Ghost Knight King's Dungeon Project

Chapter 17 [A Suspicious Lucky Day]

Knock knock. A soft knocking sound echoed in the room of barracks number three.

"Excuse me, are the two monks ready?" Rondar's voice rang out at the door. "The initiation procedures have been completed, and everyone is waiting at the city gate. We will depart soon."

Talia shoved Samael, pointed to her own mouth, then to Samael, and then to the doorway.

Samael shook his head, pointed to the doorway, then to the empty bundle of cloth and a few ropes and chains spread out on the floor—these were things they had made up to get from Rondar, under the pretext of packing adventurers' supplies.

We have absolutely no supplies! But going out empty-handed will definitely arouse suspicion!
Talia bared her teeth in a rage, extended her sharp claw-like claws, drew a line across her neck, and then pointed to the doorway.

Samael shook his head frantically, standing between Talia and the doorway in terror, waving his hands repeatedly.

You can't kill him just because you can't hide it anymore! We still need to use his troops to earn travel expenses to cross the Erdrik Empire!

"Two... monks?" Rondar, standing outside the door, had no idea what was happening inside. And, to his dismay, he was adding fuel to the fire. Little did he know he was already halfway into the compost bins of the Rondoran royal family's garden.

The two men gestured wildly in silence, turning around haphazardly, pushing and tugging at each other. Finally, Samael patted his chest, indicating that he should take over.

“Right away! Almost there! We need to... bundle the supplies a little.” He said to Rondar behind the door.

"Do you need my help?" Rondar asked.

"No need! Thank you!" Samael replied crisply.

"Where are we going to find any damn supplies?" Talia pointed to the empty bundles and chains scattered on the ground.

Samael looked around the empty barracks.

Mattresses, beds, tables and chairs, iron boxes... iron boxes?
That was a large iron box, about half a person's height, used by the barracks to temporarily store guests' personal belongings; it was empty inside.

Samael picked up the two empty iron boxes from the head of the barracks bed, haphazardly covered them with a cloth, and then tied them with ropes and chains, making them into a square bundle. Without saying a word, he reached out and hung one of the iron boxes, which was more than half a person tall, on Talia's back.

Are you kidding me?! Are we supposed to be like two tortoises, carrying a square, empty metal box all the way?! Talia pointed to the box, then to herself, and shrugged in shock.

Samael nodded.

Talia raised her arms, crossed her forearms into an X shape, and mouthed "No!"

……

Two hours later.

Samael and Talia huffed and puffed as they followed behind the [Trash Beasts of Fallenthorn City] group, traversing the wasteland. Chains were wrapped in an X-shape around their breastplates, firmly binding two enormous, square bundles to their backs, making them resemble two giant, heavily armored, square-shelled turtles.

The charred wooden gates of Fallenthorn City were left behind, gradually disappearing on the horizon.

"Are you crazy..." Talia whispered, "Carrying such a big empty iron box?"

“Shh! This is our supplies…” Samael replied in a low voice. “Remember, this is our supplies—there are a little more than usual, but that’s not shameful. Just look at Randall.”

Talia looked up at the figure leading the way at the very front of the group—

It was a huge backpack, almost as tall as a person.

The backpack was so bulging that it would probably burst open at any moment if it weren't for the strong hemp rope wrapped around it.

Two legs protrude from under the backpack, wobbling and trembling, yet moving forward with unwavering determination.

The backpack was tied with a roll of bedding, a bundle of beast-repelling torches, and two chains of healing potion bottles. It also held a familiar black bow made of knotted wood, and a quiver hung diagonally to the side, swinging back and forth with each step.

For some reason only Randall himself knew, a frying pan and an iron teapot were also strapped to the back of his backpack, rattling with every step he took.

"The latrine cleaner is an anxiety-ridden freak, don't treat him like a standard adventurer! He even brought a teapot, and he's still walking around wondering if he forgot something!" Talia retorted in a low voice. "Look at the other members! Look at those normal people!"

The other members of the team carried only a simple backpack, with a light, thin quilt roll tied on top, a small amount of refined equipment on their backs, and a simple small waist bag hanging from their waists.

“So Randall is the captain…maybe he’s responsible for carrying the things the team members forgot to bring,” Samael whispered, defending his good friend.

"Crazy!" Talia commented objectively and fairly.

At the front of the group, the assassin Elliott, carrying his equipment and supplies, looked around to make sure no one was paying attention to him.

