Deus Necros

“Futile and worthless!” She finally howled as she wrenched her arm away from Ludwig and raised them to intercept the mace. Her forearms flashed up in a blur, fingers splayed, palms catching the descending weight. The impact landed like a dropped bell, the tone swallowed by earth. The ground cratered under her with a dull, caving sigh, mud heaving outward in a low ring, and a fine lattice of fractures spidered along her forearms from wrist to elbow, prettiness hairline-split by pressure.

“You dare!” she howled again, “Do this to me!” Her voice carried that soft, palatial polish, even strangled by rage, the kind of voice used to having ceilings listen.

Ludwig’s body inflated once, with [Limit Breaker] increasing the weight of his mace alongside the power behind his arms. Muscle layered power over bone in a brutal, quiet swell, veins standing in cables along his forearms, the knuckles whitening around the haft as if the wood itself might try to argue.

“Shut the fuck up!” Ludwig howled as the power he added was more than those thin limbs could stop or halt. The mace came down through her guard like a verdict, all slope and inevitability. The shock ran up his shoulders and down his spine, a clean, cold line of effort.

The mace fell again, revealing another 0 points of damage. The system’s indifference hung for a heartbeat like a sneer in the corner of his eye. Zero. Again. The number had the smugness of a closed door. He ignored it the way a butcher ignores flies.

But although it didn’t cause any dent in her infinite health, it was still painful from how she grimaced every time she was struck down. The cracks whispered wider, then drew taut again as if reality were stitching itself in a hurry. Her mouth pinched, the corners digging in. Rage wore badly on perfect faces.

She wailed not out of pain but out of pure rage, “KILL HIM!” The command tore out of her, and the river answered first: a tremor through the yellow current, a bulge that rolled along its filth-dark surface as if something under it had flinched. Then the banks began to move.

Immediately, and from up ahead, a dozen or so creatures rushed forward. Many of them had horns atop their heads. While their legs were like that of a goat. Their upper chests were covered in black mane along with their privates. Tails with spiked ends swayed behind them as they rushed forward with what looked like crescent swords in their hands. Their faces was a mix of a rat and a human’s face. And their ears most of them had long pointed ones that ended in bite marks. Their breath came harsh and wet, the kind of panting that carries rot, and the sand made an ugly whisper under their hooves.

Ludwig took a glance at the closest incoming on

***

[Inspect]

Name: Lesser Demon

Title: N/A

Level: 188

Tier: Rare

HP: 80,000

Status Effects: [Subservient] [Fanatic] [Traitor of Kin] [Exiled] [Envied]

Abilities:

[Demon Mark] Upon casting Demon Mark on a target, if slain carrying said mark, the target’s soul transfers ownership to the Demon lord.- Affected by Envy- The marked target’s soul becomes the property of the Envious Death.

[Festering Presence] Passively emits an aura that reduces the resistances of enemies around it, including both magical, physical, and mental resistances.

[Toxicity] All fangs and claws of demon kings are coated with highly toxic venom that cripples their targets upon contact. Reducing the targets’ regeneration by 60% and causes [Poison Effect]

Lore:

An exiled lesser Demon who have betrayed its master the Demon King. Currently servants and slaves to another power. The Power of Envy.

***

Ludwig couldn’t battle the incoming demons and the Envious Death at the same time, so just as he was about to turn to ask for assistance, Redd was the first to fly forward, his legs had already healed up. This time, however, Redd’s appearance half changed, gaining a fur like padding all over his body, with an increased growth of muscle and size. He looked close to a werewolf. The change rolled over him in a hard shiver. Nails notched into claws, teeth pressed fuller against lip, pupils wide and hungry. He hit the ground light for a man his size and went low like a hunting cat.

“Don’t let their claws or fangs touch you!” Ludwig howled to Redd, he turned his face acknowledging the advice, and rushed forward. Redd’s nod was a quick baring of teeth, the kind of acknowledgement soldiers trade in dark rooms. He vaulted into the pack with a short, ugly joy, shoulder-first, tail of sand curling around his ankles.

Tull on the other hand pulled a small vial from his ring, splattered the potion on his injured hands and grabbed his sword again. The liquid smoked where it touched torn skin, a bitter tincture that bit and then forgot itself. He closed fingers around the claymore’s hilt and the pain scissored neat and workable, the sort that keeps a grip honest. His first step was a stamp that shook dust free of his greaves, his second a long cut forward. He met the lead demon at the wrists, and hands and crescent blades went spinning in opposite directions.

The demons clashed with Redd and Tull while Ludwig turned to the Envious Death, realizing her goal and reason for being stuck in this stinking place.

“So that’s why you’ve been huddled up here. You’re using these demons to amass souls for you!” Ludwig’s words ended with a wide smile. The smile did not reach his eyes, which were all weight and arithmetic. The accusation landed like a thrown nail.

Only then did the Lustful Death’s expression fully change. Her brows twitched high for a breath, then folded in as if the air had turned sour. Something mean and calculating moved under the pretty.

“How did you…” She began, the question leaning forward on a sharpened curiosity.

Ludwig already knew what she was about to ask, but wasn’t about to let her finish her words as he slammed down with his weapon once again at her. Talk was a luxury for rooms with windows.

“Quite interesting, why would you need souls? are you trying to spite Necros even more? Not only are you not dying, you’re also stopping what is rightfully his from going to his side. Overstepping your Sin of Envy into the territory of Greed arn’t we!” Ludwig slammed down.

“What would you know!” She said.

“I’m not interested in hearing your explanation!” He put the sentence between them like a wall, and the mace came down with the sort of patience that breaks mountains.

He struck again, blasting more of that aura everywhere. Red heat fanned outward from the point of impact, ruffling the filthy river skin, setting a line of ripples marching away in irritated symmetry.

“You brute bastard! Is this how you think you can beat me? No one can break through this skin!” She howled. The words were regal and strangled, fury rubbing the polish off each syllable.

“But I am breaking it!” Ludwig replied as he slammed once again, and more cracks appeared on her body, though the damage didn’t register. The lines chased each other across the borrowed perfection like frost finding glass, thin and delicate and relentless. The system’s apathy stayed the same, the world’s attention did not.

It was painful, yes, but obviously without any real effect other than the cracks on her body that fixed themselves after a while. The skin smoothed as if a hand had wiped it. Then the next blow made it honest again. The rhythm was stupid and holy.

“Even with that perfect body! If I keep hammering at it, how long do you think it can stand! Even the tallest mountains can be brought down with enough effort!” Ludwig pummeled at her more enough that he created a massive hole in the ground from the constant slams of the mace. The pit beneath them deepened in grudging rings, each strike tamping the earth lower, the edges collapsing in slow, sandy sighs.

“You’re not perfect! You’re rigid! That body might be strong, but it is still BRITTLE! Even diamonds can be broken!” he slammed again. His breath came in a steady grind, teeth bared, eyes bright and cold. He sounded like a mason lecturing a wall. And the wall began wavering.