Ghost Knight King's Dungeon Project

Chapter 22 [Two Moons on the Edge of Night]

The raven, carrying a clump of brownish-yellow mold in its beak, flapped its wings and landed on a caravan in front of the bandit camp.

Samael and Talia nervously turned their heads to look inside the house, then at the demonic crow on the cart in front of them. They remained silent, waving their hands repeatedly while trying to keep quiet, pointing to the withered tree in the distance outside the camp.

The demon crow stared with its blood-red eyes, tilted its head, and watched the two people in front of it gesturing as if they were performing a pantomime.

“Fool.” It placed the brownish-yellow mold clump on the frame and cackled, “They’re busy, they don’t have time to pay attention outside.”

"Shh! Shh!" Samael gestured. "Keep your voice down, uncle! They'll hear you!"

“Your Raven Scout can leave now, Valak.” Talia grabbed the fungal clump. “Leave the rest to us… Don’t linger here too long; it’ll increase the risk of us being exposed!”

“I didn’t quite understand why you were pretending to be low-level adventurers at first.” The Feathered Raven strutted arrogantly across the caravan’s frame. “Now I know. There’s a lot of interesting information in adventurers’ conversations—like fallen leaves in the wind, insects in the soil, footprints in ruins, and wounds on corpses—they’re part of something much more interesting and grand, like the Rotten Roots in the Great Dungeon.”

“Picking up a fallen leaf tells me autumn is coming. Maybe I should pay more attention to the adventurers’ conversations instead of just killing them.” It hopped onto the top of the carriage. “After all, the news of autumn’s arrival is much more important than a fallen leaf.”

"What did you find out?" Talia asked in a low voice.

"More than twenty years ago, when the Adventurers' Alliance was first formed, a human assassin was hired by the Alliance to assassinate me. After failing, he was captured by me." The Demon Raven's blood-red eyes gazed silently at the sky. "I cherished his talent and did not kill him. Instead, I allowed him to serve me and even granted him the opportunity to become a demon."

"I used the [Hanging Demon]—a slender spider-like monster from the dungeon—as a sacrifice to transform him into an elusive demon warrior, allowing him to ambush and strangle like the Hanging Demon in the shadows of the ceiling, generate a carapace to protect his body, and assassinate targets with poison, blades, and nooses."

"However, only six months later, he betrayed me, fled my dungeon, and went into hiding somewhere under an assumed name—before leaving, he even stole a bag of crown skull gold coins from my vault as travel expenses." The Demon Raven snorted coldly, "He escaped quite a distance... Anyway, let's get down to business. See those grain sacks in the house?"

“I saw it, what’s wrong?” Samael peered into the house, making sure that Randall’s squad hadn’t noticed the commotion.

“If I’m not mistaken, the Alliance stronghold in Fallenthorn City has recently been buying up grain and human food such as Crackclaw Birds at high prices.” Raven looked at Samael and Talia. “Because three of the grain convoys were intercepted, the border of Erdrick probably won’t be able to produce any more grain for the time being, so they can only squeeze grain from the grain reserves in Fallenthorn City.”

“High-priced acquisition…that’s true, what’s wrong?” Talia asked.

“These grains,” Raven pointed with the tip of his wing at the sacks of wheat in the bandit camp, “are no longer guarded by wild dogs. If these grains are also transported back as spoils of war, the Alliance will still buy them back at a high price and send them to the dungeon.”

“The mold I sent is enough to contaminate more than a dozen bags of grain. You need to deal with the grain in the camp as well, and make sure the mold contamination seeps in. You’re with this group of adventurers, so you can go with them to the granary in Fallenthorn City. You must make sure all the grain wagons are contaminated.”

"If anything goes wrong in the end, neither you nor the adventurers will escape."

“This is going too far—we helped you deal with the grain convoy from the Erdrik border just to make up for the mistake of accidentally killing your men,” Talia said, somewhat disgruntled. “Now you want us to deal with the grain convoy from the Thicket City stronghold? We’re not your subordinates…”

The demonic raven cawed and chuckled.

With a flutter, two dark shadows descended from the sky. They were seven or eight demonic crows, clustered together and carrying two heavy money bags.