He casually moved closer and closer to the huge backpack with two legs at the very front of the line.

“Risca, where did you find this kind of adventurer?” Elliott asked in a low voice.

"...Huh? What?" The huge backpack lifted its front half like a giant slug made of junk, and one hand barely lifted the half-drawn map hanging down in front of the backpack, which was blocking the view, revealing Randall's head.

"I'm asking you where you found these knights! Did they fall from the sky after you made a wish upon a star? Or were they dug out of the ruins of a temple from the age of the gods?" Elliott angrily snatched the map from Rondar's head and the compass from his hand. "Damn it, give me the map, I'll lead the way—you tell me first, where did you find these two temple-sculpted knights! They're at least level seven! And they're offering to take them for free! How lucky are you?"

"The guard at the city gate recommended it to me," Randall honestly told the truth.

"The Alliance Guards have connections like this?!" Elliott was stunned. "I underestimated them... I thought they'd barely left the gates of Fallenthorn City, but I never expected them to have such powerful adventurers..."

“Isn’t that normal? They’re practically familiar with every adventurer in the city,” Rondar explained. “More importantly, could you help me carry some of my things… I might have accidentally brought too much.”

"...I told you, you're overly cautious and overthinking! Why can't you just use the standard five-piece set plus a few extra weapons and equipment like you would for a normal mission?" Elliott snapped. "Why bring a frying pan and a teapot?"

"If we are surrounded and blocked by bandits and lose our way, or if we have to fight them in the wilderness to complete our mission, we can use these devices to survive in the wild for a while—make a fire, boil the polluted water from the demonic realm and purify it with magic before drinking, or hunt some Crackclaw Birds. High-temperature boiling can remove about 70% of the demonic essence from the materials—Ruby taught me that," Rondar said. "This kettle can boil enough water for seven people, and the frying pan can be used to fry meat."

"...This is just a medium-sized mission, we can finish it in two days," Elliott said. "We all have a five-piece set—weapons/potions/camping/food/mission. Sufficient weapons and equipment, common potion packs for emergency medical sustain and combat support, bedding and beast-repelling smoke, beast-repelling torches, iron kettles full of clean water and small iron cups for boiling water, hard biscuits as rations, and specialized tools for each class specifically for bandit suppression missions—five pieces are enough!"

“The small iron cup can only boil a little bit at a time, which is too inefficient. If we are blocked by bandits, we won’t have time to boil water little by little…” Randall hesitated.

"Do you have anxiety disorder? Or paranoia?" Elliott asked.

The two stared at each other in silence for a moment.

“No, not at all.” Randall pondered. “Probably. This is my first time facing a bandit suppression mission; I’ve never even seen bandits before.”

"God, can you stop thinking like that—do you worry the sun will fall from the sky every day?" Elliott frowned, slapping his forehead in exasperation.

"I have to ensure the team's safety! I've gotten this far thanks to my caution and overthinking! Half of the new adventurers who joined at the same time as me are already dead!" Rondar said matter-of-factly. "By the way, don't you feel like something's off today?"

“You’re doing it again! What’s wrong? Did you step out with your left foot first today?” Elliott asked.

“No.” Rondar looked around. “I was wondering why I hardly saw any mutated creatures on the road today?”

Elliott paused, then suddenly frowned and looked around.

The wasteland stretched as far as the eye could see, with only three or four tumbleweeds swaying and passing by.

“Isn’t that it?” Elliott squinted, pointing to three or four tumbleweeds in the distance, “Rotten root balls disguised as tumbleweeds on their heads.”

Two tiny, root-like claws peeked out from under the tumbleweeds in the distance, wiggling their short legs as they stealthily and insidiously moved further and further away.

“No, no, no, what I mean is, why didn’t they attack us today?” Rondar asked. “In fact, they seemed quite scared, using tumbleweeds as camouflage, and sneaking away into the distance.” Elliott paused slightly.

“Logically speaking, this squad of Rotten Roots should consist of three or four spheres. Their complete root systems should be sufficient to reach the basic tribe level.” Rondar pointed to the Rotten Roots that were sneaking away in the distance. “Shouldn’t someone of this level be attacking us?”

“Indeed… something’s a bit strange.” Elliott pondered. “You noticed something was off so quickly—amazing, Riska.”

