Deus Necros

Ludwig understood the assignment. The guard was right, this place felt far too unbothered with the laws of the empire, not in the subtle way where corruption hid under etiquette, but in the open, shameless way where the street itself told you nobody would come to save you.

The air carried a greasy tang of smoke, old stew, and refuse that had nowhere to go, and the cold made the stink sharper, as if it wanted to bite instead of drift. The stone beneath his boots was uneven, patched and repatched, and the seams between repairs looked like scars that never stopped reopening.

A cesspool of death and poverty without rhyme or reason. A mad Duke, a broken city, and a lot of crim in the heart of the Dukedom.

Even the people moved wrong, not with the relaxed pace of a city that still believed in tomorrow, but with that hunted rhythm: shoulders tucked in, eyes darting, hands never far from pockets or sleeves. The ones who weren’t hiding looked like they were waiting to be hit.

Still, his compass led him to go further down the city.

It didn’t hesitate the way the living did. It didn’t care that the streets narrowed into uglier angles, or that the silence between sounds felt staged. The lantern’s pull was patient and firm, like a hook sunk somewhere behind his ribs, dragging his intent forward regardless of what his better judgment said about the smell of this place.

“I’ll get going now, take care,” Ludwig said and only received a nod in response.

The guard didn’t give him a farewell worth remembering. His posture stayed close to the portal like a man who had decided the line between safety and death was that threshold, and stepping away from it was volunteering for a lesson.

Ludwig didn’t blame him. The guard wasn’t useless because he lacked courage. He was useless because the city had been designed to make sure people like him stayed that way.

Ludwig followed the compass, letting the needle dictate turns while his eyes dictated survival. Windows were either boarded or broken, and the few that were open had faces behind them that vanished the moment he looked back. The wind avoided the alleyways, leaving the stink pooled and unmoving, and the quiet wasn’t peace, it was restraint, the kind that snapped the second someone looked worth robbing.

Ludwig moved down the streets, following the compass.

A couple of beggars came toward him, they approached with practiced angles, not directly, but in a converging line meant to make him slow without realizing he’d been guided. Their hands were extended, palms up, fingers curled like pleading was a form of prayer. Their clothes were layered rags damp at the hems, and their backs were hunched just enough to look harmless. Their eyes ruined the performance. The sharpness in them didn’t match starvation.

Ludwig kept walking at the same pace, neither speeding up nor shifting away, treating them as part of the street like puddles and broken stone.

“Aren’t you being too cruel to those in need,” The Knight King asked.

Gale’s voice came from that familiar place in Ludwig’s perception, old and heavy with a logic that still expected the world to follow rules. Ludwig didn’t answer immediately. He didn’t turn his head. He let the beggars pass the edge of his peripheral vision, felt their footsteps drag behind him for a heartbeat too long.

“You didn’t see the daggers behind their backs?” Ludwig asked.

He kept his tone flat, almost bored, as if this was a small detail in an old report. The beggars’ spacing shifted, subtle as breathing, the way wolves changed angles when they realized prey wasn’t panicking.

“I have not…” the knight king replied.

There was faint surprise in Gale’s voice, like some part of him still disliked the idea that people could hold steel while pretending to beg.

“I’ve learned this in Rima, they may beg, they may plead, but if you give in, you’ll become prey. They’ll tell their friends and they’ll intercept you, either to ask for more gold, or demand it. Both are a bother, and both will end up with someone dead.”

Ludwig didn’t sound angry. He didn’t hate them for playing the game. He hated the fact that the game existed at all, and that the city’s ruler had been incompetent enough for stuff like this to be the norm.

The beggars slowed as he passed, lingering long enough for Ludwig to feel the decision being made behind him. His hand didn’t go to a weapon. It didn’t need to. He was not lost. He was not distracted. And he looked like the kind of man who would turn around and end a life without raising his voice. After a few breaths, their footsteps faded, either because they decided he wasn’t worth the trouble or because something else in the street drew their hunger. In this place, opportunities were currency.

“Who do you think would cause such misery.” Gale asked.

“In a dukedom, not even a barony…this is something done on purpose,” Ludwig said as he continued moving down the street.

He didn’t need proof in ledgers. The street was the ledger.

Roads maintained just enough for soldiers and carriages, not enough for dignity. Markets starved just enough to keep people desperate.

Guards posted where they protected wealth, not life. Misery like this didn’t happen by accident for this long. It was cultivated, like a crop, and the harvest was obedience.

Far up ahead, a lone building seemed to stand surrounded by a large walled garden and a metallic gate.

It looked more like a villa than a palace. Yet, strangely it was too far away from the city. Not a single house or noble residence was near it. As if the people who lived here were actively avoiding living anywhere near this place.

The emptiness around it spoke louder than any crowd. Even the street leading toward it felt less traveled, less stained, as if the city had learned to route its breathing away from that direction. Ludwig didn’t slow out of awe. He slowed to measure. Walls that stood straight in a city that sagged. A garden boundary that looked maintained. A metallic gate that caught light instead of swallowing it.

Unlike the rundown houses of the entire city, only this one seemed to be maintained. Though its roses were blooming and its garden was tended for. It had a gray feeling to it. Muted, and quite… bland. Not even the thick trees surrounding it felt like they moved naturally when wind blew. This wall of pine trees was the worst part. Their branches swayed, but a fraction late, like puppets reacting to a hand that wasn’t the sky.

Ludwig felt an itch between his shoulder blades, the same instinct he got around old magic and worse intentions.

The compass led him straight to the gate’s doors.

Ludwig walked the last stretch across open ground where no other buildings dared to stand. The city noise behind him dulled, as if the air thickened the closer he got, muffling distant voices and turning the world into a hush.

Two guards were standing next to the gate where the compass finally stopped moving. The guards however didn’t look like real guards. No, they were hunched over, and had a blank stare in their eyes.

Their spears were held more by habit than intent. Armor sat wrong on their frames, straps loose, posture collapsed like their bones had forgotten discipline. One of them was even drooling.

The drool slid in a slow line and caught light in a way that made the scene feel obscene, not because it was disgusting, but because it meant the body wasn’t even pretending anymore. They looked like people left running on a single instruction and nothing else.

[You have arrived at the location of the compass.][Your Death Point has been saved.][The villa of Duke Sullivan Drak has been marked as your newest Death Point][Daggers in Shadows update.]The Scryer is recovering inside the Villa; eliminate them before they manage to escape again.The villa of House Drak has been altered by vile rituals.A dimensional cube is currently altering the dimensions of the villa.Claim ownership of the cube.[You are Entering a Dungeon!]Your objective is to secure the Soul Letting Lantern of the Blind Scryer.Failing to obtain the lantern will forcefully cast [Termination], sending you back to your death point.You have 20 minutes before the Blind Scryer fully recovers and removes herself from this location.