Ghost Knight King's Dungeon Project

Chapter 12 [The Interlude Between the Demon King and the Knight]

Fallenthorn City, Old Wood Street, Barracks No. 3.

A few idle adventurers sat sparsely in the lobby on the first floor.

A young male swordsman was drinking tea while staring blankly at the stairwell, waiting for his dawdling teammates to come down from upstairs.

A middle-aged man with a long-handled barbed spear strapped to his back, carrying a snakeskin and two bottles of snake oil, stood at the door watching the coming and going carriages, searching for familiar faces of merchants.

As he was leaving, the spear shaft on the uncle's back slammed against the doorframe with a thud, causing him to fall. He cursed a couple of unintelligible words in a thick Florentine accent, then, leaning to the side, managed to stumble and barely manage to squeeze through the doorframe.

Two young girls, draped in mage robes and wearing light leather armor, sat by the window, each carrying a bag of catalyst materials. One held a short-handled wooden staff studded with runes, while the other wore a leather fingerless gauntlet with copper studs and runes embedded in her palm. They whispered amongst themselves.
"...The knight in black armor is definitely more handsome; he's so slender, and his figure and movements are so elegant..."

"...Your taste is terrible! The one in bronze armor has a much better figure, narrow waist, and broad shoulders, she makes me feel so safe..."

Shh! Keep your voice down... He's looking over here!

Samael turned his head, looked at the two mage girls behind him who were pretending to admire the scenery, scratched his helmet, and slowly turned back to stand with Talia at the front desk of the adventurer's barracks, staring blankly at the price list of different levels of accommodation.

Rondar stood behind the two men, his height blocking his view, and he peeked over their shoulders on tiptoe.

"The cheapest room, how much for a month?" Talia asked awkwardly, trying to overcome her embarrassment.

"The cheapest option is a twin room shared by two people. Single occupancy is 10 gold coins per month." The slightly plump landlady behind the counter wore a checkered apron and a headscarf. Looking at the two down-on-their-luck knights in front of her, she didn't seem to look down on them much. "Are you two... going to live separately? I'll arrange one room for you to share with a female roommate and one room for you to share with a male roommate. Is that alright?"

“No, no, we can share a room, a twin room for 20 gold coins will do.” Talia grabbed Samael’s arm. “We are from the monastery. Gender makes no difference to us. All beings are equal, and the complicated divisions of the secular world are meaningless.”

“Uh… she’s right, we should listen to her.” Samael’s shoulder was pulled off balance by Talia’s strange strength, and he almost fell over.

"Oh, I see. There are all kinds of adventurers. Couples, siblings, fathers and daughters, mothers and sons all come together as adventurers and share a room. It won't make a difference if there are two of you." The landlady was clearly not interested in these things. "I don't know how long you'll be staying, so let's pay for one month first. Pay the rent upfront, and if you cancel the lease early, we'll refund a portion, but at most half."

“I’ll pay.” Randall peered over Samael’s shoulder armor, reached under Samael’s arm, and handed him a small handful of gold coins, placing them on the counter.

“I don’t know how to thank you enough, Brother Randall.” Samael gripped Randall’s hand tightly and shook it up and down, the coldness of the gauntlet making Randall shiver.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” Rondar struggled, pulling his stiff hand away from Samael’s cold gauntlets. “Then, shall we go and handle the new recruits’ training today? We can team up again tomorrow morning after you’ve finished your training?”

“Okay, no problem!” Samael readily agreed.

"Also, please take these." Rondar took a leather pouch from his waist and stuffed it into Samael's hands. "These are a few bottles of simple potions, including healing potions, painkillers, and other common items. You two may need them during your internship mission."

"Some bottles may have different specifications and labels than potions on the market. Those are made by the potion master in our team. Although the quality of her potions is not as good as the expensive potions on the market, the effect is still good. We have tested them ourselves. Most potion bottles have labels indicating their uses, so please use them with confidence and don't be shy."

