Deus Necros

“Ludwig,” Van Dijk said, his voice sharp and laced with irritation. The news he had just received clearly didn’t sit well with him. His crimson eyes narrowed as he turned to his disciple, his expression a mix of frustration and urgency.

“How good is your lantern’s camouflage?” he asked, his tone clipped and demanding.

Ludwig hesitated for a moment, his eyes meeting Van Dijk’s piercing gaze. “Good enough to trick anyone that doesn’t already know I’m an undead,” he replied, his voice steady but cautious. He had no idea what they were capable off, but for the god tier item he held, they shouldn’t be able to see the real him.

Van Dijk’s jaw tightened, his frustration evident. “That’s sadly not enough for those guys,” he said, his voice low and tense. “Listen, I want you to immediately go to your room the moment we get back to the academy. Do not wander, do not engage with anyone. Just stay out of sight.”

“Okay,” Ludwig replied, his tone flat and devoid of emotion.

Van Dijk’s eyes narrowed further, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “Right, you can’t mess this up. You’re my disciple, and I’ll protect you from anything, but those guys… they’re the type that will kill first and never ask questions later. So, be careful.”

Ludwig nodded, his expression unreadable. He understood the gravity of the situation, but his undead nature made it difficult to convey the appropriate level of concern.

Van Dijk exhaled sharply, his frustration giving way to a grim determination. He opened a portal back to the academy, the swirling vortex of magic casting an eerie glow in the dim light of the outpost.

The moment the two of them stepped through the portal, the atmosphere shifted. The familiar surroundings of the academy felt different—tense, almost suffocating. Silva was already there, his expression a mix of relief and anxiety.

“Van Dijk,” Silva said, his voice uncharacteristically informal. It was the first time Ludwig had heard him address Van Dijk without his title. “You’re here. Hurry up, they’re planning on going to your tower. I don’t know what’s in there, but they seem to be adamant that you’re running some form of Dark Magic… or at least think you do.”

Van Dijk’s eyes narrowed, his frustration boiling over. “What the hell is going on?” he demanded, his voice sharp and dangerous.

Silva shook his head, his expression grim. “Beats me. They just showed up unannounced. Something about Rima. Also…” He hesitated, his gaze flicking to Ludwig. “They need to speak to your disciple.”

Van Dijk cursed under his breath, his frustration palpable. “Shit.”

Before he could say more, a voice interrupted them. “Oh, they are here.”

Ludwig turned to see an older man dressed in pristine white robes, holding a scepter that looked awfully familiar. The staff was adorned with intricate designs, similar to the one Ludwig had seen in the vision from the Mask of the Blind Witness. But this one was shorter, less radiant, and carried an air of authority rather than divine light.

Several paladins followed the man, their armor gleaming in the dim light. One of them stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “Bishop, are these the ones?” he asked, his voice sharp and accusatory.

Van Dijk’s eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

“Silence, vampire!” the paladin shouted, his voice filled with contempt.

Van Dijk’s vein on his forehead twitched, his frustration boiling over. Ludwig could almost feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating.

‘Oh shit, someone’s going to die…’ Ludwig thought, his grip tightening on his shard.

However, the older man—the bishop—raised his hand, silencing the paladin with a single gesture. “There is no need to agitate our friend here, Juaquin,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “Remember, you’re in the Black Tower’s territory.”

The paladin named Juaquin scowled but stepped back, his hand still resting on his sword. “This dark creature dares speak against our Order out of turn, Lord Bishop,” he said, his voice filled with disdain.

“That is his right as the master of the tower,” the bishop replied, his tone calm but authoritative. “Calm down now. Let the grown-ups handle this.”

Van Dijk’s patience was wearing thin. “What is going on here?” he demanded, his voice sharp and dangerous. “My patience is running dry.”

The bishop turned to Van Dijk, his expression calm but unyielding. “We do not seek to cause strife or problems. We only wish for order. And seeing that there are too many eyes here, how about we visit your office for a proper conversation?”

Van Dijk’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded curtly. “Fine by me,” he said, his voice clipped. He turned to Silva. “Open a gate to my office, please.”

Silva hesitated for a moment, his expression uneasy, but he complied. A portal opened, its swirling vortex casting an eerie glow in the dim light.

[You are in a hostile environment.]

The notification flashed before Ludwig’s eyes, and he tensed immediately. His hand instinctively went to his shard, his hollow eyes scanning the room for any signs of danger.

One of the paladins grabbed him from the shoulder, his grip firm and unyielding. “What are you doing?!” the paladin demanded, his voice sharp and accusatory.

Ludwig’s hollow eyes met the paladin’s gaze, his voice calm but firm. “You’re the one showing hostility.”

The bishop chuckled, his tone almost amused. “Oh, quite the talented boy. And looks to be a freshman, too, to realize hostile intent this early. But worry not, young lamb,” he said, his voice calm but patronizing. “This is only normal procedure. The boy comes with us.”

Van Dijk’s eyes narrowed, his frustration boiling over. “Why? What does he have to do with anything? He’s just a freshman,” he said, his voice sharp and defensive.

The bishop’s smile widened, his tone calm but unyielding. “That would have been the case, if not for the fact that he was the protagonist of Rima’s events. We have eyes everywhere and ears all around, Van Dijk. The boy comes with us.”

Van Dijk’s jaw tightened, but he nodded curtly. “Fine,” he said, his voice clipped. He stepped through the portal, his expression dark and unreadable.

The paladin shoved Ludwig forward, his grip firm and unyielding. Ludwig cursed under his breath as the entire group entered Van Dijk’s office.

The bishop wasted no time. “Scan for dark magic,” he ordered, his voice calm but authoritative.

Van Dijk’s eyes narrowed, his frustration evident. “Quite the rude guest, but sure, scan away,” he said, his voice sharp and dangerous. He walked to his chair and sat down, his expression dark and unreadable.

Several paladins began planting flag-like structures around the office, imbuing them with golden aura magic that spread throughout the room. The air grew heavy with tension as the aura washed over everything, including Ludwig.

After a few tense moments, the paladin named Juaquin shook his head. “Nothing out of order,” he said, his voice sharp and accusatory. “But there is something on the boy and the master. Light, but it looks… unnatural.”

The bishop’s smile widened, his tone calm but patronizing. “Is that so?” he asked, his gaze shifting to Ludwig. “What might be the reason for that? I’d like to hear the answer from the boy.”

Ludwig met the bishop’s gaze, his expression unreadable. “We were doing an expedition,” he said, his voice calm and measured. “I’m sure you asked Silva about our disappearance. We met some nasty fellows, took care of them, and we’re back.” He shrugged, his tone casual but defiant.

The paladin named Juaquin stepped forward, his expression filled with contempt. “Arrogant little prick,” he spat. “Speak formally to the bishop!”

Ludwig’s hollow eyes met the paladin’s gaze, his voice calm but firm. “Why?”

Van Dijk’s eyes narrowed.

“Who is he to me?” Ludwig continued, his voice sharp and defiant. “I don’t worship his god. I don’t give a rat’s stinking ass about what he does for a job. Who the hell are you to tell me to respect whomever comes and goes? In case you forgot, this is the Black Tower Academy, not your backyard.”

The room fell silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. The bishop’s smile widened, his expression calm but unyielding. Van Dijk’s eyes narrowed, but unlike his lips which spread out in a thin smile. He seems to have liked that his disciple has some backbone