Ghost Knight King's Dungeon Project

Chapter 62 [Shield, Sword, and Knight]

The bronze boots trod across the solid ground, and the gauntlets gently parted the swaying bushes in front of him.

As the shrub's flexible branches spring back to their original position, they leave swaying light and shadow on the tunnel walls under the warm, dim light of the luminescent fungus.

The towering gate leading to the underground city's dome stood before us, its light from the lantern-shaped glowing grass spheres unable to illuminate the entire gate, leaving the upper half of it shrouded in darkness.

The left panel is carved with a hollow gauntlet holding a knight's sword, surrounded by skeletal arms and tendrils of rotting flesh. The right panel is carved with a clawed hand holding a hammer and spear, surrounded by beast claws and green vines.

The knight's sword and hammer-spear intersect in an X-shape in the very center of the gate, exuding majesty and solemnity.

Samael paused briefly before the magnificent gate, admiring the ornate reliefs for a few seconds, before continuing onward.

A sword…why not a shield? He pondered as he clattered forward. Perhaps a shield would better describe his personality.

He wasn't actually an aggressive person. He preferred peace to war. He preferred creation to destruction.

Perhaps it's because the shield's design would appear out of place in the visuals, seemingly unable to form a symmetrical design with the hammer and spear. Or perhaps, the demon artisans simply preferred swords to shields.

In short, what's in the picture is a sword.

The shield on his back was secured with hooks made of dark bronze, which gently tapped against his shoulder armor with a soft clicking sound.

The knight's sword at his waist was bound with a chain of dark bronze, hanging from the side of his leg armor and swaying, the chain rattling with his steps.

Samael's figure passed through the open gate of the underground city, and the space in front of him suddenly opened up. The high underground dome shone with starlight, like a magnificent night sky.

The lush, fungal forest has spread out, with glowing grass balls hanging like streetlights. Broad-leaved ferns sway in the dim light, and several small magical creatures crawl among the leaves, making rustling sounds.

The enormous artificial pool is located in the southern corner of the dome. It was dug by the larvae of the earth-devouring demon insects. The pool walls and water channels, reinforced by the roots of the rotten root ball, are hard and clean. The plants, animals and fungi that were brought back from the swamp area have been properly placed near the pool.

Most fungi can grow normally in the underground environment. Although some plants and animals wither or die due to lack of light or insufficient humidity, the vast majority still successfully take root in the underground city.

The marsh fish in the pond have begun their first breeding season; some fish eggs are stuck to the roots of the drooping duckweed and to the leaves of the aquatic plants swaying at the bottom of the pond. Several large toads are squatting on the wet rocks on the bank, croaking.

The number of buildings in the core area is gradually increasing, and basic living facilities such as bedrooms, bathrooms, kitchens, and dining rooms are gradually becoming complete. Even each demon has its own private room, where they can rest alone after work each day.

A series of buildings, workshops, and furnaces are interspersed around the center of the underground city, vaguely forming the prototype of a small city-state.

At the center stands a tall building, only one-third of which has been completed, but even from its first and second floors, one can already see that it is as majestic, solemn, and magnificent as a king's palace.

Judging from the foundation, the demon craftsmen seem to have wanted to design a twin palace with two towers, one half built of bluish-gray rock and copper, and the other half built of blackish-gray mottled molten stone. The two different styles are integrated into one, symbolizing the two kings of the dungeon.

The palace's foundation stones had just been laid, and the cave queen's nest chamber had been placed underground, but half of the chamber was already sealed off. The entrance was narrow, and given the queen's size, she would likely never be able to leave the nest chamber again.

The cave dwellers moved in and out of the narrow entrances of their nest chambers, carrying eggs and food, spewing sticky insect glue tunnels, and incidentally helping to build the vast foundation of the underground city's core palace area.

Like ants. Samael watched the busy figures of the cave dwellers, and for a moment, he was somewhat dazed. He recalled the description of the cave dweller queen in the scanner.

[Animal-type artificial organism, low-intelligence X-23 type]

Using primitive annelids and ant-like arthropods as templates, a psionic Arklay cycle process was implemented, incorporating artificial life stabilization locks, life cycle control and colony architecture design, and gene function memory templates. Evolutionary and mutation paths were locked, and a stable population was generated through iterative breeding.

[Suitable for harsh, lightless underground environments. Strong, low-intelligence slaves capable of understanding relatively complex commands and possessing simple, primitive language abilities. Depending on the breeding methods and environment, subspecies adapted to different working conditions can be developed.]

