Ghost Knight King's Dungeon Project

Chapter 56 [The Great Battle Between Sinners and Corpse Hearts]

The earthquake trembled.

The heavy rumble of hooves, like an earthquake, echoed across the gray moss-covered fields as the cast-iron warhorses galloped across the vast plains where tattered battle flags and skeletons stood.

As the clawed limestone horseshoes dug into the soil, they tore through the moss on the surface, causing it to burst open and drip with pale green sap, exuding a cool, vegetal scent.

The shadows of dozens of chariot-like, cast-bond undead warhorses drew ever closer, their bodies composed of hollow skeletons, heavy limestone molten stone, and twisted, rusted copper tree roots.

The gnarled roots coiled into the shape of antlers atop their heads, and strange, tentacle-like tongue-like structures extended from their hollow skulls, used to draw nourishment from the soil or the flesh of their enemies.

Each rusted bronze-cast warhorse carried a fully armed knight in plate armor and a barrel helmet, carrying a heavy charging lance, their tattered cloaks woven from vines, fungi, and moss fluttering in the grey-green winds of the distant fields.

Beneath the barrel helmet, the undead had no rotting flesh, only pure and heavy skeletons, bound together by grayish-white fused stone, forming the body of a fossilized giant warrior.

Leading the pack was a massive warhorse resembling an armored vehicle, its body, constructed of skeletons, molten stone, and rusted copper tree roots, reinforced with numerous joints of dark copper, transforming it into a terrifying beast of war.

On the back of the war behemoth lay a rider whose body matched the mount's—robust, tall, and with heavy, massive bronze shoulder armor bearing rhinoceros-like horns, resembling a battering ram. His robust body was like the gnarled roots of a centuries-old tree, and his conspicuous antler-frog helmet stood tall, welded to his breastplate, like a proud knight who would never bow his head.

Up close, the sense of oppression is even more frightening than when viewed from a distance… Samael muttered.

It's a heavy armored, strength-type character, stacking defense like crazy; enemies probably can't even scratch its armor... Although its movements seem a bit slow, it can accelerate using its mount.

It's no wonder that Rahador seemed somewhat afraid when Ansba was mentioned. Rahador's tactical style was characterized by dismemberment, creating massive wounds, and rapid reaping—a burst-type approach that aimed for quick victories. However, the cutting and tearing wounds of the scythe, and the flesh-destroying forms of the Morning Star hammer, were essentially negligible against Ansba's heavy armor.

But once Ansba begins his charge, the weight of just one shoulder armor would probably be enough to shatter Rahadur's light armor.

He stood on the border with his sword-and-shield knights in bell-shaped helmets, awaiting Ansba's arrival.

With a screech of steel, the stone claws in the horse's hooves sprang out, gripping the ground and tearing apart a large patch of moss. The warhorse and the riders, their bodies heavy, managed to bring the chariot to a stop. Ansba, the leader, slowly dismounted and stood before Samael.

He was half a helmet taller than Samael, but the antler decorations on his frog-beak helmet added extra height and imposing presence, and his battering ram-like shoulder armor was so wide that he looked like a moving wall of necromancer.

“Good morning.” Samael nodded. “I am Samael.” He introduced himself simply.

“Ansba.” The other party’s reply was more concise, without the exaggeration and procrastination of Rahado.

“I have no hostility.” Samael held out his hands, indicating that he had not prepared a bronze sword and shield.

“I know,” Ansba’s deep voice echoed from within the breastplate. “You sent a small creature to say hello instead of a warrior.”

He spread out his enormous gauntlets, cradling the rotten root ball of the bell-shaped helmet in his palm.

"Oh dear!" The Rotten Root Ball wobbled and hopped back to Samael's side.

“Ah, I think such creatures look quite likable, perhaps they would be more approachable,” Samael explained.

“I thought it was a scout,” Ansba said, “because it had silently infiltrated the area next to my grave, and none of the barrel-helmeted elite undead patrolling the perimeter had noticed it.”

“It could have stealthily infiltrated my tomb to damage the body or gather intelligence. But it didn’t; instead, it came out and spoke to me. So I can confirm that it’s not a scout, but a messenger. And you meant no harm.”

