The faint echo of bones shifting was still rolling through the cavern when Ludwig froze, his eyes narrowing at the sound that did not belong to stone or armor.
Then ca a rasping whisper, dry and uneven, yet carrying a strange steadiness.
"...I... can..."
For a heartbeat the cavern itself seed to hold its breath.
Thomas straightened mid‑hover, spectral brows lifting. The Knight King’s faint glow sharpened in surprise.
"Wait. Hold up." Ludwig’s voice cracked slightly in his own astonishnt as he turned sharply toward the sound. His boots scraped over the fungal‑slick stone, and the torchless gloom trembled faintly with the ripple of his mana. "You... can talk?"
The skeleton directly in front of him still bearing the remnants of old armor and crowned with tiny parasitic blooms, lifted its skull a little higher. The blue lights in its sockets flickered like distant lanterns. "I... suppose... yes..."
Even Thomas, who had seen much in his ti with Ludwig, shook his head in disbelief. "I find that surprising," he said after a pause. "Low-tier undead, especially hastily raised ones, should not be sentient. Not like this."
Ludwig shot him a sharp glance.
Thomas hastily replied ." You’re different, sure... weird, unsettling, and definitely not normal, but still, "
Ludwig sighed "All right, fair."
The skeleton shifted, ancient plates clattering. "It is... the book," it said, the voice as thin as air through dry leaves. "When... I was taken into its pages... sothing changed. That which remained of ... was given words."
Ludwig tilted his head, studying it in silence for a long mont. The dark mana around the Codex Necros pulsed faintly in his hip. "What’s your na?" he asked finally, his tone more cautious than curious now.
The undead stilled, its skull cocking slightly as if trying to rember. "I... have no na."
Ludwig’s shoulders sagged. "Then that pretty much settles it," he sighed, rubbing at his temple with the back of a gauntlet. "You’re going to be useless."
Thomas drifted a little closer, expression a mix of amusent and confusion. "Why? Because he can’t rember a na?"
"Exactly," Ludwig replied flatly. "If he doesn’t even rember who he is, how’s he going to recall anything else? Nas are root mories. He won’t be able to tell anything about what happened here."
The skeleton’s jaw clicked softly, like the beginnings of a chuckle though there was no humor in his voice. "You are... mistaken, master," it said, voice dry but steady now. "I do rember... everything that happened here. Every step... until the mont I died."
Ludwig’s eyes narrowed. His grip on Oathcarver tightened, and he stepped closer. "Then explain sothing to ," he said quietly. "How co you don’t rember your own na?"
A pause. Then the hollow voice again: "Because I died. And my na... died with . You may... give another. I will answer to it."
There was a pause as Ludwig digested that, his jaw tightening. The flicker of candlelight from a long-dead lantern caught his profile. Then, slowly, he huffed a laugh. "Sure thing, bud,"
"Then shall I... be nad Bud?"
Ludwig froze, stared at him, then pinched the bridge of his nose. "No! That’s, ugh, just a figure of speech!" He waved a hand as if swatting a mosquito. "Forget it. Fine. You want a na? How about... Bob."
"If the master wishes," the undead replied without hesitation. "Then I shall... be nad Bob."
A sudden pulse of magic rippled through the cavern like a distant heartbeat.
[Congratulations. You have nad your first Undead: Bob.]
[As a Nad Undead, they are now bound to you. Upon summoning an Undead, Bob the Skeleton will be summoned first.]
[Summoning and maintenance costs for Nad Undead reduced by 50%.]
The Codex Necros humd softly at Ludwig’s hip, runes glowing faintly on its spine.
Ludwig’s brows shot up. "Oh... well, that’s good news," he muttered, pacing a slow half-circle around the undead. His lips quirked. "Should I just... na everyone then, if it cuts the cost in half?"
But before he could even finish the thought, a sudden wave of exhaustion slamd through him like a crashing tide. His knees buckled slightly, and he caught himself on Oathcarver’s hilt, blinking against the sudden dizziness. He hadn’t felt fatigue like that since his mortal days, his undead body wasn’t supposed to feel this.
[Your understanding of necromancy is too low to na another Undead.]
[You may only na another Undead after 30 days.]
Ludwig straightened slowly, shaking his head with a faint grimace. "Well... I guess that answers that."
He rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling the phantom ache there, then let his gaze return to Bob. "All right then. Since you’ve got a voice... tell . What do you rember?"
Bob’s head tilted slightly, rusted pauldrons scraping. "I do not... rember how long we have been here," the undead said softly. "Ti is... strange in these halls. But I rember... we died from having given up. We died unable to fight back... the corruption. It spread in whispers, in shadows. It took... and took... until nothing remained."
Ludwig listened, expression unreadable, while the distant fungi pulsed with a faint, eerie glow.
"We were separated," Bob went on, his voice steadying as if mory gave him shape. "The dungeon itself scattered us. We wandered... through paths that looped back on themselves. Days... weeks, perhaps... until one of us... decided to rest. We gathered here. We thought... we were safe."
He gestured with one skeletal hand toward the tents, the broken remnants of lives long gone. "We hunted... but always we returned empty. And fewer in number. Until... we ceased to leave at all."
Ludwig’s brows drew together. "Tell about the things you fought," he said. His tone was calm, but sothing sharp edged beneath it.
