Deus Necros

Chapter 479: Destruction Unchained

“I won’t make it in time following behind them, I have to intercept…” Ludwig muttered, his eyes narrowing on the distant figures. Far ahead, the scattered group of adventurers fled across the snow, their frantic silhouettes dwarfed by the stampede of creatures that poured after them. He could see the dark shapes loping faster and faster, their malformed limbs tearing through the frozen drifts with unnatural speed. Each heartbeat brought the monsters closer. The slope itself seemed to shudder under the thunder of their pursuit. Ludwig clenched his jaw. His stride lengthened, but even at his fastest, he knew the gap was too wide.

“Sure, say you intercept…” the Knight King’s voice rumbled at his side, sardonic and cool, “you think it wise to be using that?” His hand gestured casually, yet meaningfully, toward Ludwig’s back.

“You mean Nightfall?” Ludwig answered, his tone uneven, almost embarrassed as his breath misted heavily in the cold. “Yeah… I can’t even wield it yet. It just looks cool.” He forced a crooked smile, sheepish and strained, as though trying to make light of the weapon that dragged at him like a curse.

Thomas appeared at his other side, his spectral form flickering faintly in the crimson glow that stained the horizon. His gaze was sharp. “Yeah, and it’s slowing you down greatly. You should use Durandal…”

Ludwig grimaced. His boots pounded against the packed snow, the crunch reverberating in his chest. “Durandal might get recognized.” He called back Nightfall into his inventory.

“By who? By people in a random area of the world?” Thomas sighed, exasperation written across his translucent features.

Ludwig shook his head. “No. If we do save them, I can bet money they’ll be very detailed in how, or what, I wore and used. Someone will remember.” His voice carried a bitter edge. In a world like this, anonymity was armor. He couldn’t afford to let it slip, it was fine to be recognized as Davon, but knowing he was Ludwig would end him.

“What a shame,” the Knight King said, his tone dry. “If only Oathcarver were still functional. Now it’s nothing but a chunk of metal left on the handle.”

“I’m familiar with using chunks of metal as weapons,” Ludwig said, a hint of defiance in his tone. He tugged Oathcarver free, revealing the pathetic remnant, only the handle and a shard of hardened metal, the once-mighty blade shattered and stored in pieces within his inventory. He held it firmly nevertheless, gripping it as if the weapon’s spirit might still answer his call.

But a frown pulled at his brow. His eyes flicked to the snow ahead, then up toward the brooding sky. “Though… is it just me… or is it getting hotter in here?”

“Isn’t that a side effect of running non-stop?” Thomas asked, his voice edged with amusement. “Remember, you’re human now?”

Ludwig’s lips curled, his breath spilling harsh into the air. “No. I’m a living Vessel, not human. I still have my infinite stamina. The trait of Undead is still linked to this body. It’s just…” His chest heaved, his skin prickling with heat. “It’s getting absurdly hot. And absurdly… red.”

The sound came next.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

He felt it, pulsing deep within him. His heart, something he should not have had, something that belonged to the living, beat as though it had awoken to war. The rhythm was heavy, resonant, each throb aligned with the urge in his body to move faster, to strike harder. It was not simply life; it was battle incarnate, a drumbeat calling him to destruction.

A swell of energy coursed through his veins, heady and dangerous. It thrilled him, even as it frightened him. Something deep within his crystalline core resonated, expanding outward until his limbs hummed with it. Ludwig staggered briefly, then steadied himself. He recognized this sensation. Once, long ago, he had seen it in others. And once, only once, he had felt the barest echo of it himself.

His heart was resonating.

A fierce spirit surged through him, the will to fight rising like fire, but coiled within it was something darker, heavier. It was intoxicating. It was terrifying. Both power and ruin sang in his blood.

“Euh… what’s that?” Thomas asked suddenly.

“What’s what– HOLY SHIT!” Ludwig’s own voice rose sharply, his eyes widening.