Samael was taken aback. The Rotten Root Ball had such strong stealth capabilities?
“This creature is very timid. I tried to catch it, but it was difficult. It's elusive, agile, and darts through the roots of its underground tunnels; it's very fast,” Anspar said. “How did you catch it?”

“I… my friend helped me catch him,” Samael said vaguely.

"Is there something you need?" Ansba didn't ask further. He was clearly uninterested in these matters. "Are you like them?"

"Who?"

“The other five Ghost Knights,” Ansba replied, “each of them wants to defeat the other knights, rule the entire Heart of the Dead, and change the world with these undead.”

“It’s a great idea… but why don’t you all unite?” Samael probed.

“We don’t want the same things,” Ansba said calmly. “I was given the job of killing sinners, so I do my job, judge sinners, kill evil, and seek a moment of peace.”

"Rahador, on the island in the middle of the lake, is ambitious and wants to dominate the world, enslave all living people as a source of corpses, become the necromancer lord, and become the ghost knight king—that's why he is always harassing other knights, claiming that he can be the boss and hoping that the other knights will obey him."

"Dekgon in the jungle ruins has a terrible temper. He craves passionate, honorable battles to relieve the stress and mania from the psionic pulses, and he wants more killing. Beasts have many interesting organs, and the living have many excellent warriors, both of which can satisfy his fighting impulses."

"Plang of the Corruption Swamp is a creative eccentric who enjoys pranks and entertainment. He tinkers with all sorts of humus and materials in the swamp, creating many ingenious necromantic byproducts, which he then equips his subordinates with. Living people are his new toys and excellent targets for cruel pranks."

"The other two are in the southeast of the Skeleton Heart Plains, too far from here for me to have contacted, but they also have their own ideas and goals."

“No one is willing to compromise. But there are only so few undead, so the Undead of the Skeleton Hearts have been divided into six factions.” The Frog-Beak Helmet stared at the Knight Helmet in front of it.

“Now, there should be seven factions,” he added.

"You've been given a job?" Samael asked instinctively.

"You don't know? Aren't you the extermination system?" Anshiba suddenly retorted.

Clearly, Ansba's mind was not as slow and clumsy as he appeared. On the contrary, he was quite sharp-minded.

Samael remained silent for a few seconds.

“No.” He chose to be honest. “It’s an engineering construction system.”

“…” Ansba was silent for a moment, then snorted heavily, “Then you’re really unlucky. This world is full of sinners, and you’re actually building projects for them. You might as well just slack off and wait for me to collect enough corpses to clean up the sinners.”

"Why are you calling him a sinner?" Samael asked.

“The initial objective of the extermination system is to kill all sinners and their descendants,” Ansba said. “Don’t you see how disgusting the people in this world are? Murder, theft, rape, plunder, orphans and widows are killed by them, the elderly and children are beaten by them. Anyone with a shred of morality knows that they don’t deserve to live.”

“I have already sent two antler-horned undead warhorses to the northern outskirts of the Heart of Bones to scout and estimate the number of troops stationed there. Once my skeleton-forged heavy cavalry is strong enough to break through the outer garrison of the Oak Knights’ territory, I will use my shoulder armor to smash down the city walls and set the corrupt city ablaze. After a downpour, I will use their ashes to plant towering, rusted bronze trees on the ruins.”

"First Oak Knights territory, then the whole world. Kill everything except plants and animals."

“Such a view…may be a bit one-sided—after all, Oak Knights’ territory and Glinka are not the whole of this world.” Samael subconsciously defended the people he had encountered since arriving in this other world.

“If you’re with that bunch of trash, then there’s no point in us talking,” Ansba interrupted him.

The other person was clearly very stubborn, sticking to their own logic and thinking in a narrow-minded way. Samael was a little annoyed, but he couldn't act rashly in the short term.

“I hope to obtain some different kinds of plant and animal resources from your territory, Ansba, my friend,” he said, getting back to the main point.

“What are you going to build for the living?” Ansba suddenly said. “If you need necromantic materials and humus, there’s no need to go to someone else’s territory to find living plants and animals.”

This person may seem slow and deliberate, but he's terrifyingly perceptive! Samael thought to himself.

“My friend is a living person,” he admitted.

Clang! Ansba's massive gauntlets gripped Samael's shoulder armor.

