Deus Necros

The hand that rose from the snow was long-fingered, gray-skinned, its nails blackened by frost. It did not claw or lunge. Instead, it emerged slowly, palm open and fingers spread, as though whatever lay beneath was making a deliberate effort not to appear threatening.

Ludwig kept Durandal raised regardless.

The snow around the camp remained undisturbed. There were no ripples, no shifting shapes, only the wind dragging thin lines across the surface and the lingering sense that something had been there long before they arrived.

Redd’s nose wrinkled as he sniffed the air. "Not rot," he muttered, correcting himself. "Old fur. Wet stone. Blood, maybe. Hard to tell."

"That is comforting," Tull said dryly, aura already coating his body again. "I prefer when hidden things smell normal."

"No hidden thing smells normal," Cain replied.

"Again, not helping."

The figure pulled itself slowly out of the snow, revealing a form that was almost human, and that was precisely what made it unsettling. Its shoulders were broad, its spine hunched, its arms longer than a man’s, and its hands large enough to crush a skull. Its face bore fragments of human structure twisted into something harsher: a heavy brow, flattened nose, wide jaw, and eyes set deep beneath ridges of bone. Coarse dark hair covered its arms, back, and neck, matted with frost, while the rest of its gray-white skin was roughened by cold and marked with scars that seemed both tribal and savage.

It was neither beast nor human, but something that existed between the two.

The creature did not fully rise. Half its body remained buried, as though it had no intention of exposing more than necessary.

Thomas drifted closer to Ludwig’s shoulder. "I hate when things are quiet."

Kaiser tilted his head, interest lighting his expression. "Oh. How rare."

"That sounded bad," Redd said.

"It is not bad. It is interesting."

"Same thing when you say it."

The creature turned its head toward Kaiser, then toward Ludwig. Its lips parted, revealing blunt teeth mixed with sharper ones.

"We pass," it said.

The voice was low and rough, but unmistakably clear.

Tull blinked. "It talks."

The creature’s gaze shifted to him. "You also talk."

Redd let out a short laugh before catching himself. Tull looked mildly offended but conceded with a nod.

Ludwig did not lower Durandal, though the tension in his arm eased slightly. The creature was not behaving like a predator. It was not circling or preparing to strike. If anything, it seemed ready to retreat at the first sign of danger.

His eyes flickered with light as he activated his ability.

[Inspect]

[Nharuk Exile]

[Level 74]

[Race: Nharuk]

[Status Effect: Starved]

[Status Effect: Frost-Buried Torpor]

[Status Effect: Residual Stillness]

[Status Effect: Exiled]

[Lore: A sentient snow-burrowing breed from beyond Solania’s ruin lines. The Nharuk survive beneath the white crust of the Dark Continent. This one was cast out from his burrow-kin for a reason he refuses to surrender. Exile should have killed him. Instead, he slept beneath the snow while stillness marched above.]

Ludwig studied the information longer than necessary. The implications settled heavily in his mind. The Dark Continent was not just a wasteland of monsters and armies, it held life. Harsh, hidden, and alien life, but life nonetheless.

"You’re from beyond the frozen lands," Ludwig said.

The creature’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"That far north," Ludwig continued, lowering Durandal just a fraction. "The Dark Continent."

The Nharuk’s lips pulled back faintly. "Men call it that."

"What do you call it?"

"Home."

The answer made the wind feel colder.

Cain’s gaze sharpened, while Redd instinctively glanced around, expecting more to appear. The snow, however, remained still. Tull tightened his cloak, clearly unsettled by the realization that something intelligent lived this far north.

Ludwig lowered Durandal another inch. "We’re not here to hunt you."

"Good," the Nharuk replied. "Bad hunt. Hard meat."

Redd muttered, "I like him."

The creature’s gaze flicked toward him. "Wolf-man smells loud."

"I take it back."

Celine stepped closer to Ludwig, her blade ready but not raised. "Why were you under our camp?"

"Was here first."

"That does not answer the concern."

"Snow deep. Wind bad. Fire warm." The Nharuk glanced at the campfire with something resembling longing. "You came loud. I wait. You sleep. I leave."

"No tribe?" Ludwig asked.

The creature’s expression hardened. "No tribe."

The word exile hung unspoken but obvious.

"Why were you cast out?" Ludwig pressed.

The Nharuk’s face closed off. "No tell."

Kaiser stepped forward, ignoring Tull’s silent plea not to provoke the creature. "You were exiled before Sloth’s army passed."

The Nharuk looked at him, confusion flickering briefly.

Kaiser smiled faintly. "The pale giant. Many eyes. Army black enough to make the north feel lazy."

The creature stiffened, sinking slightly deeper into the snow without seeming to move.

"That," it said quietly, "not speak too loud."

Ludwig’s grip tightened. "You saw him?"

"No." The answer came too quickly. "No see. Hear. Feel. Snow stop being cold. Breath stop wanting out. Arms too heavy. Even burrow..." It pressed a hand into the snow.

"Even burying yourself becomes tedious when that one moves." Kaiser finished for him.

Silence followed.

The description was unmistakable. It was Sloth, not in full force, but in presence. The oppressive drag that made effort itself feel pointless.

"You were under the snow when his army marched," Cain said.

The Nharuk nodded once. "Already sleeping. Lucky. If above, would not dig. If awake, would not hide. Old tales say when black army walks, go under white. I thought parents lie."

"They did not," Ludwig said.

"No."

The creature looked north, and for the first time, something like shame crossed its face. "Many did not believe. Many watched. Many followed too slow. Many became road."

Tull swallowed hard as the wind swept snow between them.

Kaiser stepped closer, curiosity burning in his eyes. "Where are your burrows?"

