Ghost Knight King's Dungeon Project

Chapter 38 [Ronoway, the Ghost Knight, and the New World]

There were no buildings to block the wind in the wide wheat field, which allowed the cold autumn wind to rush in from the open north, blowing unimpeded against Commander Bert and fluttering his black herringbone cavalry coat.

The weather was getting colder; winter was approaching. He thought. He felt the cold wind seeping into his neck through the gaps in the collar of his cavalry coat. For ease of movement, the brass buttons bearing the insignia of the king and his sword crown were not fastened, and the hem of his coat swayed against his knees in the wind.

I wonder if His Majesty Heins III is in good health; I hope the palace will have plenty of fireplaces. Bert was slightly distracted, but quickly regained his composure and looked at the wheat field before him.

A great battle once took place in the wheat field.

He stood in the middle of the wheat field, gazing at the six corpses before him, his left hand behind his back, his right hand resting on the hilt of the sword at his waist, his fingertips tracing the texture of the anti-slip black leather strips wrapped around the hilt, silent.

This was his habit when he was thinking. Over the years, he had become accustomed to never leaving his sword.

"Sir?" the subordinate asked.

"No, no, don't go any closer. Don't trample on the marks here." Bert raised his hand, signaling the soldiers behind him not to trample on the wheat field.

Logically, in this situation, a professional adventurer hunter should be invited to assist in the investigation. Erdrick's Imperial soldiers are war dogs, not hunting dogs, and are not very good at things like investigation and tracking.

However, there is no Alliance office in this area. The nearest Alliance outpost is hundreds of kilometers away and is a trading post for magical materials, which is difficult for qualified mid- to high-level hunter adventurers to find.

Given the current situation, Commander Bert can only rely on his experience and guesswork to figure things out.

The wheat field was covered with scorch marks. A harvester, half-burnt, lay in ruins, with charred wood fragments and gears scattered on the ground. The horse carcasses inside were covered in Supar oil from the eastern desert and were charred beyond recognition.

Harvesting vehicles were once war chariots. A certain "person" adapted to the local conditions and used these vehicles in skirmishes—a "person" who had some understanding of the history of imperial war machinery and military tactics.

Judging from the ruins at the edge of the wheat field, there was once an abandoned building here, perhaps some kind of warehouse. Based on the marks on the ground, it seems that some kind of goods were once stored there, but by now it has been completely burned down, leaving only the dilapidated remains of an explosion.

Supar oil...explosion...

He slowly squatted down and examined the corpse in front of him.

The six corpses, belonging to a high-ranking demon and five demonized beings, all had brown skin and dark gold or amber eyes, clearly indicating they were from the eastern desert—perhaps all from the Supar Empire.

Coming all the way to the northwest? And infiltrating the empire unnoticed? Could they be spies? Bert pondered. There were frequent rumors that the Supar Empire cooperated with the demons, sending high-ranking demons and several demonized individuals as spies. Although it was unprecedented, it wasn't impossible.

The high-ranking demon had various wounds, including sword piercings, blunt force hammer blows, explosions, burning, heavy kicks, and so on, but the final cause of death was the destruction of his internal organs—perhaps this meant he was attacked by multiple people?

The bodies of the five demonized beings were scattered in the wheat field. Two died from being cut by sharp blades, one from being pierced by a sword and struck by a blunt weapon, and the other was reduced to fragments, with half-molten metal stuck to them, seemingly caused by the explosion of a kerosene canister.

The last one lay in a clearing at the edge of the wheat field, his body mutilated by a sharp weapon, as if deliberately dismembered to cover something up. Bert noticed something suspicious—the body's heart appeared to have been removed and deliberately disposed of far away.

Is this some kind of ritual? Bert pondered.

The Eastern Supar Empire is highly advanced in medical technology and necromancy. Life alchemists often harvest fresh magical beast organs from corpses and, with the help of potions and surgery, implant these organs into their warriors.

The chimera warriors created in this way can acquire the corresponding abilities of different magical beasts based on their different organ structures, with no limit on the number, and they are not controlled by the demon lord.

In comparison, an ordinary demonized being who can only possess one type of magical beast ability and trait is practically a pitiful, weak, and helpless little brat compared to the multi-chimera warrior of Suparchimera.

Perhaps this corpse is also a product of some special life alchemy of the Supar Empire? Or was his heart originally intended to be dug out as material for witchcraft, but after digging it out, it was deemed to be of substandard quality, so it was thrown away?