He looked down. The broken weapon in his hand, the handle and fragment of Oathcarver, had changed. His gloved arm burned, as though molten steel poured into the hilt. From above the grip, red crystal erupted, thick and jagged, forming into a blade that glistened with the solidity of steel and the fury of fire. It was Oathcarver reborn, not as it had been, but remade in blood-red crystal.

His breath caught. He held it aloft, the crimson light shining in the reflection of his eyes.

“No, not that,” Thomas said hoarsely. His ghostly finger trembled as he pointed. “That’s not the weirdest thing about you. Your head. You have… horns.”

Ludwig froze, his free hand rising instinctively to his forehead. His gloved fingers brushed against hard ridges. He felt them curl upward, horns, solid, undeniable, protruding like the crown of some infernal creature. His stomach lurched.

“The hell is this?!”

“That is…” the Knight King muttered, his tone dark with intrigue. “…well… for lack of a better term… Aura.”

“This isn’t how Aura is supposed to be,” Ludwig said, his voice a harsh whisper.

“Well, Aura isn’t definitive,” the King replied. “It is the manifestation of your heart.”

“I don’t have a heart. And if I did, I sure as hell didn’t do that much evil to look like a damn demon!”

The King’s eyes gleamed. “Well, Demon or not, you do have a heart now. Though it isn’t yours. This…” He leaned in slightly, voice low with fascination. “…this is quite the interesting development. I never thought the heart of an Usurper of Death would imprint such changes. Quite remarkable.”

“This is creeping me out,” Ludwig muttered, unease shuddering down his spine.

“Do you feel constrained? Weakened in any way?” the King pressed. Newest update provided by novel※fire.net

“Not at all.” Ludwig’s grin was feral now, his eyes wide with manic energy. “I feel like I could fight a mountain with feet.” He twirled the new Oathcarver through the air, the crystal blade singing as it cut. The weight was different, lighter, swifter. His arms responded as though the weapon had been waiting for this moment.

“Well then. Good.” The Knight King gestured forward, toward the tide of monsters crashing across the snow. “Try this against that horde. You’re already at the interception point.”

“True,” Ludwig muttered. He slowed, his steps grinding to a halt as he came into full view of the adventurers ahead. They stood frozen, their breath frosting in the cold, their bodies stiff with terror. To Ludwig’s eyes, they looked trapped by the monsters that bore down upon them. What he did not realize was that much of their fear was directed not behind them, but at him. His aura, his horns, his presence, all radiated menace they could not comprehend.

Still, Ludwig forced his voice steady, calm. He raised his hand, blade gleaming crimson.

“Hey there… friends. Need a hand?”

The words hung in the air like mist, curling around the adventurers’ ears. He meant reassurance, but the sound of them carried the toll of death. Their eyes widened, not with relief, but with horror. Ludwig misread their silence as fear of the horde, never knowing that it was his own form that rooted them in place.

With a sudden burst of speed, Ludwig surged forward. His boots tore through the snow, his body blurring with momentum. The crimson crystal blade lifted high, its edges crackling faintly with heat.

One of the adventurers flinched, raising his bare hands in a pitiful attempt to shield himself, though they would have been paper before the blade of blood-crystal. Ludwig did not slow.

But he did not strike them. He passed between their frozen bodies, his cloak brushing their shoulders as he leapt beyond. His weapon cut a blazing arc against the white.

The horde met him.

And then the world split apart.

A single swing unleashed a wave of red energy that roared outward, exploding into the mass of creatures with the force of a wrathful god. Snow vaporized into steam, ice shattered into shards that whirled through the air, and the beasts were torn into fragments. The impact gouged a crater into the frozen field, water and blood mingling into boiling spray.

Half the horde disintegrated in that first blow. Ludwig turned, his horns glistening, his eyes alight, and swung again. The second wave ripped the survivors into pieces, scattering limbs and viscera into the snow until silence followed. The field was still, save for the hiss of cooling steam.

A cascade of notifications lit Ludwig’s vision, dozens upon dozens of glowing windows flashing across his sight.

He exhaled, his voice spilling into the crimson mist. “Ah… souls. It’s been a while since I last got to replenish my souls.”

He did not realize, until too late, that he had spoken aloud.

And the adventurers heard every word.