“No…we don’t actually need these potions…” Samael blurted out the truth instinctively, wanting to return the leather bag to Rondar.

However, with the skill expected of a level three hunter, Randall nimbly dodged the leather bag and smiled as he backed away from the lobby.

"Keep it. Anything can happen during an adventure mission, and it might come in handy sometime. I'm in room 301 of the second barracks next door, the first room on the left on the third floor. If you need anything else, just come find me." He smiled politely at the door and waved goodbye to the two of them. "See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow, Brother Randall." Samael waved goodbye, hanging the leather pouch full of potions that Randall had stuffed into his waistband.

On the other side, Talia had already taken the room key from the landlady, dragging Samael who was still waving goodbye, and quickly crossed the two flights of stairs with a series of clanging metal sounds.

She inserted the key and opened the door to the corresponding room.

Behind the door was a simple room that was a little dusty, with two hard wooden beds with full bedding placed side by side. Next to the beds were two empty boxes with simple iron locks and keys, which could be used to store personal belongings.

The room was dimly lit. Directly opposite the door was a small, tightly closed window, through which a few rays of light pierced, casting a narrow, irregular strip of light onto the ceiling and walls. Before the window stood an empty table and chairs, on which sat a candlestick with only a small stub remaining. Nothing else.

"I'm so suffocated... I haven't taken off my helmet for over two days! Finally!" Talia threw her hammer and spear to the ground with a clatter, grabbed her helmet, grimaced, and pulled her steel-gray hair out from the helmet's gaps before throwing the demon-horned black helmet hard onto the bed.

With a soft thud, the helmet hit the bed, kicking up a cloud of dust.

"Ah! A bed! I've been trekking through the wasteland like a wild beast for two years, lying in piles of fallen leaves and burrows, tearing apart other beasts and enchanted plants—how long has it been since I slept in a bed! Cough cough..." Talia lay straight down on the hard wooden bed, coughing twice from the dust, the wooden planks creaking.

“It sounds rather heartbreaking…” Samael sat on the bed in a daze, but he didn’t have any particular feelings about the bed.

After all, he was already wearing armor, so sitting, lying down, and standing all felt the same, and he couldn't tell much difference between a bed and a hard floor.

He opened the leather bag at his waist and curiously looked through the labels on the bottles and jars inside.

"Healing potions, painkillers, magical antidotes, arrow venom... Rondar has sent quite a few good things."

Samael pulled a thin iron chain from his leather bag, covered with tiny glass tubes. A small wooden tag was attached to the chain, engraved with the words "Healing Potion."

Each tiny glass tube, about the size of a little finger, is filled with a slightly cloudy, dark red liquid. The caps are secured to links, and the packaging is like a spring chain.

This packaging allows one to hang the chain on their shoulder or waist, and easily open the bottle with a single hand by pinching the neck and pulling hard. It's presumably for convenient access, so that even in a fight with a missing hand or a weapon in hand, one can easily open the bottle and drink with one hand in a moment of urgency.

"It's useless against us. Even the strongest healing potion can't compare to the innate healing power of demons, and demons are immune to psionic toxins—the same goes for the cursed armor of Nether Bronze." Talia tilted her head, looking at the bottles and jars in his hand, and complained disdainfully. "And look at how cloudy it is. This stuff is very low-grade, like a cheap concoction made by a novice potion maker using scraps. It might even have some side effects."

"The thought counts! A rich person giving you a thousand dollars is different from a poor person giving you a thousand dollars. Besides, these potions are things they use regularly. They might not look nice, but they're practical and useful." Samael quipped, "What's this?"

He picked up a fist-sized spherical glass bottle containing a stone engraved with runes and several shriveled, dark green, gizzard-like objects, which were securely tied with thin rope and wire and soaked in a pale yellow oil.

“Oh, that latrine-collecting foreman can afford this? He really went all out! — But it’s not very useful.” Talia clicked her tongue. “It’s a spell called [Corruption Cannon], also known as [Corruption Bombardment], which uses the venom glands of the Corruption Roarer as a spell catalyst.”

