“Alright, Ludwig, pull out the rings,” Van Dijk said, his voice calm but commanding.
Ludwig nodded, reaching into his holding ring and retrieving their collection of rings. He placed them carefully on the table, their metallic surfaces gleaming faintly in the dim light of the laboratory. Next, he pulled out the Mask of the Blind Witness, its eerie, hollow eyes staring back at him as he placed it on his face.
“Let’s start with magic,” Van Dijk said, opening the first book from the archives and sliding it toward Ludwig. He handed him a pen and a stack of paper, his expression serious. “Inscribe everything to the letter. No mistakes.”
Ludwig nodded, his hollow eyes scanning the pages as he began to write. The room fell silent, save for the scratch of the pen against paper and the occasional rustle of pages being turned.
Hours turned into days, and Ludwig worked tirelessly, his focus unwavering.
Van Dijk checked in periodically, but his expression was unreadable as he reviewed Ludwig’s work. To Sebas and Evan, who occasionally peered into the room, it seemed like Ludwig was reading from an empty book and writing gibberish.
Their confusion quickly turned to resentment as they watched the skeleton work, their jealousy simmering beneath the surface. Since Van Dijk would occasionally pop in and only check on Ludwig, ignoring them completely.
By the fifth day, their patience had worn thin. Sebas stormed into the room, his face twisted with anger. “The fuck do you think you are?” he snarled, slamming his hand on Ludwig’s desk. The force of the impact sent ink spilling across the papers, ruining hours of work.
Ludwig didn’t even look up. He calmly moved the ruined papers to the side and wiped away the spilled ink. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice cold and detached.
Sebas’s face turned red with rage. “It’s you! You’re the fucking anomaly! You just come in here thinking you’re some big shot, but you’re nothing! Nothing! Just a fucking skeleton. Act the part, you piece of shit!”
Ludwig’s hollow eyes finally met Sebas’s, his expression unreadable. “Does that make you feel better?” he asked, his tone icy. “Are you done? If you are, I have work to do.”
Sebas’s rage boiled over. He kicked the desk with all his strength, sending it flipping over and crashing into Ludwig. The skeleton was thrown to the ground, the contents of the table scattering across the room.
-22 HP!
[You are in a hostile environment.]
“This fucker thinks he’s the shit! You’re a disposable tool nothing more!” Sebas roared, his voice echoing through the room. “Just a waste of air! Van Dijk is only keeping you because you’re his little pet. The moment you fuck up, you’re gone, and I’ll be damned if I don’t see to it happening!”
Evan only stared from a distance, he too was of the same opinion. Though their recommendation came from the deen, they had worked tirelessly for decades under Van Dijk but they never gotten an ounce of recognition. To them, they had toiled and worked hard for days on end, without rest to achieve success only for this newcomer to swoop in and take Van Dijk’s discipleship from under their noses.
With that, Sebas stormed out of the room Evan following him after he spat on the floor, leaving Ludwig sprawled on the floor amidst the chaos.
For a moment, Ludwig lay still, his hollow eyes staring at the ceiling. Then, something strange happened. A wave of emotion washed over him—anger, raw and unfiltered. It was a sensation he hadn’t felt in a long time, not since he had become undead.
“Oh, this is… new,” he muttered to himself, his voice tinged with surprise. “Rage? I guess this is more pure than the one I use from Thomas.”
He slowly got to his feet, his movements deliberate as he began cleaning up the mess. He righted the desk, gathered the scattered papers, and wiped away the spilled ink. Just as he was finishing, Van Dijk entered the room.
“Any progress—” Van Dijk’s words trailed off as he took in the scene. His eyes narrowed, his expression darkening. “What happened here?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.
Ludwig shrugged, his tone calm. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
Van Dijk’s eyes flicked to the ruined papers, his frustration evident. “Oh, but I don’t think I can. I guess it’s time to have a couple of new corpses for dissection,” he said, his voice laced with anger.
“Master,” Ludwig said, his voice steady. He tapped a stack of papers on the desk, arranging them neatly. “If you fixed and helped me with every problem and issue, there would be no fun left for me to have.”
Van Dijk’s expression softened slightly, but his frustration remained. “In the Black Tower Academy,” he said, his tone sharp, “it is encouraged to go up against your peers and climb on top of one another for better opportunities. But not this. You’re not their peer. You’re my disciple.”
“The more reason I should be the one to take care of this problem,” Ludwig replied, his voice calm but firm. “If I let you clean up my mess and babysit me through the academy, I’ll never improve. I’ll handle them myself, for now. He didn’t really do much damage. I already memorized most of the materials here anyway.”
Van Dijk sighed, his frustration giving way to a grudging respect. “Right. What did you inscribe today?”
“Teleology of Magic,” Ludwig said, his tone casual. “Quite the complicated topic, but it was fun to read.”
Van Dijk’s eyebrows shot up. “Let me see the scripts,” he said, taking the papers from Ludwig and beginning to read.
As he scanned the lines of text, his frown deepened. “Wait,” he said, his voice sharp. “You’re telling me you’re able to understand this?”
Ludwig nodded. “Why not? It’s rather simple, though convoluted. The basis is that it takes a philosophical approach to the purpose of magic. It talks about it being an instrument of fate and the relationship between magic and the user. Quite the beefy topic, but not too hard to follow.”
Van Dijk’s expression was a mix of surprise and admiration. “Hmm, adding this one to yesterday’s topic of Elemental Conversion… do you think… you can spread this information?”
“You mean to teach it?” Ludwig asked, his tone cautious. “I’m not that arrogant, but I do understand it.”
Over the past days, Ludwig’s notification window had been lighting up with gains.
[+22 Wisdom]
[+16 Stamina]
[All Stamina gain has been converted to Strength due to your undead nature.]
[You have gained {Mental Fortitude}.] Reading books far beyond your level will no longer cause migraines and headaches. Your resistance to illusions has been increased. As an undead, you already negate all terror- and fear-related debuffs.]
Ludwig smirked as the notifications were a testament of his hard work during these past few days.
Van Dijk shook his head, his expression one of grudging respect. “Quite the feat, Ludwig. Quite the feat. Merely reading these would make one’s head split open from pain. But you tided through it. Another disciple or student of your class would probably have fallen unconscious trying to inscribe these books.”
Ludwig shrugged, his tone casual. “What can I say? As an undead, pain is something that makes you feel alive. After all, my sense of touch is nonexistent, and smell too. So having a headache every once in a while helps alleviate this… estrangement from life.”