Deus Necros

[You’re about to enter the Tower of Trials.]

[Death Point has been saved.]

Ludwig took a needless breath and stepped forward. Disappearing from sight.

“WELCOME TO THE TOWER OF TRIALS CHALLENGER!”

The words howled as if the skies themselves had a mouth.

Though sky was a statement that couldn’t be said about this place.

All around Ludwig was nothing but blue stone. A circular hall with no entry or exits. The ceiling was domed. And the walls had carvings of statues, soldiers, knights, monsters, and more.

“To prove one’s worth and valor, one must climb the tower. Though the benevolent tower had kindly offered but ten floors for you to challenge. An easy feat to clear. So show the tower that you are a worthy challenger of its trials!”

’Must mean that there are more floors that could be climbed than,’ Ludwig thought as he heard.

“You have been graded and rated. Undead, Holder of great power and great allies. Your trial difficulty has been adjusted!”

Without further explanation, the scenery around Ludwig simply changed. He was now in a green plane. With a brightly lit skies. Looking around, there were forests in the distance and swaths of empty territory everywhere.

“You’re task is to become King!” the tower’s first trial echoed.

Ludwig frowned, ’king?’ what does that mean?

A slew of notifications immediately appeared in front of Ludwig.

[Your stats have been suppressed to level 100.]

[You cannot use Noctivex or Nightbreaker]

[Your mana output has been suppressed.]

[You cannot use higher than third-tier magic.]

Suddenly, next to Ludwig’s left and right, two creatures appeared. They looked green. One of them, quite taller than Ludwig, green of skin, with long and thick arms and a well-chiseled body. Two protruding tusks from the lower jaw and Oathcarver behind its back.

The second one was slightly slimmer, shorter, with a cowl over his head and the black lich’s staff in his other arm.

Ludwig didn’t need to ask as he looked at his own green skin.

“We became orcs…” Ludwig said.

“It seems to be the case…” The Knight King said.

“This is interesting; it doesn’t feel like possession. Or projection, it’s like we’ve been completely shifted into these bodies. Seamlessly so,” Kaiser said.

Ludwig clenched his fist twice, “I’m weaker.”

“We all are… slower too,” the Gale said, as he held Oathcarver with one hand, finding it slightly cumbersome. “It took away some of our strength and speed, but not our proficiency.”

“Talk for yourself,” Kaiser sighed, “I’m limited to the fourth circle.”

“That’s more than what I have,” Ludwig said, “I’m limited to the third, and got nerfed to level 100.”

“Ouch,” Kaiser snorted. “Must feel like you’re moving in a mire,” he said.

“Indeed,” Ludwig said as he moved forward. It was awkward, as if his body was reacting a beat later than his thoughts.

“Let’s consider this as training,” the Knight King said.

“You’re the only one who’d think this is training…” Kaiser sighed, “We’ve been reduced to this state to fit in with the scenario of this tower.” He said.

“What is your goal?” Ludwig asked.

“To help you become king,” Kaiser said.

“Same here.”

“Then that means there is a kingdom to rule,” Ludwig said.

“We’ll need to start by searching for it,” the Knight King said as he turned his head, “And it looks like we can find it if we follow that.” He pointed his finger forward.

There was a string of smoke rising from far ahead. Within one of the forests.

“Let’s move then.”

***

The grass bent unnaturally around Ludwig’s steps. Even weakened, even bound to level one hundred, something about him pressed against the world like a blade testing its sheath.

The three orcs moved toward the column of smoke rising beyond the tree line. The body felt wrong. Taller in some ways. Heavier. Slower to respond. Strength was there, but dulled. Like fighting underwater.

“This terrain is intentional,” Kaiser muttered, adjusting the lich’s staff across his shoulder. “Open plains. Sparse forests. Designed for territorial conflict.”

“Tribes,” the Knight King said.

“Or warbands,” Ludwig added.

The smoke thickened as they approached. Not the lazy spiral of a campfire. But the type of smoke that was usually left in the wake of war.

When they reached the forest’s edge, the smell hit first.

Iron.

Burned wood.

Charred flesh.

The trees had been hacked down crudely to form a perimeter. Bodies lay scattered outside the broken palisade, orcs, all of them. Broad-shouldered. Green-skinned. Armed with crude but serviceable weapons.

The settlement had already fallen.

Kaiser crouched beside one of the corpses. “Killed within the hour. Blades. Some magic. Not refined. Very nature-like… Some of it tinged with dark magic.”

“Another tribe,” the Knight King said.

“No,” Ludwig replied quietly.

He stepped into the village.

The huts were still smoldering. A banner lay torn in the dirt, a black boar painted over red hide.

“Defense and discipline,” Ludwig said. “Look at the formation of bodies. They tried to defend a central structure.”

At the center stood a larger longhouse. Its doors had been ripped from their hinges.

Inside, a massive body was nailed to the far wall with three spears. It was an orc, but had a darker skin tone than Ludwig’s emerald green. He looked far more intimidating than the dead orcs around. Strong. But dead.

Blood writing was painted on his chest. It wasn’t the words of the people of Ikos. But for some reason, they understood it.

THE STRONG RULE. THE WEAK BURN.

Kaiser exhaled slowly. “Charming.”

“Seems like we can read what they wrote…”

“Probably a small gift from the tower… still…” Kaiser had a little worry in his tone.

The Knight King folded his arms. “This trial is not asking you to inherit a kingdom.”

“It wants conquest,” Ludwig finished.

A crunch of gravel and twigs echoed behind them.

All three turned.

From the treeline opposite them emerged a dozen orcs. Larger than average. Better armed. Wearing bone trophies and iron scraps forged into brutal armor.