"It is [Bottled Magic], a product of the human potion-making branch. It is a one-time-use magical item made from glass bottles, runestones, spell catalysts, and the fat and oil of magical beasts. It can be activated by smashing the bottle, and the oil is the fuel that provides power. [Bottled Magic] does not consume the user's psionic energy, so even those who cannot use magic can use it."

"So that means it's very expensive?" Samael asked. "It'll cost at least two or three hundred gold coins. Half of that is for materials, and the other half is for labor. It's quite complicated to make. See the complex structure inside? The process is like a boat in a bottle; you have to use long-handled tweezers to reach into the bottle opening to hold the materials and build it up little by little," Talia explained. "This bottled magic looks rather crude. It's probably a practice piece made by a novice potion master and a rookie mage in their team—making [bottled magic] requires cross-disciplinary expertise from both mages and potion masters. There aren't many people who can do both; it's usually a two-person team."

"Randall even gave us such precious items?" Samael stroked his chin, stroking his helmet. "I think Randall is a pretty good guy, very capable, clear-headed, and sincere. Don't you want to join his team? Is it because the name is too awful? Or are they too weak?"

“The main problem is that we’re too weak.” Talia lay on the bed, raising her claw-shaped gauntlets towards the ceiling. “Samael, we must conceal our identities and true strength. That is to say, we must be as low-key as possible and avoid displaying our abilities as much as possible.”

"Our combined strength is roughly equivalent to level six or seven adventurers. If the members of the team we join are generally below this level, then we will stand out in the team."

"Perhaps we can deliberately conceal our strength at first. However, if we encounter something during the mission that they are not capable of handling, we will definitely need to take the initiative to take responsibility. After a while, we will inevitably lose control once or twice, revealing our true strength and attracting unnecessary attention."

"Also, their team name..." Talia pondered.

"Does it sound awful?" Samael asked.

“It’s only one aspect that it sounds bad, but that’s not the key point.” Talia gripped her gauntlets tightly as she stared at the ceiling. “The key point is, just as that latrine-collecting team leader said, their team name is too distinctive.”

"A team with such a unique name is likely to attract attention—whether as a source of amusement for a bad team or as a distinctive feature of a good team. And as a team with combat power far above their average level, if we stay in this team for a long time, we will also become part of the spotlight. This will increase the risk of being exposed."

"So I asked them to change their name as soon as possible. Just change it to some fancy, third-rate adventurer team name, like Storm, Dawn, Holy, or Glory, anything less unique than Trash Beast."

Talia pondered, gazing at Samael, who sat to the side fiddling with bottle magic.

“Samael, my original idea was to find a group of level six or seven adventurers who weren’t particularly outstanding. That way, we’d blend in with a group of stronger members, wouldn’t stand out, and wouldn’t have to fight often, reducing the risk.” Talia reached out and tugged at the waist armor plate hanging from Samael’s backside. “What are your thoughts?”

"Don't pull my butt..." Samael pulled his waist armor back. "Actually, I think it might be more dangerous to associate with level six or seven adventurers. It's easier for their identities to be discovered. I'd rather choose a lower-level team. A team like Randall's, which is reliable, capable, easy to get along with, and not too weak, would be just fine."

"Why?" Talia asked. "If everyone in a team is at level six or seven, then we won't stand out as much, will we?"

“The danger lies with the adventurers themselves. Just two ordinary Alliance guards at the gate could tell our profession at a glance.” Samael pondered, “And according to the guard, Randall is a novice adventurer who has only been studying with a level 6 adventurer named Norman Passat for a year, yet he has already advanced to level 3 and possesses such clear and mature thinking and cognitive abilities.”

"While Randall's exceptional talent certainly played a role, the more important reason is that the observation, keenness, and cognitive abilities of level six or seven adventurers are likely to be stronger and more terrifying than those of Randall and the guard."

"If we spend too much time with level six or seven adventurers, they will probably figure out our true identities very quickly. We can't take that risk."

