Deus Necros - Chapter 773: Regroup

It didn’t reply. Of course it didn’t. Towers never did when you were correct. They only spoke when you were about to make a mistake.

“Madman,” the copy spat, and it sounded less like judgment and more like frustration that Ludwig wouldn’t play the role he was meant to.

“We’re the same,” Ludwig replied. Not a comfort. Not a confession. A refusal to pretend the copy was above him just because it moved cleaner.

As the Wrathful Death swiped at the copy and tore it apart. It wasn’t a single decisive strike. It was a violent undoing, claws catching the copy’s torso, ripping through ribs, dragging him across stone like he was nothing but cloth.

The copy’s body split in a way that made the rooftop flash wet with blood. His head snapped to the side, eyes still open, still focused, still calculating even as the rest of him failed to keep up.

“I was never meant to win,” Ludwig said, “I was never meant to beat you. All I needed was to survive,” he looked at the Wrathful Death, “And you’re easier to survive than that guy, after all,” Ludwig pointed Durandal, “You have but seconds left to live.” He said it like a verdict. Not because he could kill the beast. Because the beast was already killing itself, and Ludwig had finally stopped getting in the way of that.

The wrathful Ludwig howled and charged at him only for Ludwig to take a step back, walked inside a black mirror and appeared on the other side of the city. The transition snapped the air, and Ludwig reappeared on cracked stone two streets away, boots landing in dust so thick it puffed up to his knees. The city was already half-ruined, but the giant’s rage made it feel like the remaining half was about to apologize for still existing.

The creature howled some more, and with nothing but sheer spite and rage, charged at Ludwig, tearing through buildings and structures like it was made of foam, and even grabbed a structure with one hand and hurled it at Ludwig. The thrown mass wasn’t a “building” anymore. It was a block of walls and floors and twisted beams spinning end over end like a thrown boulder. It blotted out what little light this floor allowed, and its shadow swallowed Ludwig’s stance.

“Dark bullets,” Ludwig pointed a finger and a dozen shots of black bullets tore through the incoming building, shredding it to bits. The bullets didn’t explode. They bored through matter with hungry silence, ripping the structure into splinters and dust that rained down like a dirty snowfall. None of the debris, even dirtied Ludwig’s clothes, as they all parted and fell all around him, never on him.

Once the Wrathful Death reached Ludwig in a jump, he simply flung his chain to the side, wrapped it around a beam, and pulled himself aside. The creature crashed into the building and began smashing it away, unable to realize that Ludwig had escaped.

Only when it started slowing down, only when its body began pumping blood out of its own muscles that tore and shred from being unable to contain the power of wrath did Ludwig appear again. Not close. Never close. Just close enough to be seen. Close enough to be chased. The giant’s breathing had changed, louder now, ragged in a way rage tried to hide. Cracks spidered through crystal growth. Red light flickered unevenly around its horns like a candle struggling in wind.

“You missed.”

Ludwig taunted, and disappeared using the black mirror, and the more the wrathful death destroyed and tore, and followed and chased, the more the wounds on its body grew. The pattern became cruelly simple.

Ludwig offered himself like bait, then vanished. The beast answered with violence that cost it more than it gained. It tore through walls and felt the strain. It leapt and felt tendons protest. It swung and felt joints grind. Every act of rage demanded a payment the body couldn’t afford.

Ludwig wasn’t injuring it; it was tearing itself apart. The distinction mattered. Ludwig didn’t need a weapon that could kill it. He needed time. He needed the beast to keep writing checks its flesh couldn’t cash.

Infinite power without reason is all it takes to destroy oneself.

Ludwig watched that truth unfold in real time, and if there was any satisfaction in it, it was only the satisfaction of a problem finally behaving predictably.

And soon, the hulking mass instead of running, rushing, tearing and destroying, could only struggle to move, slowly, aguishly, and barely, stagger and move like the world weighed on it. The giant’s steps became uneven, each one dragging a crater behind it. Its aura sputtered, flaring hard then dimming, as if the heart inside it couldn’t decide whether to explode or die.

