Deus Necros

Chapter 500: Provocation (Chapter 500 LETS GOOO!)

“Still studying?” Thomas interjected Ludwig’s thoughts.

The voice drifted from just behind his ear, light as a draft. It carried the smile of a young man who pretends not to be amused and fails.

“I though you passed on… seeing how you barely even spoke.” Ludwig said.

He did not turn his head. Conversations with the dead taught you economy: you saved the movement for when it mattered.

“Nah, I’m haunting you till the end of time,” the spectral form of Thomas appeared right on top of his shoulder.

The weight was nothing, the cold slight. Thomas leaned an elbow on air as if on a friendly rail and peered at the page with exaggerated interest, his outline a little frayed at the edges like a badly remembered dream.

“New guy is still refusing to talk I see,” Thomas said as he watched Ludwig scratch his head.

His tone was cheerful with malice, the way rivals speak kindly of one another’s failures.

“Doesn’t matter, I have his grimoire I’ll eventually figure this out… shouldn’t be that hard… I’m a smart guy after all.”

Ludwig’s finger thumped the margin of a particularly tangled array. He lied to the page, to Thomas, and to himself with equal competence; confidence is sometimes a tool, sometimes a ward against exhaustion.

“Humph.”

The sound arrived from the lantern like a pebble flicked at a window. Thin, offended, aristocratically bored.

The echo of the words made both Ludwig and Thomas’s lips curl up.

They did not exchange a glance; they did not need to. The lantern’s petty disdain was a better sign of life than any conjuration.

It came from the lantern, and they knew who the owner of the voice was.

The metal of it thrummed faintly in Ludwig’s hand, a heartbeat that was not a heart.

They didn’t even have to communicate.

Silence sharpened, waiting to be cut.

“But I have to tell you, that guy’s method of writing spells is like that of a brain scattered toddler, you ever saw someone start a spell exploration in one page and continue the same spell twenty pages later? I doubt it’s any powerful, must be a failed attempt at creating something subpar anyway,” Ludwig said loudly.

He pitched his voice just enough to bounce against brass. He turned a page with exaggerated care, making the soft rasp sound like mockery. His mouth shaped a scholar’s patience; his eyes glittered with deliberate provocation.

“I would agree, I’ve seen many books of magic thanks to my family background, most of them are incredibly detailed with methods and ways to use a spell, this looks like a jumble of words. The more impressive person is you to have managed to sew together Dark Tide and Dark Bullet form this cluster of useless and senseless words.”

Thomas spoke as if giving a toast at a petty rival’s funeral. He drifted his hand through a diagram; the ink did not stir. His flattery was aimed like an arrow, intended not for Ludwig, but for the pride in the lantern.

“Young fools…” the words were quieter but far too clear and satisfying to Ludwig’s ears.

The voice had gravel and old ash in it. Ludwig did not smile. He kept his eyes on the page and let satisfaction register only in the looseness of his shoulders.

“Here, master said that I could dodge that Dark Bullet hell and said I had the tools… I’m sure he meant in this book, but to be honest, I can’t trust someone who lost to a simple silencing spell…”

He turned another page as if searching for a mercy that did not exist. The insult slid out mild and conversational, dressed as simple fact.

“It wasn’t a normal silence spell! What would you know?!”

The flare of temper rattled the lantern on the table, a thin ring of metal against wood. Thomas snorted softly, pleased.

Ludwig’s lips shivered as they tried to curl up.

He bit back the grin with an effort. Bait should not celebrate itself.

He raised his lantern up, “Look who’s speaking now.”

The brass caught the lamplight, throwing a dull halo across the Codex. The thing inside pressed at the glass like frost trying to bloom.

“You’re too arrogant… let me loose, brat.”

The demand was hoarse with disdain, the word brat spit with all the dignity of a king in chains.

“I don’t know about being arrogant,” Ludwig shook the lantern a bit, “But it isn’t me who lost to a teenager…”

The shake was minimal, enough to make the interior shadow swirl, not enough to seem cruel. His voice went dry; it did not tremble. The truth sat there, small and bright.

“That was no teenager, that was a monster wearing the skin of a child.”

The lantern’s voice had a ragged edge now, not quite fear, not quite awe. Old humiliation moved under it like a buried animal waking.

Ludwig shrugged, “Maybe, but you still lost.”

He set the lantern down with gentle finality, then flattened a palm over the Codex as if to calm another thing that was not alive.

“Not like you would be able to do anything to him, you’re not one to speak.” The Lich replied.

The retort tried for hauteur and landed closer to sulk. Thomas’s grin widened; the dead do enjoy a good quarrel.

“I don’t know about that, I mean I did beat the Wrathful Death, something you weren’t capable of.”

Ludwig’s tone stayed even. He did not tip pride into boast. He laid the fact on the table and left it there, an iron weight.

“Be sheer stupid luck, and hard headedness.”

The correction came fast, like a slap meant more to sting than to convince.

“Call it whatever you like, I fought it, and brought it to his knee, while you, traitor of Necros simply cowered in fear, I don’t even understand why Master Van Dijk is asking me to learn your spells to be honest, if you had any true value you would have already defeated a Usurper. But you, and your buddies simply turned on Necros because you were all afraid of death.”

He leaned back and let the words do their work, cool as a scalpel. Thomas made a small noise of approval, the ghostly equivalent of clapping slowly.

This was just good enough Provocation to get him to talk. Ludwig waited for the Lich to speak and from how the lantern was shaking. That was about to happen.