Deus Necros

Ludwig’s boots scraped against the rough stone as he kicked himself backward, every undead muscle reacting before thought could form. The claws of what looked like Celine hissed through the air he’d just occupied, black tips slicing the dark like ink in water. He landed in a crouch, Oathcarver’s weight shifting against his back, and felt the familiar chill of the dungeon’s air sliding against the sweatless skin of his face. The faint reek of fungus and old rot clung to the back of his throat.

“Get her!” Ludwig’s voice cut the silence, calm yet edged like drawn steel.

At once, the fourteen skeletal figures lunged forward with an obedience that was almost eerie in its unity. Rusted swords came free from the scabbards of forgotten ages, jagged blades gleaming faintly under the dim fungal light. Daggers flashed between bone fingers, and worn staffs lifted in a rattling chorus as they advanced.

“You know,” Ludwig spoke as the first strike landed, his tone almost conversational though his eyes tracked every twitch of the figure’s body, “it almost worked. Truly, it did. Anyone might believe that their lost companion, someone they missed in the chaos, could simply walk back to them in these depths.” His voice dipped lower, as though sharing a private joke with the creature. “Almost.”

The first undead reached her. Its blade came down in a wide arc, striking her back with the sound of tearing cloth rather than breaking flesh. No blood sprayed, no wound opened, only a curling, viscous shadow bled outward like oil, writhing as though alive.

Ludwig’s eyes narrowed. “Just as I thought.”

Another skeleton stabbed from the side, driving a dagger between the shoulder blades, while two more pushed in, pinning her against the rock with weapons raised high. The air filled with the grating rasp of steel biting into… nothing. Where the weapons struck, the illusion unraveled. Her flesh blurred, then dissolved, the familiar figure of Celine shuddering into a mass of shifting black smoke. The false skin collapsed away, leaving only a writhing silhouette. The swords and daggers that pinned her moments ago slipped through without resistance, clattering uselessly against stone.

The shadow pulsed, a ripple of living night. From that dark came voices, many voices, layered and discordant, speaking as one and as many. “How? How did you know?” The tone changed with each syllable, a chorus of men, women, children, all speaking the same question.

Ludwig steadied his breath, his stance low, his hand flexing. His voice was calm, almost mocking. “You think I’ll tell you? Really?” His fingers curled as he spoke, mana thrumming faint and hungry around his palm. “Seeing that steel no longer means anything to you… I suppose I’ll just switch the game.” He raised his hand, and a sphere of flame burst to life above his fingers, flickering with crimson and violet streaks. The cavern air shifted, growing hotter, shadows leaping across the uneven walls.

The Umbrite recoiled from the sudden light, its edges unraveling into jagged threads of darkness. In a fluid motion, it darted downward, its form sinking toward the stone floor like ink dissolving in water.

“No chance!” Ludwig’s voice rang out sharp and certain. He hurled the fireball down with all the force in his arm. It struck stone and detonated in a flash of blinding orange, fire racing outward in a roiling wave. Heat washed over Ludwig’s face, over the shrouded walls, over his own summoned dead, who staggered but did not fall. The air hissed, fungus and mildew crisping to ash in a circle of molten light.

The creature screamed, a discordant, inhuman wail, and withdrew from the flame, darting for the deeper shadows.

Ludwig’s boot slammed into the ground, the impact ringing like a drumbeat through the cavern. “Bounds of Latvia!” His words cracked like a whip, summoning runes that erupted around the fleeing shadow. The earth itself seemed to splinter as glowing sigils tore free, purple chains wrought from spellwork and centuries-old oaths snaking upward to bind the fleeing mass. They wrapped, layer over layer, until the darkness writhed, trapped, its form bulging against the glowing shackles as though it would burst.

Ludwig approached, slow and steady, the air humming with power. He let Oathcarver dissolve back into the storage ring, freeing his dominant hand to draw Durandal instead. The scythe-like blade gleamed with a cold light, its edge whispering against the stale air.

He stopped a few paces from the bound figure, tilting the blade so its point lined directly with the creature’s chin. His voice was low now, dangerous. “What are you?”

The creature remained silent, the mass of shadow undulating, the chains tightening. Ludwig felt its resistance like tension in a rope. He didn’t wait. He whispered the command in his mind.

[Inspect]

A stream of data unfolded before his eyes, the pale blue letters glimmering like spirits in the dark.

Name: Umbrite

Level: 1

Damage: Variable

HP: ∞

Status: [Bound] – [Eternal Prisoner]

Skills:

◆ Passive – Forced Metamorphose

When exposed to any sentient being by presence or gaze the Umbrite instantly assumes their shape, physiology, and even minor behaviors. This transformation is involuntary, seamless, and absolute.