It was barely able to lift its hands to strike down at Ludwig, who, instead of dodging, simply stood still. The palm struck right where he stood, but Ludwig wasn’t harmed. He had moved one step back and was right between two fingers of the creature.

“Missed again,” he tilted his head. The taunt wasn’t bravado. It was a pressure point. The beast wanted to hit him. It couldn’t. That failure fed its rage. That rage fed its collapse.

The rage in the body of the wrathful death was inexplicable, but also unable to manifest as it simply fell down, with its chin on the ground. The fall wasn’t graceful. It was a surrender the body made without the mind’s permission. Stone cracked under its weight. A cloud of dust rolled outward in slow waves.

The body’s heart that thumped loud enough to resonate in Ludwig’s head began slowing down, beating… weakly, slowly. Each beat felt farther apart, like a drum losing its drummer. The aura dulled around the horns, no longer crackling, no longer roaring, just simmering like coals suffocating under ash.

While the creature took deep breath after another. It sounded almost human now, and that made it worse. The deep, shuddering inhale of something too large, trying to pull enough air through a body that had burned itself raw.

Its wounds bled out, its body exhausted, and soon, it closed its remaining eye as its horns began to dematerialize first. Turning to red ash that fluttered in the air. The crystals along his body didn’t shatter. They dissolved, breaking down into powder that rose and spun in the dead wind. The massive form collapsed inward as if the rage that held it up had finally let go, and what remained was just… matter, surrendering.

A notification soon appeared in front of Ludwig.

Looking at the notification, Ludwig smiled.

***

[You have completed the fifth floor of the Tower of Trials. Self]

Please proceed to the next floor.

***

Ludwig looked up ahead, amidst the broken city, and noticed the large portal that just opened. Similar to the one that was on top of the mountain back at the Ogre camp.

He headed toward it and walked in. Immediately, he found himself in a new location, but this one was rather familiar. More circular.

The entrance to the tower. Only looking above, he saw the letters, XI.

The massive hall depicted warriors and fighters, all drawing weapons, aiming to reach the peak of a rising tower.

[You may rest for a small period of time. Your companions will join you soon after they are done with their own trials. If they succeed.]

Ludwig sighed. He needed to continue the trial as fast as he could, especially with the pressure he was getting from Necros being too ’interested’ in the tower, and the fact that he was sensing something was wrong happening outside.

But he couldn’t do much but wait.

And his waiting didn’t last long.

Suddenly, a portal opened, and Gale emerged.

Long gone was the muscular orc, and now returned the knight of iron.

Steel plated from head to toe, with his tower shield and the massive Oathcarver in his other hand.

“Ah, you have gotten here before me,” Gale said.

“How was your trial?” Ludwig asked.

Gale stalled for a moment before replying, “Interesting to say the least… I didn’t expect to be that… weak,” he said.

Ludwig frowned, but then realized that this man in front of him was the epitome of martial prowess and swordsmanship.

He was already a great being when he was a half-elf, a king of knights, and a ruler of a kingdom. And when he died, he only grew stronger. Fighting older versions of himself would only make him… well, a bully.

“Damn,” Kaiser’s voice echoed from behind the two, “Didn’t really think I’d be the last to get here, how long have you been waiting?”

“Just a bit,” Ludwig said.

Kaiser frowned, “How the hell did you win that fast?” he asked.

“I suppose we’re expecting we had the same trial?” Ludwig asked.

“Yeah, fighting older versions of ourselves. Wasn’t easy, I’m really hard to kill…” Kaiser said.

“Wait, you were allowed to fight back?” Ludwig asked.

The two, Gale and Kaiser, looked at each other, then at Ludwig, “You mean you fought yourself… without fighting back?”

“I wish. I had to fight the Wrath version of myself, and a version that’s too damn precise and accurate when it moved that… I don’t want to talk about it,” Ludwig sighed.

“Well, at least we’re done, four more floors to go.”

“Five,” Ludwig corrected.

“Ah, yes, the Pride floor… that’ll be fun,” Kaiser said.

“We’ll see about that,” Ludwig said as he stared at the ceiling, waiting for the next floor to open.