Deus Necros

Chapter 623: Escape

Unannounced, uncalled for, and unwanted, the Lustful Death bounded her way toward the group like a toppling mountain.

The sheer mass of her made the distance feel like a lie. She did not run so much as crash forward in great, violent bounds, and each landing felt like the world braced itself a heartbeat too late. Even before she reached them, her presence swallowed the space, a looming certainty that made every instinct in the body tighten.

And there was nothing they could do but watch as she was crushing everything in her way.

It wasn’t only the trembling ground that warned them, it was the heat that rolled ahead of her, thick and suffocating. The sand hissed and snapped under her feet, fusing into glass that cracked and scattered in glittering fragments. The air tasted of scorched minerals, and the sound of her approach was a brutal rhythm: impact, fracture, and the thin, brittle chime of molten shards cooling too quickly.

Ludwig’s body was still frozen, his being was unable to function or act as the Fallen Heart turned his blood into something new and different. He couldn’t even fight back, or protect himself. He could feel the change happening, deep and invasive, like something rewriting the rules of his body from the inside. His limbs refused even the smallest command. Not a step, not a flinch, not a reach for his weapon. His mind remained painfully aware, forced to watch his own helplessness while the world rushed toward him with murderous speed.

It was so futile that he simply sighed inwardly, renouncing his fate to try again in the next revival.

The thought came with bitter ease, not brave, not dramatic, just practical. If the only move left was death, then he would take it and return with whatever progress he could salvage. It was maddening, knowing exactly what was happening and still being unable to do anything but accept it.

Redd and Tull were the only two fully capable of fight as they stood in front of Ludwig and the prince, two small mantises trying to stop a cart. Hopeless and resolved.

They moved into place without discussion, bodies obeying duty and instinct. Redd’s stance lowered, claws ready, fur tense with alarm. Tull stepped forward with disciplined calm, sword poised, shoulders squared like he could argue with a mountain by refusing to step aside. They looked small in front of what was coming, but neither of them gave ground, even with hopelessness sitting heavy in their chests.

“Shit, I never thought I’d bite the dust so soon after killing a Usurper!” Redd said as the clobbering creature was merely a stone’s throw away.

The words were half curse, half attempt at humor, but his voice carried strain. He could feel the air changing, heat thickening, the distance shrinking too fast. The creature’s shadow seemed to stretch over them with every bound, and Redd’s instincts screamed that this was not a fight, it was a collision.

Both of the Lustful Death’s arms raised high in her final leap, aiming to come down with a blow that could uproot mountains and even drown the seas themselves. Something happened…

For a heartbeat she hung above them, enormous and brutal, arms lifted like executioner’s pillars. The world seemed to narrow into that descending motion, into the certainty of impact. Tull’s blade tensed upward on reflex. Redd’s claws flexed, ready to meet the impossible with stubborn violence.

And then the moment broke in a way none of them could predict.

The word took on a milky color, for a second even the world had nothing to say. Silence prevailed, so much of it that it was deafening.

The sound vanished as if someone had closed a door on reality. Not quiet, absence. Even breath felt too loud. The air turned pale and strange, and the stillness pressed against their ears until it became its own kind of roar.

The texture of the world turned to what felt and looked like oil paint, and suddenly, everything changed. Edges blurred. Motion smeared into thick strokes. The sense of space warped, like distance was being pulled and folded rather than crossed. It was nauseating in a subtle way, the kind of wrongness that makes the mind recoil because it realizes the rules can be rewritten.

The stink of the river vanished so completely it left a phantom behind, as if their bodies still expected it. The heat was gone mid-breath. The pressure of the looming monster disappeared as though it had never existed. Even the background presence of the souls, the constant sense of grief and memory, was cut away in an instant, leaving an eerie, unfamiliar cleanliness.

Instead, all four of them found themselves standing inside a hut that felt like it was not meant to be part of this world.

The air here was warm in a gentle way, not scorching, not heavy. It smelled of wood and something faintly herbal. The shift was so abrupt it stole their footing for a moment, as if the ground beneath them had quietly become a different ground with no obligation to explain itself.

A small cabinet, one would dare call it a home. A small table with a couple of stools for chairs. A well tidied bed, and a few books and trinkets all over the place yet organized in a cozy matter.

It was modest, almost ordinary, yet the ordinary details felt too deliberate, too carefully arranged. The table was clear enough to suggest regular use, and the books and small objects were scattered in a way that still looked intentional, lived-in, not abandoned. It was the kind of place that should have been comforting, except comfort didn’t belong after what they’d just escaped.

The rush of the battle was still strong, strong enough that Both Tull and Red didn’t even let go of their weapons, though Redd merely used claws.

Tull’s sword remained ready, his posture refusing to relax on principle. Redd’ shoulders remained tight, as if he expected the walls to attack. While Alex’s eyes widened, the shock of sudden safety mixing with confusion, because what stood before them didn’t match any sane explanation.

Ludwig on the other hand was the only one who felt familiarity with this place. Something in his expression shifted into recognition, subtle but undeniable. He didn’t look around like a stranger even though he couldn’t. He watched like someone reminded of a place he’d already filed away as real. The sense of it grounded him even while the others struggled to catch up.

“Damn, didn’t think I’d die and go to heaven, I was sure I’m someone who’d go to hell…” Redd said as he stared at the person who was in front of him.