Could it be infighting within the Supar Empire's spy network? Or perhaps some life alchemist passed by, collected materials, wasn't satisfied, and then discarded them? Bert scratched his head. That didn't seem likely; otherwise, why would they deliberately dismember the corpse?
Could it be that they are from our side?

According to feedback from nearby farmers, they reportedly heard angry roars faintly at night, mentioning two key words.

One is "Ronoway", and the other is "Ghost Rider".

What a joke... Bert shuddered at the absurd possibility implied in it.

"Ronoway" is the noble surname of the Northern Knights family! The "Cedar Knights," one of the Four Knights personally appointed by Emperor Erdrick, are knight lords stationed in the coniferous forests of the northern mountains.

The Cedar Knights of Ronoway in the north have been guarding the northern border since the founding of Erdrick, resisting the invasion of demon exiles and icy sea barbarian raiders. They are loyal to the empire, adhere to knightly etiquette, and govern the Cedar Knights territory in an orderly manner.

Even His Majesty Emperor Heinz III, the current emperor of the empire, who massacred two-thirds of the old military nobles after ascending the throne, never once considered touching a hair on the head of the four great knightly families.

Ronoway... Ghost Knight... A person with some knowledge of the history of Imperial war machine development and military tactics...

Could it be that the spirits of the ancestors of the Northern Cedar Knights have transformed into loyal ghost knights, who killed spies from the Supar Empire to protect the Erdrick Empire left behind by the Forged Emperor?

Bert was terrified by the third-rate novel plot he had imagined. He slowly stood up, scratching his head, and looked around at the strange things in his surroundings.

This is just too absurd. Saying it at a social dance might be praised as a clever joke, but saying it in a formal setting would get you kicked in the crotch by your superiors and colleagues.

Some popular novelists might borrow this idea to write a bestselling chivalric romance novel that noble young men and women would secretly read under their desks in academy classrooms—"I, the Four Knights of the Forged Nation, Return as a Heroic Spirit." Of course, they would also add a few like-minded knight companions, and preferably a down-on-her-luck noble girl...

This is too weird!

He swallowed hard, unsure whether he should report the matter.

He paced back and forth in the middle of the wheat field, looking around anxiously, trying to find something else.

The soldiers standing at attention nearby, staring blankly, watched their commander swing left and right like a pendulum, their bewildered gazes following him as he swayed back and forth.

Ding. Bert's boots kicked something in the wheat field.

He slowly bent down and picked up a severed harvester's blade from among the charred wheat straw. Judging from its shape, it came from a nearby, burned-out harvesting machine. Some kind of sharp blade had cut it off the blade wheel.

The blade was covered with a thin layer of dark blue-green copper plating, as if a ghost had clung to it, radiating a chilling aura.

He carefully touched the cold, rusty copper of the blade, suddenly realizing that the harvesting siege was designed for unarmored and lightly armored targets. How could the corpses of the demonized beings, with their carapaces from the Dune Scorpions, possibly be killed by ordinary blades?
He strode to the blade wheel of the harvesting chariot, only to find that the other blades did not seem to have the cold, rusty copper plating.

Or perhaps it once existed, but vanished like a ghost.

“I’m not sure,” he said in a low voice. “I can only report this absurd idea—that a ghost, a spirit, a spirit connected to the Northern Cedar Knights, killed the demons and demonized beings of the Supar Empire.”

He tucked the cold, rusted copper-plated blade into his coat pocket, intending to present it as evidence when he returned to report.

The soldiers looked at each other, wondering if their commander had lost his mind—maybe they should take turns kicking him in the crotch to bring him to his senses.

……

The dwarven ore wagons that had blocked the main road have been repaired, and the road is open again. Merchant caravans quickly poured onto the road, heading towards their respective destinations.

"Where's that hot-headed young man who was supposed to transport cotton to the northern knightly territory...? Where did he go?"

He said someone bought all three of his truckloads of cotton... He should have already gone back to transporting other goods.

"What great luck! It's already late autumn, and we've still managed to find customers buying so much cotton in the southern part of the empire..."

A dozen or so horse-drawn wagons of exiled merchants rattled and sped along the road, interspersed among the caravans of human merchants.

The scenery outside the car window rushed past, and an autumn breeze carried a golden leaf in through the window, which gently landed on Samael's helmet.

“Oh…” Samael moved his head slowly, like some kind of huge reptile covered in rusty copper scales.

A fallen leaf got stuck in the seam of his helmet.