Lore:

Born from the terminal edge of Unlight, the Umbrites are not creatures but a remnant. Their origin is unknown, and they hold no name, and no record in any plane. A living absence, it casts no shadow because it is shadow. It remembers nothing, and leaves nothing behind. It cannot speak, only mimic. It does not dream, only reflect. For if an Umbrite were ever free, it would cease to be a thing and become every thing. Thus it was ordained for all Umbrites to be sealed in the darkest dungeon.

Ludwig’s brow furrowed, his grip on Durandal tightening. “Infinite health… seems like you’re not something easy to kill, I suppose?”

The shadow swelled, its many voices combining into a deep, resonant timbre. “We lived for eons. Death is of no consequence to us!”

A sudden shimmer of text appeared across Ludwig’s vision, sharp and final.

[Sudden Quest!]

Kill the Umbrite which dares believe it too can usurp death!

Reward: Shard of Darkness.

Ludwig’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Well, unfortunately for you…” His voice dropped, a hint of dark amusement threading through it. “Today you get to meet Necros.”

The Umbrite hissed, chains creaking as it strained against them. “You and what army? Many tried and many failed. These binds…” Its voice splintered, shrieking. “I already feel them waning. How long can you hold me here?”

“True,” Ludwig mused, glancing at the glowing seals. “It’d be a waste of mana to keep you locked forever.” He spread his fingers, violet-black energy spiraling up his arm. “Bob. Step forward.”

The named skeleton obeyed without hesitation, his clattering steps echoing in the cavern as he approached the bound shadow.

Ludwig’s other hand clamped around what he judged to be the creature’s head. The sensation was strange, like gripping smoke, yet with a tangible density. His mana flared, wrapping his hand in a gauntlet of spectral light, anchoring the Umbrite in place. The shadow twisted, claws forming, but the chains held firm.

“What are you trying to do?” the Umbrite howled, its words unraveling into a chorus of panicked voices. But Ludwig ignored it, holding the creature steady before Bob.

Seconds passed. The air grew thick with an unseen pull, the oppressive weight of magic taking hold. Then the creature’s form shimmered, edges softening. Its body contorted and shifted, bones knitting from shadow, armor forming over nothing. In the space of a heartbeat, the reflection was complete.

A second Bob now stood bound in Ludwig’s grasp, identical down to the smallest scratch on his breastplate.

“There you go…” Ludwig’s grin sharpened. He looked the new figure over with a predator’s gaze.

The Umbrite’s voices came again, layered and confused. “What does this serve?” it demanded, its tone warping as the transformation settled.

Ludwig’s smile widened. “Your passive,” he said softly, like explaining a trick to a child. “You take on the form of anything you see. But before death… you return to your true shape. Is that right?”

He released the creature, letting the chains hum and slacken. The figure blinked, or mimed the motion, for it had no eyes, and looked down at itself. “You’ve gone mad. To release me? Do you not fear death? Do you seek peace? I grant none!”

Ludwig’s reply was a low chuckle, dark and deliberate. “Do you realize what you are right now?”

The Umbrite’s form shifted uneasily. It looked at its own arms, bones and rusted iron, then back at Ludwig. “An undead? So what? I’ve killed many necromancers before. I am no stranger to this form.”

“That may be true,” Ludwig said, stepping closer, his voice dropping into a near whisper. “But did you ever consider… that as an undead, you’re now a corpse?”

The creature froze, confusion rippling across its stance. “I am an Umbrite, not a corpse.”

Ludwig’s eyes flared with Inspect once more, confirming what his instincts already screamed: bound as one of mine. His lips curled, the blue glow reflecting off the hollow sockets of his summoned dead.

“Right now,” Ludwig continued, “you took on the state of Bob, an undead who serves me. So tell me, what happens if I simply order you… to kill yourself?”

The Umbrite’s clawed hands twitched, shadows trembling. “You cannot order me to do anything!” It spat the words, but there was hesitation there, a tremor in the shifting form.

“Is that so?” Ludwig’s tone sharpened. “Get back. All the way back.”

The Umbrite’s laugh began low, jagged like broken glass. “Do you think I will do…” The words cut short as its body jerked, one step, two, then three, retreating with movements it did not will. Its head snapped up in horror. “S–stop. STOP THIS INSTANT!”

Ludwig’s smirk deepened as he watched the thing shuffle backward, panic twisting its voice into a rising cacophony.

“It’s funny,” Ludwig said, his voice carrying the cadence of a death knell, “that you’ve met other necromancers… yet none of them realized they could do this.” He raised his hand high, fingers curling into a mockery of mercy. “But I have.”

“D-Do Not!” The Umbrite’s cry fractured into countless pleading voices.

“Detonate Dead.”

The words rang like a spell carved into the bones of the world itself. The Umbrite’s body shuddered, its shadowy frame trembling as cracks of purple light split across its stolen armor. A howl erupted dozens of voices screaming at once, before it erupted in a violent surge of dark energy and searing light. The blast slammed through the cavern, scorching stone, scattering ash, and sending a hot wind across Ludwig’s coat.

Dust settled. The echo of screams faded into silence.

And then, at last, the chime.