Ghost Knight King's Dungeon Project

Chapter 25 [The Roaring One of the Rotten Soil]

The crimson twilight enveloped the Kanas plain. Three wagons loaded with grain drove along the desolate road.

The Demon King Valak's dungeon is located northwest of Fallenthorn City, passing through a wasteland filled with jagged rocks.

Huge white stones stood tall, enough to obscure the figures of seven or eight people. Yet, they were scattered like stars in a maze among the yellowish-brown dust and loose soil.

"Hey, Norman." A lazy female voice echoed from the front of the caravan. "Norman? Uncle Norman!"

The person ignored the incessant shouting.

“Norman~ Uncle Norman… Norman Passat!” The young girl in the dark blue robe called out in a voice with a slight Florentine accent.

The refined man in the blue robe seemed deaf, quietly driving the carriage.

"Captain Passat," the girl called out weakly.

"What is it?" Norman Passat, the Windsword, replied.

"Transporting grain is so boring, why did I have to come along?" the girl wailed, kicking her legs wildly as she lay on a pile of grain sacks in the vehicle. "I want to stay at the dungeon camp! The materials there are very important to me, you know?"

"Because you are a genius mage with extremely strong mental power and a huge amount of magic power, you can use identification spells thousands of times a day and still be full of energy," Norman replied. "We can't do without you."

"So, I, a top graduate from the Lunos Academy in the Florent capital, an eighth-level genius mage certified with the Silver Star Crest, am here just to be a human identification device, is that it?" The girl slumped indignantly onto a pile of grain sacks in the caravan. "Listen to what you're saying! I haven't done anything all day except sweep up hundreds of sacks of grain! You can identify magic yourself, go sweep them up yourself!"

“This is important, Julian,” Norman murmured. “Identification magic is very important. People always overlook the value of identification magic—information is power. If I could, I would use identification magic non-stop in battle.”

"Here we go again," the little mage pouted. "Boring."

She stretched out her hands toward the canopy of the caravan. Both her hands were covered with leather-lined gloves studded with copper studs and iron-jointed plates. Inlaid in the palms of the gloves were large, intricately detailed runic discs, densely covered with seven or eight grooves and stone wheels.

The fingertips of the gauntlets are also steel claws, which can control the scale on the edge of the wheel for high-precision advanced magic circle operations.

“Don’t worry about being bored. If I’m not mistaken, the grain convoy will soon encounter some interesting things,” Norman replied calmly.

"Why is that, boss?" asked a male potion master in the same car.

“The mold in the camp’s granary this morning was contamination carried by the newly delivered grain,” Norman replied. “The epicenter of the mold spread was several bags of grain with rip marks from monster claws, which the deliverymen had simply patched up—it was the mold that was released by the Demon King Valak’s men who intercepted the trucks en route. He even had the strength to withstand such an attack.”

"It's almost here, it'll be here soon." He gazed at the distant sun gradually disappearing below the horizon. "I chose to transport the goods at sunset to lure out Valak's men. Killing them will weaken the Demon King Valak's power."

clang!clang!clang!
Just as the sunlight disappeared completely, a loud metallic clanging sound came from near the distant pile of rocks!
Clang, clang! Accompanied by the sound of synchronized footsteps, a row of skeletal shield guards suddenly emerged from the dust cloud on the horizon, spears thrusting out from the gaps between the shields, pointing directly at the convoy, and closing in!

“Did you hear that? How interesting, their commander is beating the drums.” Norman smiled, raising his hand to grip the hilt of his sword. “Ignore the soldiers, intercept the commander!”

"What about the supply wagons?" the potion master cried out. "Everyone at the front-line camp is waiting for supplies!"

“These low-level undead soldiers on the surface are far inferior to the creatures in the dungeon. At most, they can destroy or steal four or five bags, or implant mold into seven or eight bags of food.” Norman Passat drew his steel longsword from his back. “The surface magic is thin, and it will take time for the mold to spread. Now that we know their methods, it doesn’t matter if they get mold implanted. Before the mold spreads, we can just use identification magic again to check and throw away the contaminated bags!”

"What we need to worry about is the commander himself; the high-ranking demons might use some powerful methods to destroy all the food."