“Ancient coins from the Age of Gods. From the ruins of the Age of Gods embedded in the earth, the only circulating currency recognized by the proud ancient demon race.” Valak’s crested demon raven hopped onto the money bag, kicked the bag with its claws, making a crisp, light sound. “I always reward and punish fairly; this is a reward for your excellent work.”

“But then again…” Talia hesitated, reaching for her money pouch, “doing some follow-up support work… isn’t out of the question.”

"Then do it properly. Don't mess it up again." The flock of crows flapped their wings and flew away.

"These two bags... put them away quickly!" Talia instinctively grabbed the heavy money bag and stuffed one of them into Samael's hands.

"Where am I supposed to put such a big bag?!" Samael instinctively caught it. "If I hang it on my waist, Randall and the others will definitely see it!"

The money pouch was about the size of a grapefruit, made of black and green leather with scales, with the opening bound by wire and the body printed with a gold-stamped serpent emblem.

"Stuff it into your armor!" Talia grabbed Samael and shoved the grapefruit-sized money pouch into the gap between his breastplate and shoulder armor.

With a series of clanging sounds, the money bag fell from the breastplate into the boot armor, jingling with each step Samael took.

"No way!" Samael struggled to pull the money bag out of the gap between his joints.

The two looked around, then quickly ran to where the group had put their luggage. They opened the two empty metal boxes they had brought with them to avoid suspicion and threw their money bags inside.

"This old box can still be used..." Talia threw the money bag into the box, locked it up, wrapped it tightly, tied it with chains, and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Regarding the grain in the bandit camp... should the mold be put in now?" Samael asked in a low voice.

"Down!" Talia took out a clump of fungus from her pouch, broke off half of it and crushed it between her fingers. She then randomly picked three or four grain bags, opened the caps, sprinkled some powder inside, and sealed the bags tightly.

……

As dusk fell, the setting sun enveloped the earth. Night was about to descend.

The crowd gathered at the entrance of the beacon tower ruins, carrying and inspecting the spoils of war.

"Most of it is grain, wheat and dried Cracked Claw Bird meat," Rondar said, counting the items with a pen and paper. "A large quantity of substandard weapons and equipment, a small amount of potions, some beast-repelling torches and other miscellaneous items..."

"In the beacon tower building, there is an old safe in the bandit leader's room, containing a small box of gold coins, which can be considered an extra bonus."

"Some of their hunts...it seems they frequently cross the border, going there every month to trade with the black market along the border to replenish supplies and earn a small amount of cash."

"Three caravans, two horses..."

"And... a demon sword."

After the inventory was completed, Randall breathed a sigh of relief.

By the afternoon, Glad and Rondar had loaded most of the spoils into the two caravans, preparing to mount their horses and head back to the city early the next morning. Elliot's condition had improved considerably; he could now walk with difficulty, supporting himself against the wall. Although Ruby and Serena lacked experience in treating wounds inflicted by the Bloodsteel Longsword, rudimentary healing magic and potions, combined with rest, had proven effective.

The two horses were very well-behaved, lounging in the stable behind the beacon tower, snorting and chewing on hay.

Talia seemed to really like horses; she leaned against the stable, elbows on the railing, watching the two horses chew hay.

"You like animals?" Samael leaned against a nearby pillar, watching the Randall squad busy in the distance.

“A fine horse,” Talia answered softly. “My father had a demon knight order that rode huge magical beasts, similar to broad-hoofed white horses, galloping across the snowfields. Although they were magical beasts, they ate like ordinary horses, chewing on snow lichen and ferns in the dungeon’s stables.”

She stared intently at the two magnificent horses in front of her.

“When we build the underground city in the future, we’ll build something similar,” Samael said in a low voice.

Talia smiled.

“These two horses… are imperial warhorses.” She stared intently at the steeds before her. “The horseshoes bear the coat of arms of the Erdrik Empire—you can see the hoofprints in the stables.”

"What do you mean? Can bandits really plunder the Empire's army?" Samael asked.

“Unlikely,” Talia shook her head. “But I’m a little uneasy. The Empire is the most militarily powerful of the four human kingdoms, possessing fertile plains and rich mineral veins, providing a strong foundation for its army with provisions and metals. Even after the reduction of troops and the development of adventurers, its army is still terrifyingly large.”

“But maintaining such an army still requires costs. Ancient empires relied on war to plunder land and resources to support their armies, while the current Erdrick Empire has not waged war for nearly thirty years and is barely surviving by sharing profits with adventurers in cooperation with the alliance.”

