Deus Necros

“Euh, I’m just helping you change…” Ludwig muttered, holding out the bundle of clothes like an awkward offering between strangers. His voice came softer than expected, not from timidity but from caution, his tone weighed by everything they had endured. The garments hung from his outstretched hands like a banner of truce, their drab cloth folded neatly, despite the blood and grime that still clung to the world around them.

Celine’s gaze, dimmed but no longer vacant, flickered toward him. Her eyes returned to normal, or as normal as her situation can allow, one pale jade, the other clouded with the red hue of the Wrath’s influence, they did not narrow or blink, only hovered on the clothes for a long, silent second. Then, without word or gesture of thanks, she reached out and took them, pressing them against her chest as if they were armor. Not from shame, but from instinct. From habit.

Ludwig watched her a moment longer, more to read her than to observe. Her posture, though still limp, had regained the faintest impression of autonomy. She wasn’t trembling. Her breath, though shallow, was not erratic. Whatever had almost been born inside that cocoon hadn’t claimed her completely.

‘At least she understands modesty,’ Ludwig thought, eyes narrowing slightly in reflection. ‘I suppose she isn’t that far gone… yet.’

He turned, quietly, the way one might retreat from a shrine, not wanting to disturb its stillness. His boots creaked faintly on the wooden steps as he stepped out from the cabin and shut the door behind him with a muted click.

Outside, the evening wind carried the brine of the open sea, the smell of salt cutting through the ship’s aged wood and lingering smoke from the earlier magical combustion. A handful of sailors stood near the main mast, loitering with that particular posture of men who pretended to work but watched everything. Further down the deck, a few figures from the Baltimore noble entourage were snickering under their breath, barely trying to muffle their amusement.

Ludwig’s eyes narrowed slightly as he saw the exchange of coin between the Knight Captain and the Vampire Hunter. The latter, clearly disgruntled, slapped the handful of coins into the palm of the former, who accepted the winnings with a grin far too smug for such a minor triumph.

Ludwig gave a slow shake of his head, no irritation in the gesture, just weary familiarity. He didn’t need to ask what the bet had been. The stares, the timing, the muttered words. It wasn’t difficult to guess. Not that he cared. Not that he could care. He was an undead. Flesh and impulse no longer pulled at him the way it would a normal person. They were betting on the wrong instincts.

With a heavy breath, he made his way to the railing. The boards of the deck creaked softly beneath him as he leaned his forearms onto the edge, the motion deliberate and slow. From there, the sea opened before him in uninterrupted silence, endless and dark, save for the shimmer of moonlight that laced the water’s crests in pale white sheen. The ship’s wake parted the sea like a wound splitting skin, leaving behind froth and shadow that quickly sealed itself.

His back, hunched slightly at first, slowly straightened as if uncoiling from within. There was something in the line of his shoulders, in the deliberate stillness of his form, that made it clear without word: he was not to be disturbed. Not now. Not with that expression, quiet, fixed, gazing outward like one looking too far to be spoken to.

But while his eyes looked at the sea, his mind was turned inward, toward the notification now flickering faintly in his field of view. It glowed with a quiet authority, pale against the backdrop of the horizon.

[Existence Quest I]

You have set foot in another level of existence.

You have been graced by Necros long enough to reach where you are right now.

From here onwards you will need to pay milestone tribute for each 25 level you reach beyond level 100.

Since your existence has grown more solid in the world of Ikos, your revival cost will be increased from 50% to 60% of possessed souls.

You are currently in a [Bloated State]. All your added levels will be locked.

You will only have access to stats below level 100.

You need to complete the Quest, [A Part of Necros], to progress through your [Existence Quest I].

There was a long moment of silence. Only the wind answered.

‘Bloated state,’ Ludwig thought, blinking slowly as he parsed the implications. A partial lock. Power that couldn’t be used. The rhythm of growth halted by the weight of having grown too fast, too far.

Another window shimmered beneath it.

[A Part of Necros]

Head to the Kingdom of Tulmud and find out about the Vestige of Darkness.

Hint: Take Celine Bastos with you. You must not allow her to either fall into Wrath or be recognized for who she truly is…

He stared at the line for a long time, jaw tensing just slightly at the phrasing. Too much uncertainty. Too many variables.

‘That’s pretty damn vague…’ he muttered under his breath. The words carried no real frustration, only a resigned familiarity with the kind of cryptic nudges the gods of Necrotic alignment loved to give.

A familiar voice, smooth and resonant, echoed from within his thoughts.

“I suppose your oath will be forced again upon you…” the Knight King observed, his tone more contemplative than mocking. The incorporeal presence loomed somewhere over Ludwig’s shoulder, as it always did in moments of reckoning.

“Nothing much I can do about it,” Ludwig replied with a sigh, his eyes still fixed on the sea. “I guess I overgrew my level.”

“It is a good thing,” the Knight King answered. “One should slowly grow into their peak form. Receiving too much power too suddenly is bound to make one lazy. And far less inclined to work hard on themselves.”

Ludwig nodded slightly, not in agreement so much as in acknowledgement. He had heard those words before, from masters, from enemies, from himself. But now, in the quiet hum of sea and wood and blood behind him, they rang with a heavier weight.

Today had been long. Too long. And it was not done yet.