Population size: Small

[Individual Differentiation: Oviparous Individuals]

According to the previous scanner's description, the "Cave Queen" is not a leader or individual, but rather an "egg-laying creature."

He stared blankly at the narrow entrance to the nest chamber in the foundation for a few seconds.

According to the scanner's description, the Cave Queen lacks intelligence and command authority; she merely lays eggs out of instinct to expand her population. Perhaps she is more of a slave, a machine kept by other Cave Dwellers.

The cave dwellers carried out their construction in an orderly manner, like ants, demonstrating highly efficient productivity and transportation capabilities, truly befitting a tool species meticulously designed by the gods.

Samael shook off his reverie, climbed the solid, molten stone steps, and entered the half-built palace.

Pushing open the heavy black stone doors, the throne room, which had not yet been decorated, appeared somewhat simple, but two exquisitely carved chairs were already placed side by side on the steps.

The throne with the bronze sword on the left is empty; it was prepared for Samael.

During his conversation with Rahador, Samael forged a throne of sword skeletons, constructed from dozens of Nether Bronze knight swords welded together with three Nether Bronze tower shields. The Daedric craftsmen took it to the dungeons, meticulously designed it, and then inlaid it with molten stone and ordinary copper using gold-plating techniques. They further decorated and sculpted it, adding designs of ghosts and skulls. It retained its wild and bold appearance, but now looked more luxurious and possessed a more divine quality.

The throne on the right is covered with a cushion made of the fur of some kind of lion-shaped monster, the armrests are decorated with carvings of fungal wood, and the back of the chair is engraved with an emblem of intertwined flames and horses—symbolizing the orphans of Rondoran in the north.

Talia sat crookedly on the right throne, leaning against the cushions and fur on the side of the chair, her head resting on the armrest.

She removed her helmet, shoulder armor, and claw-shaped gauntlets, and held a half-carved knight doll in her arms, her eyes closed as if she were dozing off.

She must be exhausted these past few days, Samael thought. He gripped the chain from which the sword blade hung at his waist, and stepped forward as quietly as possible, kneeling down on one knee before Talia so that his helmet was level with her face, silently gazing at her.

Compared to when we first met, Talia's hair had grown quite a bit in the past few months. Her gray bangs had covered her eyebrows, and the ends of her hair hung around her neck, gradually falling to her shoulders. The long-term tying of her hair up had caused the ends to curl slightly, like flower petals in the sunlight.

Her delicate face was slightly pale, with dark circles under her eyes, and her thin lips were a little chapped.

Samael looked at her face and felt a little uneasy.

When we first met, she looked terrible. It was because of the years of wandering and being hunted by hunters that she looked haggard.

After killing the hunter Musa, Talia's complexion had improved a lot, but the tireless work of building the dungeon these past few days has probably exhausted her again.

Samael remained silent, slowly rising to his feet, intending to leave so Talia could rest. But the moment he stood up, her slightly icy hand gripped his arm guard.

“That’s not what I was expecting.” Talia looked up and put the half-finished knight doll she was holding aside.

Her slightly tired voice carried a hint of youthful lightness and capriciousness.

She could still joke like that, and her tone was still light... thank goodness. Samael breathed a sigh of relief.

For some reason… for many complex reasons, he paid special attention to Talia's complexion and expression. Perhaps it was habit, perhaps it was personality and instinct, perhaps it was subconscious concern. He didn't know, and didn't want to know.

"If you're tired, take a rest," Samael said. "You've had a hard time these past few days... So even the Demon Lord has to work this hard?"

“Of course, almost every monarch’s dungeon was built with their own participation.” Talia laughed. “What’s the situation on the surface? You won’t allow us to go to the surface to help in the battle.”

“Living people will activate the psionic vibrations and amplifiers of other knights, enhancing their combat capabilities. I’ve said it before. To ensure there are no unexpected factors in the undead civil war, this is the only way.” Samael shook his head. “I defeated Prange and temporarily repelled Rahador. Ansba in the northern wilderness is fighting against Dekgon in the northeast… Rahador has taken the opportunity to harass Ansba again, and is temporarily unable to attend to us—we are safe for now.”

"Why don't you come back and rest for a while?" Talia grabbed his arm guard, stood up, and rubbed her cheeks with her slightly cold hands to refresh herself, like some kind of little otter. "It's such a hassle that they put these two thrones so far away."

Samael glanced silently at the two thrones.

The two thrones are less than a meter apart, and if the people on the thrones wish, they can simply reach out their hands to each other to interlock their fingers.

