Deus Necros

Grath took point with heavy steps that made the grass flatten under his weight.

Ludwig followed at a steady pace that matched his reduced body, refusing to waste energy by trying to move like he used to.

Kaiser walked slightly behind and to the side, staff held like a walking stick and a threat.

Gale moved with that quiet inevitability he always had, even trapped in a different body, eyes scanning the horizon as if the plains were a battlefield map.

There was no sun up in the skies, but it felt like it was early noon. The terrain was a long grass field with no nearby shade but some trees here and there.

The light was bright without warmth, a strange, clean brightness. Wind ran through the grass in waves, and the sound was constant, a whispering ocean of blades. Every now and then, a lone tree broke the line of the plains, its leaves barely moving, and Ludwig noticed the lack of birds. No insects. No small life. The world felt staged around objectives, not naturally alive.

As they walked, Ludwig took note of the place. This would be a good place to make an outpost, if need be, to check on potential invasions of other tribes. If the roaming tribes of this floor organize an attack, they’ll need the possibility to see it first. An advantage in recon is always welcome.

He marked the sightlines instinctively, where the land dipped, where a ridge could hide an approaching group, where the trees could conceal scouts. His mind was already building a kingdom the way he built a plan before a fight, by locating what would kill him and what would warn him first.

Time kept passing as they went across the prairies. And once they reached the perimeter of a thick forest, Grath stopped.

The tree line rose like a wall, dense and dark compared to the open grass behind them. The air changed near it. Less wind. More damp. The smell of moss and old bark. Ludwig felt the subtle unease that came with entering a space where sightlines shortened and ambushes became cheap.

“It is here, once we cross this tree line, we’ll be in our former territory.”

“Good,” Ludwig said as he pulled out Durandal.

The blade appeared in his hand with familiar certainty, and the weight of it steadied him. Even at level 100, a weapon that cut cleanly was comforting. He held it low, not threatening yet, just ready. The orcs behind him tightened grips on their own weapons, responding to the shift in Ludwig’s posture.

“Ludwig.” The Knight King spoke.

“What is it?”

“Let me handle the ones here…” he said.

Ludwig didn’t even notice anything yet; as a matter of fact, he hadn’t even received a notification of being in a hostile environment yet.

That was what made him listen.

“Sure thing, go on ahead,” Ludwig said.

The Knight King in orc form moved forward, drawing Oathcarver with one hand and flicking it powerfully to the side.

The air pressure forced the blades of grass to bend and bow from the force of that swing.

The gesture wasn’t an attack. It was a demand. Oathcarver’s movement made the air thump, and the nearest leaves trembled as if struck by an invisible wave. Gale was announcing presence to anything hiding, telling it to either show itself or be dug out.

“Come out!” the Knight King declared.

Yet nothing moved behind the trees.

The forest held still. No rustle. No startled birds. No running feet. Just the same oppressive quiet. Ludwig’s grip on Durandal tightened slightly because silence that clean was never natural.

“Are you sure you saw something?” Grath asked.

“Let him be,” Kaiser replied, “He’s got better battle sense than you do.”

“I, Grath, battled for all life! I Grath have good sense!” the former chieftain felt offended.

“Then I shall come to you,” the Knight King said and moved a step forward.

In that step, many things happened.

The first was a diagonal swing of the sword.

The second was the rattling of all of the trees in the perimeter of Oathcarver.

And finally, the collapse of said trees. Along with the reveal of several Lizardmen behind them.

Green bodies that had been pressed flat against cover, waiting to strike. Scaled skin. Narrow eyes. Weapons held too ready. Their ambush had been real. Their patience had been wasted.

“AMBUSH! WE FIGHT!” Grath howled as he raised his greataxe with one hand.

“Calm down,” Ludwig said as he raised a hand, “Remember, I’m the chieftain now.”

Ludwig’s voice cut through the orcs’ rising roar. He didn’t shout. He didn’t need to. The authority was in the timing, in the way he stopped the surge before it became disorder. Grath’s howling was useful for morale, but it would ruin formation. Ludwig needed these orcs to move with purpose, not as a stampede.

Ludwig’s words jogged the memory of everyone here. They now followed Ludwig, not Grath.

Their eyes flicked to Ludwig, waiting. The shift was subtle but real. The Tower had given him a role, and roles came with obedience if you asserted them correctly.

“Take them out,” Ludwig ordered. This one was aimed at Gale, and Gale alone.

“Please pay attention to how I move. Ludwig,” Gale said as he crouched on one knee, Oathcarver aligned over his back, and with his left hand on the ground.

A prowl, no…a wolf-like stance.

The posture looked almost too fluid for a body that large, yet Gale settled into it like it was natural. The blade lay along his back like a loaded mechanism. His left hand pressed into soil and grass, fingers digging slightly for traction. Ludwig watched closely, because Gale had asked him to, and because Ludwig knew this was the Tower’s twisted gift. Even nerfed, mastery still looked like mastery.

Suddenly, he flew forward.

His feet pushed the ground and him at the same time.

The burst was violent and controlled. Grass flattened in a straight line behind him, dirt kicked up in a sharp spray, and the sound of it was a deep thump that made the nearby orcs flinch despite themselves. Gale moved like a siege weapon launched from a wall.

In that moment, he extended his left hand to grab the nearest lizardman by the neck and forced him to the ground.

The lizardman’s body hit earth with a wet crunch, and Ludwig saw the shock ripple through the scales as if the creature’s spine had been rattled loose. Gale didn’t stop there, he let loose the weapon that was aligned with his back like if it was the hand of a trebuchet. It culled everything that stood next to the lizardman, splitting them in halves.

Oathcarver’s arc was not a cut. It was a deletion. Bodies became pieces, and pieces became noise hitting dirt. The smell of blood hit the air immediately, hot and metallic, and the lizardmen’s hissed reaction turned from confidence into disarray.

The lizardmen hissed in disarray as they realized that they were the ones ambushed now. Their reaction was slow, but it was reaction anyway as one of them hurled a spear in his hands at Gale.

The spear flew with desperate speed, a straight line meant to punish overextension. Gale didn’t dodge. Dodging was for men who feared being hit. Gale used the environment like a weapon.

The latter didn’t wait and held the half-unconscious lizardman that he dug into the ground toward the spear.

The weapon pierced through, and as a reward for such a reaction, Gale threw the wounded lizardman toward the weaponless spearman.

The two collided together and were immediately split into bits when Gale followed after them with his sword.

The sequence was fast enough that Ludwig had to force his eyes to keep up in his slower body. Grab. Use the body as shield. Turn the shield into a projectile. Use the collision as a target. Then finish. No wasted motion. No flourish.

In quick succession, from one to the other, Gale never stopped, halted or even hesitated. Each swing of Oathcarver killed. He didn’t injure, he didn’t wound. He killed and eliminated.

Ludwig felt the lesson in his bones. Even at reduced stats, Gale’s technique made the difference. The Tower could suppress strength, but it couldn’t suppress decision-making. It couldn’t suppress a lifetime of knowing where to place the blade, so the outcome was inevitable.

The orcs behind Ludwig had gone silent.Even Grath stopped breathing for a moment.

This was not how orcs fought.

This was something far more precise.

’One swing, one Kill…’ Ludwig thought to himself as he saw the application of the Tyrant Blade in play.