Deus Necros

“You should listen to him…” the words came like the grip of death on everyone present spare Ludwig.

The voice did not arrive from a direction. It was simply in the mouth of the moment, speaking out of the color of the air.

A woman, not taller than Ludwig’s chest, small in stature, black of eyes, purple of hair. Her beauty was literally out of this world. A small face with rosy cheeks, puffed lips and high jawbones that only added to her allure. She stood as if the ground were a courtesy. Even the river forgot to gurgle. As everything in the world owed her something and she demanded it without word.

Almost comparable to the Lustful Death’s outer appearance in terms of beauty alone, but there was a subtle difference. Unlike the Lustful Death who hid her ugliness using the Queen’s appearance, this one’s seemed to be truly beautiful. She wore it with the carelessness of something that had never paid for it. That it always belonged to her, that it was always a part of her.

This mere fact made her far deadlier than most. It’s like a snake, the more colorful and pretty they are, the deadlier they are. Beauty that does not need to hunt still chooses to.

They couldn’t even turn, couldn’t even move, the mere pressure of the Envious Death being there made even the river water move away from its current, fear was ingrained in souls that should fear nothing. The air thickened in their throats. Knees remembered how to tremble. Even thoughts felt heavy, like wet cloth dragged up a ladder.

That was the presence of a monarch that defied death itself and lived to tell the tale.

“Young boy…” she said to Ludwig, “You’re the one who killed my brother, is it not?” she smiled. The expression showed teeth meant for fruit and throats both.

Ludwig could only stare at her. She came too early, too soon, they weren’t even prepared… and it seems like she could have appeared whenever she wanted. The thought slid in and sat cold behind his ribs. He did not let it show in his shoulders.

“Why are you doing this here? Showing up I mean… I was coming to find you anyway…” Ludwig asked. His voice stepped forward and did not slip, though the world wanted it to.

“Oh, didn’t even stutter…” she tilted her head. The motion was thoughtful, almost schoolgirl, and it felt like a hand testing the grain of wood before choosing a knife. “Usually people who meet me for the first time would act like these…” she pointed at Ludwig’s party.

Their eyes were bloodshot, and drool was pooling around their mouths, as if they were losing the functionality of their organs by just her being there. Redd’s hands flexed once and did not complete the thought. Tull’s grip had gone from iron to stone, the kind that cracks a little under too much winter. The prince stood as if a puppet whose strings were pulled by a drunk god.

“I’m different,” Ludwig said. It was not bravado. It was a weather report. He let the words pass through him and feel the shape of his bones.

“I can see that, for someone to kill Wrath… they ought to be different, but… you didn’t just kill him… you ate him, Gluttony would be proud…or more like… envious!” she smiled revealing a row of sharp teeth, and that was the moment Ludwig swung his blade.

He did not shout a warning to the steel. He did not widen his stance more than a fraction. He cut in the same economy he breathed. The contact sounded like steel against steel as the blade couldn’t even dig into her neck, it simply rebounded. The shock up the hilt was polite and absolute, a door refused by a house that does not recognize your name.

“That’s rude.” She did not touch the place he had struck. Her eyes did not even find the blade. Her voice remained gentle, which made everything worse.

“RUN!” Ludwig howled as his body let out a surge of pure aura. Red like the skies they were under, and suffocating to any and all that would dare face him. The sound of it felt like a cloth ripped down the middle. It hit the others like a wave with hands.

The Aura of Wrath washed over the group and woke them from their dazed stupor. The glaze over their eyes cracked. Breath came in ragged and grateful, like someone who had been held under a little too long and now remembered the trick of air.

But unlike Luwig’s order, Tull immediately jumped forward, sword drawn from his accessory and swung down like the blow of an executioner. The line of his back was perfect. The intention in his shoulders would have convinced a lesser world.

The claymore however simply bounced back from the impact, and in the process, blood burst out of Tull’s hands. The skin at the base of his thumbs split in neat, vicious mouths and wept red into his grip. He did not cry out. He set his teeth and took the hurt in as if it were a tax he had already budgeted for.

Redd was the smartest of the group, he didn’t fight, he changed his legs to that of a stag, and jumped at the prince, grabbing him by the chest and ran away as fast as he could. Hooves would have made more sound than his feet did. The river’s bank seemed to lurch aside for him, resentful but compliant.

The Envious death turned to see Redd who was running away and said, “Oh, to get to run that freely… how Envious” The words landed with a softness that felt like fingers sliding a knot tight.

Without a moment to spare, both Redd’s legs simply snapped in half as he fell forward, dropping the prince several meters ahead. The break was quiet. Bones surrendered like wet branches. Redd’s hands scrambled for purchase on ground that did not like him, dragged grooves that filled with the river’s thin sweat.

He groaned as the pain flared up from his legs to his spine. Looking down, the legs he changed to their normal human form and seemed to have had their bones shattered and broken apart. The sight put a cold wick through the back of the throat. He made the sound a wounded animal makes when it refuses to beg.

“No wonder…” Ludwig said. The words did not carry mockery. They carried confirmation of an arithmetic he already knew he hated.

“You seem rather comfortable…” she said, though there seemed to be no worry or wariness in her eyes. She regarded him as if he were an essay she might enjoy correcting.

“Of course,” Ludwig said as he placed his sword over his shoulder, looking down at the Envious Death, “I dealt with your kind before… what’s one more on the chopping block!” He did not grin yet. He let the aura answer for him. His body flared some more with aura, his forehead grew horns that rose forward and curved back. His eyes turned the color of blood while Durandal’s missing form restructured itself in pure red crystalline. The light in that red was steady and bad-tempered.

A weapon that was not meant to cut or sever, but to break and destroy.

“You’re able to manifest that much from my brother’s power without being consumed by Wrath… how Envi-.” She tilted her face in, curious as a cat.

Before she could even finish her words, blood splashed outward of Ludwig’s ears. It ran hot over his jaw in thin lines, a quiet price paid to silence. The world muffled down to a thick hum, as if he had put his head under water and decided to live there.

“Sorry, couldn’t hear that,” he smiled. There was too much tooth in it. He kept it anyway. He did not wipe the blood away. It could have the air.

The Envious Death’s expression soured, it looked like a pout with some anger in it. It was almost human and not at all comforting. Her beauty acquired a crack and did not mind it.

“Seems like you’re getting angry,” Ludwig smiled “How envious,” he replied to her and immediately the notification he was wondering why it didn’t show up appeared in front of him.

[You’re in a Hostile Situation!]

“Good!” Ludwig’s grin reached his ears, sharp and simple. He set his feet without flourish, weight low, red light lifting off him in slow, mean breaths. Behind him, the river hushed further, as if even filth knew when to listen.

“Show me that Hope of yours!”