Ludwig’s fingers twitched over the fallen Rat Lord’s remains, the adrenaline still coursing through his undead veins making his movements slightly jerky. “Still,” he said slowly, turning the core fragment over in his palm, “it doesn’t sit right with me to revive them. At my current level, I’d probably only manage skeletal forms – mindless husks without memories or speech.” He gestured vaguely toward the dungeon’s upper levels, where the family’s remains lay. “Otherwise, I would have started with this guy’s corpse first.” His finger pointed accusingly at the miniature Knight King.
The spectral warrior’s armor clanked as he drew himself up to his full (if diminutive) height. “Don’t you dare!” The words rang with such regal outrage that they seemed too large for his tiny form.
Ludwig rolled his eyes, the motion making dried blood crackle on his forehead. “It’s not like you have a choice in the matter.” He paused, then added with deliberate provocation, “Not to mention, you didn’t even give me many souls for your trouble.”
Thomas floated closer, his glow pulsing with curiosity. “What do you mean?”
With a theatrical flourish, Ludwig summoned two glowing orbs from his inventory. They pulsed with a deep blue light, far brighter than the feeble souls they’d collected from normal rats. “Look at this – the Rat Lord gave me two Brave Souls.” He glanced pointedly at the Knight King. “You only gave one. And the Rat Lord was only level 85… I guess that makes him stronger than the so-called Knight King.”
“PREPOSTEROUS!” The bellow shook dust from the ceiling, the Knight King’s tiny form swelling with outrage until his spectral armor threatened to burst. “You compare me to a filthy rodent?!”
Ludwig examined his broken nails with feigned nonchalance. “I’m not comparing. I’m stating facts. He gave more, which makes you objectively weaker.” He couldn’t resist adding, “At least as far as soul value goes.”
The shadows obscuring the Knight King’s face darkened to an almost comical degree, his form vibrating with barely contained fury. “That’s rich coming from someone who wields the Tyrant Blade like a peasant swinging a rake!”
Ludwig shrugged, the motion sending flakes of dried blood drifting to the floor. “I’m using what I know from the Tyrant Blade’s Technique book. You’re the original practitioner, aren’t you?” He paused for effect. “Though for a style supposedly designed to slay beasts, it’s… underwhelming.”
“BLASPHEMY!” The Knight King’s tiny gauntlets clenched so hard that spectral sparks flew. “The fault lies with the wielder, not the art!”
Another shrug, deliberately casual. “Say what you want. At this point, I might as well go back to the Imperial Style. At least that—”
“FINE! FINE!” The Knight King’s outburst sent Thomas floating backward in surprise. The tiny warrior drew himself up, his chest plate puffing out. “I shall deign to instruct you in the proper use of the Tyrant Blade! Then you’ll witness its true glory!”
Ludwig couldn’t help but hide his smile. After all, the Royals’ pride is their biggest weakness.
A golden notification shimmered into existence before Ludwig:
[The Knight King of Tibari, First Tyrant, has agreed to instruct you in the True Path of the Tyrant Blade]
[When using Trace, you will now perceive the perfected flow of Tyrant Blade techniques]
[Under the Knight King’s tutelage, Tyrant Blade proficiency increases 200% faster with 50% reduced effort]
The Knight King blinked at his own translucent hands. “Huh? I can… do that?” A small status screen in front of him materialized, making his helmet tilt in confusion.
Ludwig leaned forward. “What’s it say?”
“None of your concern, upstart!” the Knight King snapped, though his voice lacked its usual venom.
Thomas, who had floated behind the armored spirit, read over his shoulder. “It says Deus Necros will repair his soul corruption if he teaches you properly.”
“YOU INSOLENT SPECTER!” The Knight King whirled on Thomas, his tiny sword drawn. “Those were private divine communications!”
“My apologies,” Thomas weakly held his hands up, though his smile betrayed his words.
Ludwig couldn’t suppress a grin. “Well then, looks like we have a deal!” He turned his attention back to the loot, running a finger along the Rat Lord’s belt. The leather was strangely supple despite its age, with an almost metallic texture. “But first, let’s see what our furry friend left us…”
The belt was wider than normal, its surface etched with crude but effective runes. Several small pouches lined its length, capable of holding vials and potions of all kinds. As Ludwig lifted it, the leather seemed to ripple unnaturally, as if remembering its original owner’s movements.
***
[Rat Lord’s Black-Belt] – [Set Item]
Type: Heavy Belt
Condition: Soul Level 60
+150 Strength
+100 Agility
0 or less Intelligence [Ineffective Stat] -(The User does not have Intelligence stat- this Condition can be ignored)
Bonus Attributes:
+20 Strength
+20 Vitality
+20 Agility
-10 Intelligence [Ineffective Stat](The User does not have Intelligence stat- this Condition can be ignored)
[Passive Skill:] [Rampage] [Conditions Unmet] Requires 2/3 Rat Lord set pieces
Lore: Forged from the hide of the first werewolf the Rat Lord slew, this belt channels the beast’s primal fury. Each wearer grows stronger as their wounds accumulate – but beware, for the line between hunter and hunted grows thin indeed.
***
“Damn,” Ludwig whistled, running his thumb over a particularly nasty-looking clasp fashioned from what appeared to be a knucklebone. “This is serious gear. The stat boost alone…”
Thomas drifted closer, his glow reflecting off the belt’s surface. “Check the other one. If they’re a set…”
Ludwig was already holding up the amulet. The central piece was a small rodent skull, flanked by two massive fangs that curved like scimitars. The entire piece thrummed with latent energy, making Ludwig’s fingers tingle uncomfortably.
[Rat Lord’s Amulet] [Set Item]
Type: Magic Amulet
Condition: Soul Level 60
Bonus Attributes:
+300 Mana
+50 Vigor
+20% Mana Regeneration
[Warding Distortion]:
-10% melee damage taken within 3 meters
-10% magic damage taken beyond 3 meters
Lore: Crafted from the skull of the White Macabre Mouse and fangs of a Great Dire Wolf, this amulet warps space around its wearer. Attacks seem to slip aside, as if the very air conspires to protect its master.
***
Thomas’s glow flickered in what Ludwig had learned was the equivalent of raised eyebrows. “These aren’t just powerful… they’re bespoke. The Rat Lord must have made them himself.”
Ludwig turned the amulet over, noting the intricate carvings on the reverse side – crude but unmistakably deliberate enchantment work. “A self-taught enchanter were-rat. Now I’ve seen everything.” His shoulders slumped slightly. “Too bad I can’t use them yet.”
His gaze drifted to the two Brave Souls pulsing in his inventory. They glowed with an almost hungry light, as if sensing his attention. The solution was obvious, but…
“You’re gonna use those things to level up, I presume,” Thomas asked, following his line of thought.
Ludwig chewed his lip. “They’d probably push me over level 60. But Brave Souls are rare…” He glanced at the Knight King, who was pointedly examining the dungeon wall. “Though apparently not as rare as Royal ones.”
The Knight King’s armor rattled with indignant fury, but for once, he held his tongue. The promise of soul restoration apparently outweighed his pride – for now.