"Because I bought a whole 25 Beast-Repelling Torches, 375 gold coins—I was hoping the Rotten Roots would attack soon so I could use some of the Torches, and then the money wouldn't have been wasted, and my backpack would be a little lighter. So I've been looking around for the mutated creatures, hoping they'd attack us soon," Randall frankly stated his rather tragic reason. "But today, I don't know what's wrong with the mutated creatures; not only are they not attacking, but they're running away in the opposite direction—if I can't use them, I'll have to carry all these supplies for over forty kilometers."

"You shouldn't have brought so many beast-driving torches, you know? This is a medium-sized mission on the surface. Normally, 10 torches are a minimum, 12 are just right, and 15 are more than enough! 25 just shows you have a hoarding habit!" Elliott's face darkened. "But this is a question... why aren't the demonic creatures attacking today?"

He frowned, deep in thought.

“Not only are there no demonic creatures, but there aren’t even any undead creations,” Rondar added. “It’s really strange. According to the map, the Bone Hills of the Kana Plain were once an outpost on the border of the ancient Erdrik Empire. There should be many ancient skeletal warriors buried in the ground, waiting to ambush the living—why haven’t we encountered any along the way?”

"Indeed... my luck today is almost frighteningly good." Elliot thoughtfully toyed with the skull coin. "Not encountering a single environmental enemy? How is that possible?"

He suddenly turned around and glanced at the last two heavily armored figures in the group.

Two heavily armored figures were carrying heavy iron boxes on their backs. The black-armored knight and the bronze-armored knight were arguing in hushed tones.

Could it be that……

No…impossible. That’s too crazy…and the necromancy part doesn’t add up either. Elliot shook his head, saying nothing.

After all, only demonic creatures are intimidated by the aura of demons, while undead will indiscriminately attack all living things, including demons. No living thing can avoid the natural hostility of undead.

He hadn't been attacked by any mutated creatures or undead...maybe he was just lucky today. That was the only explanation.

……

As the sun sets, the bronze-white double moons gradually rise high in the sky, illuminating a man-made structure on the horizon.

It was an ancient, dilapidated building site, constructed of white stone from the Kanas Plain. It was pitted and cratered by the corrupting dust containing magical substances, and looked as if it would collapse at any moment.

However, some sturdy wooden beams were stretched across the crumbling ancient building, forcibly supporting its structural strength. The low, two-story tower was topped with a fortified breastwork and firing ports, surrounding a large, empty brazier.

Behind the building was a crude stable with two horses. Scattered around were several looted wagons, with sharpened chevaux-de-frise made of sharp firewood, forming a haphazard camp.

Scattered torches barely illuminated the camp, and the dim, yellowish light of the setting sun stained the walls with the bloody jerky of the Cracked Claw Bird. The first floor of the tower was piled high with tattered sacks of wheat. So many grain sacks that they couldn't all fit were simply tossed at the entrance for the bandits to use as chairs.

Several burly men, draped in tattered cloaks and with their lower faces covered by scarves, patrolled the area, carrying broadswords, whips, daggers, and longbows. They drank cheap liquor and threw dice, cursing and swearing. Two bandits were punching each other. The surrounding bandits laughed and placed bets on the fight.

“Very good... There are many sacks of food. It's cargo that was stolen from the Alliance convoy.”

Randall put down his binoculars and eagerly unloaded his heavy backpack on the ground. He stumbled and almost fell down along with the backpack.

He panted as he observed the outlines of buildings on the distant horizon, slowly retreating behind the Baishipo bunker.

“According to the map, there’s the ruins of an ancient Erdrik Empire outpost ahead, with simple windbreaks and bunkers. The bandits have occupied it and used the ruins as their camp.” Rondar passed the binoculars to the others to look at, dragging his feet and pointing the way with the map.

“Great, we’re finally here. Let’s go, Samo, let’s charge in now,” Talia said casually.

“No, no, no, it’s only just nightfall. The bandits have just lit their torches and are still very wary,” Rondar instinctively stopped them. “Besides, we’ve just come from a long march, and our team is in terrible shape right now. It’s best to rest for a while and get back to our best. When the bandits are less vigilant and their attention is scattered around dawn, and most of them are asleep, we can infiltrate and meet them in the best possible condition.”

“There’s no need,” Talia replied casually.

“Brother Taran, bandits are all fierce and desperate men. If we launch a direct assault on their camp, and they can't win in a head-on confrontation while they're sober, they might just set the entire camp ablaze, hoping to take everyone down with them,” Rondar explained. “But we need the spoils, including the stolen food. If we don't get these spoils, the rewards from this mission will be greatly reduced.”

