He reached into the folds of his robes and retrieved a small object from his ring—a paper scroll, no larger than a palm-width.
With a flick of his wrist, he slid it toward Timur.
“This,” he said, “is what we’ve received from the Vampire Hunters.”
Timur caught it in one hand, his brow furrowing as he unraveled it. His eyes scanned the writing. Slowly, his lips pulled into a thin line.
His silence was telling.
Then he passed the scroll to Ludwig.
Ludwig read.
The letters were scrawled in a strange hand—fast, urgent. The ink stained, like the writer had gripped the quill too tightly. Names. Locations. Descriptions of events. Strange disappearances. Bloodless corpses. Whispers of howls in the fog. Entire supply lines going silent.
Not once, not twice, dozens. And the location? The Dawn Islands, again and again.
Ludwig frowned.
“…This is ironic,” he murmured.
The Baron looked at him sharply. “You mean you recognized something in the letter?”
Ludwig’s eyes didn’t leave the parchment.
“I suppose,” he said slowly, “you could say we’ve already experienced something like this. Not even a week ago.”
He looked to the date scribbled in the corner of the scroll.
“…But if this has been happening for a couple of weeks now…”
He let the thought hang in the air like smoke.
“…Then I think it’s too late for them.”
The wine suddenly seemed less sweet.
The silence that followed his words wasn’t abrupt—it sank into the room like a slow fog.
The Baron leaned forward in his seat, eyes narrowing with gravity, his fingers tapping once against the wood of the table. “Please explain.”
Timur shifted slightly, glancing to Ludwig, but said nothing. He knew what was coming. Or some of it.
Ludwig reached out, tapping a finger against the letter, resting it precisely against a single inked word on the crumpled parchment: ‘Strange Moon’.
“This,” he said, “was part of it.”
The Baron blinked. “That? The—what does that even mean? A moon behaving oddly?”
Ludwig shook his head. “No. It’s a name. Or rather, a sign. I think…” he paused, his eyes steady, “I think Morde’Xander is acting.”
“…Morde’Xander?” the Baron repeated. His brow furrowed. “You mean… the Guardian of Solania? The Barbarian god? I—what would he have to do with the Dawn Isles? That’s across the entire continent. Literally the opposite side of the coast.”
“Well,” Ludwig said with a dry glance to the side, “thankfully Gorak isn’t here to listen to this.”
“Why?” The baron’s interest was piqued some more.
“Because Morde’Xander…” Ludwig said slowly, “…isn’t what people believe him to be.”
He paused, meeting the Baron’s eyes.
“He isn’t a guardian. He never was.”
The Baron blinked once. “I don’t follow.”
“Do you know what happened to Tibari?” Ludwig asked.
The Baron’s face twitched. “That’s… a dead nation. Gone for thousands of years. Nothing but ash and stories. What about it?”
Ludwig exhaled.
“If I explain it, it’ll only confuse you further. And to be honest,” he added, “I have no way to prove any of it. All I have are words. And scars.”
The Baron leaned back. His face was unreadable for a long moment. Then, quietly, “I’ve lived long enough to know how to tell a liar from a man bearing an unbearable truth.”
He nodded once. “I will listen. No matter how absurd it sounds.”
Ludwig nodded back—grateful, though he didn’t show it.
“There is a type of being,” he said, “that does not belong to our world. It doesn’t enter through gates or summoning circles. It seeps in. It poisons. Corrupts. Devours. It doesn’t just walk upon the land—it rules it.”
He met their eyes.
“I met one of them. In Tibari.”
The Baron went still.
Even Robin’s hand paused mid-spin with his dagger. Melisande’s eyes, which had softened earlier, hardened again with quiet tension.
“You went there?” the Baron said slowly. “The Lost Lands of Tibari… and lived?”
Ludwig’s answer was cold.
“No. I didn’t live. I was simply beneath notice to be killed.”
A beat of silence.
“It didn’t attack me,” he continued. “Didn’t care about me. I wasn’t even a bug under its foot. It just… spoke to me. And moved on. Like I wasn’t worth the breath to squash.”
Timur made a low sound in the back of his throat. “Is it stronger than… than the thing in the March? The one that was trying to descend?”
Ludwig nodded.
“Let’s put it this way,” he said, “the Moon Flayed King… is nothing but a servant to these things.”
There was a beat.
Then:
“Moon Flayed King?” Robin raised an eyebrow. “That name yours? Quite fitting.”
Ludwig smirked faintly. “Something like that.”
Timur rubbed his face. “So… the same thing’s happening in the Dawn Isles?”
Ludwig shook his head.
“No. Not the same. It’s similar. A cousin. But something different is triggering it there. And I don’t know what. Not yet.”
The Baron steepled his fingers. His gaze had shifted now—less disbelief, more calculation.
“And how did you stop the… descent? In Bastos, I mean. You said it never fully manifested.”
Ludwig’s voice turned colder.
“They anchor themselves with a core,” he said. “Something left behind by Morde’Xander’s power. A corruption seed. If the core remains undisturbed long enough… they begin to grow stronger. Begin to bleed into reality. We destroyed it in Bastos. That’s why we’re alive.”
“But you don’t think you’ll be so lucky in the Isles,” the Baron said.
“No,” Ludwig admitted. “There won’t be a second miracle.”
The Baron cursed under his breath. “No wonder the Holy Order’s moving.”
Ludwig’s gaze snapped up.
“…What?”
The Baron grimaced, setting down his wine glass with a soft clink.
“They caught wind of this too. Or at least, some version of it. They’re preparing a full squad. Paladins. Blessed inquisitors. A holy unit. To ‘cleanse’ the Dawn Isles.”
He snorted bitterly.
“I’ve been trying to stall them—logistics, permissions, political games. Even the Vampire Hunters have been working behind the scenes to delay them. But I doubt we’ll get more than a week. Two, at best. And when they arrive…” His face tightened.
“They won’t distinguish between my people and the problem.”
Timur looked grim. “You mean they’ll purge the Isles.”
“Burn it all,” the Baron said. “Salt the earth if they have to. That’s how they work.”
Ludwig’s expression darkened.
That changed everything.
He could no longer move freely. If the Holy Order was preparing an operation there, then he—with his secrets, with what he carried—would become a liability. A target. Even being seen could be damning.
He clenched his jaw.
Those bastards wouldn’t mind burning down a house if it meant killing a spider inside.
Maybe… maybe it was better to abandon this. Let it go. Let someone else deal with it. The risks were too high.
And then—
[Quest Update!]
The notification flared into his vision—bright, unmistakable. Its message scrawled across his thoughts like a commandment.
You must enter the Dawn Isles and uncover the source of the corruption before the Holy Order intervenes.
Time Limit: 2 Weeks
Reward (Success):
Page of the Umbra Malvolume: Codex Necros3 Necromantic Spells unlocked:
• [Detonate Dead] — Advanced version of [Corpse Explosion]
• [Bonemancy] — Immediate and full understanding of bone manipulation magic
• [Death’s Echo] — Instantly recast a necromantic spell with no mana cost (1-hour cooldown)
Failure Penalty:
3 Random Pages of the Umbra Malvolume Codex will be consumed and lost.All contents saved within those pages will vanish.
***
Ludwig stared blankly.
The words pulsed in his mind. Branded. Final.
‘Are you fucking kidding me?’