Although his body didn't need sleep, a certain mental fatigue remained. After a difficult battle on both a mental and physical level, Samael temporarily fell into a drowsy sluggishness.

“You look like a dozing lizard,” Talia whispered affectionately beside him, gently removing a fallen leaf from his head and placing it near his helmet.

She seemed much more lively. The hunter's pursuit had been like a sword of Damocles hanging over her head, making her uneasy day and night. Now that the hunter had been dealt with, she was gradually showing some of the lively personality that a girl her age should have—perhaps this was her true nature.

"Oh... thank you." Samael snapped out of his daze. "Was this your original personality?"

"what?"

“It’s nothing… I just feel something’s a little strange.” Samael shook his head. “I used to think you were a bit ruthless.”

“My father taught me to be humble and kind, while my mother taught me to be cruel and ruthless.” Talia stared blankly at the fallen leaf in her hand, one side a bright, withered yellow, the other a pale silver. “My father was killed because of his humility and kindness. What kind of self do you think I should choose?”

"I don't know... Wait a minute, I thought your father was a demon and your mother was human." Samael was stunned. "You didn't get it backwards, did you?"

“My father was a humble and benevolent demon knight who adhered to chivalrous etiquette, while my mother was a cruel and ruthless anthropologist who believed in the survival of the fittest.” Talia shrugged.

"Although my father was a demon, he was raised by the Ronoway Cedar Knights in the north of the empire. When my father was twelve, he lost to my uncle in the competition for the monarch's succession in my grandfather's dungeon. According to the tradition of the demon race, the weak are eliminated, abandoned, and driven out of the dungeon."

"A human knight found him nearly frozen in the snow on the border, but couldn't bring himself to kill the child. The knight wrapped him in a fur cloak and took him back to the castle, concealing his identity and treating him as his own child. He taught him the virtues and spirit passed down through generations of knights, human culture, art and knowledge, swordsmanship and strategy."

"It's embarrassing to say, but my father was driven out of a horrible demon family that preyed on the weak. However, he turned out to be a blessing in disguise and unexpectedly joined a human knight family full of love and warmth. He also inherited the noble family name of the Cedar Knight Ronowe, one of the four great knight families of the empire."

“This made him a… very special demon.” Talia sighed. “He was of noble character, loved culture and art, was optimistic, respected and treated others kindly, trusted his friends, cared for his family, and was considerate of his subordinates.”

“Just like what you embody,” she said, looking at Samael. “If my father were still alive, he would probably admire you very much.”

“My mother was different. She came from a gang in the dark corner of the empire and climbed to the top of a high-level academic organization that studied knowledge of the Age of Gods through intrigue and mutual betrayal. She was particularly interested in studying the demon race, their social structure and cultural traditions.”

"Including my sister—my father originally didn't want any succession competition, nor did he want my sister to leave Rondoran. It was my mother who forced my father to follow the demon race's cultural tradition of survival of the fittest."

“In the end, my father and mother had a big fight, and my sister left with a group of exiled merchants,” Talia whispered.

“Oh! I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but Mr. Samael, you don’t know the legendary story of the great Lord of Rondoran, Barton Ronoway?” Archie leaned out from the front seat.

“Uh… I don’t know,” Samael replied. “Actually, I’m not quite sure what kind of place Rondoran is, or why everyone talks about it as if it’s some kind of unconventional legend.”

"You've fought alongside the daughter of Lord Rondoran for so long, and you don't even know the legendary Rondoran?" Archie opened his squinty eyes slightly in surprise.

“We actually…” Talia interrupted.

“…Not very familiar,” Samael added, before receiving a clang of an elbow strike to his breastplate.

"We haven't known each other long enough; we need more time to get to know each other." Samael felt the echo of the elbow strike reverberating in his empty body and subconsciously changed his words.

"Please, Mr. Samael, besides Rondoran, have you ever seen any dungeon where humans, dwarves, elves, and demons can live in harmony and work together?" Archie frowned exaggeratedly. "If it weren't for the combined attack and annihilation by the other demon kings and the adventurers' alliance, perhaps Rondoran could have created a better world!"

"What?!" Samael sat up abruptly.

“The Land of Rondoran, the land of mountains,” Archie said, “also known as the Aurora of the New World of Eternal Night. The demon exiles, the black dwarves, the twilight elves, the human dark scholars and the icy sea barbarians, were brought together by Rondoran’s promise to build this land of miracles.”

(End of this chapter)