Bob’s skull lowered slightly. "That... I cannot rember."
"What?" Ludwig barked, frowning. "Why?"
The undead’s shoulders sagged as though under an invisible weight. "Not for lack of trying... or lack of mory. It is as though... the creatures themselves left nothing behind. When the battle ended... only wounds remained. Only... death. No corpses. No trophies. No proof."
Thomas drifted closer, his faint form twisting as though the revelation unsettled him. "Sothing wiped their mories," he said quietly.
"Looks like it," Ludwig replied, folding his arms, eyes scanning the darkness. "Which... is bad. That ans whatever it is, we could have already fought it and forgotten. "
"No," the Knight King interrupted, his tone grave but certain. "That shouldn’t affect you."
Ludwig glanced at him. "And why’s that?"
"Because you are undead. Your mind is already beyond the reach of mortal fear and mortal tricks. No illusions of hunger, no exhaustion, no bending of mory. Whatever wiped them... cannot wipe you."
Ludwig exhaled slowly, a faint smirk touching his lips. "Let’s hope you’re right," he murmured, turning his gaze to the six yawning tunnels ahead. He crouched, running his fingers along the dirt, searching for signs of passage. "Which one was the last you tried?"
"All of them," Bob admitted. "We split and regrouped. Again and again. But the darkness took more each ti. We... resigned ourselves to wait."
Ludwig’s mind churned. He thought of the S‑class adventurers rumored to have returned. He thought of the old, rusted tags still pinned to so of these corpses, tags not so different from the one displayed on top of his own rigalia.
"What was your adventurer rank?" he asked suddenly.
Bob straightened slightly, bone creaking. "I was C class. Those two... were B class. And we had... an A class. But she..." His voice softened. "She entered that tunnel. And she never returned. No corpse. No word."
Ludwig’s eyes followed the direction of the bony finger pointing toward one particular path, a narrow, jagged slit in the rock. "You lost the most people through that one, didn’t you?"
Bob’s jaw clicked once in a grim nod. "Yes."
Ludwig rose to his full height, adjusting Oathcarver across his back. "Then I know which way I’m going."
Bob’s glowing sockets flickered. "Do you not... fear death?"
Ludwig laughed softly, the sound low and humorless. "Fear death?" He stepped forward, boots crunching over gravel and fungal growth. "I’m already dead. It’s you I worry about," he said, glancing at the line of skeletons now standing straighter, weapons ready. "Because I’ve never seen an undead hesitate to follow orders."
The nad undead straightened further, aura of loyalty crackling faintly. "As the master commands!" Bob’s voice rang hollow but proud.
They turned as one, the thirteen others clattering after him, swords drawn, staffs raised, rusted daggers gleaming faintly in the bioluminescent light. Ludwig followed, rolling his shoulders, Oathcarver humming faintly against his back. A thrill stirred in him, sothing he hadn’t felt in too long.
The tunnel narrowed as they marched, jagged rock scraping his pauldrons. The air thickened. Minutes blurred into an hour of steady marching, Ludwig’s senses razor-sharp, waiting for the faintest ripple of threat.
Then,
[You are in a hostile environnt.]
Ludwig’s eyes snapped wide, aura flaring. He ripped Oathcarver free. "Ready up!" he barked, voice echoing through the stone. "Enemy incoming!"
But before the skeletons could even form a line, the cavern ceiling split open. Sothing vast and shadowed fell upon them. It struck the ground with an impact that shook the earth, its arms like tree trunks, its face a blank mask of flesh with no features.
It swept one colossal arm across the front line, scattering spores and dust in its wake. Yet the undead didn’t crumble. No bones broke. No health bars dropped. It was as if an elusive wind brushed passed them.
Ludwig blinked, stunned. "What...?" He swung Oathcarver up, preparing to strike, but the creature blurred, sinking into the ground like liquid shadow.
[You are no longer in a hostile environnt.]
Ludwig’s frown deepened. He strode forward, scanning his undead carefully. "Report. Anything missing? Any injuries?"
Bob tilted his skull, flexing one arm. "No. No damage... but that thing... it felt... familiar."
Ludwig’s eyes narrowed. "Yeah. Probably whatever wiped your mories. Lovely."
He turned back to the path ahead, tightening his grip on Oathcarver. "Keep moving. Stay sharp."
The tunnel twisted again, ending at a massive boulder wedged into the rock, sealing a gap barely wide enough for a single person. Ludwig stepped closer, brushing away dirt to reveal a narrow passage just beyond.
One of the skeletons stepped forward first, ducking through the gap,
And a hand shot out. Frail, pale, unmistakably human, clamping around the skeleton’s neck with terrifying speed.
"WAIT!" Ludwig roared at his undead that were preparing to kill the intruder.
The figure stepped into the light. A familiar voice, soft but wary, drifted through the air.
"Ludwig?"
Ludwig’s breath caught. Relief flickered in his chest despite the ever-present dread. "Celine?"
She stepped further out, her face shadowed by the dim light, her movents stiff, strange.
"Where... did you end up?" Ludwig asked, taking one cautious step closer.
She didn’t answer. Her head tilted slowly, too slowly. Then,
[You are in a hostile environnt.]
Ludwig’s eyes widened as her expressionless face twitched. Her clawed hand shot out, straight for his chest, aid for his heart.
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