"So, you're associating with them?" The frog-beaked helmet slowly lowered its height, its cold slits pointing at Samael's helmet eyelets. "You're associating with bandits, robbers, gangsters, and corrupt nobles?"

“Those rubbish?” His booming voice, like thunder, echoed within his breastplate.

“No, my friends are adventurers, exiled merchants, students, disarmament veterans, restaurant owners, blacksmiths, gardeners, and architects—” Samael argued, “Perhaps you should try to explore other parts of the world instead of brooding over Oak Knights’ territory…”

“This world has no place for trash. Death gave me a new job: to sweep away the trash and judge crimes.” Ansba interrupted him, “and I’m happy to do this job.”

"As for you, I can't control what you want to do, but I will cleanse the world of sinners. If you get in my way, my warhorse will trample you." He released Samael's shoulder armor.

“You don’t understand the meaning of those necromancy combat techniques. Do you even have the [Judgment] technique?” he growled. “Use Judgment to sever limbs, try using the Circuit Infiltrator on the severed limbs. The limbs will repeat several psionic recordings of their movements, including some of their usual actions in life, and their last instinctive action before death. Go try it and see what kind of people the dead were in life.”

He turned and mounted his skeletal warhorse, the thunderous clatter of hooves echoing once more. Ansba departed, surrounded by his barrel-helmeted knights.

Samael stood there, wanting to sigh, but he didn't have the ability to sigh.

Ghost Knights are definitely not normal people.

Remembering what Ansba had just said, he pulled one of his rotting corpse demons over from the side.

[Using Biological Pose Material: Conviction]

The bronze fingers, like a vengeful demon, pierced directly into the flesh and bones of the Corpse Demon, tearing off one of its arms.

The loop permeator is now activated.

Amidst the buzzing vibrations of the black copper, the long-rotten arm was forced to move.

His hand loosely gripped the sword hilt, thrusting fiercely into the air as if attacking someone.

Samael remained silent.

His arm was spasming and twisting. After poking and prodding for a while, he suddenly changed his movements.

It stretched out its hand, palm open, and flicked its fingers back and forth, as if begging for something. After failing to get what it wanted, it suddenly clenched its fist and slammed it into the air.

His empty hand gripped the victim's invisible neck tightly...

Something was being held between the arms, something twisting and struggling...

He pressed his palm forcefully into the air, trying to hold down something...

Samael stared silently at the half-corpse arm in his hand.

What's the deal with these ancient corpses in the Heartless Plains? Were all the people who participated in the Heartless War violent criminals?
Why does the extermination system refer to all living people as "sinners"?
The remains of gods are scattered all over the world... Could it be that during the colonial rebellion of that time, the gods living in various parts of the world were killed by the rebels, and the survivors left behind the ghost knights as tools to clean up the rebels?

"Hey, what are you busy with, good neighbor?" Rahado's voice came from not far away.

Samael lifted his helmet, while Rahado, carrying a massive bronze scythe and a drill-shaped spiral-bladed rapier, leaned lazily against a rusty bronze tree on the border.

He was surrounded by a dozen serpentine corpse demons, all carrying rapiers with drill-shaped spiral blades and thick chains of dark bronze.

Armor-piercing spiral drill blades and dark bronze tripwires… Samael's heart skipped a beat. These were specialized tactical weapons designed to counter Ansba.

Rahado also has his own tactics and targeted strategies, and is not as rigid and vulnerable as one might imagine.

"What are you doing at the border again?" Samael put his arm back on the Corpse Demon.

“Oh… I came to see you, my good friend. To see if you’ve changed your mind, maybe you’ll suddenly decide to ally with me!” Rahado said, shaking his head as he concealed the armor-piercing drill bit behind his back.

"Did you hear the sound of horses' hooves like an earthquake and think Ansba was coming to beat you up again?" Samael pointed out.

Rahado remained silent for a moment.

“If you don’t want an alliance, get lost, damn it, how rude.” He replied angrily. “I’m warning you, my good neighbor, it’s not too late to kneel down and beg me for an alliance. This is a temporary truce, don’t think that Haixin is an easy place to stay! You’re new here, don’t know that we fought each other just last month and agreed to a temporary ceasefire to regroup.”

