Deus Necros

“Shit, shit, shit,” Ludwig muttered under his breath, his skeletal fingers clenching into fists as he saw the towering Lizardman Champion lock onto him with murderous intent.

The beast roared, a sound that tore through the forest like a thunderclap, shaking the leaves and sending small creatures scattering. Its hulking form surged forward with terrifying speed, each step causing the ground to quake.

Ludwig didn’t wait. He spun on his heels and bolted, his undead body pushing its limits as he ducked and weaved through the dense foliage. Branches snapped against him, and leaves whipped his face, but he didn’t falter. Behind him, the Champion leaped from the cliff in a single bound, landing with an earth-shattering crash.

The ground cracked under the creature’s weight, and its claws raked through the dirt as it propelled itself forward. Each stride was a display of raw power, sending splinters of wood and clouds of soil into the air. It bulldozed through trees, smashing some to splinters and ripping others out by their roots. Boulders shattered on impact, and nothing in its path was spared.

Ludwig darted to the side just in time to avoid a massive claw that swiped dangerously close to his head. The wind from the strike nearly threw him off balance, but he recovered and dove under a dense thicket. The Lizardman’s momentum carried it forward, causing it to slam into a tree with a deafening crunch.

The ancient trunk groaned and toppled, the crash shaking the forest floor. Dust and debris rose in a thick cloud, creating a momentary screen that obscured the Champion’s vision.

Ludwig took advantage of the chaos, crouching low and grabbing a chunk of rock from the ground. He hurled it with all his might toward a distant cluster of trees. The stone struck with a loud crack, and the Champion’s head snapped toward the sound.

The creature snarled, its golden eyes narrowing as it charged toward the false noise.

Ludwig remained still, his undead nature allowing him to suppress even the tiniest sound of breath. He watched the monstrous figure barrel into the trees, its claws raking wildly at the source of the disturbance.

Only when the Champion had moved far enough away did Ludwig exhale—a purely instinctual habit—and step cautiously back onto the forest path.

“Good, that should buy me some time,” he muttered, wiping the dirt off his hands. His mind raced as he plotted his next move.

The Champion was too strong to face alone, especially now that it had gone into a frenzy. Its wounds, while significant, weren’t enough to stop it, and Ludwig had no illusions about his odds in a direct fight. He needed help—specifically, the other students. But the thought brought a twinge of doubt.

Had they survived?

The bloodied state of the Champion suggested they’d put up a fight, but he had no way of knowing the outcome. For all he knew, they could be dead, and he’d be running straight toward more corpses.

“Only one way to find out,” Ludwig muttered, breaking into a sprint toward the eastern clearing where the flag had been.

His undead body gave him an edge—endless stamina and enhanced night vision allowed him to navigate the treacherous forest with ease. He ducked under low branches, sidestepped gnarled roots, and slipped through narrow gaps between the trees, his pace relentless.

As he approached the clearing, the sight that greeted him filled him with a mix of relief and unease. The area was littered with Lizardman corpses, their bodies twisted and broken. Blood pooled in the grass, and the air was thick with the stench of death.

But there were no human bodies among the carnage.

Ludwig froze, scanning the scene for any signs of life. His ears twitched as he heard a faint rustling from the bushes nearby. He turned sharply, his glowing blue eyes locking onto a figure emerging from the foliage.

“Hoyo,” Ludwig called, recognizing the mud-covered student.

The boy’s face was grim, his expression a mixture of relief and exhaustion. “Ludwig,” he said, his voice shaky. “You’re alive. Thank the gods.”

“What’s the situation?” Ludwig asked, stepping closer.

Hoyo hesitated, glancing back toward the forest as if expecting the Champion to burst through the trees at any moment. “Kassandra’s hurt,” he said finally. “And… one of us didn’t make it.”

Ludwig’s jaw tightened. “What about the others?”

“The nobles took the worst of it,” Hoyo continued. “Three of them are dead, and Bron’s arm is shattered. If it wasn’t for you, we’d all be dead by now.”

Ludwig ignored the compliment, his mind already moving to the next problem. “Where’s our group now?”

Hoyo gestured toward the east. “We’ve regrouped with the nobles. Kassandra told me to wait near the flag for you.”

Ludwig’s brow furrowed. “Why would they leave you here?”

Hoyo shrugged, but his discomfort was clear. “Bron thought it was a good idea. Said the cave nearby would make a good base to defend from. Everyone’s holed up in there now.”

Ludwig’s eyes widened in disbelief. “A cave?”

Hoyo nodded.

“Damn it,” Ludwig cursed, running a hand over his face. “That idiot doesn’t realize he’s setting them up to be cornered. If the Champion breaks through, they’ll have nowhere to run.”

“Wait, the Champion? the big guy?” Hoyo asked, his voice rising in alarm. “We drove it off! It ran away in pain, and we killed its minions. It’s over, right?”

As if to mock his words, a bone-chilling howl echoed through the forest. It was a sound that froze the blood—or, in Ludwig’s case, whatever ichor flowed in his undead veins.

“He doesn’t think so,” Ludwig said grimly, motioning toward the source of the howl.

Hoyo’s face went pale. “We have to warn them.”

“Then start running,” Ludwig snapped, already moving.

The two bolted through the forest, Ludwig’s steps eerily silent despite his speed, while Hoyo’s frantic breathing and snapping branches marked his presence like a beacon. Ludwig didn’t blame him; fear had a way of loosening one’s control, and they didn’t have the luxury of slowing down.

The howls grew louder every second, reverberating through the trees and making the ground tremble. Ludwig risked a glance behind him but saw nothing yet. That didn’t comfort him; it only meant the Champion was faster than it appeared.

“Keep moving,” Ludwig urged, his voice sharp. “Don’t stop, no matter what.”

Hoyo nodded, too winded to reply.

The cave appeared like a beacon, nestled at the edge of a clearing with a narrow entrance that would have been easily defensible under normal circumstances. But Ludwig knew better. He could almost picture the inevitable disaster—a horde of enraged lizardmen or, worse, the Champion barreling through the entrance like an unstoppable force.

As they neared the cave, a voice called out. “You’re back!”

Ludwig skidded to a halt, eyes locking onto a boy standing guard near the entrance. His body was caked in mud, the smell of damp earth clinging to him like a shield.

“They put you on guard duty?” Hoyo asked, his tone tinged with disbelief.

The boy shrugged. “They said since I was already covered in mud, I’d be less of a target. Plus, they’ve barricaded the entrance from the inside.”

Ludwig felt a vein—or whatever an undead had—throb in frustration. “Barricades? Against that thing?”

Before the boy could answer, Bron emerged from the cave, his arm bound in a crude splint and his face set in a scowl. His usual haughty demeanor had taken a hit, but his arrogance still clung to him like a bad smell.

“What the fuck are you doing back here?” Bron barked, his voice cutting through the tense air.