{Your understanding of necromancy is far too low to use Raise Undead on [Tibarian Knight King]}
{Your Wisdom Level is far too low to use Raise Undead on [Tibarian Knight King]}
{Your Mana pool is far too low to revive [Tibarian Knight King]}
{Your Charisma Stat is far too low to control [Tibarian Knight King]}
The notifications flashed before Ludwig’s eyes, each one a stark reminder of his inadequacy. He stared at the lifeless body of the Knight King, his mind racing with frustration and disappointment. The corpse lay before him, its once-imposing form now still and silent, a testament to the power it had wielded in life. Ludwig had hoped to turn it into an ally, a weapon to aid them in the battles to come. But the system’s warnings were clear—he was not ready.
“Tsk,” Ludwig clicked his tongue, his frustration bubbling to the surface. He clenched his fists, the shard in his hand trembling slightly as he fought to contain his emotions.
“What were you hoping to achieve?” Van Dijk’s voice cut through the silence, cold and sharp. Ludwig turned to see his master in the process of recovering his lost blood, his expression unreadable. Van Dijk’s eyes, usually filled with a mix of amusement and mild irritation, were now as cold as the first day they had met. The easygoing demeanor Ludwig had grown accustomed to was gone, replaced by a stern, almost icy presence that seemed inches away from lashing out.
Ludwig hesitated, sensing the weight of his master’s disapproval. “I tried to revive this corpse,” he admitted, his voice steady but tinged with defensiveness. “It would have been helpful to use, especially since we’ll probably fight against the owner of this place soon.”
Van Dijk took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling slowly as if he were holding back a storm of words. When he finally spoke, his tone was measured but laced with a quiet intensity. “I’ll forgive it, only once. This time and this time alone.” He paused, his gaze piercing. “Ludwig, do you know what I hate most in people?”
Ludwig felt a chill run down his spine. He had seen Van Dijk annoyed, frustrated, even amused, but this was different. This was anger, simmering and dangerous. “No, master,” Ludwig replied, tilting his head slightly, his voice cautious.
“It’s complacency, and arrogance,” Van Dijk said, his words cutting through the air like a blade. “One is only allowed to be arrogant if they have the power to back it up. But you, Ludwig, you neither have the strength to be complacent nor the skill to be arrogant. Yet you dared to revive something far stronger than you, far more powerful, and far more dangerous.”
Ludwig opened his mouth to respond, but Van Dijk raised a hand, silencing him. “I understand,” Ludwig said quickly, hoping to placate his master.
“No, you don’t!” Van Dijk snapped, his voice rising. “If you did, you wouldn’t have done the same thing those two fools did to you!” He pointed an accusatory finger at Ludwig, his eyes blazing. “By what right do you think you can call upon the dead with such meager understanding? By what confidence do you think it will bow its head to you? And most importantly, by what foolish idea did you think you’d succeed?”
Ludwig flinched, his mind racing for a response, but he found none. Van Dijk’s words struck a nerve, each one a painful reminder of his own limitations. He lowered his gaze, unable to meet his master’s piercing stare.
Van Dijk sighed, the anger in his voice giving way to a weary frustration. “It’s about time for our second lesson anyway,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “Ludwig, what is needed for one to summon the dead?”
Ludwig straightened, grateful for the shift in tone. “A body and a contract with Deus Necros,” he recited, his voice steady. “The sigils are the contract, and the body is the medium. Necros would then give the soul that belonged to the body for the necromancer to control and command.”
Van Dijk nodded, but his expression remained stern. “A textbook answer. It is correct but incomplete. What you’re missing is respect for the corpse. Necros gives you the soul for the body, but if you have no respect for it, why would it ever follow you? Weak or strong, they have already died and perished. You’re commanding them back to life from their eternal rest. The least you can do is respect their bodies.”