“No… I came to check on the dungeon and, by the way, to ask if you remember the money we earned when we were adventurers?” Samael stood in front of her. Talia’s nose was only centimeters from his helmet, and her breath left a faint mist on the cold surface of the helmet.

“I remember. Now that I think about it, it feels like it was a long time ago.” Talia smiled. “Five thousand Erdrik gold coins… I originally intended to use them for travel expenses, but I encountered exiles along the way, so I didn’t end up spending much. Human money is of little use to us; we only care about psionic energy, the ecology of the flora and fauna, the materials for enchanting, and…”

She stopped the conversation, her grey eyes like small lakes reflecting Samael.

“Those gold coins are still useful.” Samael looked at himself in the two lakes. “Their essence is gold… I obtained the smelting method of witch gold in the Empire’s Temple of the Forgers. As long as there is gold, it can be transformed into witch gold through some psionic circuits and smelting processes. The powerful armor-piercing ability of witch gold can turn the tide of battle.”

“I always wonder if you are the spirit of an ancient monarch or hero.” The gray lake rippled gently, carrying the smile of the lady in the lake. “So intelligent… insightful and wise.”

Samael recalled the old chivalric tale: after the sword in the stone broke, the wizard Merlin guided King Arthur to obtain a holy sword from Vivian, the Lady of the Lake. Forged by the Lake Ladies in Avalon, it was razor-sharp and invincible. "I forgot where I threw those gold coins—money has held little meaning since I boarded the exile's wagon," he said awkwardly. "So I came to ask…maybe you remember."

“It should be under the seat of the third carriage.” Talia leaned out of the window and pointed to the streets of the small city below.

Samael leaned over to Talia and looked down from the window on the side of the throne room.

Looking down from the window, the demon artisans, along with the cave dwellers and rotten orbs, moved about in the dim light of the underground dome, like a busy swarm of ants.

The exiles' carriages were also inside the dungeon, parked at the edge of an open space, where the monster chimera ponies strolled freely.

“Look—it’s over there at the third carriage.” Talia pointed downwards, guiding Samael to turn his head and look.

As Samael leaned out to check the location of the carriage, he suddenly felt something gently touch the side of his helmet, like a segment of a small green tangerine, unripe, soft, small and sweet and sour.

A light, fleeting sound, like a dragonfly skimming the water, playfully echoed inside the helmet.

He instinctively turned his head, but Talia had already turned her head away, her cheeks flushed, her thin, soft lips pressed tightly together.

"Wh...what's wrong?" She turned her head away, her gray lake light peeking at Samael.

Samael wanted to say something, but nothing came out. For a moment, he heard a sound like a heartbeat echoing inside the hollow armor, the roaring gray lake water shattering the boundless walls of dark bronze into fragments, and the warm spring water briefly filled the emptiness in his chest.

"It's nothing..." he replied somewhat awkwardly, then turned and walked away quickly, his bronze combat boots clattering haphazardly as he took his steps, almost tripping him.

I'm not good at handling this situation—I should be living a clean and efficient life with silly hardcore games and tiring work, instead of being made clumsy by a 21-year-old mixed-race demon girl.

He leaned against the corridor and left the palace almost as if he were fleeing.

He could command the undead and six slayer ghost knights to crush each other in a charge, and he could fight hand-to-hand with powerful demon hunter warriors, but this unfamiliar battlefield made the tactician a little panicked for a moment.

He traversed the streets of the inner ring of the underground city, leaned into the third carriage, and retrieved the two large, heavy bags of Erdrik gold coins from the empty space under the seat, struggling to suppress the urge to look up.

Talia was probably still standing in front of the palace window directly above her head, watching him frantically retrieve the witchcraft materials.

With a clatter, the bronze gauntlet trembled slightly in annoyance, and the bag of gold coins slipped from its fingers and fell to the ground, scattering the gold coins everywhere.

"Boss? What's going on?" Archie, who was directing the cave dwellers to carve pillar runes not far away, noticed the situation and jogged over to help pick up the scattered gold coins.

“It’s nothing…” Samael replied casually. “I was just looking for you anyway—I have the method for smelting witch gold, and I hope you can help me. I plan to use these gold coins to make some witch gold weapons.”

"Oh, boss, how do you know so many ways to smelt enchanted metals?" Archie was taken aback. "Alright, what kind of weapon do you want to make? A knife? A sword? A spear?"

"Weapons?" Samael paused for a moment.

This stumped Samael.

He didn't have the same strong aggressiveness as the other knights; he just wanted to protect the dungeon.

He is a shield, not a sword.

