Deus Necros

[Explicit scenes warning the Chapter might contain some rather… hot scenes. I toned it down for now, but if the reaction of the audience is positive, I can make it more… well just more kek]

Seemingly he killed the guardian of the north, the creature that was protecting the empire from the assault of the dark continent. And now was ordered by their emperor to come and cause destabilization in our kingdom.”

Ludwig’s expressions did not change. The mask hid enough of him to make that easy. The priestess could not hold it. Anger welled up in her heart and lifted her chin, but seeing Ludwig’s small shake of head, she did not speak. The captain stared at the water jars on a neighboring deck as if they had become the most interesting objects in the city.

“We have been looking for him for a while now,” the inspector said as he pulled a small parchment. “He should look like this.” He held up a charcoal likeness that was cleaner than most and close enough to make nearby dockhands murmur. The drawing hung in the heat for a breath while the man in it stood at the inspector’s elbow.

“And if you do not mind me asking,” the inspector said as he immediately pulled his sword and placed it at Ludwig’s neck.

Steel kissed cloth. Several dozen guards jumped from other ships and from the sand underneath the bridge to surround the group. Spears lifted. Boots thudded on beam and dust. A vendor silenced his call in the middle of a word and froze with a string of dates in his hand.

“This man is definitely suspicious,” the inspector said. “I do not know what tricks he pulled to make you believe he is one of us. That skin does not belong to one who should be part of the kingdom of the desert. Not to mention that foul man’s activities ceased the moment you, sir, disappeared. I have a feeling that he might be the one we are looking for, so can you please remove your mask.”

“You are embarrassing me in front of my guest,” the priestess said. Her lips were shaking from anger, but her voice remained clear. It carried to the ship behind them and made men there avert their eyes.

“Your holiness, I saw your gesture. So did my colleague. We are not blind. Please remove your mask, sir.” The soldier seemed adamant on what he saw, and was not going to budge.

“You are making a big mistake. This is not the man you are looking for. Lower your weapons,” the guard knight said. He did not reach for his blade. He planted his feet and let the weight of his presence do the speaking.

“If it is a mistake, then I will pay for it by spending time in the dungeons, sir. I apologize for refusing your order. Boy, show me your face.” The soldier’s tone became more serious as both stress and anxiety were mixed in.

“It is fine,” Ludwig said. The alert for danger and hostility never stirred against his skin. Their fear smelled like honest sweat, not like murder. He let that be his guide. Still, to be safe, he breathed once and let the lantern’s quiet attention meet his own. The illusion obeyed. The mask would hide what needed hiding.

Just as Ludwig slowly raised the mask, a massive scar that looked old and healed revealed itself underneath the area where the Mask of the Blind Witness had been covering. The scar curved along both of Ludwig’s eyes like an arc, starting from the side of his cheek to the other side. The flesh there looked tight and glossy. The lids did not quite close. The mark told a simple story. Fire. Blade. Fate’s indifference.

“Being blind in this world is not a sin, I suppose,” Ludwig said. His tone landed gently, as if he were tired of explaining something that never needed explanation.

“Ah. Sir, I apologize. I did not expect you to be wearing that mask since you were not able to see.” The inspector’s sword dipped and then lowered. Shame flushed the tops of his ears. He avoided the priestess’s eyes.

“It is to lessen the impact on other people. I cannot see your faces, but I can already feel the disgust and discomfort in the air,” Ludwig spoke. The words made the crowd shift. A few men looked at their boots. A woman across the gangway folded her hands and bowed her head as if in apology to no one in particular.

For them, all they saw was a blind young man with a hideous scar on his face. Both the priestess and the guard were surprised, but they had already seen his clothes change as if by hand, and they understood that this mask could do the same work. The important thing was what the crowd chose to believe. That mattered more than the truth right now.

“You should hurry and lower your weapons,” the captain said. He had his hands raised since earlier and was beginning to tremble from holding them that way. “Everyone is looking at us. It looks like the king’s guards are bullying a blind person. I do not think that will sit well with the people.” His eyes flicked to the nearest knot of onlookers where mutters were already blooming.

“Ah, you are right,” the guard in front of Ludwig said as he sheathed his sword. The ring of metal on metal sounded more like relief than threat. “I apologize for all the discomfort. We have been quite stressed with what happened.” He turned to the guard captain. “And as promised, for refusing your direct order, I will hand over myself to the office.”

“You will do no such thing,” Ludwig interrupted as he turned to the guard. “He was simply doing his job. I am not a fan of his side hustle, but he sounds like a genuine man looking out for his country.” The words came out steady. They were not a performance. The man’s hands had shaken for the right reasons.

The priestess smiled. “My guest is a very generous person. You should thank him.”

The guard did as asked with a pleased smile on his face, and an apologetic tone. “I hope I did not offend.”

“It is of no consequence,” Ludwig said as he placed his mask back on. The hands of the mask settled over his eyes with the easy weight of habit.

Without a warning, a powerful vision slammed into his mind like a thunderclap, raw and unrelenting, pulling him under its grip.

His body felt not like his, and the scenery he was in changed too suddenly.

Heavy breaths rasped in the air, his own chest heaving with agony as sharp pain clawed across his ribs. The room swam into focus through a haze of pink mist, walls draped in shimmering gold silk that caught the dim light, silver accents glinting like cold blades on ornate furniture. He lay flat on his back, body stripped bare, every inch exposed and vulnerable on the soft bed beneath him.

His limbs refused to move, muscles locked in a paralyzing drought, as if all strength had been drained from him drop by drop. It was as if every ounce of power he held was taken away from him.

Above him, a woman’s form straddled his hips, her faceless shadow dominating his view, curves pressing down, skin slick with sweat. She rode him hard, clenching tight around his hardness, sliding up and down in relentless thrusts that sent jolts of fading pleasure mixed with torment through his core. She moved over him with a punishing rhythm, taking control of every breath he drew, every sound he swallowed. Each sharp motion dragged pleasure and torment through him until he couldn’t tell one from the other. He wanted to cry out, to push her off or pull her closer, but his voice died in his throat, silent and trapped.

Her hands pinned his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh as she ground against him, her breasts bouncing with each forceful drop of her hips. He throbbed inside her, buried deep, but the ecstasy twisted into something darker, his heart pounding erratically, breaths coming in shallow gasps. She leaned forward, her breath hot against his ear, though her face remained a blur, an empty void.

“Ah, quite unfortunate… I thought you had more… stamina,” she murmured, her voice a sultry whisper laced with mocking pity. “What a shame for you to die like this…” she said, while biting on her index finger in a most suggestive and sensational way.

The words echoed as she squeezed him one final time, milking him in a vise that blurred the line between orgasm and oblivion. Pain exploded in his chest, his vision tunneling to black, heart stuttering to a halt mid-thrust. Helpless, he felt the last twitch of his body beneath her, he spilled weakly inside her as death claimed him in the throes of her unyielding ride.

Suddenly the vision disappeared and he was back to where he was, looking around everyone was confused.

“Are you okay, it felt like the color drained from your face for a second.

“Ah…” Ludwig stammered, “It’s just the sun, though I don’t have functional eyes, when they are exposed to the sun, some of my injured nerves get stimulated. Don’t worry about it.”

Ludwig couldn’t tell them that the Mask of the Blind Witness which gave revelations of a future that might come or not had just did so. And this future, he felt… vulnerable. And unlike when he fought with mountain destroying calamities… for some reason, the woman who was on top of him felt far more… lethal.