He paused, his gaze shifting to the Knight King’s corpse. “What you did is the opposite. You have too little understanding of necromancy to summon something this powerful. Even I would take days of preparation for a corpse this strong to even attempt to revive it.”
Ludwig nodded, absorbing his master’s words. He glanced at the guard he had summoned earlier, the one now standing silently beside him. Van Dijk followed his gaze and gestured toward the undead soldier. “As for guard,” he said, his voice tinged with disapproval, “look at what’s happening to its body.”
Ludwig turned to see the guard’s form slowly withering and crumbling. At first glance, it had seemed stable, but now, in the stillness, the decay was unmistakable. The flesh was rotting away, the bones growing brittle, and the armor rusting at an unnatural rate.
“I don’t know what you did to even be able to summon it in that form in the first place,” Van Dijk continued, “but even that guard is too much for you. It’ll soon perish.”
Van Dijk was neither entirely correct nor wrong. Normally, the guard’s body would have crumbled much faster due to Ludwig’s lack of understanding. But the Codex, with its mysterious power, was offsetting the strain, delaying the inevitable.
“But this thing?” Van Dijk gestured to the Knight King’s corpse. “It would require far more effort to summon. If not, all you’ll obtain is a weak corpse—a mindless skeleton or zombie at best, serving as nothing but fodder.”
“Mass necromancy is easy to achieve. I have shown you such earlier because those were the bodies of citizens and weaklings, it wouldn’t matter if you case rise undead on them in mass. They’re nothing but fodder. But for something this strong, this powerful, you need to give it the proper respect it needs. Rituals are done for a reason. Even if your body had undergone such a ritual, you were handled by the wrong people. Instead of resurrecting what I would suspect to be a powerful heroic-level undead, you were brought back as nothing but a skeleton. It would be a shame to waste the precious corpse of a king who led a nation and even managed to have me use more than a fourth of my strength to fight it, to be brought back as a mindless walking corpse. A true shame.”
Ludwig nodded again, his frustration giving way to a grudging acceptance. He had overreached, and his master’s words were a harsh but necessary reminder of his limits.
“Enough of me being harsh on you,” Van Dijk said, his tone softening. “Now, I see that you’re interested in this corpse, which is fine. Collect it. You should have enough space in your ring for that.”
“Right, master,” Ludwig said, moving to comply. But as he reached for the Knight King’s body, the book at his side stirred.
[1 Tibarian Guard’s corpse has been discarded from the Codex.]
The book flew open, its pages fluttering as a dark vortex emerged. The Knight King’s corpse was pulled into the book, its shattered form reassembling before Ludwig’s eyes. Flesh, bone, and armor were reconstructed, the sword and shield restored to their former glory.
[Tibarian Knight King’s Corpse has been stored.]
[It is currently unusable as an Undead. Sealed.]
[Umbra Malvolume Codex Necros is full. Please increase your proficiency in Necromancy to expand its size.]
“What was that?” Van Dijk asked, his curiosity piqued.
“Oh, the book,” Ludwig explained. “It’s able to store corpses. That’s where that guard was… I think the hound is also inside it, but it’s refusing to come out.”
Van Dijk’s eyes narrowed as he studied the book. “I see…a Necronomicon indeed. I didn’t expect it to have a storage option… perhaps it has something else to it, you said the guard came out of the book?”
Ludwig nodded.
“Hmm, seeing the shadowy aura around them, I can assume the book is able to protect the corpses to an extent and preserve them… Keep that book safe. It looks to be something very special.”
“Stow,” Ludwig commanded, pointing at the crumbling guard. The undead soldier was absorbed into the book, and its form is preserved for now.
“Let’s go inside,” Van Dijk said, his tone returning to its usual briskness. “We’ve kept our host alone for a bit too long.”
Ludwig nodded, falling into step behind his master as they headed toward the cathedral. The weight of Van Dijk’s lesson lingered in his mind, a reminder of the respect and understanding required to wield the power of necromancy.