Perhaps we should turn Wujin into a trap for passive defense?
It doesn't necessarily have to be weapons... it should be set up as some kind of defensive measure. Samael hesitated. As long as the normal development of the dungeon can be protected, that's enough.

“By the way, boss, why don’t you go find Boss Ronoway?” Archie asked. “Doesn’t she also know forging? You could ask her. Lord Rondoran’s forging skills are very strong, and his daughter probably inherited this skill as well.”

"No, no... I... uh..." Samael instinctively tried to change the subject, "By the way, what kind of work are you guys busy with, Yachi? Are you busy right now?"

He lifted his helmet.

Dozens of massive pillars support the dome, and the craftsmen, including Yachi, are directing the cave dwellers to climb up the pillars with hammers and chisels to carve rune patterns.

Several cave dwellers carried portable stoves filled with enchanted charcoal and semi-molten copper. They poured molten copper into carved psionic circuits, filling the grooves, and the cooled copper patterns formed a series of psionic circuits of unknown purpose.

It's probably some kind of traditional functional building in the demon dungeons, Samael thought.

When Archie was building his knight's tomb, he mentioned that the dungeon was currently having psionic runes carved on the supporting pillars.

Although the specific uses of these psionic runes are unknown, the demon race seems to have their own set of dungeon construction methods.

Everything must have its own purpose.

So far, Samael hasn't really interfered much with the dungeon's affairs—after all, the demon craftsmen seem to have an innate knowledge of how to build a dungeon. There seems to be no point in him meddling further.

“Ah, we’re setting up psionic diffusion runes on these pillars—these supporting pillars are like a giant magic circle, with the palace at the center of the dungeon,” Archie explained. “The function of the runes is to allow Boss Ronoway’s psionic energy from the center of the palace to permeate the ecology of this land, seeping into every inch of soil—what we commonly call [Dominator Psionic Energy].

“Oh…I understand.” Samuel paused.

No wonder Talia looked a bit weak; releasing the Overlord's psionic energy was probably very taxing on her.

"Also, boss, could you collect more enchanted materials and plants and animals from other areas on the surface?" Archie asked while helping to pick up the gold coins scattered on the ground. "Try to bring them back to the dungeon, just like the plants and animals from the swamp before."

"Hmm? What's wrong?" Samael paused for a moment as he picked up the gold coins.

"You don't know?" Yachi asked, stunned.

"what?"

“Dungeons need psionic energy to survive,” Archie said, looking bewildered. “If the amount of psionic energy contained in the flora and fauna is too small, the dungeon will start to consume the Overlord’s psionic energy.”

"What?!" Samael grabbed Yachi's shoulder. "What the hell did you say?!"

“If the psionic energy in the underground city’s flora and fauna is insufficient, it will begin to consume the ruler’s psionic energy.” Archie was so gripped that he almost lifted his feet off the ground.

"That's why only powerful individuals can become monarchs. Weak exiles like us dare not enter the palace, fearing that the ruler's psionic array will drain all our meager psionic energy..."

"This is why demon lords wage war against each other to seize other lords' psionic ecosystems—the dungeons are magnificent, but the lords don't want to be burned alive on their thrones within them—although some lords do die on their thrones for the sake of the dungeons..."

Samael released Yachi's shoulder. He stood motionless, as if he had become an ordinary piece of armor.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" A low, hoarse voice came from his hollow armor.

“Boss, you really know nothing about demons.” Yachi sighed helplessly. “It’s strange that you’ve been with a half-demon for so long, yet you seem to know nothing about us.”

"The culture of the demon race, the society of the demon race, the instincts of the demon race, everything about the demon race. When you asked us to help build the knight's tomb, you even unrealistically requested that it be simple."

"You've never tried to ask about our race, have you?"

He spread his hands, picked up the scattered gold coins from the ground, put them back in the bag, and stuffed the bag into Samael's gauntlet.

"No wonder, a powerful undead like you probably wouldn't care about us insignificant living beings."

"Weren't we supposed to be making witchcraft equipment?" Archie looked at him. "What are you going to make?"

“Defense…no, no shield.” A chilling emptiness echoed from Samael’s hollow armor. “A sword. Forge me a sword.”

"I want a sword that can conquer the entire Heart of Bones."

"There will be demonized materials. The entire psionic ecosystem and psionic resources of the Skeleton Heart will be filled into the dungeon."

He slowly straightened up, and the cold bronze gauntlets gripped Archie's shoulders.

"Before that, tell me in detail about the demon race." A flat, emotionless voice came from beneath the helmet. "Now."

(End of this chapter)