"Therefore—intercept and kill the commander immediately! Soldiers without a commander will automatically collapse!"

With a charge and slash, the rune stone on his sword hilt flashed blue light, unleashing a fierce sword wind. A blue-green slash wave burst from the blade, severing a string of skeletal shield guards in front of him!
"The sound is coming from this direction! Dorian, follow me! Zovin, fire a flare, prepare for ranged attacks. Julian, prepare to identify magic, broadcast the commander's race, status, and location!"

"Mannis, you and Zovin stay put and guard the supply wagons. There may be other undead and monsters appearing later. If you see any individuals that resemble demons, immediately fire a howling arrow to alert us! -- Don't worry too much, we'll take care of the commander right away!"

The hunters and assassins obeyed. The assassins charged after Norman, while the hunters set up their massive hunting bows and thick arrows. The potion master swiftly prepared makeshift flares and unstable oil potions.

The young mage laughed loudly, clenching his right gauntlet into a fist. Two azure feathers slid out from the catalyst pouch on his wrist, and his fingertips rapidly flicked the runestone wheel. The support in his specially made robe opened like umbrella ribs, and he glided swiftly towards the source of the knocking sound, riding a stream of deep azure energy!

Whoosh! A glass bottle was hurled high into the air and shattered, illuminating the area below as if it were daytime! It illuminated the figure below striking with a broken iron sword!
"The assessment result is... a necromancer! A high-level necromancer! He has five combat skills!" The little mage raised the runestone in his left hand and exclaimed excitedly, "[Focus on Footwork], [Blade Counter Stance], [Charged Impact], [Precision Combo], [Razor Formation]—he's a necromancer swordsman, fun!"

"...Just a high-level necromancer swordsman?" Norman seemed disappointed and confused. "Not a demon... There are too many boulders in the White Stone Wasteland, and the terrain is complicated. Julian, report the location."

"30 degrees southwest, about 200 meters." The little mage looked down from the sky at the maze made of huge white stones, looked at the compass on his collar, quickly determined the direction, and shouted.

Norman glanced down at the compass pendant around his neck, swiftly dodged the white stone in front of him, leaped out, and drew his sword, pointing it at the figure before him.

It was a strange skeletal swordsman wearing a rusty bronze bell-shaped helmet, who was striking his helmet heavily with his iron sword, making a clanging sound that looked comical.

[Connecting signal...]

The psionic implant is functioning well.

High-precision control is now integrated. The auxiliary scanner is ready.

The copper resonance signal repeater has been suspended.

Upon seeing Norman, the skeletal swordsman wearing a rusty bronze bell-shaped helmet stopped his strange act of tapping his helmet, raised his rusty iron sword, and half-protected it in front of him, assuming a standard "blade-back stance".

The assassin in the group excitedly picked up two double-headed short blades, instinctively ready to charge and slash.

The skeletal swordsman remained silent, standing motionless in place.

"Stop!" Norman shouted! "Keep your feet on the ground!"

The assassin stopped abruptly, spun around and retreated, drew a rough animal bone throwing blade, aimed at the soil an inch in front of his feet and shot it out!

With a piercing scream, the brownish-yellow soil suddenly churned up, and the seemingly flat ground instantly turned into a large pit. From it crawled a huge, fat, yellowish-green slug covered in loose soil, with the assassin's throwing blade stuck in its head.

Wow! It wriggled its round, fat body, half of its head split open, and opened its huge mouth full of barbed teeth, letting out a loud croak like a toad!
With a roar, seven or eight clumps of dark green slime were vomited out of its huge throat, spraying everywhere like exploding embers!
The assassin used the white stones beside him to lift himself off the ground, performing two agile backflips to dodge the splattering clumps of dark green slime.

Some clumps of slime hit the ground and immediately began to bubble upon contact with the soil. Others, like snot, stuck firmly to the nearby white stones, pulled by gravity, and slowly slid off the surface, leaving a sticky, dark green trail of slime, like the tracks left by snails.

Boom! Boom! Boom! The soil around the bronze-helmeted necromancer exploded in succession, and three identical giant slugs emerged.

"The Rotten Roarer," the assassin snorted with disgust, "a rather troublesome and disgusting magical beast... a poisonous slug."

