[You have slain the Envious Death.]
The words appeared in Ludwig's vision without ceremony, stark and unembellished, hanging there with a cold finality that felt heavier than any roar of triumph could have. For a brief moment, the world around him seemed to hesitate, as if reality itself was checking the statement, confirming that it was true before allowing time to continue moving forward. The battlefield, still scarred and steaming from the violence that had taken place, felt unnaturally still, the kind of stillness that followed an execution rather than a battle.
[Necros has claimed the soul of the Envious Death]
Ludwig felt it then, a subtle, almost imperceptible pull deep within him, not a physical sensation but something closer to a shift in pressure, like a door being closed somewhere far away.