"The temporary truce on the Skeleton Heart Plains is about to end, and a massive melee will begin in a few days. It won't stop until a victor is decided. Let's see if you'll kneel down and beg me then!"

Rahado stuffed the drill bit into his breastplate, dragged his great scythe, and, with his serpentine carrion demon, turned and left triumphantly. Thick, dark bronze tripwires trailed behind them, clanging and clattering against the rocks like long tails.

The chaotic battle between the undead and the undead is in full swing... intelligence on the enemies is crucial. Ansba is a heavily armored, strength-based character, Lahadur is a burst-damage attacker, but what about the others?

Samael, leading the knights of the Dark Bronze Sword and Shield, slowly returned to the underground tunnel, which was more than half-built.

My tomb is half-built, intended for storing the undead. Based on what I saw this morning, perhaps I should build a cellar with a layer of ghost copper insulation, like Ansba did, to slow down the decay of the undead and corpses.

But as a minimalist pragmatist, the tomb's shape—roughly the size of a matchbox—looked rather ugly. Samael scratched his helmet. He'd have to ask Archie to design the exterior later; building a matchbox at the entrance to the dungeon was rather awkward.

The underground ecosystem still lacks flora and fauna resources; if negotiations fail... I'm afraid we'll have no choice but to...

He remembered what Ansba had said earlier and raised the bell-shaped helmet rot root ball beside him.

It silently crept into the vicinity of my grave, and none of the elite barrel-helmeted undead patrolling the perimeter noticed it...

It could have stealthily infiltrated my tomb to damage the body or gather intelligence...

"Oh dear!" the rotten root ball cried out.

“It’s just going to other knights’ territory to get some plant seeds and catch a few small animals, it should be fine, right?” Samael held up the Rotten Root Ball.

“Oh!” the rotten root ball replied.

Samael traversed the insect-path labyrinth leading to the underground city and returned to the underground dome. The dome had been ventilated, and lush plants grew in the darkness. Faint, starlight-like points of light shimmered on the curved rock surface overhead—various bioluminescent fungi.

The framework of the building within the dome has been erected, and some of the smaller buildings on the outer ring have also been completed. The camp has begun to move into the buildings. Four demonic insect larvae are fast asleep in the large cage of dark bronze.

Talia tended to the fire in the furnace beside the calcining furnace—now two or three furnaces were no longer enough to keep up with the production, so more than a dozen furnaces needed to be filled with fuel and burned fiercely at the same time.

"How is the situation?" Samael asked in a low voice.

"The insect ecosystem has developed quite a bit, which can barely alleviate the food problem, but the variety of plants and animals is still relatively limited, and it cannot completely solve the food problem for the time being." She lowered her voice, "It can last for a few more days, but if no more plants and animals are introduced, we still need to send people to buy food outside the Skeleton Heart."

"In addition, there is a shortage of labor."

"Do you need me to bring in some undead to help with the construction?" Samael asked.

“No… Necromancers can’t perform complex operations.” Talia shook her head. “Tunnelers are better. I noticed some wild tunnels while I was digging, but they’re abandoned and submerged in sewage and silt. They’re extending from the south… in that vast swamp.”

"Perhaps there are some cave-dwelling insect nests underground in the swamp. We can take the earth-devouring insect larvae to explore and find the queen among them who is responsible for laying eggs, and bring her back to our underground city to raise."

“Southern Swamp… I understand,” Samael replied. “Tomorrow, we’ll take the magic insects and head to the Southern Swamp to gather everything we need in one go.”

"Is the other ghost knight in the swamp alright?" Talia asked.

"The chances of successful negotiations are slim... Let's just take the materials; they won't need them anyway." Samael was a bit of a headache. "If there's really no other way..."

He was a little irritated. Perhaps the Ghost Knights had initially tried to communicate and negotiate, but the negotiations failed, which is why they started fighting each other.

If there's really no other way, a massive free-for-all is inevitable.

Rahadur's negotiations with Ansba failed, and according to the description, Prange of the swamp was not a person who could communicate normally. He did not have much hope for a successful negotiation.

So... sneak in, be quick, grab it and run. Settle things in the dungeon as soon as possible, and prepare for the impending undead melee.

(End of this chapter)