“Back off, Dorian. Don’t move, let me handle this.” Norman cautiously approached the necromancer little by little. “This is very unusual…”

"What's wrong, boss?" The assassin twirled the throwing blade at his fingertips, trying to locate the nerve center in the head of the Rotten Roarer slug. "It's disgusting, but not too difficult. We have the antidote."

Locating the nerve center and delivering a fatal blow is difficult, as the head of the Rot Roarer is often covered by a thick, opaque, gelatinous substance that is tough, resilient, and bone-like. Usually, the only way to destroy the nerve center is to pierce the mouth while it is roaring and vomiting.

These Rotting Roarers were particularly strange. Their heads were covered with a large patch of withered branches and leaves from Bloodthorn, severely obstructing their view. Moreover, they even deliberately had a layer of withered leaves stuck in their mouths, affecting the angle of observation for quick kill techniques.

The bronze-helmed necromancer was closely surrounded by a ring of rotten earth howlers, like a royal guard protecting a general.

If Norman and his group get too close, it will trigger the Rotting Soil Roarer's retching spray. The dark green sludge clumps will explode upon impact, causing minimal damage but leaving behind a trail of toxic, slimy liquid. Without using large-scale, high-level offensive techniques, it's difficult to approach them quickly.

However, advanced combat skills consume a lot of physical and mental energy. As an adventurer who mainly fights alone, physical and mental energy are also precious resources that must be carefully managed.

“No, something’s not right… Higher necromancers can indeed manipulate lower necromancers in some ways.” Norman tentatively raised his sword. “But how could necromancers cooperate with magical beasts? This is very abnormal; they should be attacking all living things… Don’t act rashly.”

“Moreover, undead are usually devoid of intelligence and incapable of performing complex actions such as forming formations and coordinating combat... Perhaps this is a special undead with intelligence?” He narrowed his eyes slightly, slowly bypassing the Rotting Soil Roarer, and sized up the rusty bronze bell-shaped helmeted skeleton swordsman in front of him.

Clang! A sudden metallic clang!

Through the protective circle of the Rotting Roarers, the broken iron tip of the bronze-helmeted necromancer's sword clattered to the ground. Norman stepped back with interest, the tip of his steel longsword trembling slightly like a bee sting.

[Psionic Implant - Auxiliary Scanner Now Activated.]

[Biological Posture Detection: Decoy Sting Posture]

[A humanoid fighting stance. Suitable for medium-sized one-handed weapons such as swords and short clubs. A relatively conservative offensive stance, used for mid-range probing, luring counterattacks to deplete stamina and energy, and creating openings in the opponent's stance. For one-handed use.]

The database has been updated.

[Burn to the "Artificial Life Science - Biological Posture Materials" content library]

[The device is usable.]

[Implant - Construct recording slots are full, temporarily unavailable.] "Identification magic?" Norman was taken aback, instinctively taking two steps back uncomfortably. "...What is that? A necromancer can use identification magic?"

With a whoosh, the little mage descended from the sky, landing steadily in front of Norman. With a slight flick of her right fingertip, the runestone wheel spun, and accompanied by a dense series of crackling sounds, deep blue wind blades rained down from her palm, heading towards the strange necromancer swordsman!

"Get out of the way, you cowardly old man! This special undead remnant is mine!" The little mage laughed excitedly amidst the dense explosions.

The next instant, the soil beneath the Necromancer's feet suddenly exploded! A giant, jet-black beetle leaped up, using its hard shell to block a series of cyan wind blades for the Necromancer!

The necromancer grabbed the black beetle with his left hand and used the beetle's shell as a shield to block!
[Psionic Implant - Auxiliary Scanner Now Activated.]

[Psionic circuit detected: Vapor-driven (Precision Operation 2)]

[Already burned into the Basic Psionics - Circuit Template Library]

[Due to a lack of materials, it cannot be used at this time.]

"Ugh... using an identification spell on a living person!" The little mage felt a chill run down his spine, shuddering at the cold, piercing gaze. "Pervert!"

With a flick of her wrist, she tossed her left gauntlet, and the beast eyeball used to unleash the appraisal magic was ejected like a spent cartridge. The joints in the gauntlet opened, automatically releasing two magical beast glands as catalysts, which landed precisely in the catalyst slots.