The Nharuk said nothing.

"How many tribes?" Kaiser continued. "Do you migrate or stay fixed? What do you eat? Do you serve the black army, avoid it, worship it?"

"Kaiser," Ludwig warned.

The former lich ignored him. "Do you remember the old kingdoms? The ruins beyond the pass? What lives beneath the ice?"

The Nharuk’s fingers dug into the snow. "No share."

Kaiser’s smile thinned. "You are very committed to being unhelpful."

"Alive because unhelpful."

"That is annoyingly reasonable."

The creature looked back at Ludwig, as if deciding he was the least dangerous among them. "We not threat. Leave me. I leave soon."

Ludwig considered his options. He could force answers, threaten, or extract information by necessity. The north had already proven that ignorance was deadly. Yet the Nharuk had not attacked. It had warned them in its own way, and it was clearly starving and alone.

After a moment, Ludwig lowered Durandal completely. "Go then."

Tull glanced at him. "Just like that?"

"Unless you want to politely demand directions after threatening it."

Tull hesitated, then shook his head. "I withdraw the concern."

The Nharuk studied Ludwig for a moment before bowing its head slightly, not in submission, but acknowledgment. "South-men strange."

"You have no idea," Redd replied.

The creature sank back into the snow with practiced ease, disappearing piece by piece until only a faint disturbance remained. Moments later, even that was gone.

The camp fell silent again.

Thomas exhaled. "So there are people out there."

"Not people," Tull said automatically.

Cain gave him a look.

Tull grimaced. "You know what I mean."

"No," Celine said. "That is the problem."

Redd crouched where the Nharuk had vanished, sniffing lightly. "He’s been starving."

"Exile, huh" Ludwig said. Ludwig looked north.

Cain’s eyes narrowed. "Then the Dark Continent is not empty."

"Of course it isn’t," Kaiser said. "Only humans assume a place that kills them must be devoid of life."

Cain nodded slightly. "There were rumors. Shapes under snow. Hunters vanishing. Voices beneath drifts. Most dismissed them as madness."

"Madness sounds easier," Tull muttered.

Celine spoke after a moment. "If they have tribes, they have settlements. Routes. Food sources. Enemies."

"And if they hide when the black army marches," Ludwig added, "then Sloth’s army isn’t the only force out there."

Redd stood. "Does that help us?"

"Not yet."

"Great."

"But it means there’s more to learn."

Cain turned away. "Then learn while moving. Dawn is close."

The camp settled again, though no one truly rested. The encounter had changed something. The north was no longer just a dead land, it had its own rules, its own survivors, its own fears.

When the black army appears, hide beneath the snow.

Ludwig returned to his tent, though sleep was unlikely. He sat with Durandal nearby, listening to the wind. Outside, the fire burned low. Tull eventually lay down, Redd lingered, and Kaiser remained awake, no doubt already dissecting the implications. Thomas curled near Ludwig’s pack, pretending calm.

A soft sound came from the entrance.

Celine stepped inside without asking.

"You know," Ludwig said, "most people announce themselves."

"You knew it was me."

She sat across from him, her expression calm but alert. Neither of them needed sleep the way others did.

After a moment, she said, "I heard rumors."

"That’s usually bad."

"About the Emperor."

"That’s worse."

"And marriage."

Ludwig sighed. "Of course."

Celine smiled faintly. "Should I congratulate you?"

"No."

"Pity the princess?"

"Also no."

"Warn the elves?"

"It was nonsense," Ludwig said. "The Emperor was pressuring me."

"And the Queen?"

"She started it."

Celine’s smile widened slightly.

"It wasn’t serious," Ludwig continued. "Even if it had been, it wouldn’t work."

She studied him.

Ludwig looked at his hand. It appeared human, warm, alive, but he knew the truth beneath it. "I’m not human," he said quietly. "This body is a Living Vessel. Underneath, I’m undead. Marriage into the Empire would be... wrong. Like building a house on a coffin."

Celine’s gaze lowered briefly, relief flickering across her face before she masked it.

"So not the imperial princess," she said.

"No."

"The elven princess?"

"No."

"Lorina did ask you to return."

"She said my company was good."

"That’s worse."

"It isn’t."

"It is when said by an elven princess."

Ludwig only stared, was she jealous or something?

Celine leaned back slightly. "And the Elbaf girl?"

Ludwig blinked, then frowned as he remembered. "Wasn’t she with the church?"

"Her house called her back."

"Huh."

"You forgot her."

"I had many things trying to kill me."

"That excuse is becoming convenient."

"It’s still accurate."

Celine’s eyes glimmered. "You attract troublesome women."

"I attract trouble. Some of it happens to be women."

"That’s a dangerous distinction."

"It’s an important one."

"You’re a womanizer."

"I am absolutely not."

"Imperial princess. Elven princess. Elbaf noble. Ancient vampire."

"You included yourself."

"I said troublesome women."

"bruh..."

She smiled, and for a moment the tent felt warmer.

Their conversation drifted after that, touching on the Nharuk, the north, and Cain’s blunt nature. Neither slept. The wind continued until dawn began to break.

Eventually, Thomas stirred, Kaiser argued with Redd outside, and Tull cursed the cold.

Then Cain coughed loudly outside the tent, a deliberate, pointed sound.

Celine’s expression flattened.

Ludwig sighed. "Wonderful."

"Let’s move," Cain called.

Celine stood and opened the tent. Cain waited outside, arms folded, his gaze shifting between them without comment.

Somehow, that was worse.

Ludwig stepped into the gray dawn, Durandal at his side. Behind them, the snow had already erased all traces of the Nharuk. Ahead, the trail of Sloth’s army stretched deeper into the Dark Continent.

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