Deus Necros

“Ludwig,” the voice echoed through his mind.

The Knight King’s voice cut through the noise cleanly, grounded and steady.

“Seems like you need a new necklace,” he added, almost dryly.

Ludwig glanced down between the folds of his regalia. Nestled against his chest was the necklace, a simple thing at a glance, a small vial suspended on a chain. It had once held water drawn from the sacred Life Tree of the elves. A tool given to him by Queen Lorina herself, meant to soothe and suppress the Heart of Wrath coiled inside him.

The vial was empty. Completely dry. Not even residue clung to the glass.

“Probably,” Ludwig replied mentally, the admission coming easier than he expected.

He hadn’t realized it at the time, but during his fight with the Envious Death, he had pushed his aura too far. Overextended it.

The pressure and heat of his own power had fully evaporated the contents of the vial. Without that serene water to stabilize him, his emotions would no longer be smoothed over. And worse, with the Eyes of Envy, his emotions became even more tempermental. His aura would grow volatile, and the strain on his Living Vessel would only increase with time.

Right now, though, he didn’t need it. He wasn’t here for a fight. He was here to receive an award from the emperor.

The same emperor who had barely spared him a second glance when Ludwig defeated the [Wrathful Death].

Back then, he had saved Tulmud and vanished almost immediately afterward. The recognition came late, delivered without ceremony, in abstina.

When he reappeared five years later, whatever awe had once followed his name had long since faded, replaced by far more pressing concerns, rumors of war, mobilization, unrest.

Now, the empire knew peace. Or something close enough to it. With the monster wave attacking the north, there was little hope that the people’s smiles would last for long. Still, today they smiled anyway.

The capital’s streets were packed shoulder to shoulder, bodies pressed together behind barriers as far as the eye could see.

People cheered, shouted, cried out names Ludwig didn’t bother listening to. Rose petals rained down in careless handfuls, crushed beneath wheels and boots as the carriage rolled forward atop a red carpet that stretched from the entrance of the capital all the way to the main palace.

The palace itself rose into view, and for all his irritation, Ludwig couldn’t deny it was impressive. Far more so than the palace of the Kingdom of the Sand. Not because of ornamentation or wealth, but because it hadn’t been built.

It had been carved.

An entire mountain hollowed and shaped by hands and magic long forgotten. Pillars thick enough to feel as though they could hold the sky itself lined the approach. Statues of emperors, heroes, and rulers stared down from impossible heights, their expressions frozen in stone. A garden vast enough to swallow a city sprawled across terraces, while walls reinforced by ancient enchantments promised to repel even dragons.

Behind it, the mountain loomed like a shield, and around it flowed the empire’s largest river, curving naturally to form a moat that had preserved the dignity and security of Lufondal for seven hundred years, and would continue to do so.

“This place is too damn posh,” Ludwig muttered.

“And very secure,” Kassandra replied as the carriage finally crossed into the palace grounds.

The knights who received them radiated power. Even at a glance, Ludwig could tell, these weren’t ceremonial guards. And they weren’t even royal knights. These were merely knights assigned as palace guards, and every single one of them was capable of using Aura. The message was clear without a word spoken.

The carriage moved through the palace gardens, past trees transplanted from dozens of different lands. Roses and wildflowers filled the air with layered scents that bordered on overwhelming. Servants moved among them with quiet precision, their presence sharp beneath their humble appearances. They didn’t feel like servants. They felt like concealed blades, patient and deadly.

Finally, the carriage came to a halt at the palace entrance. Several knights approached, these wearing a different set of armor altogether. Half were clad in silver and red, the other half in silver and blue. One side bore the banner of the Phoenix, the other the blue Dragon. They split evenly along the path, forming a corridor as Ludwig and his company stepped down.

As they did, the palace’s massive bronze doors opened.

Beyond them waited thousands. Chancellors, ministers, counts, dukes, nobles, kings, princes, and princesses, all gathered, all silent now, eyes fixed on him. A reception far grander than anything Hiro had ever received, or even witnessed. The one the world called hero had never stood before the emperor himself.

Ludwig had the entire high society of the empire waiting.

“Please surrender your weapon,” one of the knights at the entrance said. The man was built like a door given human form, broad and immovable. Despite that, there wasn’t a trace of arrogance in his posture when he addressed Ludwig.

“Do I have to?” Ludwig asked.

“There is nothing that could harm you inside, nor threaten your wellbeing,” the knight replied evenly. “This is a celebration for you, sir Ludwig.”

“Sir? I’m not a noble,” Ludwig sighed. He drew Durandal smoothly and handed it over. “Keep it safe.”

The knight took the sword with one hand. Ludwig half expected a repeat of the incident at the Sand Palace, the weapon’s weight toppling the man outright. Instead, the knight merely let out a restrained grunt.

“Heavy indeed,” he said, then looked up. “And the mace.”

“That one is a bit special…” Ludwig replied.

Inside the palace, every gaze was fixed on him now.

“Please, Sir Ludwig, ”

“I’m not a noble,” Ludwig muttered as he summoned [Nightbreaker].

The mace manifested with a deep, ominous presence, nearly as tall as the knight himself. Ludwig didn’t offer it. Instead, he set it down against the stone wall beside the entrance.

“What is the meaning of this?” the knight asked.

“I don’t want to embarrass you,” Ludwig said calmly. “You should probably ask for help. This isn’t light.”

He moved on without waiting, already feeling the faint pull of [Nightbreaker’s] displeasure as he walked away with Kassandra. If he ever wanted it, all he had to do was call. There was no power in this world that could keep that mace from answering.

Behind him, the knight tried to lift it. One hand, nothing. Two hands, still nothing. Aura surged, the stone shuddered slightly. The mace didn’t move.

Embarrassed, the knight nodded to the gatekeeper. The bronze doors closed, sealing Ludwig inside as muffled snickers and laughter echoed faintly through the palace halls.