The runestone wheel in her palm spun, forming a new circuit. She deftly raised her left hand and delivered a backhand punch! A massive, swift fireball flew out from the force of her punch!

With a series of cracking sounds, the fireball made contact with the necromancer's black beetle shield and stuck to it like a living, burning slurry, instantly charring the black beetle's hard shell!

[Psionic Implant - Auxiliary Scanner Now Activated.]

[Psychic circuit detected: Ion Particle (Precision Operation 7)]

[Already burned into the Basic Psionics - Circuit Template Library]

[Due to a lack of materials, it cannot be used at this time.]

Amidst the acrid smell of burning, the black beetle's living shell split in two!

The Necromancer, having lost his shield, threw down the Black Beetle Shield, used the flames to obscure his vision, and pierced through the smoke and dust, raising his broken sword to unleash a backhand strike using the combat technique [Precise Combo]!
The little mage raised his right gauntlet, and the air in front of his hand instantly rippled with deep blue waves, condensing into a semi-transparent deep blue shield!
Clang clang clang clang clang! The shield perfectly blocked a series of thrusts, and the wind shield automatically floated in the air without even consuming stamina!
The wind shield dissipated, and the little mage took half a step back, hiding behind Norman!

“It…it’s spying on me with identification magic again! You filthy necromancer!” she cried out, grabbing Norman Passat’s arm.

“This is so strange…” Norman hesitated for a moment.

Everything was unexpected.

Initially, he thought it was a demon hunter under the Demon King or a human follower who had been corrupted, using some method to control the undead, intercept the convoy and release mold. He thought that as soon as they met, the demons would unleash the Storm Sword Technique, and the three of them could work together to kill them quickly.

Unexpectedly, he turned out to be just a strange high-level necromancer swordsman who constantly used identification magic to spy around and fought alongside various magical beasts. This unusual situation made Norman hesitant to make a move.

While advanced magical combat techniques like Storm Sword Technique could instantly crush this strange necromancer swordsman and Rotting Soil Roarer, they would consume a large amount of physical and mental energy, and could only be used a maximum of three times a day…

This necromancer might just be a target to bait out advanced combat skills and deplete resources... Don't fall for it.

Monsters like the Rotten Roarer, while primarily ambush in the soil and moving slowly, have a very troublesome venomous sludge that can cause a lot of trouble if you get it on you...trouble?
They and the necromancer swordsmen are used to buy time!
Norman suddenly snapped out of his daze!
"We've been tricked! This isn't the Necromancer Commander at all! It's a decoy!" he shouted. "Forget about it! Go back and guard the supply wagons immediately! Mannis and Zovin are probably already in trouble!"

The young mage was the first to react. He clenched his right gauntlet into a fist, and the umbrella-shaped frame of his robe unfurled with a whoosh, gliding away on the blue current.

The assassin snapped out of his daze, grabbed his double-headed dagger, and turned to run wildly toward the grain wagon.

Seeing Norman turn to leave, the Necromancer seemed a little anxious. He suddenly left the circle of the Corrupted Roarers, raised his half-broken blade, used a [Focus Step] to flash in front of him, and once again assumed a counter-blade stance!

"Stop wasting time!" Norman swung his sword backhand, unleashing two consecutive sword techniques!

With a clang, the first move, [Luring Stance], disrupted the Necromancer's counter stance.

Without the melee obstruction of the Rotting Soil Roarer, he seamlessly chained [Charging Slash] with the fighting skills of a level seven magic swordsman!
The necromancer's body slowly fell to the ground, and upon impact, it scattered into countless fragments of bones.

The skull wearing the rusty bronze bell-shaped helmet flew high into the sky. Suddenly, the shadow of a dragon eagle swept across the dim sky and, in the light of the illuminating potion bottle, reached out its claws and snatched the skull wearing the bronze helmet.

Norman was taken aback. Recalling the earlier knocking sounds and the necromancer's action of tapping his helmet with his iron sword, he realized that the bronze helmet might be the key to controlling the necromancer! In his haste, he had overlooked this detail!