“Warhorses appearing in a place like this, perhaps the Empire will soon make some move…” Talia shook her head and laughed self-deprecatingly, “Only the Demon King with the dungeon and the monarchs of other kingdoms need to worry about this. For exiles like us, it doesn’t really matter what the Empire does.”

“No, I think we still need to worry.” Samael shook his head slightly. “But we can worry about it later. It’s getting dark, we should probably leave soon. I’ll go make up an excuse and tell Randall.”

He rose from the stable pillar and headed toward the campfire.

“I told you, Elliott, these things will definitely come in handy.” Rondar leaned smugly against his huge backpack, placing the iron pot over the campfire and frying Crackclaw bird jerky.

Water was boiling in the teapot next to her, and Serena was adjusting the circuits on the runestone and casting purification magic on the teapot.

"That's no excuse for bringing a bunch of random stuff, you paranoid idiot captain!" Elliott cursed, taking the fried Crackclaw Bird jerky from the pan and rolling it into his own dry ration flatbread, chewing it without any politeness. He was clearly in much better spirits now. "You'd better learn your lesson from this mission. If you bring this much useless stuff again next time, I'll be the first to beat you up."

“Hey… the Randall brothers?” Samael approached the camp.

The campfire illuminated his armor, and he instinctively raised his gauntlet, pulling down the brim of his tattered cloak slightly.

“Hmm?” Rondar turned around. “Brother Samos, come and have something to eat with Brother Taran. It’s rare to have a moment to catch your breath in the Wasteland. You two are the real leaders on this mission.”

“No need, thank you. I… I plan to go out and patrol around the camp a few times,” Samael said.

“We can handle patrols, you two are working hard. We feel really bad if we have to leave these kinds of chores to you.” Rondar subconsciously replied, “Or I could go with you…”

“No… it has to be just the two of us, Brother Taran, after all…” Samael was momentarily speechless, unable to come up with a reason. After a few seconds of hesitation, he looked around for a moment and finally blurted out, “The moonlight is quite beautiful tonight.”

Oh no! He couldn't think of a reason and accidentally talked nonsense again! Samael thought to himself that he was in trouble, but the next second, he saw Randall apologizing repeatedly.

“I’m so sorry, I see! I won’t go with you.” Rondar nodded with a smile. “I understand! I wish Brother Samos… no, I wish you both a pleasant evening.”

"So even ascetics can pursue..." The potion master Ruby came over gossipingly, only to be pushed back by the mage Serena.

"I wish you both all the best." Serena smiled and nodded, then wrapped Ruby's head in her cloak to prevent her from saying anything nonsense.

Hmm? Samael was unaware that his words had caused some kind of misunderstanding. He simply nodded and stepped back, looking towards the edge of the camp.

At the boundary between the campfire and the darkness, Talia stood quietly beneath the twin moons, carrying a heavy hammer and spear on her back.

He pulled down the brim of his hood, the heavy armor clanging softly, and with a slight hunch of his back, he walked towards Talia.

The two walked side by side into the night.

"What excuse did you come up with this time?" Talia asked in a low voice.

“…I’m not sure either. It’s probably just patrols or something.” Samael shook his head. “Anyway, they seem pretty lenient, so maybe we can spend a little more time with them.”

“Very good.” Talia chuckled hoarsely.

The towering figures, like two monarchs, strode across the plains and around the hills, leaving the firelight far behind.

Beneath the dark sky, Talia spread her arms, igniting a faint blue light in her eyes. A howl echoed from the distant darkness, and enormous wings converged, circling in the sky. Clawed shadows raced across the desolate open land, gathering towards the monarch.

Samael drew his sword and shield, his tattered cloak billowing in the night wind.

The bronze resonator is now in use.

clang!clang!clang!
The clanging of the bronze sword and shield echoed under the bronze moon, like the sound of ancient war drums beating once more.

clang!clang!clang!
Hundreds of skeletal hands, gripping broken swords and rusted spears, burst from the earth, struggling under the moonlight to form a well-trained legion, driven forward by the monarch's war drums, just as they had a hundred years before.

Old crossbows, broken shields, shattered swords, and rusty spears—the legion converged, forming a wedge formation, pointing directly at the convoy at the edge of the plain.

(End of this chapter)