Deus Necros

Ludwig surveyed the room, trying to find any possible means of escape. His mind raced, aware that the system had given him an impossible task: Outgrow Van Dijk’s control. Yet, the overwhelming presence of the Tower Master lingered in his thoughts, a constant reminder of the impossible odds stacked against him.

There was no way he could break free without being noticed, not with the omnipresent power Bastos wielded.

The conversation with Van Dijk had revealed a sliver of hope, however small. Ludwig could evolve. Though he was nothing now—less than a skeleton grunt—he could grow. He could become a Death Knight, a force worthy of battle. But even then, would it be enough? A Death Knight might have the strength to defeat the two necromancers who had resurrected him, but Van Dijk?

Even if Ludwig ascended to the highest form of undeath, he doubted it would be enough to bring down the Tower Master.

Ludwig’s thoughts drifted to another possibility. In all the games he played and stories he read, killing enemies was the key to leveling up, to gaining power. If the same rules applied here, killing would help him evolve. That was his path—gain strength through battle, hone his abilities, and eventually, escape.

But as his mind churned through these thoughts, a more grim realization settled in.

“So what?” Ludwig muttered aloud, his hollow voice echoing faintly in the room. The sound of his own voice startled him, and he instinctively slapped his bony hands over his nonexistent mouth, causing a dull ache in his jawbone.

[-1 HP]

He had spoken. As a skeleton. That should have been impossible, given his lack of vocal cords or any biological means to produce sound. And worse still—Van Dijk might have heard him.

Ludwig froze, every moment stretching into an eternity as he waited for some unseen punishment or retribution. But after a few agonizing seconds, nothing happened. The Tower Master was either far away or not monitoring him as closely as Ludwig feared.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he allowed his thoughts to resume their bleak course. What was the point in all of this? Sure, evolving into some powerful undead being sounded appealing, but in the end, he was still an undead. Something neither living nor dead, despised by both the living and the monsters of the world. He was an abomination, condemned to wander without purpose.

The thought made Ludwig shudder—he wasn’t just seeking strength; he was seeking life. He needed to become human again. That had to be possible. This was a world of magic, after all, and in every story, there was always an elixir of life, some magical cure that could bring the dead back to life. That had to be out there for him, right? The answer was in this world—he just had to find it.

But where would he even begin?

The answer hit him like a bolt of lightning. He was surrounded by books—endless shelves filled with arcane knowledge. The Tower Master’s study was a treasure trove of magical information, perhaps even containing the secrets he needed. He could start here.

Ludwig approached one of the bookshelves, his bony fingers trailing over the spines of the ancient tomes. He grabbed the first book that caught his attention.

A searing pain ripped through his skull the moment he touched it. He winced, his mind reeling from the sudden mental assault as a notification appeared in front of him.

[Sigmund Tulk: Understanding of Chimera Art]

[Your intelligence level is far below the required threshold to read this book.]

[Your linguistic level is too low to comprehend this text.]

Ludwig groaned in frustration. The book was far too advanced for him to even begin understanding. But he couldn’t give up. Desperation gnawed at him as he reached for another book.

The same pain struck him again, nearly knocking him off balance.

This was going to be more difficult than he thought. It seemed every book in this study was well beyond his current understanding. If he wanted to read and learn from them, he’d need to increase his intelligence or find something more basic. But this was the study of a Tower Master—the likelihood of finding beginner-level magic books here was slim to none.

With a sigh, Ludwig turned away from the books. His gaze drifted toward the door, the only visible exit. He hesitated for a moment, then walked toward it. Maybe, just maybe, the door would be unlocked, and he could sneak out—

Before his hand could touch the handle, a blinding magical circle flared to life in front of him, its intricate runes glowing menacingly.

[The Study is currently locked by Bastos Van Dijk.]

[If you attempt to brute force the lock, you will perish.]

Ludwig stepped back in defeat. Of course, the door was locked. He was trapped in this room, bound by Van Dijk’s magic.