There was no time to worry about the strange helmet! Mannis and Zovin might have already fallen victim to the demon commander—why hadn't they sent a signal? He activated [Step Focus], his heart filled with unease, and sprinted towards the grain caravan.

Norman Passat rushed back to the supply wagon, where the little mage and the dual-wielding assassin had already arrived. They found the hunter and the potion master sitting unharmed beside the wagon, looking at the three who had returned ahead of time with confusion.

The area around the caravan was littered with heavy white stones, and the canopy had been crushed with several large holes.

"Uh... Boss?" The hunter scratched his head. "What happened? Was the demon commander killed?"

"You two...didn't you encounter a demon attack?" Norman hesitated, that strange feeling of "everything being unexpected" returning to him. "That undead commander was a decoy to buy time. Logically, they lured the three of us away so they could take the opportunity to attack the supply wagons..."

“Oh, after you went to intercept the commander, seven or eight dragon vultures circled in the sky, throwing white stones the size of human heads down.” The potion master gestured. “But Mannis and I have already chased them away. It’s just a matter of a few potions and a few hunting arrows.”

"They came fiercely, throwing stones down like raindrops. We were caught off guard, and the wagon canopy got several holes in it," the hunter added. "But it doesn't matter, the grain isn't afraid of being hit."

“The canopy was smashed through…” Norman snorted, opened the leaky canopy of the grain wagon, and inspected the condition of the wagon.

The truck contained slightly dented and deformed grain sacks, as well as several heavy white stones.

Norman thoughtfully fumbled through the grain sacks, then suddenly picked up one that had no dents from being hit by a stone.

“Idiot! What the dragon eagle throws down might not be stones, it could very well be a grain sack mixed with mold!” he sneered. “Julian, use the identification magic.”

"Changing the catalyst is a hassle, you know?" The little mage muttered as he switched the runestone catalyst combination in his left hand, and the three beast eyes were aimed at the food bag in Norman Passat's hand.

“There’s mold.” She smiled. “Wow, uncle.”

"Just as I thought." Norman casually tossed the grain sack aside beside the car, when he suddenly heard a faint sound of shattering glass.

*Crack.* The sound came from a grain sack that had just hit the ground.

"Lie down!" he suddenly realized and shouted in terror!

The next instant, the moldy grain sacks exploded with a deafening roar, scattering the foul-smelling slime and dark green clumps of rotten earth everywhere, covering every grain truck. The toxic slime had almost seeped into every single grain sack.

The lower grain sacks might survive, but at least three-quarters of the grain would be inedible.

Centered on the spot where the moldy grain bag landed, the area within a seven or eight-meter radius looked as if it had been bombarded with yellow-green snot by a person with a cold.

The five people stood silently with their eyes closed in the center of the snot-filled area, like five tragic hero sculptures made of boogers.

“Bottled magic. [Corruption Bombardment]. Created using the venom glands of the Rotten Roarer.” A huge, dark green, booger-like substance slowly slid off Norman’s face. He calmly pulled a vial of antidote from his waist, tilted his head back, and drank it down in one gulp, as if drinking alcohol. “It’s homemade… a knock-off. The filler is much more potent than the normal bottled magic available on the market.”

"Ugh...it's disgusting..." The little mage burst into tears, sobbing and yelling that he felt nauseous while fumbling for the antidote at his waist.

"Uh..." The assassin slowly shook off the thin, sticky liquid from his arm, wiped his face, and then pulled out a bottle of antidote.

"Sorry, boss..." The hunter and the potion master, with antidote bottles in their mouths, bowed their heads and admitted their mistake.

“It was my fault. I didn’t notice in time.” Norman shook his head.

The little wizard choked up, dodging the sticky liquid that Norman flicked out when he shook his head, and then suddenly burst into laughter through his tears.

"What's wrong?" Norman asked.

"You're facing the explosion point, covered in slime in front of you, but clean behind you... How ridiculous..." The little mage choked up while laughing.

Norman sighed, reached up and took the dark green, sticky blob off his head and threw it aside.

“Our mission has failed… The toxic slime has contaminated most of the food, and even if we transport the rest to the underground front camp, it won’t last more than a few days.” He gritted his teeth. “Tell them it’s time to evacuate, or Valak’s counterattack will kill us all.”

(End of this chapter)