distance, there seemed to be a commotion happening, where a long spire made of bleached yet bloody bones stood erect within the March.

***

The couple of Werebats were struggling to escape the pursuit, and their hunters were coming in close, and fast. Ludwig’s spells did no damage despite it clearly hitting the creatures behind him.

“[Inspect]”

***

Blood Moon Reaver

Level: 99

Danger Level: 💀

HP: 99,999

Damage: 9 / 999

Tier: Elite Aberrant

Status Effect: [Blood Moon Saturation] Infused by the moon and gains the Gibbus Property of [Deformity]

[Deformity] Unbound by form or physic, can modify its own body to fit its need.

Skills:

[Eviscerate] – Rending claws infused with lunar essence flay both armor and mind.

Applies [Lunar Bleed]: damage over time, temporary confusion effect.

[Rotspawned Rage] – Draws energy from corrupted terrain and residual Wrathful Death essence.

+10% damage and +20% regen near Blood Moon constructs or corrupted zones.

[Gibbus Dread] : Aura effect around the Moon Reaver that increases the damage dealt and potency of all malus effects by 20%

[Phase Aberration] – Not bound by three-dimensional space. Gains evasion and the ability to bypass structures when not actively observed, has 100% chance to avoid non direct hits and projectiles.

+100% evasion when unseen; ignores terrain-based movement penalties.

Passive Traits:

[Crimson Geometry] – Blood Moon constructs are formed from impossibly folded flesh and matter.

Physical attacks have a 35% chance to deal 0 damage due to spatial displacement.

[Minor curse of Alteration]: the Moon Reavers descend from a foe that its name shouldn’t be mention lest it comes to be. The longer one stares at the Moon Reavers, the more they’ll be able to see.

Lore:

The Blood Moon Reavers are flesh-and-hate manifestations born from the aftereffects of the Wrathful Death’s most trusted servants [Redacted] .

When the Gibbus Moon swells and the air thickens with rotting essence, the Blood Moon Reavers stir from their quivering nests. Created by ancient lunar curses and fed on the marrow of corrupted worlds, they stalk the dark forests and ruined cities. Neither living nor truly dead, they are hatred and hunger given form—hunting not for survival, but because something commands them to remember a time before form, before light.

Their claws have touched the bones of angels. Their howls bend reality.

And once a Reaver chooses its prey, it never stops walking.

***

“No wonder I couldn’t do damage!”

Ludwig cursed through gritted teeth as the two werebats flapped their wings, carrying him above the twisted, gnarled terrain toward the looming Bastos Manor. The distance was still maddeningly far, and he couldn’t help but curse as he realized he’ll probably die right here and then, once caught at this height. The rising dread in Ludwig’s stomach twisted tighter with every passing moment. He wasn’t worried about dying—he’d return eventually—but the cost? The risk of having to redo an entire encounter against the Werebats at the Manor, since that’s his last Death Point, the whole trek down the ruined city, and the fight against the Bat Lord that was worth cursing over.

“Fuck.”

Ludwig cursed again, as he wasn’t a fan of having to redo things he had already cleared, but there was nothing much he could do against enemies that could simply ignore his long-range attacks. He hated the helplessness that came from enemies who ignored projectiles, shrugged off spells, and demanded close-quarters confrontation just to bleed, if they could bleed that is.

That moment of self-loathing broke as two of the Reavers closed in like living blades—fast, elegant, and deadly. Their crow-feather wings barely made a sound as they soared. The moonlight glinted off their claws, sharp as ceremonial daggers and crusted with the dried blood of things far stronger than Ludwig. They immediately reached to where Ludwig was, their armed claws opened wide at his face. They were about to flay Ludwig’s undead skin off with one touch.

Death called for Ludwig. But salvation came at a cost.

One of the Werebats that carried Ludwig sacrificed itself in the process of moving, bending to the side.

It twisted its body, absorbing the brunt of the Reaver’s slash in Ludwig’s place. Its leathery wing exploded in rotten sinew, and yet it didn’t scream. It didn’t flinch. It merely reacted, not with pain, but with purpose.

Though undead, scorned, and wounded, it wasn’t a defeatist; it wanted to retaliate, but before it could get its revenge, the second Reaver was already on it

Its claws closed around the werebat’s remaining wing, and with a casual motion, grabbed it by its already rotten and torn wings and simply wrenched them off. The Werebat showed no sign of fear or care for itself, but a desperation in its eyes grew fanatically as it realized it could carry its summoner no more, so it let go and jumped at the closest of the Reavers. Teeth and claws flailed, doing little more than scraping.

But though the Werebat comparative to the Reaver was but an ant, it was an annoying one, and was able to stall and stop at least one of the many Reavers following after Ludwig.

As even ants can distract gods, if only for a second.