"Hmm... alright then." Talia hesitated for a moment, then snorted and sat down in the corner with Samael.

“Alright, let’s… rest here for now, have a quick meal and drink some water, don’t light a fire, and wait six or seven hours until the torches have mostly died down before sneaking into the bandit camp.” Rondar collapsed onto his enormous backpack, panting heavily. “My God… I haven’t used any supplies today, I haven’t even opened the backpack, and I prepared so much just in case! Why didn’t we encounter any demonic creatures or undead today? Not even a glimpse of a dragon vulture!”

“Uh…yes, why is that?” Talia said. “It’s strange.”

“Exactly! It’s so strange! Before, we had to fight every two steps in the wasteland, it was extremely dangerous!” Samael echoed, “We’re really lucky today.”

"That means we're having a lucky day." Potions Master Ruby tiptoed and patted Rondar's head. "That's a good thing, you silly captain. Don't complain about good things. The extra supplies can be used for the next mission... Ugh, you're covered in sweat..."

She shook her hand dismissively and wiped it on Rondar's clothes.

Elliott took out the beast-driving torch and struck two sparks on the torch head with a flint and steel.

The specially crafted torch heads, soaked in magical potions, do not ignite but gradually turn into charred, loose charcoal, emitting a strange, pungent odor. This odor weakens the senses of mutated creatures, causing them disgust and nausea. When necessary, the torches can also be used as weapons, their smoky fumes interrupting attacks or forcibly blinding mutated creatures.

He used the smoldering embers of his torch to draw a thick, charred circle around the resting camp, leaving a pungent smell. He couldn't help but turn his head and squint at the two knights in the camp.

Is it really just good luck?

……

Two moons, one pale and one bronze, hung high in the sky.

The group ate their dry rations, prepared their equipment and abilities, and waited for dawn to break.

The potion master Ruby placed seven or eight leather bags on the ground, arranged them in a circle, and checked the labels and quantities of the bottles and jars.

The mage Serena's long, wavy hair cascaded over her shoulders, like fresh, gentle seaweed, accentuating the contours of her face. She held a short staff inlaid with runestones, rummaging through her material bag for suitable catalyst materials, thoughtfully placing them in the cavity of the universal miniature magic circle on the staff's runestones in a specific order and according to their type.

As a transmigrator, Samael was very interested in magic and couldn't help but move his metal buttocks closer to Serena, wanting to see Serena's actions clearly—it seemed to be something he had seen in his previous life... like a game called "Noita" in his previous life, where you program spells by sorting and combining different materials to achieve specific magical effects.

For some reason Samael was unaware of, Talia's shoulder armor inexplicably bumped into him, causing him to look away from Serena. Samael, oblivious to what had happened, glared at Talia with his hands on his hips, then playfully bumped into her again, making a soft metallic clanging sound.

Before setting off, the greatswordsman Gerard had switched to a spear. Leaning on his spear, he served as the first watchman on the outer perimeter, while also using binoculars to monitor the bandit camp on the distant horizon.

“Why are you two just sitting here? Would you like some of the dry rations I brought? I brought extra flatbread,” Rondar said sincerely. “Please, if you don’t eat, I’ll have to carry it all back untouched.”

“Thank you for your kindness, Brother Randall, but I’d better not. I’m fasting during Ramadan, and to show my devotion to the gods, I cannot eat,” Samael replied.

"No. We dedicate our names and faces to the gods, and we cannot remove our helmets to eat in front of mortals," Talia replied casually. After all, demons are as resilient to hunger as camels; they could go seven or eight days without food without a problem.

“Oh, okay, I’m sorry, I’ve offended your religious and cultural traditions,” Randall apologized repeatedly.

This is getting stranger and stranger. Elliott silently examined the poisoned curved sword in the shadows of Rondar's backpack, watching the two knights' figures without making a sound, the darkness obscuring his face.

The two knights rested against the large, square bundle, as if the so-called "supply box" was just for show.

More and more doubts are emerging.

He pulled up a dark red scarf to cover the lower half of his face. Adjusting his rough black leather clothes and the chainmail beneath, only his sharp eyes were visible as he watched the two knights under the bronze-white double moon in the shadows.

Was it just luck that I didn't encounter any mutated creatures or undead today?
...Suspicious...luck.

(End of this chapter)