Deus Necros

“I can feel the rage,” Celine interrupted, her voice quieter now. “It’s a dark thing. It doesn’t sleep. It simmers. I’ve only been able to contain it thanks to my lineage…”

“How so?”

“Apathy,” she said simply. “True Vampires are born with it. We exist on a level detached from other creatures. It isn’t cruelty, it’s distance. That distance helps keep the rage from taking root.”

“Fascinating, Prideful in a way?” Ludwig said. “I think I have something similar to your Apathy, in a way.”

She arched a brow. “How so?”

“I’m dead.”

Celine smirked. “For what does emotion serve the dead, I see. Still… you’re far more expressive than any undead I’ve ever met, Ludwig.”

He blinked. “How did you…?”

“Here,” she said, turning the journal around and tapping a line with her nail. “Van Dijk wrote of you. Just a bit. Enough to see he trusted you.”

There was a silence. Heavy. Lingering.

Celine’s eyes drifted over the page. “Looks like my brother… managed to make a friend. Even after everything.”

Her voice dimmed as the truth of seven hundred years settled once more across her thoughts. Alone. He had endured that long… alone.

Then her ears twitched.

She turned her head, and Ludwig followed a beat later. A faint rustle behind the carriage, crisp, too clean to be wind, too soft to be Gorak. Something tread light.

“Company?” Ludwig said, already rising.

“Maybe…” Her eyes flicked once, sharp and ready.

“Keep calling me Davon for now,” he murmured.

“Of course.”

The fire cracked beside them, its light casting long flickers across the slumbering forms. Robin snored above, limbs sprawled. Gorak’s axe glinted where it rested across his lap. Redd’s sleeping bag stirred with a low grunt.

Then, another crunch. A branch, somewhere just past the tree line. Closer now.

Ludwig stood fully.

A voice rang out. Brittle. Uncertain.

“Help! Anyone? Please!”

Celine’s posture straightened. Her eyes narrowed to slits.

Ludwig exchanged a glance with her, then stepped forward, his boots crunching intentionally, letting the firelight fall behind him as he moved to meet whoever approached. His hand ready on his ring to draw Oathcarver if needed.

But the lack of a threat notification made him hesitant to cut down anything coming his way.

Two figures emerged from the trees. One staggered slightly, dragging a large, unwieldy case. The other held her upright, a protective arm across her shoulder. Their clothes were muddy, their hair unkempt, but there was something… off.

“We’ve, we’ve been walking for hours,” the one dragging the case gasped, practically collapsing with each step. “We got separated from our caravan…”

The other woman, Titania, stepped forward, just enough to catch the edge of firelight. Her hood was drawn, her clothing travel-worn and dust-smudged, but the way she moved was too exact. Too trained.

“Bandits,” she rasped. “Sirs. Please. We need shelter. Just for the night.”

Ludwig squinted at her. The pitch of her voice, the way she scanned the area, there was a rhythm to it, rehearsed. He caught the tension in her frame, the predator’s stillness behind the civility.

His eyes glinted faintly.

Well, well… this one’s fun.

His instinct kicked in. The mana in his eyes pulsed.

[Unable to Inspect!]

[The target’s level is incredibly higher than yours!]

Titania snapped her head around almost immediately, her gaze cutting into the shadows like a thrown blade.

Ludwig realized it there and then, and remembered that most powrful people would recognize [Inspect] as a pervasive act to see into their person. He didn’t speak.

Titania however, she masked it well. “I thought it was a pursuer,” she said, voice neutral.

“Ah… yeah. Anyways, you’re lucky,” Ludwig said with a faint smile. “There’s still some soup left.”

Titania looked up, feigning relief so effortlessly it would have fooled most. “Oh thank the gods. You’re… euh, are you from the Order?”

Ludwig raised a brow. “No. Why would you say so?”

She pointed at the bloodied wrappings near Redd. “No one survives that kind of blood loss without Order healing. Unless…”

“We have our own healer,” he said smoothly.

Titania blinked, then, quite deliberately, dropped the act. The tension in her shoulders uncoiled. “Perfect,” she said, stepping forward. “Couldn’t stand one more night with those tithing sycophants anyway.”

Misty gave a small cough. “Subtle,” she muttered.

Robin’s voice floated down from above. “We got visitors?”

“Friendly,” Ludwig called back.

“Define friendly,” Robin said, already reaching for his crossbow.

Celine rose, silent. Her eyes locked on Titania. She didn’t move, didn’t blink.

“That looks too heavy to be travel gear,” she said quietly.

Titania smiled back. “Indeed. We were in a rush. Also… is it just me, or does it smell rather coppery around here?”

Celine didn’t flinch. Her silence spoke volumes.

“Who the hell’s yelling…?” Redd groaned from within the sleeping bag.

“Company,” Ludwig called.

“Is it dangerous?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

Ludwig’s gaze never left Titania. “On how long they plan on staying.”

Titania grinned, broad and sharp, teeth flashing in the firelight. “Long enough to get warm… maybe throw someone into a tree. But only if they’re rude.”

Robin muttered, “That can be arranged.”

Misty finally dropped the case with a groan. “Soup?”

Melisande poked her head from the carriage, blinked at the scene, then went stiff. “Holy fu… ” she yelped, cutting herself off as she ducked back inside.

Titania watched her retreat. “Your healer, I suppose.” She smiled. “So. May we?”

Ludwig nodded, motioning to the fire. “You’re welcome to sit. But I want names.”

Titania crossed her arms with deliberate ease. “Call me Anna. This is Misty. We’re headed toward Tulmud.”

Ludwig lifted a brow. “What a coincidence.”

“Oh, does that mean you’re also headed that way? Quite fateful,” she said, voice laced with mock sweetness.

They sat. Misty collapsed more than settled. Titania took a log with all the gravity of a throne.

Celine remained standing, eyes never leaving her.

Titania reached for the ladle, scooping soup without hesitation. “That carriage… strong enchantments. Clean layering. Who’s your mage?”

Ludwig smiled faintly. “I’d rather ask you the same.” He pointed at the case. “That thing’s leaking mana like a novice’s first spell scroll.”

Titania met his eyes across the fire. For a long moment, the world narrowed to the space between them.

Neither had given their real name.

Neither thought the other harmless.

Neither, yet, had chosen to act.

But there was soup.

And, for tonight, that was enough.

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