"Is it really that exaggerated? How powerful can it be?" Talia pondered. "More than ten years ago, there were countless corpses of level six or seven adventurers in the dungeons of Rondoran. There were so many skulls that they could be used to build walls."

"Is it that scary?" Samael scoffed.

“My dad likes to categorize things, including trash.” Talia stretched. “The moss-like rotten root balls of Rondoran run around, sorting and piling up the skulls according to the adventurer’s identification tags on the corpses—I’ve seen piles of skulls from level six or seven adventurers, they can actually build walls, and they’re very tall.”

"In the cold, hollowed-out Rondoran Mountains, devoured by earth-eating worms, skulls were counted and then thrown into the abyss beneath the city to feed the thriving underground ecosystem. Looking down from the edge of the city walls, the skeletons in the darkness resembled a vast sea of ​​white dandelions—a sea of ​​death flowers born from the greed of adventurers."

Talia snorted.

"Few creatures can be driven to death by greed. That's why I've always thought that adventurers are probably all pretty stupid."

“Your father must have been very powerful, and the city of Rondoran in the mountains must have been a magnificent place,” Samael sighed. “But it is undeniable that the adventurers who have ventured into it are equally powerful and astute.”

“Talia, your identity and experience are rather unique. You have witnessed waves of greedy adventurers dying in dungeons because of their ignorance, which inevitably makes you look down on low- to mid-level adventurers.”

"But I think that even low- to mid-level adventurers possess quite keen perception and a rather intelligent mind."

"Perhaps they died in the dungeon simply because the dangerous environment there was too unfamiliar to them, leaving them helpless and dying there. This only shows that the demon lords are more powerful, and that the dungeons and psionic ecosystems are built and designed to be exceptionally brutal. It doesn't mean that the adventurers were really stupid."

“Randall’s way of thinking and cognitive abilities are very mature. From him, we can infer that anyone who can become a high-level adventurer is definitely not simple. It would be safer for us to choose a low-level team.”

“That…makes sense. Okay, you’ve convinced me—well, I’ll listen to you.” Talia thrashed around on the bed. “If I’m with a low-level team and they find out, it’ll be easier to silence them.”

"...What? No! We can't keep thinking about silencing him! That's so immoral!" Samael put his hands on his hips, looking at Talia, who was writhing on the bed, with a helpless expression like Tom the cat. "Randall is a good person; he's helped us a lot. If possible, I'd be happy to be friends with someone as sincere, reliable, and clear-headed as him. We should try to get along with him amicably, and if we really can't hide it anymore, escaping will be our priority. We can't repay kindness with enmity."

“Your moralistic attitude is just like my dad’s.” Talia stared at him blankly. “That’s why my dad died. He thought his demon friend betrayed him, and the adventurer he had treated so kindly killed him with his own hands.”

silence.

silence.

Samael sighed, turned his back to Talia, and said nothing more, but continued to play with the potion bottle that Rondar had given him.

“We’ll see,” Talia broke the silence. “Pray that your latrine cleaner friend isn’t too dense or slow-witted, and that he doesn’t discover anything he shouldn’t know. Otherwise…”

“Take a break first.” Samael put the spherical bottle containing the magic bottle back into the leather bag that Rondar had given him, hung the bag on his waist, and sat with his back to Talia, lost in thought. “This afternoon, I still need to finish that internship assignment and deal with that annoying adventurer Lukewin Rost.”

"The team formation with Randall is tomorrow morning. We'll come back tonight and make further plans."

Talia lay quietly on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, glancing furtively at Samael's retreating figure.

“It’s nothing.” Samael stared blankly at the wall. “You grew up in the environment of the demons and experienced those things, so it’s understandable that you would think this way. Besides, what you said… does make some sense.”

His bronze gauntlets rested on the leather bag as he fumbled for the chain of the healing potion.

"Perhaps it's my problem. But I always feel the world shouldn't be like this," he mused.

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(End of this chapter)