At their center stood one who dwarfed the rest.

Scarred from brow to jaw. One eye clouded white. He carried a greataxe that looked less crafted and more torn from the earth itself. He was of a similar build to the orc that was pinned by spears inside the hut.

He stopped twenty paces away.

Looked at the corpses.

Then, at the Knight King, since he was the largest of the three, that probably meant he was the strongest.

“You,” the massive orc growled. “You stand in broken land. You claim it?”

Kaiser leaned slightly toward Ludwig. “This must be one of the contenders.”

The Knight King’s hand tightened around Oathcarver. “He thinks I’m the leader. You should prove to him otherwise.”

Ludwig stepped forward alone.

“I do not claim broken land,” Ludwig said evenly. “I didn’t do this.”

A murmur rippled through the gathered warriors. They were confused by the fact that the more ’normal’ looking Orc was speaking instead of the larger one.

The scarred orc grinned, revealing chipped tusks.

“Good,” he said. “Then I claim this land.” He said.

“I’d rather you don’t. You see, I want to become king.”

The massive orc howled, “You challenge Grath Skullrender!”

Ah.

There it was.

A warlord trying to consolidate territory. He probably wasn’t the one who caused all this mess, but he sure as hell arrived fast when the murders stopped.

“King is strongest. You are no king! CHALLENGE ME!” Grath howled for everyone to hear his challenge.

Ludwig sighed. “Man, we just got here,” he rolled his shoulders, “You sure you want this? You’ll probably die. No, you’ll definitely die.”

“Words are waste! Show strength,” Grath roared, slamming his axe into the earth. “Or kneel.”

The dozen warriors behind him began to spread out, encircling.

Kaiser whispered, “This is an honorable fight. We can’t help you. Though if you want…”

“I am aware. I understand a bit of orc culture. Don’t intervene. I got this” Ludwig said to his companions.

The two of them nodded and backed away, allowing Ludwig to stand by himself.

“You have no weapon if you fight with your fist. I can oblige!” Grath placed the head of his axe on the ground.

“No need,” Ludwig said as he flicked his right arm. Durandal manifested there immediately from his ring. It looked like magic for orcs, as some of them flinched from the action.

But Grath wasn’t easy to scare.

“Scrawny weapon for a scrawny body! HAH!” the orc howled, and the rest of its tribesmen laughed as if he had told the funniest joke ever.

Ludwig rolled his shoulders once. Testing range. Testing weight.

Too slow.

Too heavy.

Too restricted.

“Good enough to test the waters…” Ludwig muttered as he wanted to see the limits of this new body.

Grath charged.

The ground cracked beneath each step. The greataxe came down in a brutal arc meant to split skull and spine in one decisive blow.

Ludwig did not block. He stepped inside the swing. His dulled body protested. Half a beat slower than his mind. Still fast enough. He swung Durandal in its scythe form, not aiming to kill, but simply to maim.

The tip of the one-handed scythe bit true, and blood burst out.

Grath staggered in surprise flashing across his good eye.

Ludwig pivoted, seized the warlord’s wrist with his left hand, and twisted.

The axe dropped.

The surrounding orcs froze.

Grath roared as he simply forced his entire arm to twist the other way. If it was the older Ludwig, Grath’s arm would have ripped to shreds, but this was nerfed Ludwig.

The effect forced Ludwig to let go and take a step back.

Good.

Grath wrenched free and swung a heavy fist. Ludwig took one step to the left, the fist missing completely. With a small twirl of the scythe in his right arm, he swung up, slower than expected yet faster than the orc could react to.

It bit right under the orc’s extended arm.

The warlord howled as he was taking damage without delivering any.

“FIGHT LIKE AN ORC! STOP DODGING LIKE A COWARD!” he howled as he wrenched his arm free from the scythe.

He charged again, arms opened wide for a grapple.

This time, Ludwig raised his other hand.

Third-tier magic pulsed through him, constrained, throttled, restrained like a beast on a short chain.

Stone Spike.

The earth erupted beneath Grath’s leading foot.

Not lethal.

Disruptive.

The warlord stumbled just slightly. Ludwig let go of Durandal. It would be a shameful victory if he fought with someone unarmed. He stepped forward hard. Elbow to the throat. The shock made the Orc’s remaining eye feel like it was about to burst out. Knee to the face. Blood sprayed from the impact, and the orc staggered a bit, holding his face with both hands.

Palm strike to the sternum. “Burn,” Ludwig muttered as flames erupted from his extended palm upon contact. An explosion of fire and force rattled the Orc.

Controlled. Precise. Efficient.

Grath dropped to one knee.

Silence swallowed the battlefield.

Ludwig picked up the fallen greataxe and pressed its edge to the back of Grath’s neck.

“The Strong Rule…The weak kneel…”

Grath’s breathing was ragged.

For a long moment, it seemed he might resist.

Then

His massive hands pressed into the dirt.

And he lowered his head.

A gasp rippled through the gathered orcs.

Ludwig stepped back.

“Rise,” he ordered.

Grath stood slowly.

“So… are you strong enough to be King?” Ludwig asked.

“No,” the orc shook his head.

“Do you think I won unfairly?”

“No”

“Do you wish to challenge me again?”

“Yes,” Grath said.

That was expected. Ludwig smiled. “Then only when you’re stronger.”

Grath slammed his fist against his chest.

“Grath serves. Grath Serve new Chief!”

One by one, the other warriors followed.

Kaiser let out a low whistle. “Well. That was efficient.”

The Knight King nodded once. “A foundation.”

Above them, unseen but ever watching, the Tower stirred.