He sighed again, feeling the weight of his situation more acutely than ever. There was no escape, no easy way out. His only option now was to bide his time, to grow stronger, and hope that one day he could break free from this nightmare.

Time passed slowly as Ludwig resumed his task of cleaning. His mind churned with unanswered questions and a growing sense of frustration. He had no clear path forward—no mentor, no powerful weapon, no secret ability waiting to be unlocked. Just a broom and an endless list of menial tasks.

As he pondered his situation, the door to the study creaked open.

Ludwig stiffened, fearing the return of Bastos Van Dijk. He quickly dropped the book he had been holding and resumed sweeping the floor, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible.

“M-Master Bastos?” a familiar voice called from behind him.

Ludwig turned slowly to see none other than Sebas, the necromancer who had been responsible for his death. Fear gripped him for a moment—what if they had come back to finish what they started? But Sebas wasn’t alone. The other necromancer, Evan, followed behind him, both wearing expressions of irritation.

Ludwig’s instinct was to flee, but he knew better than to act on that impulse. He froze, gripping the broom tightly.

“Oh, guess he’s not here,” Sebas muttered, scanning the room. “Evan, come on in.”

The two necromancers entered the study without paying much attention to Ludwig. They moved about the room, oblivious to his presence as they searched for something.

Ludwig’s confusion grew. Why are they here? He thought. Weren’t they supposed to be going to the punishment hall? Time had passed, and by Ludwig’s estimation, they had been gone for hours. Surely, they should have been farther away from the Tower by now.

“Is he not here?” Evan asked, glancing nervously toward the door.

“I guess not. He’s probably at the Academy, doing whatever it is dark mages do,” Sebas replied dismissively. “Let’s just put the stuff back and leave before we get caught.”

Ludwig watched as they retrieved the black book—the one they had used to revive him. Alongside it, they placed several jars filled with his organs, or what remained of them, on the desk.

The sight of his own mutilated body parts made Ludwig shudder, but he kept quiet.

Sebas threw Ludwig a disdainful glance as he placed the book back on the desk. “MOVE!” he snarled, delivering a vicious kick to Ludwig’s back.

[-6 HP]

The blow sent Ludwig sprawling to the floor, his bones rattling as he hit the cold stone. A notification appeared.

[You are in a hostile environment.]

“Stupid thing,” Sebas muttered. “It caused us so many problems, and it wasn’t even brought back properly.”

Evan pulled Sebas aside before he could kick Ludwig again. “Don’t break him, you idiot. If the Tower Master still needs him and you damage him, our punishment will be worse than death. We could end up as his next experiments.”

Sebas grumbled but relented, backing away from Ludwig with a sneer. “Fine, fine. But if it were up to me, I’d smash this useless pile of bones to dust.”

The two necromancers quickly left, shutting the door behind them and locking Ludwig back inside the study. Ludwig let out another sigh, frustration bubbling up inside him.

This isn’t how it was supposed to be, he thought. In the stories, the protagonist always started with some overpowered ability, a mentor to guide them, or a legendary weapon that set them apart. But Ludwig had none of that. He was dead, a skeleton in enemy territory with no advantages, no hidden powers, and no way out.

Despair gnawed at him, and for a moment, he considered throwing himself out the window. Perhaps the fall would shatter his bones and end his miserable existence once and for all. But as he looked out at the towering height, he knew it was futile. His body would likely survive the impact, and even if it didn’t, what would it change? He’d still be trapped in this nightmare.

As Ludwig wrestled with his dark thoughts, something caught his eye. A small, old book wedged under a stool. It had been placed there to balance the uneven legs of a chair. The book was worn and dusty, its cover barely legible.

Curiosity piqued, Ludwig bent down and picked up the book. The moment he touched it, his mind throbbed with the familiar pain of an advanced text. But he pushed through it, intrigued by the title.

[Deus Necros: Death and Necromancy. The Forbidden Arts. By Unknown]